Brad looked at the machine with distrust. Another fellow strolled over to him and said "Is it broken?"

Brad said "No clue; haven't tried it yet." He appraised the stranger: lumberjacky and mustachioed, cut-off shorts, tube socks hiked up to the knees, not unlike the poster men seen tacked to the paneled walls of a William Higgins pre-condom classic. They still made these?

The lumberjack said "New here," and Brad said "Yup," and lumberjack said "Name's Corbin," and held out a rugged hand. Brad gave his name. They shook. Brad winced, pried his fingers apart. Corbin said, "Looking for some cardio, huh?" and Brad said "Um, yes. Sure. Actually, I really need to work on my abs," and Corbin said "What's wrong with them?" and Brad said "Well, they're sort of... ab-sent," and Corbin laughed. Brad thought, Easy crowd.

Corbin said "I don't think the treadmill is what you want," and pointed to a line of assorted torture devices along the back wall. "Want me to show you?"

Brad felt a small puddle of sweat begin to form at the base of his spine. He said "I think I'll work up to... those. Baby steps, you know? I'm just trying to not be so flabby," and Corbin said "You look fine," and Brad said "Thank you, that's very kind of you," and Corbin said "And there's nothing wrong with a little flab, there's good flab and there's bad flab, and I don't think you've got any bad flab," and Brad said "I just don't want the word ‘flab' to come up anymore in conversations, although I do note that the word ‘ab' is buried in the word ‘flab,' and wonder if ‘flab' is actually a contraction of ‘flabby abdomen,'" and Corbin said "You lost me there," and Brad said "Sorry, just running off at the mouth, as usual. Is it me or is it like a sauna in here?" and Corbin said "Strip down, no one will mind," and Brad said "What? Nude?" and Corbin said "No, take your shirt off, and change into some shorts," and Brad said "I think for now I'll just keep on the four layers I'm wearing, although I could use the extra money I'd make if I started to peel, not from people paying me to take it all off, but to put it all back on."

Corbin laughed as he moseyed away. He said "You're awful damn cute."

Brad got on the treadmill, went from a walk to a trot, hoped he didn't look like too much of a fool. This is the long road to gay abs, he thought. He noticed a woman two machines away, earbuds in, impressive breasts bouncing away to her quick rhythm. He imagined certain things about her. He gripped the rails of his machine, cursed himself, begged his mind to settle down. He wanted to run screaming into the street, crying "Hit me! Hit me!" to the Clark Street traffic.

Down he went with his first charley horse. Corbin was the first over to him, oaken hands kneeding into his calf. Brad choked back tears, hated the world. And then he got a hard-on. Great.

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JON STEINHAGEN has written many stories, plays, and musicals. He's also done plenty of acting and musical direction. He can play the piano. He's been a lifelong Chicagoan.

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Just joining us? Catch up here:

Volume 1 -
Week One, Week Two, Week Three, Week Four, Week Five

Volume 2 -
Week One, Week Two, Week Three, Week Four, Week Five

Volume 3 -
Week One, Week Two, Week Three, Week Four, Week Five

Volume 4 -
Week One, Week Two, Week Three, Week Four, Week Five

Volume 5 -
Week One, Week Two, Week Three, Week Four, Week Five

Volume 6 -
Week One, Week Two, Week Three, Week Four, Week Five

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