Needing to escape reality for a day, I drive the 90 miles to Palm Springs and get a room at one of the city’s clothing-optional gay resorts. The cute blond boy at the counter jokes about me having the resort to myself, as it appears I am one of only seven guests staying at this 30-room hotel tonight. That’s fine with me: It’s 112 degrees and I am more interested in relaxing by the pool than cruising random guys.
I step into my room and am blasted with the cool air of my large suite. I toss my bag on the dinning room table, peel out of my sweaty clothes and drop onto the large bed with a sigh.
I didn’t intend to take a nap, yet wake to the heavy shadows of sunset. Looking through the curtains, I see the place is still deserted: I’m guessing the few people staying here are probably at dinner. Dinner sounds good but the pool sounds better, so I step out of my room and jump into the pool. The water is warm and I float on my back to admire the sunset-streaked sky.
“Hi,” a random voice says from my right, startling me.
Some guy I didn’t notice is in the pool with me, leaning back against the tiled border. I stand, realizing the pool is only 5’ deep or so, and return the greeting. He has red-blond wavy hair, a well-manicured beard, and is sitting on the stairs leading into the pool so that only his head is above the water. I can’t guess his age due to his dark sunglasses.
He asks me if I’m here alone and confirms he is as well. His name is Dan, he’s a Realtor from Missoula and has an interesting accent I’m guessing isn’t from Montana. He stands and stretches, obviously showing off his muscular chest and massive arms. He’s a big fucker with a furry, freckled chest and a complicated tat on his left arm.
I do my best not to stare, though subtlety was never one of my strengths.
Dan sets his glasses down and takes a step towards me. “You horny?”
I nod. So much for subtlety, right? Continue reading