Visiting an anonymous big city, in a foreign land, I thought to myself, this upcoming business trip might just be the perfect time to act out my fantasy of visiting a gay sauna. Ever since I had seen a raunchy sauna scene portrayed in a film, I knew I had to give it a go; I just needed to find the right opportunity. So, my trip to London was going to be the chance of a lifetime for this American 'straight' Boy to lose his 'sauna cherry.'
The business that I had in the U.K. took me to Manchester, so there was little chance I would run into a professional acquaintance while visiting a gay sauna in London. The excitement of my little excursion to London had me excited for weeks. It was hard to focus on the business at hand, but somehow when the time came, I was able to act professionally, and seal the deal which I had been brought in to close. The fact that I handled the negotiations in just two days, when five days were allocated, may have had just a little to do with what I had planned for my time in London.
So, three days ahead of schedule with unchangeable return tickets to San Diego in hand, meant I could really enjoy myself in London, and I wasted no time. Upon leaving Victoria Station I quickly checked into my nearby hotel, and changed clothes, stopping for only a minute at the newsagency to pick up some rag called something like 'Gay London Today.' I had NEVER purchased anything like this, and was amazed that the newsagent seemed like it was no big deal. In my imagination, I had expected a disgusted look and an embarrassing scene where my 'fag mag' was passed back to me, just as a crowd of young street thugs waited behind me. Instead the gentlemen at the newsagency was very discreet (obviously in retrospect; he was selling an overpriced magazine for ten pounds, why would he want to try to embarrass or humiliate me?), placed the magazine in a carrier bag, and let me know that he had some other titles that I could look at my leisure. He handed me a bound folder which contained plastic sleeved covers of a variety of gay mags. I thanked him for his offer, but said I though I had all that I needed. I went back to the hotel, threw my bags on the bed, and immediately started flipping pages until I came across several advertisements for local saunas. Armed with my London 'A-to-Z,' I quickly identified one sauna, which seemed to have it all. A pool, saunas, and rooms I had not even though about. I wrote down the address, hid the magazine under my mattress (does paranoid come to mind?), and raced to the nearest tube station. 'Chariots - Shoreditch' was the name of the Sauna, and I had a thirty minute subway trip to get there. I think my dick never went soft during the entire trip.
Upon exiting the tube station, I raced the ten blocks to the sauna, nearly missing the rather discreet entrance. Of course the dark sunglasses and the cap didn't help on this dreary gray London afternoon. ;)
As at the newsagency, I was totally put at ease upon entering the club. I probably looked like a neurotic wreck, and until the last second wasn't even sure if I would gather the courage to pay the entrance fee. The guy behind the counter asked if 'we' were together; only then did I notice the handsome gray haired gentleman that I had nearly knocked over on my way in the door. The gentleman lisped, "Oh 'Chaaaales,' I only WISH my dear boy, I only wish!"
"Well let's put you two at adjoining lockers, and pretend you are together since it is 'Two for One Thursday.' That will be ten pounds each then," he looked back at each of us.
"Oh Charles, I owe you a big one for this," winked my 'two for' partner. "Can I offer my lips in payment, my handsome young stud?"
'Yeah, yeah, right Barry, I may just hold you to your promise matey," the attendant coyly flirted back. Turning to me as he took my ten pound note, he said, "Listen mate, you've got locker number 301, towel and condoms are inside, but there are plenty of condoms throughout the building. If you need anything at all just come back to us; we're here to serve. Refreshments available, we can bill them to your key, and you can settle up before you leave, when your key is required to leave the building. This old queen can show you where the locker is. Barry, I've put you at the bottom just under our American guest here (how he figured I was an American I hadn't a clue as I had not opened my mouth since I arrived); please give him the lay of the land."
"Oh Charles, you just knooooow how I love the bottom. Thanks again, sweetie," teased Barry. Turning to me, he giggled, "Young man, you know I'm 'Barry, the Bottom,' and anything you need you can come to me," as he wrapped an arm around my shoulder. "So, do you have a name young man?"
"Umm, yeah, umm, uh, the name is Barry (duh, what an idiot!), I mean, ummm, uhh, Steve" I stuttered nervously.
"OK, then sweetheart, 'Barry, I mean Steve,' it is. Here we are then.
I hadn't imagined what would be happen next. All of my thoughts about this adventure only had me getting to the sauna. Now standing in front of a locker with this sweet old queen, I hadn't a clue what happens next. I stared stupidly at the locker, and froze.
Seeing my utter confusion, Barry instructed me, "OK sweetie, I see this is new for you. The idea here is you take off your clothes now, and place them in the locker. You can walk around naked if you please, displaying that lovely package in all its glory . . . oh please dear Lord God above . . .," he giggled. "Or you can discreetly cover yourself with a towel. Your choice. A few more tips from an old sauna queen. Obviously, as fresh meat, you'll find some old queens like me pawing at you. That's just our way of saying welcome to the club. If some man grabs your cock or your arse, and you are not interested, you simply push his hand gently to the side. If he persists, be a bit more forceful. If he still persists, tell him, "NO MEANS NO, YOU SILLY COW!" He'll get the idea quickly, and if he doesn't some big butch fellow will likely hear your cries of distress, and come rescue you."
After Barry's theatrical monologue, there were now about six guys standing at varying distances from me, checking out the (obviously) new guy. One guy was totally hot, and my dick got even harder than it had been since I left my hotel. I 'discreetly' tried to turn towards the locker, with the door open, but as I soon learned, when a gay guy wants to see your cock, he is pretty fucking obvious. I laugh now when I recall that I stripped to my briefs, and wrapped myself in a towel, before sliding my briefs down. Barry loved my blundering moves, and giggled away, as he whispered in my ear, "Seriously, 'Barry, I mean Steve,' I would absolutely love to suck that fine young cock of yours for the next fortnight, but I think this old queen is out of his league. The offer is open though."
"In your travels around this little piece of man flesh heaven, have some fun. Let yourself go, and don't do anything which makes you uncomfortable . . . unless of course you like a flogging, and then I'm sure some bloody fool will accommodate." He laughed himself silly at his own joke, whispered again in my ear, "Now as my way of welcoming you, let me be the first bloke to grab that lovely arse." And with one smooth movement, he wrapped one arm around the small of my back, the other cupped and pinched my ass, and he gave me a sweet non-sexual, but not-exactly-fatherly, kiss on the lips. "Now get yourself some beautiful boy and fuck your brains out," he laughed as he released me from his grasp. Pointing me towards a darkened doorway, he said, "Now you go through those doors, and up those steps, and your adventure begins."
My head was spinning as I stumbled out of Barry's arms and headed up the stairs. Barry was right. I wouldn't say he was out of my league, but he was definitely not the guy I had fantasized about when dreaming up this little adventure. Where was I going to find Hugh Grant anyway, I laughed to myself. And with that I headed through the doorway . . .
. . . TO BE CONTINUED . . .