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Khadjair winced as he opened his eyes, the sun bright across his face from the edge of the blinds. Grumbling incoherently he rolled to his side, pulling the blanket over him as a shield from the day, his muscles sore in protest at even that simple motion. He blinked his eyes open, pawing at the endtable blindly until he found his glasses, slipping them on.

11:45. He winced as he realized what the time meant. He thought a little about the night before: the long walk through the town, listening to the busses and trains across the city, a crash of glass many blocks away, a horn off in the distance, cats and dogs and car alarms and all the other noises of the urban landscape. It was soothing, and he'd found himself in a park, looking out over the bay, hearing the crash of waves in the distance as the city finally took a brief nap before dawn.

He knew he'd cried, since the fur on his muzle was matted in ways that weren't sweat, and he cursed himself for being so weak, for taking it all so personally. That wasn't it at all. Brian and that club full of people just like him never meant it personally. He was an object, someone to be pitied, ignored, and avoided, because he didn't meet up to some semi-Platonic ideal of "fuckable". It's how the dance went five years ago, when he met Chuck, how it went two years later after they broke up, and how it went for the next year when he finally gave up in disgust because he'd taken to naming his hangovers.

And it had all been Jerry's idea. Almost defiantly, Khadjair stood up and stretched, flinging the blankets violently away. Good old Jer, trying to make things all better for his lonely friend. If it hadn't been for Chuck, they'd never have met. Khad wouldn't have been struck by how open and friendly he was, unlike all of Chuck's other friends. Khad definitely wouldn't have gone on a limb and gotten Jer a job at the firm then. All in all, Jer was the only good thing left of that relationship, and that hurt in its own insidious little way.

Khad yawned, stretching, then wrinkled his nose at the smell of sweat and cigarette smoke in his fur. He'd walked himself to exhaustion by the time he got home, and fell right into bed, lucky he'd managed to even get undressed. He pulled the sheets from the bed, tossing them in the wash, and scrambled around to gather up what he'd worn out to the club, tossing the shirt and socks in, fishing through the pockets of the shorts to empty them before throwing them in, too. Wallet, keys, change, some receipts...

And the card. "Bodies by Josh." He held the card up for a moment, deformed and still slightly damp from being stuffed in his pocket for an hour or longer walk. "Come by the shop sometime," he'd said. Handsome, honest... and hopeless, Khadjair grumped, tossing the card on the nighttable. He figured if he was feeling better after his shower, he'd give him a call. Or stop by, after all that's what Josh said to do, right? He shook his head, thoughts torn as he picked his way to the shower.

It took almost a half hour of scrubbing his fur just to get the smell of cigarette smoke out. He winced at how sensitive his skin was from all the scrubbing, but when he finally rinsed the excess conditioner out, he knew he was clean, and somehow that made the day feel more real, a little less light a nightmare hangover. He wrapped a towel about his waist and started the process of drying his fur, basking under the heat lamps he set up as one of the few luxuries he let himself really enjoy. He closed his eyes, the timer set for 30 minutes, the heat beginning to leech through his fur and into his body.

As he lay there, he ran over the events of the night before. The anticipation and dread, the crowds, all the young pretty people wandering around, bumping elbows, grinding crotches, yet almost no one ran into him unless they'd been looking away and didn't know he was there. Then the journey to the Basement, the music, the way the rhythm felt brought a soft content purr to the tiger's throat. The ding of the timer told him to roll over onto his back, his goggles protecting his eyes from the bright light. He thought back over Josh, and their talk, and that strong yet surprisingly gentle paw on his head. It reminded him a little of Chuck, but more gentle, less mocking. The bear's voice still resonated in his ears, and he felt warm all over, more than just from the lamps.

The loud raucous ding from the lamps and the sudden darkening around the goggles told him it was time to stop fantasizing. He stood up, pulling the goggles off, stretching with a wide yawn, showing off the sharp, well-kept fangs that were his heritage as a feline. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, and his ears flushed a little. Undressed, he wasn't much of a sight, though his thick fur, part of some distant Siberian heritage, covered all but the worst of it from the front. He looked solid enough, a little heavy, perhaps, but not too bad, though in profile his gut really detracted from his image. Jerry told him it wasn't all that bad, that he was too hard on himself, but the way everyone else looked at him told him the real way of it.

He shrugged, pulling on a loose t-shirt and a pair of baggy shorts, brushing his hair back negligently before starting up the washing machine. He sat heavily on the bed, looking out on his balcony and over the city, his thoughts wandering back to Josh and how much of an impression he still left. The Basement had been dark, and Josh was probably a little drunk, too, Khadjair mused as he laced up his boots. Might as well go and get this over with, instead of lingering on the false hope of what could be.

He took a glance at the card on the table, memorizing the address, and tossed it back down. It was simple enough to get to from here, just take the N a few stops and a couple block walk from there. He grabbed his backpack and slung it over his shoulder, heading out into the city.

*****

Khadjair'd forgotten how twisted the addresses were in this neighborhood, so it was almost 1:30 when he finally found the place. He remembered this building, one of the first of the artist studios/live-work lofts the city'd built back in the early 90s to try and revitalize the neighborhood. It had worked too well, meaning the rents rose so quickly the artists couldn't afford to stay, and the building was closed down a few years ago. Now it was trimmed up nicely, with a small sign over the door in carved roman-style lettering: "Bodies by Josh". All the windows were smoked over, allowing him no ability to see what the inside was like.

Khadjair found himself in a small lobby, nothing more than the front door, a glass case with various "Bodies by Josh" merchandise, a couple vending machines selling sports drinks in strange formulations, an old manual cash register, and a couple couches. A pair of doors led back into what he presumed were the gym areas, while a well-built crimson fox sat at the counter, his ears perking up as he saw Khadjair come in.

"Hello. Can I help you?" The fox's voice was friendly, more honest and animated than the standard retail-turned gym-boi he was used to seeing.

"Well, I'm not sure. I met this guy last night and he gave me a card, told me to come by..." Khadjair let his words trail off into meek silence as he realized just how bad that sounded. He shook his head. "Nevermind, I can just leave a message for him or something."

The fox stood, walking around the counter, offer Khadjair a paw, and a good look at his toned physique. Not the standard gym boy he'd expected, this fox was compact and pure muscle, clad in a lycra one-piece with a pair of loose sweatsorts over it to keep him modest. "My name's Dean. You don't need to be nervous, ummm,..."

"Khadjair, but everyone calls me Khad."

"Khadjair. I can't say I've heard that one before. Where's it from?" Dean seemed honestly interested, which caught Khadjair offguard.

"It's Moorish, I think. Mom heard the name and liked the sound of it, and I got stuck with it. Not that I mind, sometimes, but it gets me some curious glances."

"I think it sounds nice," Dean said with a friendly smile. "Did Josh tell you anything about all this?"

Khadjair shook his head. "Nah. I admit I was a bit shy about coming down, but I wanted to see why he invited me to come by. I assume this is some kinda gym?"

Dean laughed. "Yeah. "some kinda gym". Don't worry, I think you'll like it. If you want to have a seat, I'll go get Josh. Anything else you'd like? Something to drink?"

Khadjair shook his head, sitting back on the couch. "No thanks, I had a bit of something on the way over."

Dean nodded with a chuckle. "Okay. I'll be back in a sec. You need anything just holler." He turned, tail bobbing and swaying as he pushed back through one of the doors.

Khadjair sat confused for a while. There was no deep thrumming beat from aerobics classes or peppy music that suffused most gyms, and that fox, Dean, was much friendlier than most. This was defintiely not what he'd expected from a gym, especially in this city. Of course, it could be that a direct invite from the owner bought him some consideration that he wouldn't normally get. Yeah, that must be it, he thought to himself, sourly. Not that it matters, it'll be about 20 mintes, maybe an hour if I let him talk me into giving him a blowjob, before Josh and his gym are just a distant memory.

His reverie was broken by the swinging of the door, and the re-emergence by the fox, with that perky, infectious grin that seemed a racial trait.

"You sure I can't get you anything to drink? Josh is supervising a set in the back, but he said he'll be out here, five minutes tops." Dean even seemed apologetic at the delay.

Khadjair waved off with a paw. "Nah, like I said, I had something on the way over. So, what's this place like? How long have you guys been here?"

Dean grinned, ears perking again. Like all gym rats, this was a good way to perk his interest, talking about his gym. "Well, I worked out with Josh for a year or two before he opened this place, maybe 4, 5 years ago? He's always been a great guy, and worked as a trainer for a few gyms here and there before he decided he was tired of the bullshit and started his own place. But he did tell me he wanted to tell you the story himself. He's a bit sentimental about stuff, y'know? This place is like his baby."

Khad nodded with a chuckle. "Kinda like I am with my networks. Yeah, I get it."

"Ah. You work in computers?"

Khad groaned inwardly. Oh no, here it comes. He'll be asking me how to fix a problem on his PC at home. "Yeah, I do. Done it for maybe ten years now?"

"Ah, nice," Dean nodded knowingly. "I was halfway to a CS degree myself down in LA when I dropped out." His tone changed from happy-go-lucky to serious and flat, but only for a moment. "I help Jake out around here, and work as a wrestling coach for the Chargers over around Hunter's Point. It doesn't pay well, but it's good to help some of those kids out."

Khad's ears perked this time, though he tried to cover his surprise. "You looked like you had a wrestler's build. Closest I came to sports was track in high school, though you wouldn't tell it by looking at me now."

Dean laughed. "Actually, you still have it, a bit. I can see it through your quads, gutes, and especially your calves. You must've been pretty quick."

Khadjair paused, mouth half-open, blinking as he tried to find an response to that. It was not the answer he'd expected. Fortunately the door opened and interrupted his confusion as Josh stepped out into the lobby, drawing Dean and Khadjair's attention off each other.

"Glad you could make it. I was hoping you might, but wasn't sure. I wanted to talk someplace where we didn't have to scream to be heard."

Josh's gruff voice seemed to echo in the lobby, making it seem smaller still with his bulky presence. He was dressed in a pair of royal blue nylon wokout pants, old black sneakers, fingerless black neoprene lifting gloves and a worn black tanktop that stretched over his strong frame. Now that it wasn't dark, Khadjair could see the earrings, two in each ear, and the dimple of steel through his left nipple. His heart leapt to his throat as he looked up at this strong figure who'd been so friendly.

Khadjair stood and smiled, offering a paw. "Ummm, hi. I hope I didn't come at a bad time."

Josh chuckled, deep and throaty, while Dean slipped unnoticed through the other door. "Nah. I told you to come by today, and I figured you'd be by whenever you woke up. I keep things pretty laid back here, and never so busy I can't take a break for a bit."

Josh reached out, resting a paw on Khadjair's shoulder, squeezing gently but firmly. "I wanted to show you around here, talk to you a bit. And before you ask, no, I don't normally do this, and I dont' use the club as a chance to drum up business. Lord knows I have all the business I can handle on my own. But this isn't your ordinary gym, anyway. You mind if I give you the tour?"

Khadjair nodded, stiffening a little at the touch then relaxing. He was sorely disappointed, somehow. He would've felt dirty if it'd been about sex, but it would've been something. But no, it was about business. He forced himself to smile. "Sure, lead on."

Josh shook his head sadly for just a moment, seeing the jaded look on the tiger's face. But he did have to admit, it sounded like a sales pitch, and that would leave anyone feeling a little betrayed. He shrugged and would have to make it up later.

He pushed open the door he walked in through, gesturing for Khadjair to follow. The tiger considered this handsome bear for a moment, and figured at least the scenery for the tour would be nice. The sales pitch at the end, though, would be demeaning. He'd politely decline, and pick up some kahlua on his way home. That's how these things always went, anyway.

Josh gestured to the open door to his left, where a tall desk sat. "There's my office. When I'm not out in the gym, I tend to stay there so I can see who's coming in. I like to try and keep up on all my clients, even if they're just using the equipment and not my training services." He made no comment about the trophy case, filled with trophies from various competitions, mostly powerlifting and strength. He always thought it was egotistical to point them out explicitly, since they tended to speak for themselves.

"The locker room's over there. We have an on-staff physician, and I'm trained as a physical therapist, so if anyone gets hurt in here we've got what it takes to get them back in shape. A few of the guys are masseuses, too, so there's a couple tables if you want to arrange things." Josh paused for a moment. "Oh, right. I always forget to make the point, but this is a men's gym. One locker room, no women. I don't know enough about what they need to train to be very good, and I've got my hands full with just the guys here."

Khadjair chuckled at the uncertainty and hestiance. He picked me up at a gay danceclub for crying out loud and he thinks I'm gonan be squeamish about the fact that he runs a gay gym? Really, he's trying too hard. He answered with a shrug. "'Scool - I know how it can be."

Josh grumbled to himself, looking at Khadjair's passive resistance, the body language that screamed his cynicism. This kid would be a hard sell, even if that was the point. Maybe seeing Karl and Barry'd change his mind. He put a paw against the door at the end of the hallway, pushing it open into an observation room.

Much like the top of the stairway at the club, this plexiglass room gave them a good look out over the gym. Compared to chain gyms, it was fairly modest in size, with freeweights in various places and a number of machines for various workouts. The banks of cardio machines were nowhere to be seen, instead a small number of various devices, bikes, rowing machines, teadmills and the like, were clustered off in a corner, rather like an embarassment. Two people were out amongst the equipment, a tall, broad-shouldered yet somewhat lean lion, and a massively bulked-up rhino, both in just shorts and working out hard, the rhino benchpressing while the lion was working with a machine that looked like a gel-filled punching bag, jabbing explosively into it, encountering increasing resistance along the way. The lion looked up and paused in his workout to wave, while the rhino finished his rep and stood up, the two of them walking towards the low stairs.

"These are Karl," the rhino smiled, "and Barry," the lion extended a paw, "and they're two of my more recent clients. Barry started here maybe a year ago, while Karl's been with me for a year and a half. Both have been working pretty hard. Karl's going to his first powerlifting competition next month, and Barry, well, he's been learning kung fu and competing in skating competitions for a few months."

Barry extended a paw, his arms a little more bulky than wiry and pumped from the punching workout he was doing. Khadjair shook it tentatively, amazed at the strength in his grip, smiling weakly. "Hi... I'm Khadjair, though everyone calls me Khad. I ran into Josh last night and he invited me to come by..." His voice trailed off and the rhino coughed to break the awkward silence.

"Nice to meet you, Khad. I hope you'll be coming back." He smiled apologetically. "I have to get back to my workout. I've only got an hour more before I've gotta get to work, and I can't afford to be late or too tired." He shook Khadjair's paw, the huge hand totally swallowing Khadjair's own, then turned to head back to his machine.

"I should probably do the same. I'll talk to ya later, Khad." Barry nodded and tossed his mane back, turning and sauntering off onto the gym floor. Something in his accent made his nickname sound like "kid", but that didn't really bother Khadjair all that much.

"Friendly, aren't they?" Josh observed with a chuckle. "Hard to believe when Barry started here he was a good 340 pounds and convinced he couldn't do any better. And Karl started up after being in traction for eight months in a car wreck. C'mon, let's go back and I'll show you to the room where I do most of the therapy work."

Khad nodded dumbly, wincing visibly at the comment about Barry's weight. He glowered a little as he walked behind Josh. Who is this asshole to think that just because someone's fat they need to be "cured"? Yeah, I'd like to be thinner, but who elected HIM to be the one to make it happen?

The next room was filled with all sorts of high-tech equipment. A treadmill with EKG/EEG next to it, a water tank with adjustable current flow, parallel bars with adjustable track underneath, and a number of tanning-bed looking devices were crowded into this modest sized room. It smelled slightly of antiseptic, and reminded Khadjair of something from a thoroughbred racing documentary he'd seen once.

"I've got state of the art equipment for dealing with injury cases, flexibility issues, damaged muscles, and even atrophy cases. These machines over here, he gestured to the tanning bed-like machines, "are electronic muscle stimulators. Like those things they advertise on TV, except these actually work and target all different muscles. They're great for tone and working on weak muscles to get them used to work before trying freeweights, and they're a ton more efficient than almost any cardio exercise I can think of," he positively beamed as he showed off the equipment.

Khadjair nodded, dumbly, looking around. He suddenly realized just how out of place he felt here, how much it wasn't his world. He expected at any minute the Body Police would show up and escort him to the door. "It's great..." he finally said, noncomittally, trying to not sound disappointed.

Josh spun and glared at him for a moment. "Why don't you say what's really on your mind." He stepped forward, causing Khad to take an unconscious step back, the bear's towering frame seeming to swell as his face broke from excited to very upset. "Why don't you tell me how you thought you were coming over here for a bit of a sympathy fuck, so I could feel superior and you could get a spot of sex because it's the only way you're convinced it'll happen. Or why don't you accuse me of using my looks and the crippled self-esteem of people at the club to drum up business for the gym?"

He stepped forward again, staring down muzzle to muzzle, the tiger presed to the wall. "Let me tell you something about prophecy, kid, the self-fulfilling kind. The more you do that whole "Woe is me, no one wants me, everyone's out to take me for what they can and leave me in the dirt" routine, the more it'll happen. People who will use you like that will be drawn like flies becuase they won't feel guilty about giving you what you want, and the ones who give a fuck won't bother with someone who's convinced they're hopeless." He growled threateningly, low and deep.

"You're not just another trophy to be added to my collection. If I wanted that, there's a crapload of kids I could grab from that club or anywhere, turn 'em into pretty little gymbunnies and fuck 'em whenever I wanted. I'm just about full up with all the business I can handle, because I spend a lot of time with my kids. ALL my kids. I invest a fuck of a lot of time, and I don't charge shit for it. I don't do charity cases, but I don't charge more'n I need to keep this place afloat, and put food in my belly. For rehab, sure, but not for the gym. The rehab is my job, the gym is what I do for fun, for myself and for others. So the sooner you get off that "the world is out to get me" sympathy bullshit and realize that the world really doesn't give a fuck either way and that life is all about choices and chances, the sooner you'll be a fuckload happier with life and the closer anything you want from life will be."

He stepped back finally, shaking his head, one arm held out and pointing to the side door, heading for the other hallway and back outside. "I'm not gonna keep you here. By all rights I should throw your sorry ass out for pissing me off, but I'm not that kinda guy. You'll decide to go, or you'll decide to stay. Either way, it's up to you. You've seen the place, and you've seen me. Yeah, I'm gay. Yeah, I fuck a couple of the kids, but it's because they want it and I want it. Karl's got a wife and kids, and while he knows there's some fucking going on here, he don't give a shit. Barry's got an image to keep, so he's all sly and subtle about it, but about once a month he crawls in my office and under my desk. That's the way he wants it. Dean, up front, we were a thing once, but he's got a steady guy now and I respect that."

He shook his head, looking back down for a minute. "My point is, I'm not doing this for the sex, or for the money. I don't need either. I saw you out on the floor at the club, dancing long past where most guys could keep up, big or not. I saw the fire, the intensity in you, and then I saw just how whipped you seemed, how eager you were that I was just talking to you. And that's wrong, kid... that's fucked up wrong. I don't see fire like that often, and I wanted to help. I WANT to help. No one with that kind of energy, that kind of drive, should act like they've been whipped every day of their lives. But I'm not gonna make you stay, and I'm not gonna hound you. The choice is yours."

Khadjair just looked up at the bear, surprised, shocked, angry, hurt, and scared all at once. He wanted to punch this presumptous bastard in the face. He wanted to run outside, slam the door and never come back. He wanted to curl up on the floor and cry. He wanted to beg forgiveness. He wanted to step up and kiss this massive bear until he passed out for lack of breath. He wanted to make Josh proud. He wanted to make Josh suffer. He wanted to die.

"I... I'm sorry," he finally said in a whisper. "I.. I don't... don't know what to say. Too much... I don't know how I feel." He looked to the door, and to Josh, and to the floor, shaking his head, eyes beginning to glisten.

"I don't know what I want. I just know I'm sorry... for misjuding you like this. I.. I should go. I made a mess..."

Josh cut the tiger off by wrapping him up in his arms, holding the kitten close to him, comfortingly, big hands stroking down his back. Khadjair just leaned against Josh's chest, tears flowing silently, not in sobs, just silently seeping into the fur pressed to his face. He shook a little, lost in his thoughts, feeling so little, but glad to be held. It made things seem a little simpler, and a little easier to take.

They stood like that for several minutes, Josh cradling Khadjair against his chest, rocking him slowly, nuzzling his ears a bit. Finally, Khadjair stiffened up slightly, and took a half-step back, looking up, sniffling a bit.

"You still... want to help me?" he asked tentatively, in a very quiet voice.

"More than ever," Josh replied, nothing but sincerity in his voice and stance.

"Then... " Khadjair seemed to weigh something over in his mind for a moment, "how do we start?"

Josh smiled and held a paw out. "We talk. I'm a good listener, too."

Khadjair took his hand and nodded, following the bear out to his office. The two in the gym paused their workouts for a moment, then gave each other a knowing look and a smile before resuming their routines. They'd talk to Josh about it later.