“You're not the first and won't be the last. But also, what am I not seeing?” I point at the rope.
“They look like... dicks.” Marcello swallows another mouthful of giggles.
I look at the tricep rope. “I mean... kinda," I admit. “If your penis has a very large head and a very elaborate display of twisted veins.”
For some reason that shuts up Marcello and when I look up at him, his cheeks look a little flushed and it's not because of the exercise. He's long recovered from the last set he just did.
“I'm being immature, aren't I?” he asks and his voice is quieter than a moment ago.
“I'm just happy you're laughing and smiling. In the gym. I bet you didn't think that was possible.”
Marcello's face relaxes as he replies, “I honestly didn't, but I have to admit, this is not as awful as I thought it was going to be. No offence.”
“None taken,” I say and then I gesture to the tricep rope, which now I'm looking at it with a new perspective, there are slightly phallic vibes. “Grab hold of your penises please, Marcello.”
With another snort of brief laughter, Marcello moves and obeys my order, grabbing hold of the rope's middle with each hand. “Like this?”
“No, actually you need to hold the... bell-end part,” I say somewhat slyly.
“Ha!” Marcello says with another burst of giggles but he does move his hands down and grip the round handles.
“And now pull your arms back, keeping your elbows close to your body.” I watch as Marcello does as I ask. “That's how you would work your triceps, by the way, which is why it's called a tricep rope.”
“And not a couple of cocks?” he jokes.
“Indeed,” I say with a slow smile. “But we want to work your lats so I'm going to get you to sit down, still holding onto the—”
“The two glanses,” he says. “Is that even the plural for glans?”
I can't help it. A small bubble of laughter makes it way out of my mouth. “I have no idea.”
As Marcello sits a flash of colour invades my vision.
“What's so funny over here?” Tony asks as he pops up from seemingly nowhere on the other side of the pull-down machine.
“Oh, Tony, hi,” I say and my laughing halts.
“How are you, Giles?” he asks, and while the question is innocent, his tone is not.
“I'm... I'm fine. You?” I ask but Tony doesn't reply. Instead, he looks down at Marcello who is sitting on the floor between us holding onto the couple of cocks, I mean, tricep rope with his arms extended, almost like he's jet-skiing.
“Hi, I'm Marcello,” he says. “I'm not going to get up and shake your hand because I'm new here and I don't know what is going to happen if I let go of these rope dicks, but it's nice to meet you.”
Tony's eyes narrow slightly on Marcello and they practically become coin-thin slits when his gaze returns to me. “New gym buddy?”
“Yes, I'm helping Marcello train for a triathlon.”
I didn't know how closely related a pout and a scowl were until I see the look that Tony gives me as he says, “Cute.” Then he turns and leaves, throwing his towel over his shoulder and lifting his chin to the ceiling. I watch him go and realise I've achieved exactly what I wanted by having him see me working out with Marcello. He certainly doesn't seem interested anymore.
“So, that's the guy,” Marcello asks from the floor.
“Yeah,” I say and I don't know why I'm still watching Tony head to the short row of Stairmasters but I am. I thought I'd feel relieved to no longer have to worry about his attention and approaches, but I don't feel that atall. I almost feel sad, like maybe I just put off the only person in the world who was actually interested in me.
“Well, I think he's got the message now,” Marcello says.
“Looks like it,” I say and force a smile on my face.
“You're not pleased about it?”
