"The doctor?" the man asked.
I pulled the crinkled paper from my pocket and showed it to him. "Yes, I found this in a magazine."
Without confirming or denying the note, the man said, "Identification, please."
I handed him my driver's license, which he accepted through the small square. A moment later, he returned my card and said, "One nickel, please."
After handing him the coin, the door creaked open without any further discussion.
The hallway inside was dark and smelled musty, like wet towels.
"Go to the end of the hall, turn left, then right, and you'll find Dr. Doyle in the first room on your left," the man instructed. He was an older gentleman, hunched over and supporting himself with a cane.
"Left, right, then the first room on the left?" I parroted.
"That's right," the man confirmed.
"I thought you said left," I joked. My little attempt at lightening the mood.
The exasperated man sighed, not even cracking a smile. "I hope the doctor can fix you," he said ominously.
I gulped nervously, straightened my back, and headed into the shadows like a soldier marching off to war.
Left, right, left. Left, right, left...
I repeated the directions in my head, hoping the rhythm of my chant would ease my nerves.
Left, right...
The sight stopped me in my tracks. I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
An open glass-panel door led outside to a private patio area with a pool. There was a group of men gathered around it. Some were wading in the water, a few were bouncing around a striped beach ball. They were just laughing and carrying on like good pals. They looked so free and comfortable.
One of the men stood by the pool and shed a towel from around his waist, revealing a posing strap just like the ones in the magazines. His buttocks were round, firm globes. He spotted me watching and smiled.
"Don't be a peeper," he called out. "Come join us. The water feels great tonight."
"Sorry, I can't," I mumbled and then dashed away.
I came to a single doorway with two red velvet curtains hanging in front of it from floor to ceiling. A halo of light glowed around the frame of fabric.
"Ahem," I cleared my throat. "D-doctor Doyle, are you in there?"
"Please come in," a gentle voice responded.
Now was the moment of truth. I didn't understand why a doctor would be offering examinations in a bathhouse, or why he'd lure strangers with notes in muscle magazines. But I'd gotten that far, so I figured I should find out.
With my heart hammering in my ears, I reached between the curtains and spread them open.