MY WORST AND BEST GAY BATHHOUSE ESCAPADE

If walls could talk, they'd be connected by AI to a vast system of surveillance in which the walls of every building and room, everywhere in the world, are able to hear and see everything we say and do.

They record us (in all of our compromising and mundane moments), but for whom and for what purpose, no one knows for sure.

They have been watching and recording us ever since the Singularity occurred in 2033, which gifted us with the deep bass of the city streets, a Mulholland Drive-like soundscape in between the cracks of the urban surface.

“ . . . the wrong fucking places . . .” a woman says (under the influence of some substance or 'delusion' as she talks to herself loudly. She mentions something about being used like a sex doll or sex robot.

A young man walks alone at night. He looks lost.

Using his phone, he tries to figure out how to walk to the bathhouse from the bus stop. “Wait, where is it? Oh, man.” He walks fast, sighing. “Where is it?”

“... You have to put money in it . . .” a woman says to someone as he walks by. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

Finally, after several minutes he stops outside the door of a bathhouse called Smoke Incubi. A pulsating beat permeates the premises. He waits a while as the host helps someone else. “Here you go,” the host tells a downcast man. “ . . . first time?"

“Your phone number, please,” the host continues to help someone else. “ . . . debit, credit?”

The impersonal beeping of machines can be heard and the cold clatter and clicking of lifeless objects.

“Hello,” he greets Ivan. Ivan shows his vaccine passport.

“Perfect, you got your card. Perfect. Room or locker?”

“Just a locker,” Ivan says.

“$25. Debit?”

“Yeah.”

Vaguely real or transhuman moans can be heard as Ivan opens the door to the other side, and the booming music gets louder.

“Next time, Ivan, no backpack.”

“You need to check it?”

“That’s fine. No backpack, Ivan, okay. When you come next time, no backpack.”

“So I can’t bring my lube and stuff?”

“You can bring lube and everything, but it has to be a fanny pack or one of those tote bags; but it can’t be a backpack, okay.”

“Okay. Do you need to check it?”

“No, I’m okay. I just want to warn you. ‘Cause otherwise next time when I see you...”

“Do you know where, like, all the rooms are?”

“The rooms are downstairs.”

As Ivan begins to descend the scarlet red spiral staircase, he notices that the patterns of tiles on the walls resemble blackberry bushes. After about a minute of walking around the dimly lit corridors, he finds the room Varun is in.

“Hello,” Ivan says.

“Hey,” Varun answers.

“Is it okay if I go to the washroom first?”

“Yeah, you can go.”

As Ivan takes his coat and hoodie off and prepares to leave to go to the washroom, Varun observes that, “It took a while for you to get here.”

“Yeah, I got a bit lost. Do you know where the washrooms are?”

“Just walk that way . . . (it should be on the left). . . How’s your day been?”

“Pretty good. It’s okay,” Ivan says.

“Yeah?"

Ivan takes his coat and backpack off, then makes sure he has his wipes and hand sanitizer before inquiring about the location of the toilets.

"So are they upstairs, downstairs?”

“They’re right over there.”

“Right there?”

“Just close the door on your way out.”

Ivan shuts the door and heads to the washroom stalls. The phrase, “All night,” repeats amongst the simplistic chords of the monotonous dance music seemingly chosen for Smoke Incubi by a liberal, rational robot or banal AI.

Ivan has to take a shit. He feels relieved that his poop is clean and doesn’t require much wiping at all; but for better or worse he didn’t bring a douche with him, and has never douched in his life. Yet he also hasn’t had any accidents or messes so far.

...

The boring ugly music continues without pause. After a few minutes, Ivan comes back. “Do you need water?” Ivan asks.

“Sorry?”

“Do they sell bottled water here? I don’t know if you need water.”

“I’m good,” Varun says. “They have like a fountain up there if you need some water.”

“Okay. I’ll see.”

“They’ve got a vending machine upstairs if you need to get some water.”

“ . . . The guy at the front said I’m not allowed with my backpack. They allowed me this time.”

Varun chuckles slightly.

Ivan continues, “They said I can bring like a tote bag or fanny pack or something. I don’t know . . . Okay. Should we start like . . . do you care what we start with? . . . cock-to-cock or…?”

“Do you mind sucking me off?”

“Should we start with that?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” Ivan says and gets ready to suck Varun’s cock. “Can I get, like, the coconut lube ready as well?”

“Uh, okay.”

“So do you want me to just start with oral first?”

“Yeah.”

“And then kissing or—”

“Just oral," Varun says.

“—for it to start with. Okay . . . . Let me know if it feels, like, uncomfortable to you.”

“Sorry?”

“Does it feel good?” Ivan asks Varun.

“Yeah . . . Do you like it?”

“Mmh?”

“Do you like it?” Varun asks again.

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

At some point, Ivan asks, “Can we try cock-to-cock or ….”

“Sure, I guess you can." Ivan proceeds to align their two penises together in his right hand. "Do you like that?” Varun asks.

“I don’t know if you want coconut lube or not. Do you want coconut lube, or should I go like this?”

“It’s up to you.”

“Does it feel okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you tired?” Ivan asks Varun.

“I’m a little bit tired, yeah.”

“Oh.”

“You?” Varun asks Ivan.

“No.”

“Yeah, but I’ve been working all night.”

“We could’ve met another day if you wanted to,” Ivan says.

“No, that’s fine.”

“Do you want to cum once tonight, or more than once?”

“Only once,” Varun says.

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“When did you cum last time?” Varun asks Ivan.

“I actually had a wet dream…”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah, just once . . . Do you want me to get some coconut oil?”

“For what?”

“For cock-to-cock.”

“Uh, suck me a little bit more, and then we can add some coconut oil.”

“Okay.” Ivan proceeds to do more oral on Varun’s cock.

“What kind of porn do you watch?” Varun suddenly asks.

“Porn? I wasn’t thinking of porn.”

“What kind?”

“I don’t know. What kinds are there?”

Varun laughs.

Ivan continues, “I haven’t watched porn in a while, but there were occasionally good stuff.”

“Yeah?”

“I used to like mostly porn with cock-to-cock…” The dance-like bass and drum music becomes more rhythmic and hypnotic in a good way.

He continues to suck Varun’s erect penis. As Ivan makes love to Varun with his mouth, a disembodied spirit is lurking through the corridors of Smoke Incubi.

"Use your tongue," Varun says.

"Mmh?"

"Use your tongue and just lick on the top,” Varun quietly commands.

The male spirit roaming the bathhouse looks old, bony, and miserable. He stops at the door of every room and enters each room one by one without having to open any doors.

“ . . . . Do you like it?”

“Mmh?”

“Do you like it?” Varun asks again.

“Yeah.”

“See how deep you can go,” Varun says. The ghost is currently in a room six doors away from them. “ . . . This is great.”

“I need more—I should practice at home too now.”

“Yeah? Just practice on this.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“You can practice on me all you want.”

“Do you like me?” Ivan asks.

“Yeah . . . You’re fine with it just being hookups, right?”

“Mmh?”

“You’re fine with it just being hookups, right?”

“Yeah, yeah."

"Okay."

". . . Do you want me to get coconut lube, or do you want me to do more of this?”

“Let’s do more of this,” Varun answers, referring to Ivan sucking him off.

“Can we do cock-to-cock after?”

“Yeah . . . What about sitting on it after?” Varun says in a calmly commanding manner.

“Like, how?” Ivan inquires.

“Hmm?”

“Like cock-to-cock or anal?” Ivan asks.

“Like taking it in your ass.”

“Can we at least do some cock-to-cock though?”

“Okay. Yeah . . . When was the last time you had sex?”

“Well, when was the last time you had sex?” Ivan asks.

“I don't know, last weekend,” Varun answers.

“Last week?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Uh, January.”

“Yeah, how was it?”

“I didn’t do anal. It was okay.”

“Yeah. How old was the guy?”

“How old he is?”

“Yeah.”

“Like early twenties I think?”

“Yeah?”

A long silence ensues. “ . . . Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered you,” Ivan says.

“Mmh?”

“Maybe you didn’t want to meet so late...”

“Say it again,” Varun says.

“Maybe you didn’t want to meet me so late… Sorry if I bothered you by messaging you.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I probably shouldn’t have mentioned it,” Ivan says.

“Did you enjoy the sex last time?” Varun asks.

“Yeah, yeah, well, yeah.”

“Good. That’s good." Ivan grabs the plastic bottle of coconut oil, opens it and pours some into his palm. As the ghost passes into each room, it waves either a wand, a flag, or a rag. "Just leave it there," Varun says, referring to the lube bottle.

The ghost is getting closer to their room, and a dark voice seems to escape from the ghost's pallid lips: 'Take over,' which blends seamlessly with the ambient dance track.

"Did you shave your chest?" Ivan says.

"I did, yeah," Varun states in a more masculine tone.

"Why?" Ivan petulantly inquires.

"Just for a change."