Gold's Gym exists in the heart of the gay district, where pre-pubescent bodies
of Greek Gods come together in one place. Some more muscular than others from
pumping a little bit too much steroids. Gold’s Gym is split into two floors.
The first floor houses both male and female locker rooms, an abdominal room
where people can either do sit-ups or yoga, and an exercise floor lattered
with machines. The larger exercise machines were on the second floor where
echoes of Celine Dion techno oldies ring through the room and young men leer
at each other in between sets. Also on this floor was a larger exercise room.
Ryoga Hibiki was trying out his new job as a kempo trainer. Ever since a series
of post-club bashings, self-defense classes became extremely popular. At first,
Ryoga was extremely shocked that the class was crowded. But he relaxed as
he returned to the familiar martial arts that presided over his life in Japan.
Of course, he couldn’t teach them how to throw razor bandanas or break stones
with the push of a button. But he did know a lot about self-defense katas
and grappling…both techniques he practiced with Ranma
"Okay," Ryoga bowed politely to his new class of young physically
fit men. "Please practice the kata that you learned from the class tonight
and next week, I'll teach you a brand new one next week."
“I have a question,” the Chinese guy said. “So if a homophobic bully has got
me in lockjaw grip…”
“Simply use your legs to elbow him in the testicle area,” Ryoga replied. “But only as a last-ditch case. Hopefully you won’t have to face that tonight."
"Just in case," the fey Chinese guy looked down shyly. "You make it look so easy."
“Ming, are you ready to go?” Ryoga heard a deep voice say behind him. Ryoga turned around and his jaw dropped. The Korean guy reminded Ryoga of Ranma. Well, if Ranma had decided to cut off that ponytail and spiked his smooth hair. Like other Asian guys, his eyes were also slanty. But the guy’s high cheekbones and smooth body figures accented his thin yet piercing eyes. He also had a cute smirk, barely showing all of his teeth at times. Ryoga wanted to just lick those lips. He also felt something else going on in his pants as well.
“Omigod, K, this guy is so amazing!” Ming said happily to the clean-cut yet
gruff Korean guy. “Keep up the
good work,” the Korean guy’s deep voice continued. He took the arm of the
Chinese guy’s. “Thanks for training my dancers,” he looked at Ryoga and smirked
slyly towards him.
Lunch at Café Flore with Martin and Devin was eventually becoming a routine
for Ryoga who enjoyed hanging out with his new group of friends during his
breaks. And of course, Ryoga told Martin about the drop dead gorgeous Korean
guy that he met at the gym.
“Finally, you’re moving on from Tyler!” Martin said happily.
“There’s just one thing that bugs me,” Ryoga looked down at his ham sandwich.
“Like I’m attracted to him but I just can’t tell if he is, you know, attracted
to men.”
“Omigod,” Martin exclaimed. “You don’t have gaydar*!” Martin snapped
his fingers. “Don’t worry, we’ll fix that!” Martin licked his lips. “Look
at that guy.” He motioned to an attractive Asian man picking up a bacon-lettuce-and-tomato
sandwich at the front desk. “Is he downe?”
Ryoga looked confused. “I think he’s standing up?”
Martin groaned. “No!” he said. “Is he family?”
“Does he like dick?” Tyler stated as-a-matter-of-factly. Ryoga still looked confused.
“Look at the pants,” Martin snapped. “Is he selling?” Ryoga took a closer
look at the pants and realized what Martin knew by ‘selling.’ The designer
jeans were extremely tight on the Asian model’s sleek body and enhanced his
well-defined derriere. Ryoga felt like drooling too but instead he replied
gruffly, “Yeah, he’s ‘selling’!”
“Excellent!” Martin applauded. “The guy’s a queen but we need a second clue.”
Devin looked the young guy over and over again. “The hair,” he said finally.
“It looks too stylish for a second-day dry down! Because only gay men know
that the natural oils of the hair look better on the second day. And we got
that one from- ”
“QUEER EYE FOR THE STRAIGHT GUY!” Martin chimed in. The young guy almost
turned around to see the ruckus. “Fantastic!” Martin grinned. Ryoga looked
puzzled.
“Or you could just show him your dick
and see how he reacts,” another voice smirked.
It was the muscular Korean guy again.
This time, he was wearing a white tanktop and blue jogging pants. Ryoga now
understood the second-day dry down. The Korean guy’s spiky hair was surprisingly
styled and soft at the same time. Ryoga started to wonder how many times a
week gay men were supposed to take showers.
Martin rolled his eyes. “Oh, hello Kerry.” Ryoga smiled a little bit. The
handsome man standing next to him had a name!
“Ryoga, this is Kerry Kwok, the Cyrano of the Castro.”
“We’ve met,” Kerry’s deep voice continued. He looked directly at Ryoga with
a smile. Ryoga worried that he was blushing.
“Kerry’s a dancer at Club Earth by night,” Martin continued. “And by day…”
“I do advertising,” Kerry finished Martin’s sentence. “See that billboard
over there? Kerry motioned to a Motorola cell phone billboard that stood above
the Gold’s Gym building. It was a topless Asian guy with a smooth and oiled
up body holding a cell phone and getting splashed by a jet of water from a
hose from the side. “That’s mine.”
“Guys like John Travolta and John Claude-van Damme are old school,” Kerry
continued. “Abercrombie and Fitch is yesterday’s news. Gay men aren’t into
the overly muscular, vapid, fake white bodies. Asian men are selling
in the gay market because they are…lean, defined, smooth…sexy.” Sexy.
Kerry looked directly at Ryoga when he said that. His soft, piercing gray
eyes looked directly into Ryoga’s as if directing the adjective to Ryoga.
And the way the word rolled off Kerry’s smooth lips made Ryoga’s heart beat
a little bit faster.
“Are you done with that sticky-rice bullshit?” Martin muttered as he stuffed
another piece of salad into his face. Devin snickered as he watched Ryoga
turn into a soft puddle of shyness.
“Susmariose,” Martin grumbled. “That
stupid asshole thinks he can still step into this café like he’s king of the
world.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Ryoga asked
while his mind was still dazed on the vision of Kerry’s buttocks from his
clingy jogging pants.
“Watch out for Kerry Kwok,” Martin
looked dead into Ryoga’s eyes. “He will fuck you over worse than a double-headed
dildo.” Ryoga felt his balloon pop. Martin became extremely serious. “Kerry’s
sticky rice,” Martin said as-a-matter-of-factly. “He’s Asian for Asian.
Dates only Asian men. And dumps Asian men.”
At least now you know he’s gay, Ryoga told himself quietly.
“Speaking of Asian for Asian,” Devin grinned. “Is that what you are
going to wear on your first date with Luke?”
Ryoga was busy staring dreamily at Kerry that he didn’t realize how dashing
Martin looked. Martin was wearing a neat grey dress shirt and black dress
pants. “I just wanted to look a little bit…sophisticated,” Martin said nervously.
“He’s a working boy remember/”
"You look like your first date is City Hall," Devin snickered. “If
Gavin Newsom is going to preside over the ceremony, can I be your maid of
honor?”
“Omigod,” Martin exclaimed. “You’re
right! I don’t want to scare him! I can probably go home and get changed.”
Ryoga excused himself before Martin
could shimmy away and walked out toward Crepeville. As Ryoga walked out onto
the street, he noticed how many of Castro’s civilians had Motorola cell phones.
It was almost everyone. Ryoga pulled out his own as he headed for work.
On the other side of town, Ranko was getting fitted into her gown for her
upcoming wedding at Macy’s in Union Square. She was trying on a pure white
crepe lame gown. Ryan sat on the side, wearing his wine red dress shirt and
black business pants.
"I look fat," Ranko looked down at her waist with disdain. "I
feel like I'm a walking white frosted cupcake."
"You're not fat," Ryan muttered objectively. "You look gorgeous."
“All lies!” Ranko muttered as she fluffed
the dress lightly. “How much did I pay you not be the catty queen you normally
are?"
“Well, at least you can get married,”
Ryan muttered. For some reason, the idea of marriage hit very close
to home.
"Crap," Ranko muttered and turned around, facing Ryan. "I told
you this wasn't my fault. Bret's parents
are coming all the way from Massachusetts to come see him get married and
they already put in so much money for the wedding." Ryan rolled his eyes.
"My brother married his wife because he had no choice,” Ranko squatted
down next to Ryan. “I chose this man and I fell in love with him." Ryan
looked away. "That's all. I'm not doing this because I'm executing my
so-called privileges as a heterosexual female." Ryan just pouted
frustratingly and it hurt Ranko to see Ryan so solemn.
"You know what you need?" Ranko started to grin stupidly. "We
need to jamba."
Ryan looked up. "Oh dear, we haven't jamba-d since my last boyfriend."
"Then isn't this the perfect time?" Ranko smiled. “Now help me get
out of this lacy mess I feel like a walking duck.”
Ranko and Ryan walked out of the small Jamba Juice at the corner of Market
Street. They sat down in front of the nearby church, which happened to be
the dauntingly huge St Mary’s Cathedral. The bell chimed five times, announcing
the lateness of the day.
Ranko licked her lips as she sipped her smoothie. “Bleh,” she said finally.
“I knew I wasn’t going to be a big fan of Passionfruit Bonanza. It’s way too
fruity.”
“If you put a protein boost,” Ryan laughed. “It tastes a lot better.” Ranko
laughed sarcastically. “I get enough of my protein boost from Bret, if you
know what I mean!” She quickly changed the subject, a little bit shocked about
the innuendo of her comments. “So let me get this straight, this guy that
you met was a pig at first and magically turned into a really hot Asian man.”
"In the most unbelievably way in the world," Ryan said. "Yes."
Ranko rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you’ve been smoking lately but I
would definitely like some!”
“It’s like this,” Ryan grumbled. “I’m 30 and I know it. I see guys
my age getting domestic partners and raising families, not chasing around
18-year-old club twinks around Castro!”
“And Martin?” Ranko looked endearing.
“I could buy a house with a white picket fence,” Ryan replied. “With my salary
at the Chronicle, I could if I really wanted to.” Ranko gave Ryan her what-the-fuck
look. “No, stupid,” Ranko smiled jokingly. “As in falling in love.”
“So, how do heterosexuals fall in love?”
Ryan asked sarcastically. “Since I clearly don’t know how that happens.”
“We just do,” Ranko looked away.
“I just can’t describe how it happens but with time, it just happens
and then, poof, you’re married with two-point-five children in this little
perfect American society.” Ranko sipped her smoothie a little bit more. “But
that’s not only limited to heterosexuals and you should know better. We’re
far from the days when the word ‘gay’ was barely mentioned. Now it’s everywhere.
And guys aren’t scared of coming out anymore. And finding each other for love,
for friendship, and for fucking. Even you will someday.” As a fruit fly, Ranko
had surely done her homework.
“I hope soon,” Ryan laughed. “I’m starting
to see my hair turn gray.”
“It can only get better,” Ranko said.
“Like that Queer Eye theme song. By the way, Bret taped the last episode if
you still want to watch it.”
After work, Ryan started to drive home. Maybe Ranko
was right. All things are getting better. Ryan smiled. And he was about to miss Queer Eye for the Straight Guy. Ryan drove
back to his house and opened the door. A sense of loneliness filled the room.
“Yeah, I changed,” Martin spoke to Devin on his Motorola cellphone. “Of course,
I’m not all Cary Grant right now.” Martin was now wearing blue jogging
pants and a tight black shirt. “Okay, I’m close to his place. Can I call you
later?” Martin rang the doorbell.
His jaw dropped. Luke looked more dashing than ever. He was wearing a black
dress jacket and a silver tie, as well as black dress pants. For a second,
Martin thought he was dating a dreamy Asian Catholic schoolboy. Martin could
also smell the strong phernones from Luke’s cologne which made him fantasize
ripping the hot, well-dressed man’s shirt off.
"I guess I overdressed," Luke muttered nervously with his soft lisp
and started to turn back to his apartment building.
"It's not your fault," Martin stammered. "It's because I was
listening to those kulits* telling
me how to dress. I should’ve known better.” Martin fidgeted. “You…you just
take my breath away." Luke smiled that same coy smile that drove Martin
crazy. He took Martin’s hand shyly and they walked out to the car.
Ryoga started cleaning
up another table when his manager, Brian, a dashingly attractive white guy
with blonde curly hair and blue eyes came up to him. “Jason just called in
sick so can you take care of his table?” Brian asked, his blue eyes shimmered
like sapphire. “I promise I’ll pay you extra.” Ryoga put another used cup
onto his tray of dirty dishes. “Sure,” he smiled. “And then I’ll go finish
cleaning this up.” Brian nodded and went back to his managerial duties.
It was Kerry. But he
wasn’t alone. Ryoga felt his eyes scope Kerry out, looking for any other second-hand
evidence of queer identity. Kerry was wearing a black Banana Republic shirt
that grazed his muscular body and pinstripe black pants. He gave Ryoga a look
over and Ryoga felt his heart beating faster.
“Hey cutie,” Kerry grinned
stupidly. “What’s up…other than the usual?”
Kerry’s “date,” a skinny
Thai guy rolled his eyes. “I’ll have a Pesto Chicken crepe,” he looked up
threateningly to Ryoga. “Okay,” Ryoga looked down at his paper writing furiously
and then looked to Kerry. “And what would you like?”
"I am feeling a little bit wild tonight," Kerry licked his lips.
"Is there anything that you can...recommend for me?"
Ryoga grinned nervously. "Well, our specialty tonight is the habanero
crepe," he said. "It's very hot."
Ryoga felt kicking himself for his cheesy pick-up line.
"That sounds tempting," Kerry's soothing voice replied. "I'll
have one of those."
Ryoga had just enjoyed watching Kerry’s mouth water as he munched into his
spicy crepe because he had forgotten to mention just exactly how spicy
it was. Just as Ryoga started to clean up Kerry’s table, he noticed that
Kerry had left his important Visa card sitting idly on the table. Knowing
his own irresponsibilities, Ryoga ran outside to make sure he caught Kerry
before it was too late.
“Mister,” Ryoga ran out frantically. “You forgot your credit card.” It was
only then that he knew it was rigged. Kerry stood in the street, date-less
and smiling at Ryoga.
“I just had to see you again,” Kerry said coyly. Ryoga blushed furiously.
“Despite the possible indigestion this crepe is going to cause.”
Ryoga grinned. “Well, I’m here.” Kerry drew him closer and Ryoga could feel
Kerry’s warm arms around him. “Do you have a place to go?” Kerry whispered.
The echoes of his voice on Ryoga’s ears brought feverous tremours within Ryoga’s
thighs.
Squat and Gobble had just closed and tonight was Ryoga's turn to lock up.
But this time, he wasn't the only
one. Kerry was now pushing him into the kitchen wall and he could feel his
body melting into ice cold surface. Wordlessly, they moved ferverently. Hands
traveling everywhere, around face, around hair, around chests. Ryoga could
feel Kerry's body push itself on him, the toned landscape placing pressure
on him.
With quick ease, Kerry unbuttoned Ryoga’s black shirt. He lifted up his own,
revealing his well-defined and smooth abdominal muscles. They pushed their
bodies together skin on skin. The heat made Ryoga’s mind swim in ecstasy.
Kerry continued his assault on Ryoga’s lips with his tongue exploring Ryoga’s
entire mouth. Ryoga could only hold on barely to Kerry’s strong shoulders,
feeling the smooth cotton of his striped blue dress shirt. Ryoga closed his
eyes as he felt Kerry’s fingers fumble with Ryoga's zipper, slipping his hands
onto Ryoga’s crotch. He started stroking Ryoga's now quivering and moist member
giving Ryoga minor pangs of pleasure with every touch. "You've got a
nice cock," Kerry said finally. "Thank you," Ryoga gasped as
he felt Kerry's smooth hands run up and down the shaft.
"Once I go down, you can't go back up,"
Kerry displayed that sexy little smirk again. Ryoga groaned. Kerry sank down
to his destination. He could feel Kerry's warm and wet mouth start to envelope
his throbbing member. Ryoga surrendered to the throes of pleasure as he sunk
down the wall.