The summers I remember as a kid were crowded with activity, which makes the summers of adulthood even more intensely dull.Last Friday the campus was deserted. Even the secretary in the main office was gone. I walked down hallways so deserted that the motion-sensor lights were off.
All of the food services were closed, so I had to walk all the way across the street to get lunch.
The campus gym was closed for remodeling, so I would have to go to the YMCA later. But I had a more pressing problem: I had to use the bathroom.
When I have to sit down, I don't use the restrooms in my building -- they're heavily used, and so rather gross (a surprising number of college students don't know how to flush), and not at all private. I use the one in the campus gym -- closed! or the one upstairs in the Business Building -- out of order!
Ok, Performing Arts, second floor.
Ocupado!
The only other secluded, non-gross restroom I could think of was on the third floor of the library, quite a walk, but...I had no choice!
I climbed the stairs to the third floor. There were three students in the study area, at separate tables: a girl, a cute Hispanic guy, and a young-looking Middle Eastern guy.I was curious about the cute Hispanic guy taking notes from a book -- classes were over! So I walked past and took a peek: pharmacology. He must be working on a late paper.
He looked up as I passed and stared at me suspiciously. He was slim, with a round face, prominent eyebrows, and sensual lips. Long, thin arms, square hands.
The Middle Eastern guy was working on his laptop: all I saw was black hair, a thin eyeglassed face, and a red t-shirt. He looked very young. I wondered if he was a newly-admitted student on a tour, taking a break in the library?
I didn't want them to think I was there just to use the bathroom, so I crossed the room and headed for the PQ Section, French literature. I browsed through Medieval, Renaissance, 19th Century, and turned the corner to a dead end with 20th Century.
I almost tripped over a guy sitting on the floor, reading an old book.
"Oh, excuse me!"
"No problem," he said, looking up briefly. He was tall and thin, with black hair and a serious tan, wearing a purple university shirt and jeans.
I was already in this corridor, so I had to pretend to be looking for something. I picked out a book on Gide and walked past the floor guy again, through the quiet study area. I put the book down on one of the tables and headed to the restroom.
Then I heard the far door swing open.
The rest of the story is too explicit for Boomer Beefcake and Bonding. You can read it on Tales of West Hollywood.