Apologies for this one. I am but human...
Hotness in the Sauna
by Adam "Rev" Hulnick
So here's the problem with being me. I went swimming
tonight. Second time in the last four days so I'm
feeling pretty damn self-righteous. I get out of the
pool and my swim suit is instantly freezing cold
against my legs. So I figure I'll jump in the sauna
for a few minutes, just to dry off and thermoregulate
a little before I go out into the cold.
Now Manhattan gyms don't have a whole lot of space to
work with, so the steam room is in the locker room,
but the sauna is in the pool area and it's coed. which
means that there are sometimes women in there. Which
can be a little awkward, sitting there, half-naked,
beet-red and sweating. If there were some sand on the
floor it might not be so wierd, but there's just wood.
So I'm sitting there, starting to warm up, when in
come hotness personified. Colorful two-piece swimsuit,
curves like a racetrack, eastern european rigity to
the features. It suddenly got a little hotter in the
room. Maybe a lot hotter.
Okay, now let me say that the magazine type is not
usually my type. And it wasn't her. When I say she had
curves, I mean she was curvey, she'd enjoyed a meal or
two in her day. Not fat, but she had a little belly
that said "in my presence you can let out that breath
you're holding in." Nice wide butt that looked like it
would jiggle if you slapped it, but not if she had a
hard thought. Breasts with some space between them.
So she comes in and I'm trying like hell not to stare.
I believe the gym is not a place to stare at women.
That's just rude. Women need to be free to look like
hell, which is how you look during a good workout. But
I look over when she comes in and try to give a quick,
non-committal smile. A smile that says "I acknowledge
your presence in a friendly way, but not in a flirty
way." But I think it might have been a strained,
creepy, serial killery way.
So she comes in and sits down and after a few minutes,
starts using her towel to rub her skin down. I'm sure
she's exfoliating, but what she's really doing is
massaging her hotness about fifteen inches away from
me. And I'm trying like hell not to look, but to still
see. And I can see, so I'm trying like hell not to...
ahem, show my interest. But it's hot in there and it's
the point where I might ordinarily get out but how can
I leave this? But I think the heat may be causing
brain damage and I'm almost out of water...
I'm almost out of water!
I get up and take my water bottle out to the water
fountain, trying to soak up the reasonably cool air as
much as I can before I take the short walk back to the
sauna.
She's in there, one foot up on the bench rubbing her
thigh with her course towel. I sit down and muster all
my strength to not whimper audibly. But it's wierd
sitting this close to someone and not talking. I think
I feel eyes on me so I look over. She wasn't looking
at me, but she sees me look over and looks. I smile
the same smile and look back out toward the pool. Did
she smile back? I don't think I looked long enough to
give her a chance.
But she's got the air of a taken woman, that's for
sure. If not married, then definitely living with
someone. And I don't try to meet women at the gym,
that's a rule. No, I don't want to try to see this
woman naked. I just want to soak up as much of this
moment as I can.
She's mopping up the sweat on her chest now. Oh, sweet
merciful monkey jungle...
"It's supposed to be good for the skin. The heat." I
hear myself saying.
"No, not the sauna, the steam is for the skin. The
heat, it drys you out unless you have a
(something)exfoliant (something something) good
loofah."
She's Russian, she's chatty. She tells me about heat
and steam and skin and the turkish baths in manhattan
and the russian baths in brooklyn and the baths she
used in Moscow. She suggests I look in the Russian
papers to find a bath. She assumes I read russian?
I've been getting that since I moved here.
Her rapid fire conversation, she's either lonely
(maybe her big, muscular russian husband doesn't let
her out much) or she really wants to practice her
english, which is pretty good. but I'm happy to chat
with her, though it's hard to catch furtive glaces at
her body while I'm talking to her, eye-contact is hard
to break subtley. And I'm enjoying the conversation,
but it hasn't gotten any cooler in there and I'm
starting to feel the life draining from me. How far
can I actually go before I die? She's putting her flip
flop on and off, she wants to go as well, but we're
talking. My glasses frames are too hot to touch. I run
my fingers through my hair and my hair burns my hand.
Then she gets up and goes into the shower. I give her
a head start so as to not look like a stalker, and I
go out and straight to the locker room. Cool shower is
like a life-roap pulling me back from the white light.
I dry and dress slowly and when I go back to the pool
area to put my swim suit in the little spin dryer, I
see that she is back in the sauna.
And here's the problem with being me, I'm half-tempted
to go back over there in my jeans and sweater and go
back in as if it were part of my usual routine.
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