White-Nose Syndrome

"You're a funny guy, John," noted Tom from the back seat of my SUV.

With my gaze on the winding road before me, I replied as matter-of-factly as possible, "Maybe so, but I'm serious. If you two still want to go caving tonight with me and Joe, y'all are gonna have to go naked. Let me know now if that's a problem so I can turn around if I need to."

He didn't believe me, "How can you be serious about caving naked?"

I glanced into my rear-view mirror at Tom. He was staring out the passenger window, absorbing the early sunset this time of year over the Cumberland Plateau. Scraggly Virginia pines, fat Virginia junipers, and a few mobile homes sped by at close range.

I didn't know Tom well enough to guess what he was thinking. I had only met him a couple of months earlier after joining a Tuesday night run club that met downtown. Its leader always gave us intersections or landmarks ahead at which we were to stop and wait for everyone to catch up before running to the next landmark. Because Tom and I tended to reach these spots well before the laggards, we had started talking a bit and within a few weeks I had mentioned to him that I volunteered as a weekend cave guide at a state park in the northwest corner of the state. Week by week Tom showed a real interest in caving and asked plenty of questions, including whether there were there blind white snakes in caves similar to cave fish, whether I had ever gotten stoned in a cave with the lights off, and what happened when someone on the tour had to go to the bathroom.

When I told him that an acquaintance who serves on the board of the state cave conservancy had offered to let me lead trips into a private cave on his property, Tom immediately texted me his contact info. Over the years I have met a lot of people who will express a superficial interest in spelunking but when actually given an opportunity to experience it are never free, or never follow up with me, or simply disappear. In contrast, Tom replied the next day to my iCalendar invite for the following weekend when I knew my wife would be out of town and I was not on duty at the state park.

A couple of hours after accepting the invite, Tom messaged me to ask if his bud Mike could come along. I agreed because four would be a good number for a cave trip even though I was a little reluctant to have someone I had never met join us. I suspected Mike was probably Tom's boyfriend. Perhaps I shouldn't have jumped to that conclusion just because Tom had once run wearing an organic foods t-shirt, never mentioned having a girlfriend at any of our run breaks, shaved his legs, and once plugged his ears when an ambulance passed us with siren blaring.

Next to Tom in the back seat (directly behind me in the driver's seat) sat Mike. Whereas Tom was a bit swarthy for my part of the country, Mike was as red-headed as the Irish setter I had in elementary school. Tom's haircut might pass military inspection but Mike's suggested draft-dodger with its long orange curls. Mike's poker face was consistent with his quiet demeanor since I had picked him and Tom up a half hour earlier at a shopping center parking lot where Tom could leave his car. Seeing Mike in the fading dusk suddenly reminded me of a girlfriend from high school which made me wonder whether Tom looked at the tiny fiery hairs that probably sprouted from Mike's asshole before Tom fucked him the same way I used to look at hers.

I answered Tom, "You know I'm serious. White-nose syndrome is like a holocaust for bats and there's evidence that people are spreading it more than the bats are. I think it's great that you were so interested in caving that you and Mike stopped at Hades Hole today to go on the tour, but it's one of those big show caves with confirmed white-nose syndrome. There's no way I can risk spreading the disease into this private cave."

Tom's voice grew agitated, "If you had told me we wouldn't have gone there. Nobody at Hades Hole said anything about white-nose syndrome."

"I'm not surprised because these tour caves would lose money if customers thought they might catch something. And because people can't catch it and they know most of their customers are not cavers, they just keep quiet about it."

Mike reminisced, "Contaminated or not, that glass elevator that took us into the underground lake was fucking awesome."

Tom remembered too, "Did you see those blind fish crashing into the elevator tube? And hear that redneck ask the guide what they tasted like?"

It sounded entertaining to me too, but I was a cave snob, "Well guys it isn't like that at the state park. There's no light and sound show, no ghost stories, and no gift shop. But y'all should still come up some time when I'm on duty."

"Nude?" smirked Tom.

"Too bad they don't offer nude tours on Tuesdays. Tuesdays are so slow. I think the park system could use the extra revenue. Who knows? Maybe the extra ticket sales would fund a cure for white-nose syndrome?"

Tom turned from his window and the twilight, catching my eye in the rear view mirror, "I think I sort of understand why we can't wear the same clothes we wore at Hades Hole today and that you said you and Joe don't have any spare clothes for us, but why can't we at least wear our underwear since it wasn't exposed at Hades Hole?"

"Because the protocol requires all clothing to be changed and decontaminated. It's microscopic so it could have easily gotten on your underwear. You're probably thinking that your skin has to be decontaminated too, but you don't want to ask because you're afraid we can't go, right?"

"Well, it crossed my mind-"

"That's why you're both showering in the waterfall at the entrance before you go in."

"Won't our brand new boots get wet?"

"If you wear them in the waterfall, I imagine they will. Just wait to put them on until you're done. You said y'all bought them after Hades Hole because the tour hurt your feet, right? So they don't need to be decontaminated since they haven't been inside an infected cave."

"Won't we damage our goods scraping them against rocks?" probed Tom.

"You might make contact with the walls some, but no scraping. We'll have a few crawls, but no salamander crawls. After all, I wouldn't want you to damage the cave flooring with your junk."

Joe tried to lighten it up from shotgun position, "I guess we can always follow the trail of pubes back out if we lose our way."

Tom grimaced, "Y'all don't shave your pubes? And you think I'm the contaminated one?"

Mike looked at Tom, "Well in that case at least I'll be a little warmer than you." What? Had Mike just now discovered Tom shaved his bush? Perhaps Tom and Mike weren't lovers after all.

After the laughter, silence. Neither Mike nor Tom agreed to go nude, neither Joe nor I asked either to confirm. Neither Mike nor Tom asked to reschedule, neither Joe nor I insisted we that carry on. I turned left onto a gravel road for another two miles until I reached the mailbox at the board member's driveway.

"So Mike," I broke the silence, "what do you do on Tuesday nights while Tom and I run?"

"Watch TV at home and when my roommate's out, light up and pretend I'm in Colorado," he sighed. Joe laughed but I was getting confused. So Mike had a roommate? Now that I thought about Mike's curves contrasting with Tom's very lithe torso, their apparent unease at possibly seeing each other naked, and their disinterest in hanging out together on Tuesday nights, I figured they must just be friends instead of lovers.

I shifted the transmission into park, "Ready?" Joe and I hopped out and went around to the back of my SUV to go through our equipment. I couldn't make out anything Tom and Mike were saying to each other as Joe and I counted out helmets, a couple of wide-mouth piss bottles, eight knee pads, spare batteries, plastic zip lock bags for any crap (including the possibility of actual crap) that we needed to bring back, and some water. Then over the top of the back seat, we saw Tom and Mike pull their shirts overhead and lift up to slip their pants off. I glanced at Joe and we sort of chuckled about the situation. We were both a little embarrassed for them, and for ourselves given the awkwardness, but what else could be done?

When Joe smiled back at me he revealed all his straight white teeth in the dome light. I had known Joe as a fellow volunteer at the state park for about 6 months. I knew he was five years younger than me and I suspected he was probably not happy about having already lost so much of his blonde hair. He was wiry and I envied the ease with which he could likely move through most cave formations. Whereas being taller, broader, and longer might be an advantage for me with most women, it was a disadvantage caving. I realized I did not know much about Joe. Whenever we shared a shift he tended to speak only about caves, spelunking, speleology, geology, etc. If he dated anyone, liked any particular kind of movies or food, rooted for any specific college team, or thought all caves were created 6,000 years ago according to Genesis, he never let me know. My impression of Joe was of a handsome responsible smart guy – the kind most women probably considered a friend rather than a hot fuck. The only women who would likely ride him would be horny frustrated middle aged ones who fantasized about corrupting Mormon missionaries. Not surprisingly Joe had jumped at the opportunity to explore this private cave when I mentioned it to him and I knew if anything happened to me, he could get us all out safely.

I soon had all the gear in my pack. Joe would carry the ropes to the entrance and then leave them outside the cave for the return trip.

It wasn't long before Mike came around on my left and Tom appeared on Joe's right. I can't speak for Joe, but I knew Tom and Mike were naked without looking carefully. My peripheral vision assured me so. And so did their body language. I confess, I was curious about checking them out but I knew they were both nervous and unhappy about being naked and I didn't want to make it worse for them. More importantly, I didn't want anyone accusing me of being gay if I got caught looking.

I turned to Tom and tried to find the right words to reassure him, "Thanks for understanding how serious this disease is. Y'all might be a little cool at first but the more we walk you'll warm up and you'll have a good story to tell when you grow old."

"If that's the case then you and Joe should join me and Mike buck naked."

I looked right at Joe to see whether he was game. Part of me was. I remembered how much fun it was to streak though my neighborhood after midnight with friends when I was 16. And of course I had sometimes stripped when caving on my own (even in the state park) just for the hell of it. I knew that being on private property we'd never get caught by anyone or get in trouble tonight. The idea seemed a little exciting compared to working all day at my cubicle, then listening to my wife talk about her coworkers when I got home, and guiding tourists through the same ol'stalactites on the weekends.

But Joe's face was granite. He mumbled, "I've skinny dipped in the Blue Ridge a few times and surfed naked in the Pacific, but I don't know how cool it's going to be in there."

I tried to imagine blonde, pale, balding Joe surfing naked in California or Australia. It was somewhat easier to picture him sliding down Bust-Yer-Butt Falls off the Blue Ridge Parkway with his balls a-bouncing. Maybe there was more to Joe than I had credited. But he was right, this time of year when the sun set so early there was a chill after dusk and my own bag was drawn up tight against me. If we were at a hot springs I'd go for it but I wasn't about to volunteer to display my shriveled and meek dick to these guys. So I laughed it off, "Let's get going."

I set off leading the way to the cave entrance with Joe behind me. Mike and Tom stepped carefully wearing only sports sandals with their knotted boots slung over their shoulders. There was no obvious path to follow because the owner did not want trespassers tempted into the cave. There were a lot of boulders in the woods we had to navigate so I hoped the cool temperatures were keeping the reptiles holed up. A gibbous southern Appalachian moon shone down on the lichens, mountain tripe, and then on the small creek that tumbled from thorned vines into an unlit void where the plateau had ruptured eons ago.

"Fucking hell, how deep is that?" asked Tom over my right shoulder as I peered down. "Now that's a real goddamned Hades Hole." I had a naked guy standing so close behind me his voice tickled my ear. Not just any guy but the one I ran with on Tuesday nights.

"Can I go first?" begged Joe.

"Go for it." I had been here about a dozen times but I could sense Joe's excitement at visiting a new cave for the first time. And I knew this cave entry was a lot more interesting than the handicapped accessible one at the state park. "Mike and Tom, watch how Joe does it. Once he gets to the bottom and flashes his helmet light, you'll see that it's not as deep as you might think."

"On rope!" soon cried Joe. And though it was unnecessary, he followed with "On rappel!" simply for the fun of it since he rarely had the chance to do so. The three of us stood and waited for the light on Joe's helmet to blink so we'd know he had reached bottom. Then came, "Off rope!"

"Ready Tom?"

Aping Joe's example, Tom turned his back to the destination below, gripped the rope with both hands and began to lean back. I had a perfect excuse to look down at his grip in the same direction as his cock, but when I did so, my light cast a large shadow across his midsection cheating me of a proper look. And then in a call recognizable to hashers the world over, Tom yelled mockingly, "On-on!" As he disappeared backwards out of the light, Mike and I could see easily how Tom's strong running legs served him on his descent. Since I could run as well as Tom, I hoped my legs looked that good to others.

When I knew he had hit bottom, I shouted down, "Don't forget to shower good before putting your boots on!"

"Thanks mom," preceded Tom's overly dramatic shrieking at the coldness of the water.

I was glad I didn't have to shower in a cold waterfall on a cool evening with nothing warm to put on afterwards, but I scolded, "Take it like a man! That high-pitched screaming will confuse the bats."

By now Mike was already on his way down. This time I turned my light off, hoping to catch a sneaky peek at his package illuminated by the moonlight. It sort of worked. I could definitely see some kind of small tattoo just below Mike's navel and reflective untrimmed hairs wreathing his dick. From what I could make out without being obvious, he looked fairly average and about equal parts dick and balls.

I was interrupted when Tom looked up towards his friend and hollered, "Now is that what the cave books call a vertical crack?"

Joe read my mind aloud, "It's going to be a long night."

By the time I reached the base of the pit, Mike had finished showering so I missed any opportunity to check either one out while we were standing around. Both guys were busy squatting and lacing up their new boots so Joe and I handed out the helmets and I went over the basics with him in case something happened to me inside.

Then, after a week of waiting, several hours of driving, 30 minutes of hiking, and 10 minutes of rappelling, we were finally ready to cave. The three filed single behind me with Joe in the rear. "So Mike and Tom, I suppose when you were watching the sound and light show at Hades Hole earlier today you never guessed your evening would turn out this way, did you?"

"Sure, I did," countered Tom, "I bet Mike $50 this morning that you'd come up with some lame excuse to see our dingdongs before the night was over."

Whoa. I was glad I was in front so no one could see my face flush. That hit a little close to home. I knew I had not schemed to get them naked, but I felt some shame for having tried to see them naked. Fortunately the remark drew only laughs from everyone.

"Looks like you're the funny guy, Tom, not me. But it just so happens this isn't even the first nude caving expedition I have ever heard of. Back in the late 1990s National Geographic did a documentary on caves and showed the team going nude through pools of water to keep from contaminating them. They showed it on public tv so it's really not a big deal. I've still got the VHS tape if you have a player."

"Cool," Mike exhaled.

"Yes it is," agreed Tom, "when are we supposed to build up that heat to stay warm?"

"If you don't get warm soon, I'll stop so you can do some jumping jacks or pushups, deal?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"So what made y'all stop by Hades Hole today before meeting me and Joe?"

"My youth group at church went there once when I couldn't make it and afterwards they all talked about awesome it was, and I've been seeing those billboards for years, so I thought we'd make today a cave day and consider it a warm up for this trip. Believe me, I learned my lesson."

I chuckled, "No, I wasn't making fun of Hades Hole, I just wondered why that particular cave but I get it. There are over 500 caves in this part of the state but only a handful are open to the public so what choice do you have if you want to go to caves, right? Hades Hole is high class and downright scientific in comparison to Donkey Dens with its strobe lights and Dancing Jackasses show every hour."

Joe spoke for the first time, "Don't get me started on the Holy Belowlands with its gladiator cave guides and the big boulder that closes the cave door when you enter and miraculously rolls open an hour later where you ascend into the gift shop!"

I pointed out that those Roman gladiators probably get much better tips than state park volunteers.

We eventually reached an upward bend that narrowed considerably a couple of feet up. I passed my pack back to Joe since he was the smallest of us four. I turned facing the other three with my back against the outer curve of the bend, stepped up once, and then stood up into the bend. Just when the rocks at my bottom rib blocked my view of the others and of my waist, I felt hands around my waistband and cool air as my pants hit my boots. Because I never wear a belt to avoid damaging cave formations, my depantsing had taken no more than a second to accomplish. I was shocked but shouldn't have been surprised by the prank. I heard laughter, then from Tom, "Now you know how we feel!" More laughter. I could also hear Joe's laughter in the mix with Tom's and Mike's.

Then in an obvious speleo-dig at my cock and showing off some recently acquired vocabulary, Mike added, "Hey John, I thought soda straws only grew in wet caves!"

And that's when it started to happen. I'm confident that had I entered the cave naked with Tom and Mike, or simply changed in front of them at the gym, it wouldn't have happened. But the sudden realization that those three guys were now focused entirely on my dick – picturing those red headlamps shining on it – knowing I was hanging at eye level – knowing none of them had ever seen my cock before and were now comparing its length, shape, and girth to theirs – I felt that familiar tingle. You know what I mean, that sensation when you start to fill and the skin begins to stretch, then it twists and rolls a little to one side before finally achieving lift off. And unlike those spongy hard-ons I get after spending a few hours on line, this one was a steel hook. It could certainly have supported the weight of my pack had Tom dangled it from me.

I knew they were all still staring at my hard-on when Tom offered the next cave pun, "Mike, what did the tour guide say today about stalagmites? That they 'mite' grow to the ceiling?" More laughter. Again I heard it from Joe too.