My boyfriend Troy and I are traveling crosscountry from Upstate New York to Indianapolis to visit my relatives. Cleveland is a convenient halfway point, so we get a room at the Flex Club, which offers a full gym, two swimming pools, a steamroom maze, and a bar downstairs, and bathhouse facilities and hotel rooms upstairs.
After we check into our room, Troy hits the cruising area, and I go to the gym. The only other guy there is not particularly muscular, obviously not a gym regular, gamely trying to figure out how to bench press.
I go over and offer to spot him.
His name is Lester. He's in his 20s, of medium height, unruly black hair, black eyebrows, and sharp features, not handsome but pleasant in a quirky bohemian way, He has with a thin chest, prominent nipples, and nicely rippled abs, plus a soft Southern accent that I find attractive. He reminds me of my Kentucky Kinfolk.
I steer him toward the Nautilus machines and demonstrate proper form.
"So, are you from Cleveland?" he asks.
"New York, actually. I'm just here for the night. My boyfriend and I have a hotel room upstairs."
"Wow, I just have a locker. I heard the hotel rooms were nice -- I've never been in one."
"Well, come on up, and I'll give you a tour."
The rest of the story, with nude photos and sexual situations, is on Tales of West Hollywood.