Old Magazines

Slipping his finger through the small brass loop, he tugged open the door, but only partially. Something stopped it, a shoe. He stepped back out of the closet and began to snatch and throw everything out into the room. All the hanging clothes, even his nicely pressed shirts and slacks, were heaved into a pile on the floor. He wanted to see what was inside. Again he pulled at the loop, this time it stopped again after only a few inches more. “Damnit!” He could find nothing blocking the way, but it wasn’t opened far enough to even fit his head behind it to see. He put both hands on the outer edge so that he could pull harder than one digit would allow. As he did so, the door began to slide sideways toward the hinges, into a pocket in the wall. It did so easily.

He poked his frazzled head into the opening, which was about half the size of a regular doorway, but the light of his bedroom would not penetrate the darkness. The mildewed stale air wafted from the opening and up his nostrils. He sneezed and wiped his nose on his sleeve. The beam of the flashlight cut into the dark air, splitting open the mystery to reveal the contents of the hidden room. Hunched over he waddled his way through the short hallway. Three steps down, and he was able to stand up straight.

The space was not that large, but it seemed to be. The back wall was eight feet across, but it was only four feet deep from the steps. There was a small table against the short wall to the right with a lamp set in the middle. He switched it on, surprised to see that it worked. A small, three-legged stool was hiding underneath the table. To the right side of the table lay a stack of magazines. And that was all. Nothing else was in the room.

He pulled out the stool and sat down. The lamp was old. It had a metal shade that oddly was not covered in dust as he thought it would be; it was clean and shiny enough for him to see his reflection. His hair was frazzled and he had a little dirt on his face, which he again wiped on his sleeve. He took a deep breath and began to calm down. “It’s too bad I don’t have anyone to hide from,” he said to himself. He laughed when he realized the stupidity of the statement; he did hate living alone, though.

The magazines were neatly stacked with the spines all aligned perfectly. They were all the same kind, porn. The date on the first one surprised him, October 1967. He didn’t expect it to be as good as the stuff he was used to seeing on the internet, but he had to check. Opening to the middle, he was surprised to get that stirring in his groin. He turned the pages, marveling at the lush bodies of the models. He opened the fly of his pants and began to stroke. As he turned the page again he felt a shiver rush up his spine. The hairs on his neck and arms stood as erect as his dick. Something with the lamp caught his eye. As clearly as he could see himself, he could see the man standing behind him. He spun around on the stool leaving his breath behind.

He awoke on the floor of the small room, curled on his side and drooling in a pool. The lamp was still on and the room was mostly as he remembered. He looked back at the magazine, but it was turned to a different page than the last one he’d seen. The advertisement showed the man whose reflection had appeared behind him. Shirtless, the man sat on the bed with a magazine on the nightstand; he was holding a bottle of lube with a big smile on his face.