7. Cam

"Text only?" Jesse's red-gold brows scrunched in a frown. "Interesting. Maybe he's, like, eighty-two and can't hear very well."

I busted up laughing. "No way. He doesn't have the dick of an eighty-two-year-old."

"Seen lots of eighty-two-year-old dicks, have you?" Jesse's thoughtful frown morphed into a smirk.

"Stop." I swatted in his direction. "We should be so lucky if our dicks work at eighty-two."

"There's always Viagra."

"This guy didn't need any Viagra. But we're getting off track. Should I text him, and what do I say? ‘Now that I've sucked your dick through a glory hole twice, would you like to get coffee?'"

We both cracked up.

I hadn't intended to mention my glory hole encounters to anyone—or at least I'd planned on letting an appropriate amount of time elapse so I could begin the story with, "Once upon a time…" but hooking up with my mystery man had left me floundering, especially when he'd passed me his number. I needed reinforcements, a next-step guide, because I definitely wanted more. Jesse was the logical choice since he always seemed to have his finger on the pulse of everything and everyone.

"I don't know," he hedged after a moment. "What if you don't find him attractive on the other side of the wall? What if he looks like Charlie Sheen's boxers after a weekend in Vegas." He winced. "Sorry, probably a bad analogy."

"Nah." I laughed. "Probably accurate."

I'd considered it, though. What if the reality was disappointing? What if I wasn't attracted to the guy, or he wasn't attracted to me? As long as we stayed in our anonymous bubble, I was safe from the troublesome parts of reality, pesky things like open-mouthed chewing, incompatible pizza toppings, bad toupees. For those reasons, I'd already decided I was comfortable continuing to meet up occasionally at the club, doing our glory hole thing, and then going our separate ways. It was the easiest way to maintain the fantasy without letting it take over my life. And honestly, this was the sexiest, most interesting thing to happen to me in months. I was okay with keeping the mystery alive. "I'm not in a place for a relationship regardless, so I'm good with what we've got going. Or maybe I shouldn't text him at all. Keep leaving it up to chance."

"What if you suck the wrong dick next time you're at the howdy hole?" Jesse widened his eyes dramatically.

I gaped at him. "What the fuck? Is howdy hole the trendy name for a glory hole?"

Jesse pursed his lips and booped me on the nose. "No. I made it up, but it should be. Howdy hole is friendlier. Inviting like a handshake. But with dicks."

When I stopped wheezing with laughter, I said, "I wouldn't suck the wrong dick, though. I'd know his dick anywhere."

He put a hand over his heart and batted his lashes. "That's so romantic."

"You know, I'm already regretting telling you in the first place. But seriously, I would."

Jesse pulled a bowl out of the cabinet and plunked it on the counter. "Now I'm all invested in this. I fucking loved Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew as a kid. This is like my own grown-up, porny Nancy Drew. Nancy Drew and the Mystery of the Glory Hole. I think you need to message him."

I tossed my phone back and forth in my hands a couple of times, considering. "Okay, maybe. I'll think more about it."

"Nooooooo, do it now. You got me invested, and it's all your fault. Text him, ‘wyd.'" Jesse cracked himself up again.

"God no, of all the text speak in the universe, ‘wyd' is literally the most offensive. Like, ‘hi' is two letters and way more appealing. I have never, ever responded to a ‘wyd.'" Not even at my horniest moments when I'd reluctantly gone onto Grindr only to be disappointed. All the guys looked like seasoned fuckboys, and I wanted something…different. Problem was, I was having trouble defining what "different" was even to myself. I just knew it wasn't going over to some guy's apartment and trading blowjobs. Yet somehow, sucking a guy off in a glory hole was better? Maybe something was wrong with me. "Plus, he's definitely older. Nice shoes. A professional or something. ‘Wyd' would not be a good look."

Jesse cackled and held up his phone so I could see the text from Sam on the screen. It read, of course, "wyd."

"Bless his heart, right?" Jesse grinned adoringly. "God, I love him, ‘wyd' and all. Anyway, Text. Him. Now." He punctuated each word with a clap of his hands. Then he froze and exhaled a low, "Oh my god."

I glanced behind me reflexively, but there was nothing there. "What?"

Jesse frowned again. "You said he passed you the number. Did you use reverse lookup? Jeez, I should've thought of that first."

"It was the first thing I did. I was also into Hardy Boys. But it's a dead end. It's a TextFree number. Anyone can get one using their real number to?—"

"Mask their identity," Jesse filled in, his frown deepening momentarily. "What if he's married or something?"

"Shit." I scraped my lower lip with my teeth. I hadn't thought of that. I'd feel awful if that were the case. He was tech savvy enough to create an anonymous number, after all.

"Maybe he's not. Maybe he's a politician or something. A judge."

"Is that supposed to be better?"

"I'm not sure. Or, he could just be a guy who's protective of his identity, an extra-cautious type."

"We did use condoms both times, so he is into safety," I pointed out, feeling a little reassured.

"I still think you should contact him. You can ask some questions, kinda feel him out, and if your gut starts getting edgy at any point, you can bail. If he's using a fake number, maybe you should, too, though? So the anonymity goes both ways?"

"Good idea." I took two minutes to download the TextFree app and create a new number, then added my stranger's information. I'd put him in as Mr. Mystery, though I'd considered Glory Hole Guy for a hot second before deciding that it would be embarrassing if someone accidentally got ahold of my phone and decided to go through my contacts. That was a long shot, though. I was pretty sure I was the most boring roommate in the house, except for maybe Ansel.

"Okay, here goes nothing." I opened the messaging app, typed out "hi," and sent the message before I could overthink it. "I said hi," I told Jesse, and we both snickered like jackasses. It felt really good, though, to have friends to talk to and be stupid with again. Even though Jesse was more of a new friend than old, I'd felt immediately comfortable around him—maybe more so because he wasn't so tangled up in the stupid shit I'd done sophomore year and had spent the last couple of years paying for. I'd never once felt like Jesse had judged me.

We both eyeballed the screen expectantly, but no response came through.

I stuffed my phone in my back pocket and gave Jesse the kill sign as Sam barreled through the back door. The guy was huge and even off the football field gave the impression he'd run you over if you got in the way, unless you were paying attention to his face and the way it lit up and became all dopey when he spotted Jesse. Sigh. True love. Living with a bunch of guys who had boyfriends was hard enough, but I was glad Jesse and Sam were the only couple I cohabited with. Chet was here with Mark often enough that he might as well live here, though. Ansel kept his shit locked down so tight that no one had a clue who he was hooking up with, if anyone.

"'Sup, Cam?" Sam flashed me an infectious smile as he wrapped his arms around Jesse and squeezed him comically tight. Sam's hulk-like size was matched only by his genuine kindness. He was legit the first person to offer someone a hug in any situation, and I'd never heard him raise his voice off the football field or outside of the bedroom—the latter fact I only knew because, unfortunately, my bedroom was across the hall from his, and Jesse said Sam's bed was more comfortable.

"Oof," Jesse grunted before I could reply, and then, when Sam relaxed his hold, said, "We were just making fun of people who send ‘wyd' texts."

Sam's brows knit. "I send you ‘wyd' texts all the time."

"You do," Jesse agreed happily.

"You don't like it?" Sam's frown deepened.

"No, no, I love it from you!"

Sam chuckled. "I get away with it because of my?—"

Jesse slapped a hand over his mouth, finishing for him. "Because of your exquisite cuddling abilities."

"Speaking of, wanna go play with my, ummm, ‘cuddling abilities' before my next class?"

I flashed them a peace sign and beelined out of the kitchen before it became the site of their next video.

Once in my bedroom, I closed the door behind me and dropped to the bed, opening the text I'd sent again and staring at it for a beat before facepalming. All I'd fucking said was, "hi." How was the guy supposed to have any idea who was messaging him?

I typed out: "I should have mentioned I'm the guy from last Saturday night" and then paused, considering my wording. Maybe I wasn't the only guy. Or maybe he'd danced with someone or bought a drink for someone and given them his number. As much as I wanted to say, "I'm the guy whose mind and cock you blew recently," that didn't sound quite right.

The irony of debating how to message a glory hole stranger wasn't lost on me.

After a moment, I erased what I had and typed a new message.

Cam:I should have mentioned I'm the guy from Saturday night. One stall over. I enjoyed it.

There. Clear, concise without being overly effusive. Sounded like someone who had their shit together, right? I tossed aside my phone, but within seconds, it pinged with a reply. I scrambled to flick the screen to life, excitement clutching my chest as I saw the message.

Mr. Mystery:I enjoyed it, too.

Mr. Mystery:I would be open to continuing on occasion if you are.

So he did like the idea of keeping our anonymity and occasional encounters. Part of me was elated, but a teeny tiny part of me was also bummed he didn't want to meet in person. Still, I wasn't looking a gift horse in the mouth. I was way too into what we were doing to get petty or picky.

I started to type "definitely," then erased it. No need to be overeager.

Cam:I am if you are. This number isn't registered to anyone, so I assume it's a burner. Is that because you like the anonymity?

Mr. Mystery:I do at this point. I find it… thrilling.

Cam:I apologize if this seems rude, but are you married or in a relationship?

Mr. Mystery:No, I'm not. And that was a pertinent question because I should have thought to ask the same. Are you?

Relief ballooned in my chest.

Cam:I'm not either, so we're all good there.

Mr. Mystery:To be honest, I never expected to have an experience like ours, much less more than once. It's caught me a bit off guard, but it's new to me in a good way, and I'm a person who doesn't have a lot of free time right now, so this is my attempt to lean into the thrill.

I settled back on my pillows, shoulders loosening further. Even from the small amount we'd chatted, I didn't get any bad vibes from this guy, and I kinda liked that he'd stumbled into the situation, same as me. Unless he was lying. Even if he was, I would be none the wiser, I supposed. I decided it didn't matter, either way.

Cam:Same. I don't have a lot of free time, either.

Cam:If you turn out to be a psycho killer, that's really going to suck, though.

Mr. Mystery:Likewise. I happen to enjoy being alive.

Cam:Alright then, neither of us are immediately confessing to being psycho killers, which isn't exactly reassuring, since a psycho killer wouldn't likely confess to being a psycho killer.

Mr. Mystery:I solemnly swear I'm not a psycho killer. Just a guy enjoying a unique experience.

Mr. Mystery:Speaking of safety…

A second later, a screenshot came through of an STD panel showing the all clear, the recent date visible but his name blacked out.

Mr. Mystery:I understand this is still a risky prospect for us both, so if you'd rather continue as we have, using condoms, I have no problem with that. I'm also on PrEP.

I clicked over to my email and dug through until I found my last STD panel. After snapping a screenshot, I blocked out my own name and sent it.

Cam:Mine. And I trust you for some insane reason.

Mr. Mystery:This result is almost a year old.

Cam:I've not been with anyone but you since that test. I can get new ones done, though, no big deal.

Gah, way to point out my deadbed.

He replied after a long pause.

Mr. Mystery:As you said, I trust you for some insane reason. This is all a little bit unusual, isn't it?

Cam:Definitely. So how do you see this working?

Mr. Mystery:I thought if either of us were feeling the urge we could simply reach out to the other and see if our schedules align for another anonymous meeting. If so, then wonderful. If not, perhaps another time. Don't you think it's best to keep it simple?

Mr. Mystery:That being said, as much as I'd like to meet again this coming weekend, I'll be busy.

Cam:That's fine. Keep it simple, right? No names, no strings, no expectations.

Mr. Mystery:No names, no strings, no expectations.

Mr. Mystery:It was good chatting with you. Goodnight until next time.

Cam:Same goes. Goodnight.