Easter 2007 at the Bathhouse

When I was growing up in Rock Island, Easter was a big deal, second only to Christmas.  We decorated eggs, went on Eastern egg hunts, and awaited our baskets of chocolate rabbits and marshmallow chicks with the eagerness of Christmas morning.  There were lots of Swedes in town, so houses were decorated with feathered tree branches, and kids in witch costume knocked on the door, begging for candy.

In West Hollywood, New York, and Florida, Easter got lost in the flurry of Passover, the Oscars, the Film Festivals, and Spring Break.

There weren't a lot of naked guys wearing bunny ears, or double-entendres about "Easter baskets."

There was an Easter Parade downtown, where one displayed one's best bonnets, but drag queens did not usually participate..

 Maybe it was the religious significance of the holiday: many gay people don't want to be reminded of the childhood religion that rejected them.

So I have a lot of good stories that take place around Easter, in March or April, but none that actually have to do with Easter.

Except this one:

Columbus, Ohio, April, 2007

My boyfriend Paul was devout Catholic, so he did the works: Ash Wednesday, then Lent, for which he gave up soda.  Then Palm Sunday and Holy Week: services on Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, Holy Saturday, and Easter Sunday.

Fasting on Friday, which meant only one meal, in the evening, after church.

Having had nothing to eat all day, we drove to Columbus, to the Holy Cross Catholic Church on Fifth Street, in the gay neighborhood of Germantown.  It wasn't exactly gay-friendly, but there were lots of almost-open gay people in the pews.

The Good Friday Service is almost as painful as the Jewish Rosh Ha-Shanah, two hours of brow-beating, followed by the Veneration of the Cross in a darkened sanctuary and a silent communion.

Very dark and depressing.  I think I would prefer the live-action crucifixions they hold to celebrate Easter in the Philippines.

When the service ended at 9:00, we rushed about a block west to the El Camino Inn for cheese burritos and avocado salad, and then drove up to Club Columbus, a bathhouse near the Ohio State University campus.

It had a gym, a video room, and a very large steamroom-maze where guys often met.

I rented a small "cabana room," and Paul got a locker.

We hung around the video room until a tanned gym rat in his 20s removed his towel and displayed a huge aroused Mortadella.  I went down on him for awhile, then tried to push Paul's head down.  He refused.

Hmm, must not be Paul's type, I thought. He likes older guys.

Then, while I was still going down on the gym rat, a chubby bear in his 60s approached and started fondling Paul beneath his towel.  Paul pushed his hand away.

The gym rat finished and walked off.  I opened my towel and let the bear go down on me.  Paul watched.  I tried to draw him into a kiss, but he refused.

Too old?  Too fat?  I wondered.  Paul usually isn't this picky.

The bear tried to push his hand under Paul's towel, and was rebuffed again.  Offended, he moved on.

Just what I need -- a stick in the mud who won't do anything, following me around and offending all of my hookups.

In the steam room, I kissed and groped a smooth, toned black guy in his 30s, but only for a few minutes.  He saw Paul watching us from a little way away, got "freaked out," and moved on.

"I'm going to wander around by myself," I told Paul, pointedly.  "If I find anyone to share, I'll come and find you."

"Sure, that would be great," Paul said absently, looking at the clock.

Going past the rooms with open doors, I stumbled across Gerry: very muscular with a little belly, a thick mat of chest hair, and a thick Bratwurst+ already aroused and waiting.

I went down on him for awhile, then lay on top of him for kissing and full body contact.

 "Do you mind if my boyfriend joins us?" I asked.  "I'll just go find him."

Paul in the video room by himself.  ""Ok, I found a guy who is absolutely your type, probably the man of your dreams.  This might be the beginning of a three-way romance."

Sighing, he allowed himself to be led to the room, where he sat on the foot of the bed, watching while Gerry and I kissed.  He didn't touch either of us, so we got into the 69 position.

After awhile, I raised my head.  "Ok, enough is enough, I don't care what's bothering you -- are you tired, or depressed, or suffering from Catholic guilt.  The cure is the same.  You're young, you're hot, you're surrounded by naked guys.  Get busy!"

"Sure, sure," Paul said.  "Just a minute."  He ducked out into the hallway, and returned a moment later, grinning.  "Ok, which of you studs wants to be first."  He literally pounced on Gerry, and they became a blur of mouth and hands and baseball bats.  Soon I was drawn in, too.

When we were both drained, Paul said "See ya" and rushed like a hurricane through the bath house, flirting, fondling, groping, kissing, leaving a dozen orgasms in his wake.

We finally left the bath house at 2:00 am and stopped at Denny's to get a bite before the long drive home.

"What was that all about?" I asked.  "Nothing but Attitude for an hour, and then suddenly you became the life of the party."

"It was Good Friday," Paul said with a shrug.  "That means fasting -- no food, no sex.  I had to wait until midnight.  Why do you think I kept looking at the clock?"

See also: Hooking Up on a Job Interview;  Liam Gives Me an 18th Birthday Present; and The Catholic Priest in My Bed.