He shrugged. "Depends on the day. We get a lot of shifters. Some fae. Occasional vampires, though they usually come later at night. And there’s a few other types too ranging from mythological to downright rare. The point is, they're here to relax and have fun, same as everyone else. They're not going to hurt you, but they might look different than what you're used to. Or feel different. Or do things differently. So, if you decide to try things out, don’t be shy about communicating."
The way he said it made something low in my stomach tighten with what I was fairly sure was not anxiety. It was…excitement.
"Any questions so far?"
"What do I do now?"
"Now you go through that door to the lockeroom.” He pushed a wristband across the counter with a key on it. “Locker sixteen.You are going to leaveeverythingin that locker. And I do mean everything. No phones, no devices, no clothing, not even a watch. Put on your towel, go through the doors, and see what catches your interest. Towels are already in your locker. Most people don't wear anything once they get settled in, but do whatever makes you comfortable." He walked back around the desk and sat down. "Have fun, Cal."
I stared at him. "I didn't tell you my name."
"It's on your forms."
"I wrote down an emergency contact. I didn't write down my own name."
He smiled for the first time since I'd walked in. "Hollis called ahead. Said to keep an eye out for a tall, pale, extremely wound-up tax attorney who would probably try to talk himself out of whatever he was doing at least three times before he got through the front door."
"He did not say that."
"He absolutely did say that. Word for word." The man picked up his book again. "Door’s right over there. Enjoy yourself."
The locker room was mostly just a locker room. White walls, metal lockers, a bench running down the middle, the familiar smell of chlorine and eucalyptus, maybe. It was empty except for me, which was somehow both a relief and a disappointment.
Locker sixteen was at the end of the row. I opened it and found two thick white towels, folded neatly on the shelf. I stood there for a long moment, looking at the towels. This was it. This was the point where I either committed to whatever this was going to be, or I walked back out to the lobby and made some excuse about having to be somewhere else.
The thing was, I didn't have to be anywhere else. I hadn't had to be anywhere else on a Friday night in months.
I started with my tie. Then my jacket. Then my shirt, my shoes, my socks, my belt, and finally my pants. Each piece feltheavier than it should have as I folded it and placed it in the locker. Like I was shedding more than just clothing. By the time I was standing there in just my underwear, I felt oddly lighter. And oddly exposed, even though no one else was in the room.
The underwear came off last. I wrapped one of the towels around my waist and closed the locker. The wristband felt strange though. I hadn't worn anything on my wrists in years except my watch, which was now sitting in locker sixteen with the rest of my identity.
There was a mirror on the wall opposite the lockers. I caught sight of myself in it and stopped. I looked...different. Paler than usual, maybe because of the fluorescent lights. Thinner than I remembered. The gray at my temples looked more pronounced without the expensive haircut to distract from it. But there was something else, something I couldn't quite identify. I looked like a person who was about to do something he'd never done before.
I looked nervous. And curious. And alive in a way I hadn't seen in my own reflection in a very long time.
The door at the far end of the locker room had a small frosted window in it. I could see warm light on the other side, and movement, and the suggestion of space opening up beyond. I put my hand on the door handle and felt that small flutter of curiosity again, stronger this time.
I pushed the door open and stepped through.
The space beyond was nothing like what I'd expected. It was enormous, for one thing. The ceiling had to be twenty feet high, supported by faux-stone beams that gave the whole place the feel of an ancient roman temple. The lighting was warm and indirect, coming from fixtures mounted on the stone walls and reflecting off the water that seemed to be everywhere.
Because there was water everywhere. The centerpiece of the room was a large circular pool, maybe sixty feet across, with steam rising gently from the surface. Around it were smallerpools of various sizes, some built into raised platforms, others sunk into the floor. The sound of water moving and filtering created a constant, soothing background noise that seemed to absorb the sharper edges of conversation and laughter.
And there were people. Not a crowd, but enough that the space felt alive. Most of them were in the water or sitting on the edges of the pools, towels discarded, talking quietly or not talking at all. All of them were men and it seemed most of them were human.
But not all of them.
I saw him before my brain fully processed what I was seeing. He was sitting on the far edge of the main pool, his legs in the water, talking to another man who was floating nearby. From the waist up, he looked human. He had broad shoulders, a muscled chest, and dark hair. But he had horns. And his legs, the ones that disappeared into the water, were wrong. Too long. Too hairy. And when he shifted position, I caught a glimpse of what might have been hooves instead of feet.
A satyr. I was looking at an actual satyr.
He must have felt me staring, because he looked up and caught my eye across the room. He smiled. It was a friendly, uncomplicated smile. Then he raised his hand in a small wave before turning back to his conversation.
My heart was beating faster. Not from fear, exactly. From something else. Something that felt a little like the first time I'd realized I was attracted to men. It was that same combination of recognition and possibility and the sudden understanding that the world was larger and more interesting than I'd previously allowed myself to believe.
"First time?"
I turned. The voice belonged to a man standing a few feet away. He was maybe forty-five, with salt-and-pepper hair andlaugh lines around his eyes. He was wearing a towel around his waist, like me, and holding a bottle of water.
