I was putty in his hands. Okxxx Wrestling seemed like the right move—tough and disciplined, a sport where I could carve out a place for myself. The steam had started to fade, replaced by the hum of water and occasional shouts from across the locker room. “What’s your name?” he asked, friendly enough to make me feel slightly less like an intruder. “Sure,” I muttered, trying not to squeak. He’d seen me looking. He didn’t miss it. Or maybe found one I hadn’t known was there. Pressure. And apparently, it wasn’t subtle. When he found my most private entrance, he pushed in, and I saw stars. Bodies are weird.
