The Merman’s Bath (Bathhouse Beasts #6)

1

The Merman’s Bath: Kyle

“Idon’t know how much more of this I can take, Jerry,” I said, slumping against the water cooler as I filled my cup. “These fucking people are driving me insane.”

“Another busy day?” Jerry asked, as if he didn’t know.

“Yep,” I grumbled, taking a drink. “The president said something stupid again at a press conference and the market dropped thirty points. Every single time it happens I have to field calls all day from people who think the market is crashing again and want to sell everything.” I drained my paper cup before tossing it into the trash. “I’m fuckin’ tired of it.”

“Yeah, but you really like that Land Rover,” Jerry grinned, pointing toward the window where my car was parked outside. “That’s pretty nice.”

“Yeah,” I nodded, brows furrowed. “It was.”

“Was? You thinking about selling it?”

“Maybe.”

“What does Michael think about that?”

My stomach twisted. “Mike and I… we broke up.”

Jerry's smile dropped like a brick. "Shit, really? When did that happen?"

"Last weekend." I shifted my weight, suddenly wishing I had a cup of something stronger. "He said he was tired of coming in second to my job. Said I care more about other people's money than I do about him."

"That's rough." Jerry leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "I'm sorry, man."

"Yeah, well. He didn’t seem to mind the presents or the vacations, but he didn’t like that I had to pay for them with work." I shrugged, trying to seem casual even as something sharp twisted in my chest. "Seven years down the drain, I guess."

"Seven? Jesus, I didn't realize it had been that long."

A forced laugh escaped me. "Yeah. Funny how time flies when you're working sixty hours a week and barely seeing the person you live with."

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, making my already throbbing headache worse. At least twenty-five clients had already called this morning, each one more panicked than the last. My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was probably another one.

"You know what the worst part is?" I said, not waiting for Jerry's response. "He might be right. I can't even remember the last time we had dinner together without me checking my email or taking a call."

Jerry nodded, his expression carefully neutral. "You thinking about making some changes, then?"

"I don't know." My phone buzzed again. "Maybe. If I sold the Rover, downsized a bit... I could probably afford to cut back my client list."

"Sounds like you've been thinking about this."

"Haven't slept much since he left." I pushed myself off the wall. "Anyway, I should get back. Thompson's probably having another coronary over his retirement portfolio."

"Hey," Jerry called as I started walking away. "Drinks after work? Sounds like you could use it."

For the first time that day, I felt something other than exhaustion or regret.

“Thanks Jerry,” I nodded. “But I’ve made plans tonight.”

Jerry paused, giving me a sly grin. “Back on the prowl already?”

I couldn’t help but smile back. “Well, it’s not like I’m gonna get any at home. Might as well see if I’ve still got it after all these years.”

"Good for you," Jerry said, clapping me on the shoulder. "Where you headed? The Lava Lounge? I heard they've got a new bartender who breathes actual fire."

"Nah, someplace a little more... specialized." I felt my face flush slightly. "Remember that bathhouse on the east side? The men only one?"

Jerry's eyebrows shot up. "The monster place? I thought they closed down years ago."

"Still going strong, apparently." I lowered my voice as Marissa from accounting walked by. "I haven't been since before Mike and I got serious, but... I don't know. Thought it might be good to get back to my roots."

"Your roots being getting railed by anything that’s not human?" Jerry snickered.

"Something like that." I couldn't help but grin.

Before Mike, I'd had a pretty consistent track record with the non-human community. There was something about scales, fins, and occasional extra appendages that had always done it for me. But back then it wasn’t really an option to do interspecies dating.

Now it was still odd, but not unheard of at least.

"Mr. Davenport."

I turned to see Mr. Klauser standing in the doorway of his office, smoke curling from his nostrils, which was never a good sign. The dragon-shifter's tailored suit strained slightly around his broad shoulders as he beckoned me with one clawed finger.

"My office. Now."

"Shit," I muttered to Jerry. "Talk to you later."

I followed Klauser into his office, the heat radiating off him making me regret wearing a wool suit today. He shut the door behind me and moved to his desk, his tail flicking with irritation. Usually he stayed in his human form, but on stressful days like today, he couldn’t help himself.

"Kyle," he rumbled, "Johnson called me this morning. Said he's thinking about moving his portfolio elsewhere."

My stomach dropped. "Mr. Klauser, I can explain—"

"I don't need explanations. I need results." He exhaled, a wisp of smoke escaping between razor-sharp teeth. "That's the third account you've put in jeopardy this month."

"I know, sir. Things have been... complicated in my personal life."

His yellow eyes narrowed. "I don't care if your house is on fire. When you're here, you're here. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

"Fix it. And don't lose any more accounts." He shuffled some papers on his desk. "That's all."

I nodded and backed out of his office, my mind already racing through damage control options for the Johnson account. Maybe I could offer a fee reduction, or—

My phone buzzed again. Mike's name flashed on the screen.

I stared at it for a long moment before silencing it and shoving it back in my pocket. He didn’t deserve my time. Not today. Besides, he probably wanted to meet and I wasn’t going to waste my night on him. Tonight was about me—about rediscovering parts of myself I'd buried for seven years.

And if I happened to find those parts had fur or scales or feathers, then so be it.

I glanced at my phone one more time before heading back to my desk. Maybe I'd block Mike's number, just for tonight. I didn't need his voice in my head while I was trying to enjoy myself. And I didn’t need him blowing up my phone while I was getting laid, something he never wanted to do anyway.

My afternoon dragged on with more panicked calls and emails. By five o'clock, my temples were throbbing, and my patience had worn thinner than Mr. Klauser's temper. I loosened my tie as I shut down my computer, already feeling the weight of the day sliding off my shoulders. The bathhouse awaited.

The drive across town gave me time to think, maybe too much time.

Seven years with Mike. Seven years of building a life that now felt like it belonged to someone else.

I'd been so focused on providing the kind of lifestyle he wanted that I'd forgotten to actually live it with him. He wasn’t blameless though. He had a bad habit of scheduling things with his friends on my days off that didn’t include me.

Maybe it was just his way of trying to live without me.

I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse though.

"Fuck it," I muttered, turning up the radio to drown out my thoughts.

Tonight wasn't about things that were over.

It was about rediscovering the Kyle who existed before it all—the Kyle who didn't mind getting a little wild with creatures who had more interesting anatomical features than the average human. The Kyle I used to love being.

The bathhouse sat nestled in the warehouse district of town, its tiny neon sign flickering above the door.

From the outside, it looked like any other run-down warehouse in this part of town that wasn’t even open to the public.

But I knew better. Inside was a wonderland showers, a roman style bath, private pools, glory hole rooms, and beings that would make the average person's jaw hit the floor.

I parked around back, suddenly nervous. What if I was too old for this scene now?

At thirty, I wasn't exactly ancient, but I hadn’t been to the bathhouse in years.

What if I walked in and everyone just saw some sad, recently-dumped human desperately trying to recapture his youth?

What if it had changed beyond recognition? What if I’d missed my chance?

"Get it together," I told myself, checking my reflection in the rearview mirror.

I still looked good. Maybe there were a few more lines around my eyes than the last time I'd been here, but my gym membership hadn't gone to waste.

Mike had always appreciated my dedication to staying fit, even if he complained about the hours I spent there too.

I slipped into the backseat of my car to change, hanging my wool suit on a pair of hangers I kept in the back at all times.

My gym bag was there too, so I pulled on a t-shirt and a pair of shorts.

They were a little smelly from my previous workout, but I didn’t care.

I was only going to wear them for a few minutes anyway.

The bathhouse had a strict towel-only policy.

With just my wallet, phone, and keys, I headed up the small set of stairs to the windowless metal door that served as the entrance to the bathhouse.

Taking a deep breath, I pushed it open, finding myself suddenly transported to the past. The lobby was clean, relatively unfurnished save a couple of plants and the front desk, and everything was bathed in fluorescent light. It was exactly how I remembered it.

And there, sitting behind the front desk, was the same attendant I’d met all those years ago.

In fact, I’m pretty sure he was the one that signed me up for a membership, the same membership I’d been paying for the last seven years and never using, hoping that one day I’d be able to go back. And here I was.