by J. M. Snyder
I know I’m going to love living here, no matter how long it takes to get the A/C fixed.
Heat Wave: Tuscaloosa by Jeff Adams
This was my second summer in Tuscaloosa and I hated it. It was hot and steamy, and everything a Southern summer could be. Last year I caught the tail end of it, trying to get settled before starting year one of my master’s program. That was bad enough, but this summer was far worse. So far we’d spent July in a record heat wave with thirteen consecutive days over one hundred, and that didn’t count the humidity. The previous record was eleven days in 2007.
I’m from Seattle. Yes, it can get hot there, but not this hot and definitely not for this long. My original plan was to head back home to the cooler Pacific Northwest, and work on my thesis for the summer. But I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to become a teaching assistant for Dr. Robert Mayer. I admired his work in the field of journalism ethics and he was one of the reasons I came to the University of Alabama to do my graduate work. When his teaching assistant put her program on hold, my advisor recommended me for the position.
Staying in town to teach and write sounded like a good idea, until the heat wave hit. There were plenty of super-hot days the previous summer, but it never lasted more than two or three days before going back to merely unreasonably hot. These days it felt like an oven outside, and it was impossible to not dissolve into a sweaty mess the moment you walked out the door. Staying in the apartment wasn’t much better, as the air conditioner couldn’t keep up with the heat, unless you wanted your bills to be sky high, which I really couldn’t afford.
Instead, I tried to spend most of my time in the air conditioned areas of campus. Luckily the library, my office, and the classroom where I taught all had great air conditioning. Sadly I couldn’t sleep in any of these places.
A knock on my cubicle frame broke me out of my heat wave lament. I looked up from the papers on my desk to find Luke Rienhart from my freshman reporting class. Like the rest of the student body these past few weeks, he wore as little as possible. He stood there in shorts, a tank top and flip flops, which he wore in a very cute way. I kicked myself for thinking of a student like that, but what could I do? I had eyes and he was cute.
“Hey Luke, come on in,” I said.
“Hi Mr. Holden, sorry to barge in, but I wanted to talk to you about the assignment.”
“Sure,” I said. “And please, I’ve told you guys, call me Ethan. Have a seat.”
My office was barely bigger than a closet with walls going nearly up to the ceiling. Besides me and the desk, there was only room for a second chair and a bookcase, overloaded with the books I needed for teaching and research. There wasn’t much privacy as sound traveled easily between the thin walls, but it got the job done.
“You wanted us to write about the heat and come up with different takes on it,” he said. “I was thinking of going off campus to talk with some people in the city who are below the poverty line, you know, the ones without air conditioning, to see how they’re coping.”
“Absolutely,” I said. “I’d love to see stories that don’t just have a campus perspective. I know that’s what’s easiest to get, but if you can get off campus, please do.”
“Cool,” he said, looking genuinely excited.
“Why were you hesitant to just do it?”
“Talking to a couple of the others in class made me doubt my idea.”
“You’ve got good instincts, Luke. I could tell that from your first few assignments. Don’t let others sway you. You’ll make mistakes sometimes, but you’ve got to find that out for yourself. If you let others dictate what you report, you might miss out on a key angle of the story. As for your classmates, I suspect they’re trying to keep you from one upping them.”
“Bastards,” he said, with a grin.
“You gotta watch out. There’ll always be people who don’t want to put in the work to do a great story, don’t let them talk you out of doing the job you think needs to be done.”
“Got it.” He was about to get up but instead pulled his phone from his shorts pocket. He clicked on the recorder app. “What about you? How are you coping with the heat?”
I liked that he was checking to see if I had a story. “Telling you I hate it just makes me sound like everyone else. It’s tough for me. Like most students, I’m on a budget and I’m trying not to run up my bills using the air conditioner so much. So I stay on campus as much as I can in these wonderfully air conditioned buildings. So for me, I guess, it’s a choice. I could run the A/C, but I just choose not to. A lot of folks don’t even have that choice.”
Luke nodded. “Got it. Mr. Hold…Ethan.” He pocketed his phone as he stood up. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Anytime. See you in class.”
“Yup. Catch you later.”
When you’re a TA, dating students is a big no-no. It’s a good policy, except when the students are cute and you see them all the time. Not that I had time to date anyway. Between teaching and a big-ass thesis to write, a workload that would only increase in the fall when I had classes to take, too, made dating nearly impossible. I’d heard plenty of stories of breakups because the grad student schedule didn’t leave much time for anyone else.
It didn’t stop me from getting horny though. If I was lucky there might be someone to jack off with at the rec center, either in the sauna or showers. I could count on that at least once a week in the fall and spring. Since campus was quieter during the summer, it made getting off with someone more difficult. Usually I’d just take care of myself during my morning shower, thinking about Stephen Amell from the show Arrow. He was always good for a quick jack-off fantasy.
My office hours completed, I sweated my way over to the student center for a quick lunch before heading over to the library to spend the rest of the day until they threw everyone out at midnight.
* * * *
It wasn’t supposed to be a million degrees at one in the morning. Okay, it was eighty-seven, but it felt like a million.
When I walked into my apartment, I made the usual beeline to the air conditioner, turned it on, and stood under one of the vents. The little bit of cool air was pathetic. The longer the heat wave went on, the harder it was to cool down. I’d noticed a breeze on the way in, so I wondered if it might be more comfortable outside.
I left the air running as I stepped out on to the balcony. It was pretty small, with room only for a couple of chairs and a small side table. I used it rarely during the summer months, but enjoyed having it when it was cooler. I started sweating again, but at least the air was stirring a little. I wished really hard for either a polar vortex to miraculously blow in, or for Elsa to get pissed off and unleash the cold.
Neither happened.
I went back inside and plowed through my bedtime routine. I thought about bumping the A/C to full blast, and just putting it on the credit card, but common sense kicked in before I did something stupid. Instead I turned it off and hooked up the electric fan outside. The balcony was not as stifling as the apartment so I might get a better night’s sleep out there.
I positioned the table so the fan could blow right across me. I brought the chairs closer together so I could have my legs up on one while I sat in the other. With the slight reclining action, I was able to tilt back. It felt like an airplane seat, but with more leg room. I set my phone on the table with the alarm set for the usual six a.m. before I pulled my T-shirt over my head and kicked off my flip flops.
It took a few minutes to find a comfortable position, and when I did I vowed not to move the rest of the night. I had a decent view from my second floor perch. I could see part of the hazy sky with some starlight poking through. The hum of air conditioners filled the air as my neighbors chose to run up their electric bills. Up the hill from me was another building in the same complex. Only a few still had their lights on, which wasn’t surprising since it was a weeknight.
This was the most comfortable I’d been here in days. The fan’s breeze was delig
htful. It was still hot, but not as stuffy as it was inside. I closed my eyes, trying to let the hum of the A/C units lull me to sleep. Unfortunately my mind was still preoccupied with the research I’d done earlier in the day, so it wasn’t ready for sleep yet.
I opened my eyes and looked at the sky for a while, hoping it would quiet my mind. I always enjoyed sleeping under the stars. When my family would go on camping trips, I’d make sure we had a good spot so I could sleep outside and pick out the constellations one by one until I fell asleep. As my eyes drifted across the sky, I was happy to find the Big and Little Dippers as well as Draco within my line of sight.
I looked up the hill and saw someone standing on their balcony. While their second floor overlooked my balcony, there was so little light I doubted he could even see me. It looked like a guy, based on the proportions of his body, thanks to the broad shoulders and chest. He wasn’t much more than an outline, his lower half blocked by a chunky railing.
He stood there, looking out, surveying his surroundings, like a sentry. His head wasn’t moving so I imagined his eyes moving side to side. His hands were on his hips, so I could see the outline of his arms, which looked muscular from my vantage point. Had he spotted me yet?
He moved his left arm and for a brief moment I thought he was adjusting himself, but then he started making a familiar motion. Even in this low light I recognized that he was jerking off.
Unbelievable. I’d never seen anything like this. Maybe my eyes were playing tricks on me, but I didn’t think so. Neither did my cock. Even though I couldn’t actually see what he was doing, I felt a tent growing in my shorts. It’d been a couple days since I’d gotten off, and seeing this guy do whatever he was doing was riling me up. I wished the railing wasn’t in the way. Was he in shorts for modesty, or was he stark naked, hard cock in hand?
I reached inside the waistband of my shorts and ran my fingers over my hardening cock. It jumped at the gentle touch at the same time shadow man—that was a good name for him—threw his head back as if in the throes of pleasure. That was all I needed to wrap my hand around my shaft and stroke. He seemed to be twitching. Must be getting close. I jerked faster, wanting to get off before he was gone. It was hard to believe he was doing this out in the open, where he could be easily caught. And, here I was, jerking off right along with him. It was so fucking hot, and for once I didn’t mean the temperature.
I got bold, kinda like I do when someone’s got my eye in the gym. I stood up and moved to the railing, taking a similar stance to shadow man. He seemed to jump back and stop stroking for a moment. Did I really surprise him? I didn’t step back. I just kept stroking myself. He caught on, and resumed his wanking. Normally when I jerk off, I play with my nipples or balls or something, but instead I mirrored him with my free hand positioned on the railing.
Our pace increased. I imagined our moans as if we were doing this together, inside. My body started to quake as I hit just the right spots on my cock that was lubing itself with precum. His whole body suddenly jerked and I knew he was cumming, which was all it took to make me do the same. I gripped the railing tight as my body was overtaken by the orgasm. Cum spilled into my underwear. I kept my eyes on him the entire time.
His body was still for only a moment before he turned and went inside. I caught a glimpse of bare ass before he was gone. Son of a bitch, the guy’d been naked. There was no doubt a puddle of cum was in the spot where he’d been standing.
Wow.
I pulled my hand from my shorts, grabbed my T-shirt from the concrete floor, and cleaned up as much of my mess as I could. Settling back into my chairs, the breeze felt even better. I felt like I’d blown the heat right out of me. I drifted quickly off to sleep, already knowing I’d sleep out here again tomorrow night.
* * * *
The temperature was only expected to hit ninety-nine. The guy on the radio that morning said if we didn’t go over one hundred, the heat wave would technically be over. Not that any of us would notice the difference. With the heat index, it would still feel well over one hundred, and the heat warnings would continue. We weren’t expecting a break until sometime the following week.
Ugh.
At least sleeping outside was helping. I added a second fan so I had breeze from two sides and that made it easier to get a decent night’s sleep. Of course, jerking off before bed every night didn’t hurt either. Shadow man and I were meeting up every night around one. We never changed the lighting or our positions, but we kept the same routines. It usually took us about ten minutes to get off before he went inside and I settled into my chairs.
“Ethan!”
Troy’s voice broke through my lusty thoughts as he made his way across the dining hall. I couldn’t help smiling. Troy was my best friend and was always uber-bubbly. Not even the heat dampened it.
I stood as he approached, carrying his usual oatmeal and coffee. He set the food down on my table and we hugged. Troy and I started our masters programs at the same time. While I focused on ethics in journalism, Troy’s thesis explored how technology has changed the way news is delivered, and how it impacts how journalists work. We paired up for a project in one of our first classes and we became fast friends, bonding over the jokes the professor told and a love for classic nineteen-seventies kid shows done in Supermarionation. We were overdue for another marathon.
“Great to see you,” I said. “No student charges this morning?”
“Nope. They’re in a seminar with Professor Landon. So I’m on my own for a couple hours.”
Troy was working with groups of high school journalism students from around the state. The students were among the best and were here to learn about an array of topics for two weeks. Troy would lead five different groups over the summer.
“Cool,” I said, setting aside the papers I’d been grading. “Enjoying it still?”
“Totally. I’m not getting as much research done as I’d hoped, but working with these kids is great. They’re eager to learn and see the tech we’ve got here. There’s one kid in this group who lives in a small town south of Montgomery where the school paper is still done on a typewriter and photocopied.”
“Yikes. That’s just one step above mimeograph.”
“Right? It’s crazy. I wish I could send him home with some computers and a laser printer if nothing else. At least they’ve got a school paper. She said they produce four pages every two weeks.”
“I’d hate to be the one that has to type it.”
Troy nodded as he mixed the fruit into his oatmeal. “How goes it with you?”
“Good, good. Enjoying teaching the classes. Working with the students and reading their assignments is fun. It’s a nice break from the research, which is going okay. I’ve had some issues collating some of the data, but I’m working through it. Frankly, having access to Dr. Mayer’s been great. We talk about my research sometimes and he always points me in a good direction.”
“He’s good that way. I love getting into discussions with him. Hell, I hope I end up like him.”
“I hear that,” I took a long drink from my water bottle and nibbled on the fruit salad I still had in front of me. “How’s Jude doing? You hear much from her?”
“We Skype every couple days,” he said between bites of breakfast. “She’s killing me. She’s digging up rocks some place in Canada I can’t even pronounce, where the temperature is only in the seventies. She’s usually in a sweater when we talk and I’m here sweating my balls off.”
I laughed, a lot louder than I should.
“Sweaty balls are not funny,” Troy finally said after I didn’t stop laughing. “In fact, I can say first hand that they’re pretty much gross.” He started to eat a spoonful of oatmeal but stopped. “Wait, was that insensitive? Are you into sweaty balls?”
“Sorry,” I said, trying to rein myself in. “It’s just this is the first time in days where the weather actually yielded a truly funny remark. And no, I’m not into sweaty balls. Clean balls, please.”
&nb
sp; Unless, of course, they were Shadow Man’s sweaty balls. Those I just might take as is. I started giggling again thinking about that.
“I think maybe the heat is cracking you up a little bit,” Troy said. “Do we need to get you to health services?”
I took a long sip from my coffee cup, and forced myself to settle down.
“A lot of thoughts ricocheted through my mind all at once.”
“Well, balls will do that.”
“Okay, you have to stop or coffee is gonna come out my nose,” I said, holding back more laughter. “So I’ve got to tell you something.” I knew I could tell Troy since we’d swapped a few stories, though it was usually over stiffer drinks. He already looked intrigued, cocking his head in the way that he always did. “I’ve been sleeping on my balcony the last few nights because it’s cooler than in the apartment. Anyway, there’s this guy who lives in the building on the hill. He’s been on his balcony, jerking off. We’ve been watching each other and getting off.”
“Sweaty balls, indeed,” he said. “Damn, dude. Are you the watcher or the watched?”
“Both. The first night it happened, I had trouble falling asleep and I looked up and there he was. I don’t think he saw me until I stood up to join him. We’re both in shadows. Can’t tell what he looks like, except that he’s got a good outline. Oh, and a nice ass. I caught a good glimpse of that once.”
“You know where he lives, you could just go knock on his door.”
“Like you’d do that.” I rolled my eyes at Troy. “And even if I did, what do you say? I’m your jack off buddy from down the hill?”
“If I was single and it seemed like it was a hot girl up there gettin’ off, I think I’d man up to see if I could parlay that into an actual hook up.”
I finished my coffee and poked the last piece of pineapple with my fork. “Somehow I actually believe you’d do it,” I said chomping down the juicy fruit.
“Hell yeah. Nothing to lose there. The worst you’d get is a ‘no thanks,’ or maybe you’d end up saying no if he wasn’t as hot as his outline.”
