Rock Hard

I work at a small rock climbing gym in a little city on the east coast. My shift starts at 8 pm and goes to midnight. Without fail, the same man walks in the doors every night at 9:30, takes off his shirt, pulls on his climbing shoes, and covers his hands in chalk. He does pull-ups to get warm, and I can’t stop staring at his body rippling from the tips of his fingers down to his lower back. Once he starts scaling the walls, I like watching the sweat drip down his neck. Every night I try to muster up the courage to ask for his phone number, but sometimes I wish I could fuck him right then and there.