This is true.
I am in D.C. for a couplefew weeks for work and am staying at an AirB&B very near my office. I have one of two bedrooms on the second floor (American) in my host's house that have a shared bathroom between them, with the washroom (sink, counter, mirror, linen closet) located centrally between the two bedrooms and the toilet and separated from all three with pocket doors.
I've stayed in places with shared baths before, but they're typically "down the hall"; I've never had a room that adjoined a stranger's bedroom, by way of a bath. I'm torn as always between hippyish communal living ideals and an earned mistrust of strangers. There is no mechanism to keep the guest in the other bedroom from coming into my room. The room-to-bathroom pocket doors DO have little latches, but on the inside of the bathroom—to keep one's neighbor from barging in while... I dunno, while brushing one's teeth?
Anyway, the other bedroom was unrented the first two nights I stayed in this house; yesterday evening my host informed me that my neighbor, Diego, had checked in but had gone back out.
Ok, so I can't help myself. There is no typically masculine name that more securely ensures the hotness of its bearer then 'Diego'. Except, just possibly, Diogo. But to be honest, I still didn't give it much thought—who knows if we'll even meet each other, what with those pocket door latches.
So I went out to Clyde's to watch the first game of the "World" Series. Came home full of beer, got half-undressed and headed to the toilet.
Diego was home. Maybe he been out drinking as well, came home drunk, got fully undressed, and went to bed. Naked. With the light on. And the door to the bathroom wide open. Lying on his stomach with the end of a sheet haphazardly covering a few square inches of buttock.
Diego was indeed worthy of his name... 30ish, maybe younger, beautiful brown skin, slender but not twinky. I general, just a very lovely sight, one empire sofa or pastoral background shy of being a famous painting.
Diego woke when I walked past the door, so I gave him a noncommittal 'hello' wave, headed into the toilet room, and pulled the pocket door closed. When I reopened it, he hadn't moved much, hadn't closed the bedroom door or pulled sheets over him. I said 'Hello' and waved again, out of politeness, and to act like meeting a naked stranger isn't a little weird.
He said something like, "You are staying in this room...?" and pointed toward my room. I said "Yes" and then, again because one must be polite and normal, I walked into his room with my hand extended and said, "I'm Gordon". He rolled over enough to free his right hand and shake mine, in the process—again, with zero concern for covering up— freeing up his genitalia, which were, uh, ample. Not engorged but good and fleshy.
He said, "Good to meet you, Gordon" but did not tell me his name, so I said, "You are Diego?" and he confirmed. The business of neighborly meeting concluded, I went back to my room.
Thirty to 45 minutes later I was ready for bed, so I went into the bathroom again to brush my teeth. Diego still hadn't moved or closed his door. I guess he had fallen back asleep but again awoke as I walked past. This time he stood up, came to the door, and pointed toward the toilet with a vague "may I?" sort of utterance. "Oh, sure," I said, and he walked past into the toilet, sat down to pee, and did NOT close the door.
So here I am, brushing my teeth with a hot naked young Latino male human pissing behind me—PISSING, that is—directly in my view via the vanity mirror.
Anyway, Diego came out of the toilet just as I was finishing up at the sink, so I relinquished my position to him and said, "Well, good night". He replied "Good night" as well and I exited and went to bed.
As of this morning, he was latching my pocket door while he was in the bathroom and keeping his pocket door closed while he was in his room.
There was nothing overtly sexual about this encounter, and I thought to write off last night as non-American casualness re nudity among males. But the strict door-closing this morning makes me wonder whether he was actually drunk last night and potentially receptive to some fondling. Ah well: that is a knack I have surely lost with disuse.
I've stayed in places with shared baths before, but they're typically "down the hall"; I've never had a room that adjoined a stranger's bedroom, by way of a bath. I'm torn as always between hippyish communal living ideals and an earned mistrust of strangers. There is no mechanism to keep the guest in the other bedroom from coming into my room. The room-to-bathroom pocket doors DO have little latches, but on the inside of the bathroom—to keep one's neighbor from barging in while... I dunno, while brushing one's teeth?
Anyway, the other bedroom was unrented the first two nights I stayed in this house; yesterday evening my host informed me that my neighbor, Diego, had checked in but had gone back out.
Ok, so I can't help myself. There is no typically masculine name that more securely ensures the hotness of its bearer then 'Diego'. Except, just possibly, Diogo. But to be honest, I still didn't give it much thought—who knows if we'll even meet each other, what with those pocket door latches.
So I went out to Clyde's to watch the first game of the "World" Series. Came home full of beer, got half-undressed and headed to the toilet.
Diego was home. Maybe he been out drinking as well, came home drunk, got fully undressed, and went to bed. Naked. With the light on. And the door to the bathroom wide open. Lying on his stomach with the end of a sheet haphazardly covering a few square inches of buttock.
Diego was indeed worthy of his name... 30ish, maybe younger, beautiful brown skin, slender but not twinky. I general, just a very lovely sight, one empire sofa or pastoral background shy of being a famous painting.
Diego woke when I walked past the door, so I gave him a noncommittal 'hello' wave, headed into the toilet room, and pulled the pocket door closed. When I reopened it, he hadn't moved much, hadn't closed the bedroom door or pulled sheets over him. I said 'Hello' and waved again, out of politeness, and to act like meeting a naked stranger isn't a little weird.
He said something like, "You are staying in this room...?" and pointed toward my room. I said "Yes" and then, again because one must be polite and normal, I walked into his room with my hand extended and said, "I'm Gordon". He rolled over enough to free his right hand and shake mine, in the process—again, with zero concern for covering up— freeing up his genitalia, which were, uh, ample. Not engorged but good and fleshy.
He said, "Good to meet you, Gordon" but did not tell me his name, so I said, "You are Diego?" and he confirmed. The business of neighborly meeting concluded, I went back to my room.
Thirty to 45 minutes later I was ready for bed, so I went into the bathroom again to brush my teeth. Diego still hadn't moved or closed his door. I guess he had fallen back asleep but again awoke as I walked past. This time he stood up, came to the door, and pointed toward the toilet with a vague "may I?" sort of utterance. "Oh, sure," I said, and he walked past into the toilet, sat down to pee, and did NOT close the door.
So here I am, brushing my teeth with a hot naked young Latino male human pissing behind me—PISSING, that is—directly in my view via the vanity mirror.
Anyway, Diego came out of the toilet just as I was finishing up at the sink, so I relinquished my position to him and said, "Well, good night". He replied "Good night" as well and I exited and went to bed.
As of this morning, he was latching my pocket door while he was in the bathroom and keeping his pocket door closed while he was in his room.
There was nothing overtly sexual about this encounter, and I thought to write off last night as non-American casualness re nudity among males. But the strict door-closing this morning makes me wonder whether he was actually drunk last night and potentially receptive to some fondling. Ah well: that is a knack I have surely lost with disuse.
x
