SEVEN HITS! Get Your Ass Ready! (3 page)

Back on the workout floor, Cal kept his head down and did his job. Most people here didn’t make eye contact with anyone, and especially not with the janitor, and he was savvy enough to return the favor. It didn’t bother him that most of them looked down on him. He was proud of the way he did his job even if nobody noticed. In fact, in a lot of ways it was one of those jobs you did best when nobody noticed you, the way a good waiter is only there when you need him.

Without being obvious, he had to watch everyone and know when someone was just resting or doing a circuit, or if they’d abandoned a shitload of 45-pounders on a bar for someone else to deal with. After a month on the job, he knew who the “gym felons” were, the ones who’d leave puddles of sweat on the bench or drop the 100 lb. barbells in a weird spot and leave ‘em there.

And he drifted after them, cleaning up in their wake. He didn’t look muscular enough to hoist a hundred pounder and
rerack
it, but he was one of those slim guys who were a lot stronger than they looked.

Lately, there had been this one guy who kept watching him. Cal hadn’t been to prison, but he’d spent enough time in jail – for possession, fighting, resisting arrest, the usual stupid young guy shit – to know that when someone was looking at you long and hard, the one thing you did not do was look back, challenge him, start some shit.

And his job here was to be invisible, which wasn’t hard since most of the people here didn’t have the time of day for someone like him. But not looking when someone
was
looking, that was easier in jail than it was here. He was still getting used to all the mirrors on the walls, especially the corners and angles that could pretty much give you eyes in the back of your head if you used them right.

This guy knew the layout pretty well, because Cal could always feel his eyes on him, straight on or out of the corner of his eye. He was a young, fit dude, clean cut and “professional” looking, his dark hair cut like a banker’s or a news anchor’s. He had dark eyes and pale skin, which made him look unshaven this time of day, when his dark stubble was coming in again. He was a little shorter than Cal and looked like he’d played some kind of sports in college, not too long ago.

At first Cal tried to place him, wondering if maybe they knew each other from somewhere. But that wasn’t it. The guy looked like one of those business guys in a cell phone commercial, walking around in a suit making deals. Nobody he would have ever known in the circles he traveled in. He wore the same thing every time he worked out, too, a plain white t-shirt and basketball shorts. Which made Cal think he wasn’t gay, because what gay dude wears a white T to the gym every day?

Cal had been cruised by plenty of gay guys. He knew he looked like rough trade, and maybe he was. He liked to party when he was younger, and when you were high, it didn’t matter what the gender was of someone on their knees in front of you - a blow job was a blow job and you were grateful for it.

In jail he’d had his share of mansex
too. Hell, you got 30 days, by the 21
^st
you weren’t too picky about where you stuck it if you got a chance to stick it.

But this, man, this was the workplace. He’d learned a thing or two since the old days: don’t ever fuck with a cop, don’t ever buy drugs on the street, don’t drink tequila in a bar if you have a short fuse, and don’t shit where you eat. He wasn’t going to do anything with anyone here that would get him fired. The girls here, he didn’t have to worry about, because he was the fucking janitor and they were too good for that shit, and guys, well, right now given the choice between a blowjob and a paycheck, celibacy looked okay.

Besides, he thought with a shrug, I’m probably just making it up. Dude might be curious about my tats, but that’s probably about it.

It was getting close to closing time, and the place was emptying out. Cal knew how to get as much done as he could before the doors were locked, so he wasn’t there much later than closing time himself. The locker room would be the last stop for the customers, so it would be last on his list, too.

The free weight area was deserted now, except for “that guy.” He looked at Cal and Cal looked at him, and the guy nodded, your normal “hey dude” kind of nod. Cal nodded back and shot a Swiss ball across the room, one perfect bounce landing it in the rack.

“Nice shot,” the guy said.

“Lucky shot,” Cal admitted.

“Hey, I’m Matt,” he said, extending his hand.

Cal instinctively wiped his grimy hands on his cargo shorts before shaking hands. “Cal.”

“Can I ask you to spot me?”

“Sure thing.” Cal eyed the bar, impressed. Dude had four 45s on there, which with the bar meant he was going for about 235, not pro athlete level but not bad. “How many?”

“Trying for eight.”

Cal came around behind the bench, putting his hands on the bar, one over and one underhand. Matt put himself into position below, Cal noticing with approval how he worked his shoulder blades back to keep the weight on his pectorals and off the joints.

“Okay,” Matt said, “Three, two, one.”

Cal lifted the bar and Matt took control. Cal watched closely as Matt did his reps, watching for the tremors or hesitation that meant he’d maxed out. He watched Matt’s torso contracting, and couldn’t help notice when his white T lifted over the waistband of his shorts, showing his flat belly and a treasure trail down to his crotch.

Matt got to seven and a half when he hit the wall, the bar wavering halfway up, and Cal took the majority of the weight and helped him rack the bar.

“Thanks, man.” Matt sat up, red faced, and wiped his brow with a towel.

“No problem, good job.”

“You lift?”

“Yeah, not in a while though.” Cal had realized in jail that you could gain ten pounds of fat from all the fucking
carbs
they fed you, or you could hit the weights and gain ten pounds of muscle. No dummy, he’d hit the weights. But he had one of those bodies that just didn’t keep the mass unless he worked at it.

Matt gave him a lopsided grin. “Well, let me know if there’s anything I can do to return the favor.”

Cal wasn’t thick. Matt was definitely hitting on him. “No worries, man, all part of the service.”

He walked away before Matt could say anything else, before Matt could see his dick thickening up, which it was obviously doing fast in his pale khaki shorts. It was bad enough he had to wear the baggiest-ass shorts he could find anyway, since his dick was long and fat enough to show in anything even slightly tighter, and he’d always modestly figured that since he wasn’t a rock star, he should probably keep that shit covered up.

He couldn’t believe how fast he was getting hard. Had it really been that long since he’d got laid, that all someone had to do was flirt with him and he was ready for action? And a guy at that. Yeah, Cal decided, right now I could stick it anywhere it fits. Guy, girl, who cares.

He finished his rounds, and noticed that Matt was gone from the weight area. Cal noted that he’d cleaned up after himself. The girl at the front counter was closing out the register so they were the only two left now. He got the mop bucket out of the closet and wheeled it into the men’s locker room.

It took him a minute to realize there was someone in one of the showers. The gym had individual stalls, which was nice. He figured it was Brian, holding out till the last minute, and he would have to tell him that it was time to wrap it up.

He was about to say something when he saw that it was definitely not an old man’s body behind the mottled glass door. In fact, it was a very fit bod. He could tell from its curves even
through the door, which was just opaque enough you couldn’t see a face, but clear enough you could see a shape. And what it was doing.

In this case, the shape was washing his pale, round, smooth ripe ass with his hands, slowly. Very slowly. Then turning around and washing his crotch, just as slowly. He was facing Cal now, and even without being able to see his face he knew Matt was staring right at him as he stood there looking. Cal could see Matt’s dick outlined against his dark bush.

Without thinking about it, Cal leaned back on the sinks opposite the showers, giving his cock a little leeway as it responded. He reached down, just to adjust it, he told himself. Then Matt turned around and put his hands on the wall, offering his ass up to Cal.

Damn! Cal popped his shorts open and pulled his dick out.
Nobody’s going to know if I stroke it,
he told himself.
It’s not like I’m going in there.

He saw Matt turn his head and knew Matt could see his arm in motion, knew he’d know Cal was jacking off. Matt pushed on the bar of one of the dispensers and put a squirt of whatever it was right in his ass. The moisturizing body lotion, Cal knew, his dick getting even harder. Then Matt widened his stance and bent his head in submission, waiting.

Cal reached over to a bottle of that same lotion on the counter next to him and squirted some into his own hand, his strokes coming faster and slicker now. His hand was what Matt’s asshole would feel like right now, he thought, only that asshole would be warmer and tighter and…

“Oh, fuck!” He shouted, and blew his wad. Matt turned around, now stroking himself in the shower, watching Cal twitch and jerk with his orgasms.

“Yeah, dude,” Matt said, loud enough to hear over the shower. “Spill it.”

That made Cal bust out even more juice. Finally he was spent. Matt groaned and busted his nut, too. Cal could see it splattering on the inside of the shower door, thick streams slowly dripping down.

Matt gave him a thumbs up, and turned around to wash himself off, showering “normally” again as if nothing had happened. Cal smiled, seeing that he even twisted the shower head to spray onto the door and wash off the cum.

Cal looked at the floor. He could see his own sauce on the black tiles, all over the place – I busted out everywhere like a fucking lawn sprinkler, he thought. He washed his dick off in the sink and stuck it back in his shorts, then got the mop and bucket and wiped his
jizz
off the floor, making sure Matt wouldn’t slip on it when he came out.

Matt was still in the shower when Cal rolled out of the locker room.

“Some guy still in there?” The front desk girl asked crabbily, ready to go home.

“Yeah, he’s almost done,” Cal said. “Don’t worry about it.”

As soon as Cal got to work the next evening, Doug popped his head out of his office. “Hey, Cal, can I see you for a minute?”

“Sure.”

“Ready for the weekend?” Doug asked, doing something on his computer as he chatted.

“Yeah, man. Definitely.” Not that he could afford to do anything, but it was what you said on a Friday even if “the weekend” meant football on TV and not much else. He figured he might have enough left after paying rent to go out for a beer or two, but that was it.

“So, I don’t want to embarrass you, but I think you know we had a string of thefts in the locker room a while back.”

Cal flushed. Shit, this was where he got fired because of his record. It wasn’t fair, he thought. “I know everyone says I would never this or that, but you know man I was never a thief, I was in jail sometimes for stupid shit but…”

Doug held up a hand with a smile. “Not where I’m going here. See, we had to put cameras in there to catch the thief. Which we did. And I usually don’t watch the tapes if nobody reports anything stolen. But sometimes I skip through ‘em to make sure nobody’s…doing anything in there that they shouldn’t, you know?” He winked.

Double shit. Cal almost laughed, it was so fucking stupid – no, this is where he got fired because he’d whacked off in the locker room.

Doug turned the monitor so Cal could see himself stroking in grainy black and white. “Damn, dude, you got a fucking piece on you. I can see that shit from space. What the fuck you doing here, man? You should be down in Van Nuys doing porn.”

“I am so sorry, Doug, it was…”

Doug waved him off, kicking back in his chair and putting his hands behind his head. “Did I ever tell you about when I worked on the cruise ships? Nah, that was after we knew each other before. So, it was kind of funny. I was a ‘valet,’ you know, ‘will there be anything else, sir/ma’am,’ all that? And there were some ships where the staff was told, don’t ever fucking touch a guest. Don’t nod or smile or even make eye contact unless the customer does it first. Don’t accept tips and sure as shit don’t accept any sexual propositions.

“And then there were other ships. Italian cruise lines, especially, guess that makes sense, huh? Where your job was to make the customer happy. Those ships were a hell of a lot more fun. Made some good tips, too. Fucked some hot ladies, made a few older ladies very happy. And, yeah, got my dick sucked by a couple of guys, too. And sometimes you’d get a little thank you, too, a nice tip. Nothing wrong with any of that, in my book. Whatever floats your boat.”

Cal smiled. “So…what kind of cruise ship is this?”

“Smart man. This, well, this is the kind of ship where you always take advantage of an opportunity to provide…good service. Have a good shift.”

Matt was there again that night, as Cal knew he would be. He was doing squats, the way you were supposed to – stance wide, going deep, ass out. Cal didn’t feel any shame about staring at Matt’s big muscular butt, which looked even better than it had last night. He felt the stirring down there and picked up the pace of his cleaning, trying to keep the blood from all flowing to his dick.

“Hey,” Cal said as Matt took a breather. “Sorry but I need you to wrap up so we can close.”

“Okay, one more set?”