Erotica#1 :: A night at the bathhouse…

Kade recounts his experience of frequenting Cape Town’s top gay bathhouse, The Hot House…

EROTICA_bathhouse

The rules are simple: no talking, no names, no eye contact, no emotion. He did not exist before this moment, and when I walk away he will cease to exist. He exists only here, right now as the crystallisation of my lust and desire. He is not a person. He is not a human – he is just an extension of my body, the anthropomorphic personification of my carnality. He is not a ‘him’ – he is an ‘it’ – something to do – an object. A sex object. I can never let him be anything more.

There are only ever other bodies walking around here: touching, groping, fucking

Time spent here is never social. There is no human contact here – only bodies writhing in sweat-ridden anonymity, never getting behind each other’s eyes. Their intensity claws only at the surface, never for the emotive human being inside. There are only ever other bodies walking around here: touching, groping, fucking. Only bodies, never people. When I come here I am … not human. Not a man. Just hunger. Selfish, carnal hunger that hunts bodies to use, one after the other, to consume the things my own body seeks in their bodies. We are not men in love. We are sex without connection; without soul or emotion. It is cold, but it is so hot. And it is never human. Never human.

His hands, holding me down as he takes what he needs

Except tonight. Except for him. His eyes. His voice. His hands, holding me down as he takes what he needs. His legs, as he stands up and walks away. His smile when I pass him in the steam later, after many other bodies have come and gone. He is the living embodiment of the shallow perfection my subconscious has birthed in my insomnia-riddled dreams. I am desperate to know more about him – to reveal the human inside this bearish body. I need to know him. But this is all impossible. It’s not allowed.

No talking. No names. No humans. Just ‘things’. I dress, and leave. I close the door and walk away and he ceases to exist.

This is how it must be. Always. This is my design: my shackles and my freedom.

– Kade

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