I shrugged, mentioned that I had only met the man once, but he seemed like a decent chap and it was too bad he wouldn't be around.I shrugged, mentioned that I had only met the man once, but he seemed like a decent chap and it was too bad he wouldn't be around. I was much more disappointed than I let on, to Brian or to myself. Brian left me on my own after that, and I straddled the bike. Headphones on, I made my way past meadows and pastures, all the while ruminating over this whole business with Art. I still didn't understand it, although if it had happened to someone else, I'd know just what to make of it: Art had the hots for me, I caught him indulging in a fantasy or two, and he blew a fuse. Of course, seeing that I was involved, I knew there was no way in hell this built guy would be mooning over the likes of me. There had to be some other explanation, but how could I explain that I had been counting the minutes until I could share a bath with this man again? I had to admit it: I was positively crushed that Art wasn't coming around again. Weeks went by. I stuck with my workout regimen and eventually forgot all about Art. I studied bodies of all shapes in reflections in the chrome fixtures, even shared a jacuzzi or two with other regulars. I had become a fixture myself, and hanging out naked with these guys became second nature to me. Besides, my body was showing changes of its own, and I liked what I saw. Brian's direction was doing wonders. My belly was firm, my once mountainous love handles were reduced to tiny hills, and I was feeling good about myself for the first time in years. I must admit that I was given to brief bouts of vanity, standing in front of my locker door. |