The moment he entered the room, Keane picked up the heady aroma of eucalyptus. The arresting scent flashed through his body, filling his senses, heightening the anticipation. That was the smell he associated with Indulgence, that and the smell of male arousal.

Is the mystery man close by? he wondered as he stepped into the shower area.

It was empty.

The wall to his right had showerheads placed at intervals to allow eight or ten men to shower at the same time. Keane laughed to himself. The last time he’d been here, there’d been very little showering and a lot of fucking. Slippery hands lathered with silken soap caressing slick skin. The room had been filled with the moans of men bent over as their partners moved in and out of them, the sound of flesh on flesh as wet bodies slapped together while the water poured over them.

Today would be very different. Just the man who had demanded his presence and him. Keane wondered where he was. Is he watching from behind the darkened glass of the steam room? That’s where I’d be, looking out at the shower area.

Keane had walked in there one evening, his body embracing the smell of eucalyptus as the steam rose around the naked bodies writhing on the wooden benches. He remembered the man who’d risen from the fog, his features hidden in its depths, and reached out his hand to pull Keane to him. Those open mouthed kisses, the tender bites along his shoulder.

With the haze filling the small space, the whole scene had seemed surreal, otherworldly. But the feel of that hard body against his had been anything but dreamlike. He couldn’t forget the spicy taste of his unknown lover’s skin or the smooth tautness of the man’s belly as he’d fallen to his knees and nipped his way to the phantom’s heavy cock. But when Keane had slipped his thumb over the smooth head, the moans he drew forth were very real. As were those first few drops of pre-cum he’d eagerly licked away.

And then Keane had done something he’d never done before. As the thick steam had swirled around them, he’d fantasised that this secret lover was Rayche Marquette. He’d imagined it was Rayche’s shaft he’d encircled with his hand. With every tracing of his tongue along the heavy veins, he’d thought of those chocolate brown eyes and imagined that somehow they were looking down at him through the mist. When he felt the hands on his head, setting the rhythm, he pictured those strong forearms with the dusting of dark hair.

In his mind, it was Rayche who drew him to his feet and turned him to the bench. His voice that whispered to him to kneel on the hard surface, his fingers that slicked his tight hole with lube and his dick that pressed its way inside.

He fantasised it was Rayche Marquette who slid his cock so slowly, so artfully in and out, touching that sensitive gland, sending him soaring. When he’d pulled out, Keane had looked back, but all he saw was a powerful body being swallowed by the cloud of steam, like a ghost in the night.

And Keane hadn’t been back to Indulgence since. It was Rayche he craved and no one else. But maybe this secret lover would make him forget Rayche.