Men on the Make: True Gay Sex Confessions by Shane Allison

Author:Shane Allison [Allison, Shane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781627780735
Publisher: Cleis Press Start
Published: 2014-07-21T04:00:00+00:00

LATE-NIGHT LOCKER ROOM

Jay Starre

It was one of the hottest experiences I have ever had. And it wasn’t at a bathhouse or sex club or gay beach, but of all places, at work. It was totally unexpected and it happened with someone I had no idea would turn out to be such a downright nasty boy in the end.

At that time I worked as an iceman on a Zamboni. I drove the ice machine around the skating rink to clean the ice. I also played hockey regularly at the drop-in games as a goalie.

Most everyone knew I was gay. I hadn’t tried to keep it a secret but didn’t wear a sticker advertising it either. I’d let a few people know and the gossip machine took care of the rest. Regardless of that, I was a very popular guy at the rinks. Not only did I take care of the ice for all the players and skaters, I was in high demand for those pick-up games.

I was on a night shift, midnight to eight in the morning, the night it happened. This was the worst possible shift for me. Not a night person, I much prefer being cozy and warm in my bed. No matter how much coffee I drank I was always fighting off sleep and had to keep as busy as possible to get through the shift.

After the last team was off the ice, I did my final run of the night with the Zamboni, then went to work cleaning the lobby, the stands and the locker rooms. I had one assistant, Ryan, who helped out from midnight to four.

I was working on the last locker room when he reported in.

“I’m done, Jay. Can I head out now?”

“Sure, Ryan. Thanks for all your help. The back door in the Zamboni room will lock behind you. See you tomorrow night.”

Ryan was a shaggy, redheaded university student working weekends and nights. He was quiet, diligent and a hard worker. I always let him leave a little early because of it. I believed he appreciated it—but I had no idea how much.

Now that he was leaving, I would be alone. The first hockey teams wouldn’t arrive for practice until 5:30. I had ninety minutes of privacy. I knew exactly what I was going to do with the first half of it.

Newton Arena was decades old. It had been renovated a few times, but a couple of the locker rooms were still original. The one I was in had two separate shower stalls that were lined with blue tile that had to be out of the fifties. I actually liked it better than the newer stainless steel and gleaming white tiles of the other changing rooms.

I’d sprayed down the shower stalls with a concentrated antiseptic soap and hosed them clean so they sparkled. I always did a thorough job of it, but that night I had an extra incentive. Whenever I worked night shift, I took a long steaming-hot shower for my lunch break.

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