Page 17 of Grumpy Bear

He pinched water from his eyes and smiled. “Hey there.” He chuckled nervously. “Again.” Suddenly not so chatty after all.

He moved like a robot, his neck and shoulders frozen on top of his torso, careful to look only at my face.

I was never that stealthy when it came to checking out another man whether in public or not. Just because I checked someone out didn’t mean I had to hook up with them. If I wanted to look at a guy’s dick in a men’s room, I did so, pretty brazenly, really. I might have scared a few straight guys here and there, but most were intimidated by my physical size or my wall of unapproachable energy or whatever.

Most of the men I looked at, even the ones who ended up scurrying away, ended up looking back.

When I was in the bathhouses on the property, I sure as fuck checked out any naked man I wanted to. Most of them wouldn’t be here if they weren’t at least okay with the circumstances.

Everybody knew what clothing optional meant. Sure, you had your die-hard nudists who claimed freedom as motivation, but for most gay men, this environment meant sex.

So I looked at Luke. I looked right at him. I looked him over. I looked him up and down.

I wasn’t blind. He wasn’t my type, but he was perfect in his own unique way. A nice otter specimen—tall, hairy, and thin. He reminded me of Legolas. His torso was long and narrow, his stomach flat. He had a nice V of muscles that led the eye right to the goods. He was hung and—for men in this part of the country—surprisingly uncut. But then he also made me think of a satyr. He was a hairy fucker from the waist down with low hanging balls and a nice seventies porn-star bush situation. I had to respect that. Too many men, especially his age, trimmed everything to the point of pubescence. That was a total turnoff. Not bear friendly at all.

I reached up to adjust the showerhead, offering him a full-frontal eyeful in return. I even tilted my head back and pretended to shut my eyes against the spray, but he stared at a fixed point in the distance above and beyond me.

He wasn’t going to take any chance I’d catch him looking.

He did continue rinsing his hair for what seemed an unnecessarily long amount of time. I didn’t know, maybe when you had that much hair it was normal.

I finally decided to cut him a break. I turned away, giving him a chance to check me out without being watched. If he wanted it. Like I said, I wasn’t sure he was interested.

And I really wasn’t sure why the fuck I cared.

I heard his shower stop and felt him scoot past me. By the time I turned, he’d fled to the bench by the lockers. He had his back to me, vigorously toweling his hair. No telling how long that would take. Hell, he might still be out there when I finished.

But before I was half-soaped up, he was fully dressed and rushing out the door with his head ducked.

Well.

Something sure had him moving in a hurry.

Was that meant to be a message? I’m not hooking up with my boss.

It was just as well. At the end of the day, I’d be happier reliving the moment while jacking off alone in my cabin.

9

Luke

The dining hall in the lodge was another enormous space with wood beams and a wall of windows overlooking the valley. Four long rustic farm tables were set up two-by-two, with an open aisle between them. Each table could comfortably seat twenty men. It reminded me of the great hall in a medieval castle, except done in a Cracker Barrel style. French doors led to a covered deck with dozens of smaller tables outside.

A buffet was set up on high counters near the kitchen. The spread was impressive. Thick pork chops and barbecued chicken, tubs of green salad, vegetable casseroles, baskets of bread. It was worth any kind of manual labor and sleeping on the ground to eat like this even once a day.

The other guys in line were all heaping their plates high, so I did the same.

Austin came up behind me. “I’m going back for seconds. I do a big plate of salad first and then come back for entrees.”

“We can come back?”

A guy with an apron and oven mitts settled a large metal tray of mashed potatoes over a vat of hot water. “You can eat as much as you want,” he said. “At least until it’s gone.”

“That’s a lot of food.”

He inclined his chin toward the wave of men leaving their tables to go through the line again. Every one of them towered over me. “Barely a snack for this bunch.” He smiled at me. “I’m Bailey, by the way. I heard you play earlier. You’re fucking awesome.”

“Thanks, man. I appreciate you saying so.”