STEAM ROOM DISASTER. PART 1

I sat in the steam room, thankful for the solitude. I was totally fucked up on too much booze. It was two o’clock in the morning, and I was in a hotel in a strange city. I had struck out with the local ladies up in the bar, and was now trying to sweat the booze out of my system. Ten beers, four whiskeys and eight shooters.

It was dark in the steam room; the only illumination came from tiny red LED lights. I stretched my legs out across the aisle, reaching under the bench across from me. Clouds of steam were rolling up from little holes near the bottom of the wall. The steam blanketed my feet and legs, even my crotch. I lay my head back against the wall and closed my eyes.

I must have fallen dead asleep, because when I opened my eyes a guy was sitting across from me. He looked about eighteen and he was out of it, leaning back against the wall, eyes shut. Another casualty of the bar I expected. The guy had dark hair falling across his face, thick girl lips, and was as scrawny as they came. Skinny legs, sunken chest, thin arms. His biceps displayed barb wire tattoos. I laughed to myself. The smallest arms I had ever seen. The guy was as white as a ghost. Fucking Casper. Probably a faggot.

Why did the idiot need to sit across from me?

The whole damn steam room was available. Whatever. I closed my eyes and forgot about the idiot.

When I felt a gentle touch against my foot. Strangely, my cock began to stir. I had been thinking about those women in the bar. And I was drunk. I opened my eyes and looked at the newcomer. Casper the faggot. He appeared to be asleep. I looked down at the floor, but couldn’t see our feet in the mist. The idiot must have shifted his foot.

I closed my eyes again. When I felt the same touch, except this time, right up the inside of my calf to my knee. My eyes flew open. The fag still appeared to be asleep. What the hell?

The steam was getting thicker, climbing up near my chest. Sweat was pouring off my head, my torso, my arms, my legs, everything.