Week 7 - "Steaming"

The club was practically deserted when Ace arrived shortly before nine o'clock. The health club had been converted from an old warehouse with corrigated siding similar to an old airplane hanger. The place was expansive but no matter how much they tried to upgrade the place it still had the feel of an old army base. This was most evident out on the tennis courts. Tennis "courts" was being generous since all they really did was lay down a thin skim coat over the old concrete floor, paint some white lines and throw up six nets. The floor was the hardest in New England and the balls flew off the surface like skimming stones bouncing off  the surface water in a kettle pond. Ace knew the courts felt stiff but it would be another ten years begor he really began to notice the wear and tear they were doing to his back, feet and knees.


Upstairs he spotted a couple of middle aged women and one or two muscle heads in the exercise room. He looked down through the massive glass windows and could see an older man just getting into the jacuzzi next to the heated pool. Not a soul was on any of the six available courts. He was not surprised. What other losers would be playing tennis on a Saturday night?

Ace made his way down on the courts and openned his tennis bag and fished out a dozen practice balls. He always kept ready supply of extra balls so that he could practice his serve which was the weakest part of his game. He did a few stretches, touching his toes and turning his torso side to side. He began slowly by just tapping the ball over the net. He was always amazed whenever he saw other players crush the ball as hard as they could on their first practice serve. Ace knew he would destroy his shoulder if he ever tried something like that and besides, he was not a showoff.

He finished the first batch of balls, picked up the loose ones and started again on the opposite side of the court. Every few serves he looked up throught the windows into the lounge to see if he could see Hal at the check-in desk. His shoulder was starting to loosen up now and he tried to concentrate on getting his first serve in at least three times in a row, which is much harder to do than most players realize. By now is was ten minutes past nine o'clock and he was beginning to talk to himself out loud.

"I knew he was full of shit," he complained as he picked up another set of balls that were scattered around the court.

He felt like an idiot all by himself out on court one - the so called "Show Court" because it was directly in front of the windows where everyone could sit and watch. He knew this was silly since there wasn't anyone around to watch him anyway but this did not stop him from getting angry. Still, he tried to convince himself that he needed the practice and besides, this was better than sitting at home watching old movies while his wife sleep upstairs with the baby.

By quarter-past nine he could barely contain his anger.

He tossed the ball high above his head and swung his racquet as hard as he could. It was not even close to landing in the service box but Ace did not care.

"Fucking asshole," he said as he reached down to retrieve another fuzzy, green victim. "He's probably drinking a 'Tom Collins'  in some bar in the Back Bay right now."

He decided that he would finish these last few balls and call it a night. He caught himself glancing up at the desk again and knew he was losing focus. So he told himself that he could not leave until he hit five good, solid, first serves in a row up the middle of the service box. That was he best spot, up the middle - if he could hit it. But he his thoughts were not on his mechanics, instead, he was thinking about what he was going to say to Hal the next time he saw him at the office.

"Tennis? You play tennis? You mean you watch it on TV," sounded like it would make his point without actually insulting Hal to his face. Afterall, he was a team leader and it probably would not look good if he called him a loser to his face while they were standing out on the open floor at work.

Just then the curtain flew open and Hal stepped onto the court carrying two racquets.

"Sorry I'm late," he said. "I had a little trouble finding this place. It's really tucked in back here. I must have driven by it twice."

Ace had to admit that it was true. The club was somewhat hidden toward the back of the mall behind a huge grocery store. He walked over and shook hands.

"Don't worry about it," Ace said as pleasantly as he could. "It gave me a chance to practice my serve a little. And believe me, I need it."

They both laughed and the ice was quickly broken.

Hal had two racquets with him which told Ace that he probably was a player after all. A beginner would only have one but a serious player always had a backup stick in case they broke a string. Now, lets see if he knows how to hit the ball.

Ace grooved a nice easy forehand to Hal and watched as he smacked the ball right back to him. Not bad, he thought. Let's see if he can hit a backhand. Hal quickly turned to his left and hit a perfect two-handed backhand to Ace which he proceed to dump into the net.

"Nice shot," Ace yelled across the net.

"Thanks," said Hal. "Man, it's great to be back out on the courts. It's been a while."

They hit like this for an hour, taking a few water breaks and making small talk while they sat on the bench courtside. There was something about Hal that was different, besides the fact that he was black, but Ace was not quite sure what it was and told himself that it did not matter. Hal was alright.

When they finished, Ace showed Hal around the club. They checked out the exerise room with all the latest machines, the baketball courts, the indoor running track, the two heated, indoor pools plus the outdoor pool which was openned during the summer and even had a wave machine. Like almost everyone who toured the club, Has was suitably impressed.

They walked back down to the locker room and undressed.

"Let's hit the sauna for a few minutes," Ace said.

"Well, I'm really not a big sauna guy," Hal cautioned.

"Come on. It's a great way to loosen up after playing," Has insisted.

They had to place to themselves, which Ace thought was great. Hal, however, was beginning to think that this was a little odd.

"Now let me show you the steam room," Ace commanded. "That's my favorite spot."

"I really don't need to steam right now," Hal quickly said. "I'm all set."

"Just for a few minutes," Ace continued, oblivious to Hal's growing discomfort. "It's the best!"

Ace never wrapped a towel around himself when he was in the locker room, perferring instead to walk about naked. Hal kept his towel on. They stepped into the steam room and disappeared into a cloud of steam. Hal noticed they were alone.

"We need more steam," Ace said. "There's a way to make it come on again."

Ace took a small paper cup and filled it with cold water from the facuet. Then he jumped up on the bench and tossed the water at the sensor that was mounted on the ceiling.

"This is supposed to activate it," he said but nothing happened. He stepped back down, filled the cup again and hopped back up on the bench.

Hal watched Ace prancing up and down while his little balls and penis flopped about as he tried to get the steam to kick on again.

"I don't know what's wrong with this thing," Ace complained.

He turned and now his manhood was pointed at Hal and was directly at eye level. They were all alone. He is going to come on to me right here, in the steam room, thought Hal.

"I knew it," Hal said to himself. "Ace is gay."