Squid-E
Part Two
Drew finally found himself in the shower room. He'd wandered through the halls for quite a while, and hadn't even bothered to avoid the usual gropes and grabs.
"What the hell is he on?" he heard an older man ask. "Meth?"
"Well, judging from his dick, it could be meth," a young man replied confidentially. "But I doubt it. Take a look in his eyes, it's like there's nobody home. I don't know what he took, but I'd love to take advantage of it."
Drew looked around, and finally hung up his towel on one of the hooks. He turned on the shower, hotter than he usually liked it, and stepped into the scalding water. The force of the water and the heat forced some of his muscles to relax as he soaped himself up. He paid close to attention to his ass, not bothering to hide what (or why) he was doing. Some of the people passing the shower room stopped to stare, and a few brave souls contributed some cat-calls.
Drew just lost himself in the feel of the water pounding on his head and his body, as he gave himself the most sensuous cleaning of his life.
Drew walked up to the window, feeling extremely unsure of himself. The attendant leaned on the counter with both elbows, intent on the thick book open in front of him.
"Um," Drew started, and then blushed as the attendant looked up at him through the jailhouse-style bars.
"There's an original opening," he replied, looking sour. He put a card in the book and snapped it shut. "Go ahead. Not like I'm going to get any studying done tonight."
"Uh, what's your name?" Drew blurted.
The attendant looked a little surprised at that. Drew had been coming to the bathhouse at least once a week for months, and had treated most of the employees like shit. He'd been openly contemptuous to the Hispanic transsexual that helped out by cleaning rooms on the weekends, and he'd given poor old Joey, who was harmless as a wet Kleenex, a coronary by asking him to play some straight porn in the porn room. He'd demanded "a real room" many times, and had refused to believe that there weren't special "members-only" rooms on the premises. He'd been a pest, but the owner of the place didn't care as long as he paid the usual rates.
"Tom," he replied warily.
"Tom, I need a favor," Drew told him. "I'm not asking you to get yourself in trouble or anything. But I would really appreciate any help you can give me."
"Like what?" Tom asked.
"There was a guy here earlier," Drew began. "I think about this tall," he put his hand even with his eyes. "Black hair, kind of messy haircut, kind of long. Pale, not buff, and kind of hairy? He didn't look like he gets a lot of sleep. Dark eyes, you know?"
"And?" Tom asked, bored.
"If you have a way to contact him, could you give him a message for me?" Drew asked, scanning Tom for any hope.
"What kind of message?" Tom prompted.
"Tell him I'm not mad," Drew said, with relief, practically babbling. "And thank you. And I'd like to meet again. I can give you my number to give him." Drew reached for one of the pencils on the counter, as well as one of the notecards, kept there for that very reason. But Tom reached under the bars and put his hand over the pile of notecards.
"And what's in it for me?" Tom asked bluntly. Drew looked at him, his mouth open. Tom's eyes bored into him coldly. Drew felt crushed.
After a few moments, Drew gave a sad sigh.
"I'll let you fuck me," Drew said quietly. "Or... whatever. Whatever you want. You can even do it in front of anybody. I don't care." He half-shrugged, as if the real thing would have been too much effort.
Tom stood up straight and removed his hand from the cards. "Write it down," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "And then park that ass right there." He nodded to the chair that stood behind Drew, against the wall. "I get off in about an hour."
Drew wrote his number down on the card and slid it across the counter to Tom. He turned away, his shoulders slumped and his feet dragging. But he took his seat without hearing Tom assuring him it had been a joke, or anything two guys would do to bust each others' chops and break the tension.
Drew tried not to look at Tom, but Tom had gone back to reading the thick book.
There had been a few times Drew had tempted to invite Tom out for a beer. He'd even contemplated inviting Tom to the frat house, as Tom seemed like a cool guy. He obviously worked out quite a bit. He didn't look gay to Drew, and Drew suddenly felt uncomfortable with that thought.
Tom absently scratched at the hair on his chest as he read. He was the first guy that Drew could recall seeing with a build like that and the long square glasses a lot of gay boys and Goths were wearing these days. His dark brown hair was cropped almost as short as Drew's, but it was thicker and wavy on top, almost a 50's style.
A simpering chubby guy came up to the counter, whispering to Tom, and the man stood up straight, nodding. He reluctantly replaced his bookmark and closed the book, putting it aside. He pulled his t-shirt back on, and came out the door next to the window, checking the door to make sure it was locked.
Drew watched Tom walk away, led by the self-important chub, noting how his cargo shorts clung to his ass and how the knock-off Birkenstocks showed off his massive calves. Drew looked over at the book barely visible on an inside corner of the counter. He stood and went over to the window, craning his head to read the cover of the book.
The book was on anatomy and physiology. Drew could see the long "Used" sticker on the spine of the book, and the book looked pretty beat up. He knew that Tom was in college, and he'd heard some people talk about how he had to work extra jobs to keep up. Drew stared at the book for a few minutes.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Tom demanded behind him. Drew jumped, and turned.
"I was just wondering what you were studying," Drew said defensively.
"I'm in pre-med," Tom hissed. "My fifth fucking year of pre-med. Now, kindly butt out of my personal life."
"But-" Drew subsided when Tom glared at him. "I've been meaning to ask you if you wanted to pledge my fraternity," he offered quietly.
"I'm sure your frat brothers would love having a queer around," Tom said sarcastically. "And I don't have time for a frat, even if I wanted to. Which I don't."
Drew retreated back to the chair, to wait. It took quite a while to get rid of the burning sensation all over his face.
A while later the older guy that worked there came in. Tom packed up his books and notebook as he talked quietly with the other man, filling him in on the evening's events.
Joey kept glancing at Drew, seated on the chair and with his towel wrapped around his hips. The blonde was slumped in the chair and stared at the floor between his bare feet glumly.
"What's going on?" Joey asked Tom in a hushed voice.
"Oh, nothing much," Tom shrugged. "I'm going to grab a room for an hour or so, okay?"
Joey glanced from Tom to Drew.
"Oh, Tommy, be careful," he said, sounding frightened. "I couldn't stand it if anything happened to you, you know? Or if you got fired..."
"I'll be fine," Tom assured him. "I'm going to leave my bookbag here, alright?" He picked up his gym bag.
"Sure," Joey nodded.
Joey stared as Tom went over to Drew, the key and a towel in his hand. He spoke to the blonde and turned away. Drew followed him, his face burning, and didn't meet Joey's astonished eyes.
Tom looked Drew up and down as he undressed. "We'll be going down to the basement in minute," he told the other man.
"But that's-" Drew blushed deep red, and he shivered.
"Yep," Tom nodded, wrapping the towel around his middle. He bent down to the duffel bag, and dumped out the shorts, jocks, and t-shirts. Drew tried to glance in, but Tom zipped it back up.
"Let's go," Tom said threateningly. He pushed Drew toward the door.
The basement of the bathhouse had been broken up into a number of small areas and rooms. Drew had always stayed out, as he didn't really want to know what some of the things down there were for.
Tom led him toward an open area, lit with orange and red lights. In the middle of the room, fastened to the floor, was a piece of furniture.
The middle was raised up higher than the two smaller platforms on either side. All three were covered in red leather and heavily padded.
Tom pushed Drew down onto the bench, with his arms and knees on the lower platforms. The middle platform accommodated Drew's torso just fine.
"You're going to lie there, and I'm going to have fun," Tom told him. "And you're not going to cry out, you're not going to try running off. Got it?"
"Yes," Drew said in a small voice.
Tom reached down into his bag, and pulled out a speculum, a device that looked like a split cone of metal mounted on plier handles. He ran it up and down the crack of Drew's ass, and gently screwed the two halves of the cone head into his ass. Tom squeezed the handle, drawing the two halves apart.
Drew hissed as he felt the sudden pressure. The metal was cold, and suddenly he could feel Tom's rubber-gloved finger entering him.
Tom looked at the men who had stopped to look. "Looks a bit enflamed," he noted.
A couple of the men snickered.
Drew laid on the bench, humiliated as Tom gave his ass a thorough medical examination. Tom kept up a steady stream of clinical comments.
"Well, looks like I need to administer an injection," Tom announced, his voice mean and husky.
Drew shuddered as Tom's fingers were withdrawn from his ass. A moment later, Tom plunged his thick dick into Drew's ass.
"You just lay there and take your medicine," Tom told his victim.
