The dry sauna was empty. Two tiered wooden benches on the right mirrored two layered benches on the left. I sat on the right lower bench. I closed my eyes, lost in my thoughts, until someone walked in. It was a smooth slim man who sat opposite me. A second punter joined in: a grey haired man who took the left upper bench, above the first punter. He was followed by an athletic hairy man in his 20s, Mediterranean looking. The boy removed his towel, spread it on the bench above mine and sat on it with his legs wide open. Despite my best efforts, however, I could not get a good view of the boy’s genitalia: his knee was in the way and his arm cast a shadow. It was getting sweaty.
Then a bear walked in and sat right next to the younger hairy man. Opposite the bear, on the lower bench, appeared a middle aged punter with a small blond moustache and receding hair. His gaze was focused on the hairy boy’s crotch.
This boy was popular: a smooth blond jock took a seat on the lower bench just below him and soon was his hand going up the boy’s leg, slowly stroking his calf, his knee, his thigh, his thick pubic hair. Then his hand disappeared between the boy’s legs, starting a rhythmic up and down movement. The glans of the hairy boy’s penis appeared and disappeared between his thighs as he was masturbated by the blond boy. Most punters minded their own business but the balding moustachioed man’s stare was fixated on the boys. The hairy boy’s breathing pattern changed, getting faster and faster, his hands tightly clutching the edge of the bench. His upper body leaned forward and backward with jerky convulsions. As his breathing got faster and louder, the moustachioed man shouted:
‘Are you going to come?’
Everyone sat still. The blond boy pulled his hand away from the hairy boy’s body.
‘Show some respect!’ the moustachioed man continued.
The boys kept quiet but the bear bawled out: ‘What?’
The man with the moustache was relentless: ‘Aren't you ashamed?’
Timidly, the grey haired punter muttered: ‘This is a gay sauna…’
The reply was: ‘But you don’t have to do it in front of everyone! That’s what cubicles are for.’
He kept addressing the younger men. ‘Show some decorum! How can you possibly do this in front of everybody? ’
The dark haired boy mumbled something in a French accent.
Mr. Moustache was outraged: ‘You’re not even English!’
The bear was dismayed. He asked: ‘Are you gay?’
He replied: ‘Yes! But that doesn't mean I'm shameless. For fuck's sake! I have self-respect. And respect for others’.
The bear stood up. ‘I give up,’ he said, ‘unbelievable’ and left.
Everyone disappeared, one by one. I was left on my own again. I heard some shouting in the distance. When I got out, minutes later, the moustached man was nowhere to be seen on the premises.