Page 1 of The Werewolf's Sauna

The Werewolf’s Sauna

“Any big plans this weekend?” my co-worker asked as she leaned over the cubicle wall.

Yeah. I planned to find a stranger, get pounded out like a slab of beef, immediately get depressed when he left me in the dust, then come back to this corporate hell hole come Monday. Same as every fucking weekend, Cheryl.

“Nope,” I lied, putting on my best customer service voice. It was the only one I used at work, regardless of who I was talking to. “Just gonna relax. Maybe I’ll hit the poor at the gym tomorrow.”

“Nice,” she nodded, a big toothy smile on her face. She was always smiling. It was unnatural. “I’m having a big cookout with the family. My husband rented a big grill to roast a pig. We’re gonna put on a giant fireworks show out over the lake for the kids. And of course, there’s gonna belotsof cocktails.”

Fucking Cheryl was the worst. She liked to rub her picture-perfect suburban life into everyone’s faces. Her husband was some business major she’d snagged in college that turned out to be something more than a frat boy by some miracle. She rode his cock all the way to a big diamond ring and a huge house. Of course, she had her obligatory two kids, a dog, and a white picketfence. Then she walked around the office telling everyone how she didn’t need the money from her job, but work was justso much fun.

Cheryl was full of shit. Working customer service foranycorporation was about as enjoyable as being eaten alive by crocodiles.

“Wow. That sounds really fun,” I said, trying not to be as flat as possible.

I wanted to push her off a cliff.

“It will be!” she smiled back. Grabbing her oversize designer bag, she slung it over her shoulder and gave me a little wave. “Have a great weekend, Ty!”

“You too…”

I waited until she was out of sight to blow out a deep sigh. If the nine to five life didn’t kill me, pretending to be kind to fake people with something to prove certainly would. In fact, I was fairly certain I didn’t like people at all. Maybe that’s why I tended to keep the company of monsters during my free time instead. Then again, it didn’t matter that much because friends weren’t something I had a lot of to begin with. I had a hard time letting people in.

Probably had something to do with being turned out of my own home at sixteen when I came out.

I shook my head as I shoved my work laptop into my bag. Thinking about those days never helped, so there was no reason to dwell on it. No amount of feeling guilty, angry, or sad would fix the past. Instead, it was time to focus on the weekend and my trip to the bathhouse in town.

Being a single gay guy with no intent to settle down or date, the bathhouse suited me just fine. Not only did the membership grant me access to all the amenities like baths, saunas, and the spa. But it also meant I could get out all my stress and frustration via the sex swings, gloryholes, and fuck rooms soI could stomach going back to my boring corporate life on Monday. It might not have been the healthiest way to deal with stress, but at least I wasn’t a crack addict. That, at least, was a mark in my favor. Besides, the bathhouse did something else wonderful for its visitors.

It leveled the playing field.

Social status and jobs were left in the lockers with clothes and accessories. A towel was all that was allowed inside. There was no parading, no fancy watches, and no peacocking. It was exposure in the deepest sense of the word as the troubles of life were stripped away. Nobody knew who you were, what you did, or how valuable you might be to society. We were all the same, just men looking for release and camaraderie.

I loved it.

And the sex was amazing. There was something so freeing about fucking strangers. Everything was raw and instinctual, without all the social song and dance. Meeting others was easy, especially since it rarely required texts, conversation, or even the exchange of names. That was the best kind of socializing if you asked me. Spending hours on apps sifting through fake profiles and picture hunters was not my thing. But a knowing glance and a simpleyesornowas all it took in the bathhouse. It was no nonsense and if I decided I wasn’t having a good time, all I had to do was walk away. Easy.

The only question left on my mind was which night to go. Friday night was always fun, but going Saturday meant I could be there earlier and stay longer.

And my answer was the same as always. In the spirit of a famous taco commercial…Why not both?

If I wanted to have enough time to really enjoy myself though, I needed to get the hell out of the office. Grabbing my bag, I headed toward the exit, scanning my badge on the wayout. I took one last glance at the hellscape of cubicles behind me and flipped them the bird.

“Fuck you, cube farm,” I muttered and pushed my way out into the bright sunlight.

The light scent of chlorine struck me as I stepped into the main lobby of the bathhouse. It was a simple room with a single man running the front desk as always. On the other side were two doors. One to enter and one to exit. But there was no hint as to what went on inside besides the scent of the pool beyond the locker rooms.

I stepped up to the counter, the weight of my phone and wallet threatening to pull my gym shorts down. I never wore much to the bathhouse, just enough to be decent.

“ID and member card,” the man droned. Surely he’d asked the same question a billion times already.

“Sorry,” I replied, fishing both out of my wallet and sliding them across the counter.

He scanned both quickly, checked me into their computer system, and pushed them back to me. “All personal items and electronics are prohibited beyond the locker room.” He handed me a small silver key on a simple paracord necklace. “Locker three fifty-seven. Please leave your key in the drop box on the way out.”

I’d never met such an unenthusiastic person. But I couldn’t blame him. He had basically the same job I did and customer service, whether for an insurance company or a bathhouse, was terrible.

“Thank you,” I replied, giving him a smile.

---