“Time to shoot for the stars, I guess.”
Cal nodded. “Just don’t break anything.”
We followed her past tastefully abstract artwork, soundproofed doors, and potted plants so perfect I couldn’t tell if they were real or fake. She stopped at a discreet wooden door, opened it, and gestured for us to enter.
“Here’s your room. There are labels and pens for your samples, and… entertainment options. Take all the time you need. When you’re done, press the call button.”
She shut the door behind us with professional finality.
We stood there.
The room was… cozy, in the way that only slightly outdated medical rooms can be. Beige colored walls. A soft couch. A little side table with tissues and antiseptic wipes. And in the corner, a small television with a built-in DVD player and a sad stack of disks in a plastic basket.
I crossed to the basket and rifled through it.
“See? There’s only one that caters for the gays.” I held it up like a decaying artifact. “Boys of the Bayou II. Judging by the cover, it’s from 2004 and has been used as a drinks coaster more times than it’s been played.”
Cal squinted at the cover. “Why is that man wearing nothing but rubber boots and a sheriff’s badge?”
“Let’s be honest, no porn film in history ever overspent on wardrobe.”
He gave a nervous little laugh, then looked around.
There were two small sample cups on the counter. Beside them, a roll of patient label stickers and a sharpie. The air felt still. Too still.
I picked up a cup and turned it in my hands. “This is weird, right?”
“It’s so weird,” Cal said.
“But also kind of…” I looked at him. “Beautiful?”
He nodded. “Yeah. Because we’re doing this together.”
We each took a label and quietly wrote our names.
Then I checked to make sure the door was locked.
Then I checked it again.
Then I checked it a third time.
“I love you,” Cal said gently, pulling me away.
He leaned in and kissed me—soft and slow and reassuring. My shoulders dropped, my breath steadied. He kissed me again, his hands warm against my jaw, then trailing down to my waist.
I closed my eyes.
Everything outside the room faded away.
Soon, the nerves melted into touches.
The touches melted into kisses.
And the kisses became something else.
Clothes slipped away in pieces, unbuttoned and pulled down with quiet care, tossed gently onto the couch. Cal’s shirt fell first, then mine. Belts undone. Zippers lowered. Underwear eased down—not yanked, not rushed, just stripped away slowly, like we were peeling off the last layer of our old lives and preparing to morph into something altogether new.
We kissed as we undressed each other, standing chest to chest in the center of the room. His skin was warm beneath my palms, his body solid, familiar, everything I needed to feel safe. When his fingers brushed down my spine, I felt the heat pulse between my legs. I kissed his neck. He kissed my chest, my stomach. We sank down onto the sofa together.
