I went into the steam room,
Shut the door, thinking I was alone.
Only then did I see what appeared
To be a ghost, four feet away,
Fading in and out of silvery world.

He was lying opposite me,
Stretched out upon the bench,
Totally naked as I watched
The way he stared into my hungry eyes.
I stood up to see if he was real,
Lost my towel as it disappeared
Into the fog and that was the end of that.

Suddenly this hand reached
Through the steam.
Touched my thigh.
Oh, God, I wished I had
A glass of wine, taste upon my tongue
Crammed with secrets, long legs
Running down the glass, my ass
Backed against the wall,
Cold tile condensed.

Here, as though in answer to a prayer,
The ghost became the real thing.
I heard a rushing sound….
Maybe it was the steam,
Heat rising in the room,
No words exchanged….

If I loved him,
I wouldn’t have given in.
But I didn’t know his name.
I only felt this ache,
As if I lived within his heat,
His spreading of my thighs and feet,
His weight coming slow.

Was it cigarette smoke or steam?
I couldn’t tell when my eyes were closed,
His tongue shockingly down there,
Tingling, probing, licking, biting.
His naked body all wet against my own.

Was it sweat running down my cheeks?
Tears as I cried out upon his entry,
Hard but excruciatingly sweet?
He had me where I wanted me—
Now you know the dark story.
Spinning like a falling coin,
I fell both heads and tails,
Landed yielding, trembling, begging.

God, he was big.
And he went deep.
Never, never, never enough….
This lovely, senseless act,
This momentary kiss, this fulfillment of a wish,
This breaking open of my body’s heart,
This need, this shame.
I never knew his name.