I stared wide-eyed at the athletically built man before replying. He looked to be a handful of years older than me.
"Have we met?"
I felt as if my voice sounded like a schoolgirl compared to his.
He then slowly stood up, exposing the majority of his naked frame. In doing so, he positioned his muscular arms behind his head, having run his fingers through his thick brown head hair.
"You don't recognize me?"
His voice was just as deep as before, though overall, its volume was softer.
I blinked rapidly before ruefully looking down at my wrist, realizing that the inside of the plastic lens of my favorite Swatch watch was worriedly covered in condensed water. I'd no idea why I'd worn my watch whilst jacuzzing. But too, I'd no idea where or why I was actually jacuzzing, awkwardly adjacent to this incredibly confident, hot guy. Unsurprisingly, I then found myself wondering how long I might successfully breathe under heated water.
Eventually, I looked back up at the stranger. He was still standing motionless in his seductive pose, dripping water down into the roiling jacuzzi pool. I didn't dare speak initially as he grinned slyly. Now admittedly feeling very confused, I did inevitably break the silence with my high-pitched adolescent timbre.
"Did you bring me here? I don't remember how I got here..."
"You mentioned New Orleans. Is that where we are? I know I've been to New Orleans before with my parents..."
"How did I get into this hot tub? And where are my clothes?!?"
"Slow. Down. Rob."
"And...How do you know my name?"
He was still standing there motionless within the center of the tub like an Italian marble statue. As a result, my eyes couldn't resist examining his entire body unabashedly. And it was then that I realized who he was.
"What year is it, Rob?"
"1990. And you're the guy from the magazine, right?"
"You're wrong. It's 2023 which means you're 51 years old."
I didn't respond. Instead, I began to privately panic. For I began to assume that I had somehow been covertly abducted from my family and was now being played for a fool. Though why I was here with this porn model, I could not fathom. Was this someone's (perhaps my dad's?) idea of a shame-inducing punishment? I slowly began inching my way towards the handrail in anticipation of successfully darting out of the tub.
"I'm not here to shame you. You brought me here this afternoon to see you, just as you saw me, all those years ago. And by the way, my name isn't Steve. It's Chris. Chris Keyes. I'm actually a mechanic from Montana."
When he said this, I ceased scooting my butt towards the railing and looked back up at him.
"Chris Keyes? Chris Keyes is a classmate of mine."
"Was a classmate of yours."
I then placed both hands over my face before exhaling slowly. I was now just a few feet from the stainless-steel tube yet momentarily choosing to sit motionless.
"Okay."
"Chris Keyes, if that truly is your name, I'm assuming you know too that my classmate is about as attractive a high school senior as I've ever seen.
I felt proud of myself for stating that as matter-a-fact as I did.
"Weird coincidence, us having the same name, isn't it?"
Chris now dropped his arms before blithely returning to his corner of the tub. He then slowly rubbed his cupped left hand over his moist face, forehead to chin. When he reached the bottom half of his mug, it was as if he was caressing an invisible beard. He then stretched out his arms, perpendicular to his torso, along the jacuzzi's marble deck. He had zero tattoos, that I could see, which confirmed that they'd not been airbrushed away prior to the periodical's publication.
"The magazine people made me shave my beard prior to the shoot. I'd submitted photos of myself clean shaven after their scout approached me, and that's what they insisted upon. I miss my beard. Back in the '80s and early '90s, facial hair was definitely not in fashion. I look and feel so much younger without facial hair."
"How old are you?"
"I was 25 when I posed for that shoot."
"Why did you say a few moments ago that I was 51?"
"Because you are. Even though its 18-year-old Rob that's here with me, once again, all these years later, in NOLA."
There was a long pause before Chris continued. He no doubt could tell that I was becoming more and more intrigued with both this weird situation and his confident explanations.
"You've always carried me with you Rob, but now, perhaps it's the right time for you to let me go."
More silence ensued after his baritone voice trailed off quizzically. I began feeling my legs cramp as my shame rose up within me. If I understood anything at that moment, it was that I did not want to do any of that letting go he was referring to.
Chris continued,
"But it's only the teenage boy that's manifested himself here, today, that can do that releasing."
"Look at you, Rob! LOOK AT YOU, taking advantage of this health club jacuzzi tub! YOU ARE THE MAN!"
When Chris said this, I suddenly felt especially self-conscious of my very lean, very naked physical stature. From there, I reflexively responded.
"You must realize I would never have stepped foot into a health club jacuzzi had you not brought me here!"
I sounded like a scolding schoolteacher.
Chris leaned forward and pointed the finger of his right hand straight at me.
"I didn't bring you here. You brought yourself here! In fact, you've been anticipating enjoying this jacuzzi tub - potentially with other NOLA men alongside - ever since you discovered it yesterday here at the hotel!"
For every accusatory remark I quipped, he kept replying with confidence, and this time was no different. Hence, I felt I had no choice but to become more combative.
"WHAT THEN HAVE I BECOME, CHRIS? A GAY 51-YEAR-OLD MAN? IS THAT WHY I'M IN NEW ORLEANS? DO I LIVE HERE AS A FAGGOT, CRUISING FOR OTHER MEN LIKE MYSELF?"
My yelling reverberated off the marble-tiled walls.
But ultimately, the magnitude of what I'd just presupposed somehow - thankfully - landed with a thud, somewhere between the makeshift waves. Chris amped up his reply just as deliberately.
"Didn't you hear what I just said? Will you not allow yourself to be seen as I see you? For goodness sakes man, this is what you wanted!"
I didn't know what to say to that. My green eyes locked intensely with his. This brooding went on for a long while before either of us looked away. Within those moments, it was obvious that a leveling up occurred between us before Chris spoke again.
"You saw ME back in 1990. Moreso than any other man who purchased that seedy magazine. And that too is what I was subconsciously longing for, though would have NEVER admitted to. In essence, me modeling for Playgirl had more to do with Chris Keyes being seen - by other men - than the money they paid me to take my clothes off."
After he admitted to that, I chose to breathlessly buy into everything he'd argued for up to that point. Immediately, the temperature dropped within the space, making us both more comfortable.
I now realized, having now been converted by this figurehead, that this freedom truly brought about feelings of safety and confidence; even if this bizarre situation didn't entirely make sense to me. From there, I reciprocated by also exposing my soft underbelly.
"It was easy to see you. You seemed so confident to do what you did. Deep down, I wanted too to be that comfortable, but as you no doubt know, I absolutely hate myself."
"Will you do me a favor?"
I exhaled whilst looking down in the water, feeling wholeheartedly exposed.
"Only if I can keep you with me. I do not want to release you. You've obviously played too important a role for me to let you go."
Chris smirked at this before continuing.
"Pose for me. Just as I did for you a few minutes ago."
"Oh, hell no."
Chris threw his head back and laughed loudly at hearing my teenage self respond as curtly as I did.
"Well, I don't have time to argue with you. We've been in here long enough. It's time for you to get back to your family."
Suddenly, I found myself mirroring every move Chris made, as if I had become a living reflection of my childhood masculine archetype. As he confidently hoisted his naked body up, once again, out from beneath the water's surface, I did the same in perfect sync. Inevitably, we were, within just a few seconds, facing each other with our hands behind our heads.
Spatially, there was about 4-5 feet between us as we both were resting our opposing leg up and onto the same submerged bench seat of the jacuzzi tub. I found myself unable to speak. Being exposed as I was to him should have blanketed me in stifling shame, particularly from the standpoint that my adolescent junk was fully erect. Nevertheless, I knew full well why that wasn't occurring.
The contrast between our physiques was extreme, considering my 120 lb of Slenderman versus his 215 lbs of Superman. It was gratifying though to see his pulsing penis standing just as erect as mine was.
And then, in an instant, Chris Keyes became 51-year-old Rob. And from there, I/he spoke directly to my 18-year-old self.
"I see you, Rob Turner. There's no part of you that's hidden from me. Be kind to yourself. My courage back then is no less than your courage today. It lives on within you and always will."
