Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(70)

“Sorry.” Jace scratched his head with a self-conscious chuckle. “I got on my soapbox there. Anyway, I’ve got a lifetime membership to this one, free use of all the facilities. They have a weight room no one ever uses because most people are just there to f*ck, so I go there to work out rather than pay for a gym membership. Sometimes I just play voyeur, or go to be social. A lot of old-school bathhouses consider conversation taboo, because it’s supposed to be anonymous. But this one is more modern and relaxed, so you can chat guys up. And I won’t say I’ve never hooked up there.”

“How’d you score the membership deal?”

“I did their interior design when they remodeled a few years ago, including some of the murals on their walls. I design their promotional materials, too. It’s definitely one of the nicer places, but you know, no matter how nice it is, you still have to deal with the fact that when it comes down to it, it’s a meat market for anonymous sex. I’m not sure you’d like it.”

I frowned. “Why not?”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Because you’re young and gorgeous. You’d get a lot of attention there, much of it unwanted or unattractive, some of it even gross. Seriously. How would you feel about being groped by a handsy stranger?”

“You mean besides you?” I gave him an arch look as I rinsed the dishrag and hung it over the edge of the sink, then sighed. “Okay, yeah, you’ve got a point there. I don’t know if I’d react well.”

“It usually only takes a shake of your head or a ‘no thanks’ to tell someone to back off, and if that doesn’t work, management will throw them out on their ass and revoke their membership. But I won’t say some guys don’t just go for the goods. When you go there, ‘yes’ is kind of assumed to be the default, unless otherwise stated. I can guarantee you’d get your ass and your package handled at least a few times.”

“Ah.” I frowned, turning the card over in my fingers. That didn’t sound at all like my thing, especially with my personal space issues.

So why was I so tempted to say I wanted to go?

I admit, Jace’s admonishment notwithstanding, some of it was probably just the appeal of seeing the seedier side of big-city gay life, the sort of thing I’d never find in the suburbs and on a college campus. I felt so sheltered and unworldly compared to Jace, who’d lived in Boston and Chicago and God knew where else. I wanted to know what he knew, see life from his perspective. Maybe if I did that, I could stop being so afraid and unsure and get a little bit of his confidence.

“Well, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about what to wear.” I shrugged, my heart racing nervously.

Jace gave me a searching look. “You’re honestly considering this?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” I swallowed, then drew my shoulders back, straightening. “I want to go.”

He stared at me for a long, questioning moment.

“Okay.”





I slid myself toward the fire

But I’d never burn

—Casey Stratton, “Opaline”

“So what is it you think you want to do here?” he asked on the car ride over.

I shrugged, my hands twisting nervously in my lap. “I don’t know. Observe, I guess, to start. See what it’s about.”

“Are you wanting to hook up with someone?” His voice was neutral and his eyes were on the road. I couldn’t tell from his profile exactly how he felt about that proposition, but it didn’t matter. I shook my head quickly.

“No. No, I don’t . . . I don’t think so. That’s not why— I don’t want anyone but you.”

The corner of his mouth curled up and he looked pleased. He liked that. He liked that a lot.

“Are you okay with watching others? Couples, even groups? Either in their rooms or sometimes in the public spaces?”

I drew a nervous breath. “I guess we’ll find out. You like that, though, don’t you?”

He nodded. “Sometimes. Depends on my mood. Sometimes I get off, sometimes I just get ideas. You already knew I like observing people. It’s the same principle.”

“Yeah.” I set my shoulders again, trying to shake off my nerves. “We’ll just . . . see how it goes, okay?”

“Okay.” He smirked. “For the record, your safeword is ‘get me the f*ck out of here.’”

I laughed, and how did he keep managing to make me do that when my stomach was in knots?

“I think I can remember that.”

The first brush of a stranger’s hand over my towel-covered dick convinced me that Jace hadn’t been exaggerating. Supposedly there was a code where a closed towel indicated look-but-don’t-touch, and an open towel was an invitation to help yourself, but not everyone followed it. I walked on, ignoring the brush, too nervous at being there in the first place to be all that skeeved out. Jace, however, turned to look at whoever it was and gave them a firm shake of his head. It helped that he had his hand planted between my shoulder blades, his body positioned close beside me to try to send the signal that my companion was already chosen. Of course, that wouldn’t deter anyone looking for a group—and Jace was receiving every bit as much attention as I was—but it was a start.

He led me through a dimly lit maze of cubicle-sized rooms just like the one we’d rented. Some had men lying or standing in them with the door open, just waiting for any passer-by to take up the unspoken offer. Occasionally, I would see a gorgeous mural on a stretch of wall that made the paintings Jace had done of me look positively virginal. So far, seeing his works was the most amazing thing about the place.