This is a work of fiction. All characters are over 18 years old.
Liam is about to wrap up his set at the bench press when he notices a grey-haired man looking at him through the mirror. It’s not a fleeting glance. It’s a lingering gaze, like the man is staring him up and down, sizing him up. What the hell is that creep looking at? Liam’s right hand shakes mid-rep and his entire arm wobbles unsteadily, but he grits his teeth and pushes. He manages to get that last rep in. Just about. He holds the dumbbells over his head for just a second, then drops them onto the crash mat. Phew. That was a killer set.
As soon as he catches his breath, he looks up. The man is still there, leaning against one of the machines, looking at him. He must be in his late forties or early fifties, with grey hair and a salt and pepper stubble. A small beer belly protrudes underneath his t-shirt. A silver Omega watch shimmers on his wrist. Just as Liam is about to look away, the man shoots him a smile. It’s not a regular smile. It’s weirdly suggestive and insistent. A proposition. It sends shivers down Liam’s spine and a bad taste rises in his throat. He looks away. Fucking creep.
—
Liam is used to creepy dudes leering at him. Some of them are young, most of them are old, but they are all gay. His neighbourhood is full of them. A swanky area full of mansions, expensive cars, pool parties, and - yeah - fags. He’s a personal trainer at one of the fanciest gyms around, so he has to deal with them a lot. They show up in droves for his cycling class and his personal sessions are fully booked all year round - they usually sell out in minutes.
Yeah it’s worked out for him quite well that he’s a handsome straight personal trainer surrounded by gay dudes. But that doesn’t keep him from complaining about their desperate attempts to get his attention. “Hey, Liam,” he’ll hear them say in their gay voices as they stare at his pecs, his abs, his legs, his ass. They’ll smile and wave at him, they’ll linger in the studio even after their class is done, they’ll refill their water bottles about a dozen times just to be near him. He’s pretty sure a creep once came over to ask him a question just to catch a whiff of his pits. That’s why he doesn’t work out in the gym even though the owner encourages it - it grosses him out. Today was an exception - he didn’t have enough time to hit his regular gym - and he’s already regretted it.
The locker rooms are empty. No sign of the creep thankfully. He takes off his top - it’s drenched in sweat. Next, his shoes and his sweaty socks, which he slaps on the bench. He’s about to take off his shorts when he glances over his shoulder. Still no one. He drops them.
He knows he looks good. He’s worked hard for it. Sure, he’s always looked cute. What with his thick brown hair that gets a few shades lighter in the sun, his clear blue eyes, his small nose, his handsome smile, it’s always been easy for him to score with girls, to make a good impression in a job interview. But it’s his body that he’s proud of the most. That he earned through hard work. Looking at himself in the locker room mirror, he notices that his pecs have gotten bigger. He flexes. Yep, for sure. His chest is his biggest asset. Full, perfectly round. Two big mounds of lean muscle. “Your boobs are bigger than mine,” his girlfriend told him once, and although he laughed, he thought it was the most flattering thing he’d ever heard. His biceps are massive - he flexes - so are his shoulders and back. His legs are tree- trunk thick, his glutes are big and perfectly proportioned. He’s aware that his ass - he hates it when people say “bubble butt” - is perhaps the main reason gay guys leer at him, but he doesn’t care. He wants to look good for himself and his girl. Fuck the rest of them.
It’s not that he’s homophobic or anything. He doesn’t think he is, anyway. It’s just that it gets on his nerves. Makes his blood boil. The way they look at him like he’s just a piece of meat. Their suggestive remarks, their creepy smiles. He knows they’re undressing him in their heads, fantasising about doing all sorts of perverted things to him. Stripping him naked? Playing with his cock? Eating his ass? Fucking him? He has a visceral reaction every time he thinks about a guy doing any of those things to him. It grosses him out.
He hits the showers. Empty as well. Today is his lucky day. He washes his pits, his ass, his dick. He can’t wait to get some pussy tonight. Work has been unusually busy both for him and his girlfriend - her name is Nicki - meaning he hasn’t seen her in over a week. He can’t wait to bust a load in her tonight. He’ll fuck her twice, maybe more, he thinks. Maybe shoot all over her face. Even thinking about it gets his heart racing. His dick starts getting hard. His balls tighten. Fuck. Not good. His dick throbs in his hand. Eight inches of thick meat. Neglected and in need of release. The sound of the locker room door opening, then footsteps, make him snap back to reality. He turns off the shower and grabs his towel. He does his best to hide his boner but - damn - it’s not easy.
—
“Hey there, pretty boy,” a deep voice greets him as soon as he exits the shower.
“Sup, man,” Liam says.
He’s relieved. Just when he thought he was going to have to change in front of the grey-haired creep from earlier, turns out it’s just Steve, one of the personal trainers.
They’re not exactly friends, even though Steve acts like they are. If anything, they’re competitors. Liam is the most popular trainer, his sessions are by far the most sought out, and he gets along really well with management. Steve is second best. More junior, a bit messy and unpredictable. Management is on the fence about him - Liam has it on good authority - but his cocky attitude, his playful smiles and cheeky comments have earned him some fans. That and the fact that he’s six foot five and shredded.
“Check out that ass,” Steve says, then hums playfully as Liam changes into his clean clothes. He likes cracking jokes like that.
Liam finds him annoying most of the time. It doesn’t help that Steve has a thing for his girlfriend. Apparently him and Nicki knew each other before Liam started dating her. They were friendly but Steve had asked her out about a dozen times and she’d always said no. When one day she dropped by the gym and Liam put his arm around her waist, Liam caught Steve glaring at them with what looked like murderous intent, his eyes two tiny slits, his arms crossed at his chest. Liam thought they were going to get into a fight, which never actually happened. But his relationship with Nicki did a whole new dimension to the rivalry between the two men.
“Seriously man, that’s one perky bubble butt,” Steve goes on, staring at him with a mocking smile. “What’s your secret?”
“I do squats, man. Maybe give em a try,” Liam says because he can’t come up with anything better. He’s blushing. He hates it when people invade his privacy like that.
Steve laughs. “Nah, I’m good. You can keep your bubble butt. I have other talents, if you know what I mean,” he winks as he takes off his shorts.
It’s not the first time he’s done this. Showing off his dick like that. Liam looks away immediately but the image is already burned in his brain. How can it be so big? Even flaccid it looks like it’s at least eight inches long - like Liam’s when fully hard - and insanely thick, a caricature of a penis. “Should I start an OnlyFans,” he said in front of a bunch of guys in the locker room once, “I hear big black cocks are popular on there.” “What should my name be? Horseman? Monster Black Cock? Hole Destroyer?” He’d gotten some laughs and eyefuls from the gay dudes who sat there looking up at him like he was some kind of a god.
Steve parades his big dick around for another minute, taking his time changing into his clean clothes. It swings around like a pendulum. How can it be so big?
“You’re not going to shower?” Liam asks just to say something.
“I don’t smell that bad, do I?” Steve lifts his armpit and sniffs. “Well, maybe a little,” he laughs, “but who cares? I have it on good authority that it attracts pussy.”
Liam can smell him from where he’s standing. It’s sweat and musk, which makes his stomach turn, and something else. Something salty that lingers in his nostrils. Could it be? His ballsack? Fucking gross.
He hates smells. He hates body odour. Men’s especially. They unsettle him. That’s why he hates the locker rooms so much - by far the biggest downside to working as a personal trainer. And he has a sensitive sense of smell. Once, a few weeks back, he was eating out Nicki when he suddenly recoiled. He was sure he’d smelled the scent of a man on her body, in her pussy. Like instead of tonguing her clit he had been licking a guy’s balls. And of course the first guy that came to his mind was Steve. He shouted at her. He made a whole scene, accusing her of cheating on him, calling her a slut, threatening her, but she just looked at him like he was insane. He was paranoid, she said. She was probably right. He apologised. He fucked her brutally that day and came inside her in under a minute.
Liam grabs his bag, shuts his locker and heads for the exit.
“See you later, pretty boy,” Steve shouts after him.
“Yeah,” Liam says and walks out.
—
Liam is leaving the manager’s office after their weekly catchup. Finally. He’s going straight to Nicki’s after this. Time to unwind and - yeah - empty his balls. He’s about to walk out the door when Steve runs after him.
“Pretty boy,” he says loudly.
“What?”
“Need to talk to you for a second.”
“I’m running late,” Liam says irritably.
“You’re gonna want to hear this,” Steve says smiling. “How would you like to make ten thousand bucks… tonight?”
Liam stares at him. He doesn’t have time for shit like this.
“What are you talking about?”
“Do you know this filthy rich dude that’s been coming here for the last two months, arriving in a freaking Jaguar, tipping trainers like crazy, showing off all his wealthy shit? He just told me he’s throwing this massive party and wants to invite some cool people. Young. Hip. Like us. So… he’s willing to pay us ten thousand bucks just to go and have a drink and dance a bit and shit. Let me be clear: ten thousand bucks e-a-c-h!”
Liam sours his face.
“Sounds like a scam to me.”
Steve shakes his head.
“No, man. The guy is legit. I swear to you.”
“How do you know that?”
“Trust me man, I’ve googled the guy. His net worth? Freaking crazy.”
“Doesn’t make any sense. Why invite us? Why pay us? Is this like… an escort thing?”
Steve chuckles, shakes his head again. “No, man. Nothing like that. No gay shit. Why would you think that? These guys do stuff like that all the time. They want young people around so it’s not just a bunch of boomers with their twenty-year-old girlfriends. They know it’s not a good look.”
Liam looks away, trying to think. The whole thing seems off to him.
“It doesn’t sound right to me…”
“Come on, man. Are you serious? You’re gonna say no to ten thousand bucks because you’re scared the guy is a fag or something? And screw me over in the process too? The guy said it’s only a deal if we both go - he doesn’t want lone wolves at the party. He also said it’s payment upfront, so if the party is not your vibe, you can just have a drink and go. No one is gonna stop you.”
Liam swallows. It is the weirdest thing he’s ever heard. Getting paid more than his monthly salary just to sit around at a party full of rich people for an hour or two? Things like that only happen in the movies.
“Come on, man, I need you to do this for me. Don’t be such a fucking square all the time.”
Liam is trying to think. But the more he thinks about it, the clearer it becomes to him that he has already made up his mind.
“Fine. Just one drink, then I’m going home. And payment upfront, like you said.”
“Yes! That’s my boy. You won’t regret this.”
Steve ruffles his hair, then heads back inside.
“Where are you going?”
“To seal the deal, baby.”
Liam sits there watching him for a moment. He isn’t sure he’s made the right choice - accepting money from some rich weirdo doesn’t feel great for his ego, but then again, saying no to ten thousand bucks doesn’t make a lot of sense either. He could use the extra cash, that’s for sure. Fuck. Nicki. He’ll have to see her later, maybe tomorrow. He can wait, it’s fine. He pulls out his phone to send her a text, when something inside the gym catches his eye. He sees Steve, standing by the bench press. And who is that he is talking to? Liam’s stomach drops. Grey hair, salt and pepper stubble, beer belly, Omega watch. As if he knows he is being watched, the middle-aged dude turns and looks at him right in the eye. He is smiling. Liam is starting to get a really bad feeling.
To be continued.
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