Page 164 - Some Dance to Remember

134 Jack Fritscher

side door, on Hallam Street, he waited in the Saturday-night line of men
inching their way up the two steps into the lobby. The bath was crowded.
The sign on the thick glass of the Check-In window read “No rooms.
Lockers only.” In another hour, the place would be SRO. “No rooms. No
lockers.” Late-comers would store their clothes for the night in marked
grocery bags kept behind the counter.
Tony Tavarossi was manning the lobby window. He was a short, swar-
thy Italian who had worked nearly every bath and bar South of Market,
but never on Castro. He had a chinstrap beard, a Dionysian mind, and
a small apartment equipped for S&M play. He had at their first meeting
frightened Ryan with his sexual intensity. During Ryan’s first year in San
Francisco, he had cruised warily around Tony, closer and closer, until con-
tact. Tony was preferentially a bottom, a masochist, but he styled himself
as a top’s top, a sadist’s sadist, a sensualist’s sensualist guide.
“When you get tired of working guys over,” he had told Ryan, “you
let me take care of you.” Every three months or so, before Kick, Ryan had
needed Tony Tavarossi’s care.
At the Check-In window, Ryan nodded hello over the loud music.
Tony tried to speak through the round steel vent in the center of the glass
separating them. Ryan pointed at his own ear and shook his head. He
slipped his three bucks through the opening under the glass and signed
his check-in card. Tony buzzed the inner door and Ryan walked into the
Barracks.
Tony signaled one of the five guys behind the ledge. “Work the win-
dow for a second.” He walked up to Ryan. They kissed each other. Tony
eyed him knowingly. “You look hungry,” Tony said. “Do you have any-
thing to check?”
Ryan gave him his wallet.
Tony shoved it into a long narrow safety deposit drawer and locked
it. He leaned over the ledge. “If a room becomes available, I’ll call your
locker number over the loudspeaker.” He handed Ryan his locker key and
a fresh white towel. “You really need it tonight,” Tony said. “I can tell.”
“I’m not sure what I need.”
Tony grinned like a friend with a secret. “Check out the room to the
right at the top of the stairs.”
Ryan went to his locker to strip and cruise in the slow ritual of enter-
ing the bath.
Tony took a quick break and bounded up the stairs to the third floor.
The door to the room was closed. Tony knocked. It opened. He went in.
Five minutes later he came out and returned to the front desk. The door

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