In a universe only slightly divergent from our own, lithium-ion batteries and turbine engines had both been commercialized by the early 1900s. By stifling the widespread adoption of internal-combustion engines, this ironically left room for steam power to remain a commercially viable niche. Otherwise, the twentieth century ran its course almost exactly as in our own world. Aviation turned WWI into an unprecedented horror, uncontrolled speculation spawned a decade-long Depression, despots leveraged new mass communications to manipulate neglected masses into accepting atrocities, and the Allies finally defeated them to bulk up their industrial might, make Noir films and fret over the Red Menace.

This story takes place in 1972, three years after the Stonewall Uprising, as gay-rights groups, Pride events and gay-friendly businesses were taking root in major cities across America.

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Saturday evening, August 5, 1972. Majestic Steam Baths (aka Club Portland), Portland, Oregon.

"We've got to start meeting like this!"

A naked, bearded man approached Frank in the steam room of Portland's notorious four-story den of depravity. He'd extended his hand. His penis was extended too. "Sorry, I never did get your name."

"Oh, hi!" replied Frank with a start. "What a lucky coincidence, running into you again! And at another steam-related venue! When we met earlier, I was wondering if you might be ..."

"A lover of men?"

"Yes. A lover of men." It feels good to be able to say that out loud, thought Frank, enjoying the roll of those words off his tongue, and the hardening of his cock in response, in a rare space where it was safe to utter such a thing. Frank had never been in an establishment like this before, but he'd thought that while visiting Portland for the weekend, he might as well take a brave leap and check things out.

"Name's Justin," said the other man, grinning. "So, do you want me to shake your hand? Or a more private part?"

Frank shared his own name, and his hand, shaking vigorously. He leaned forward, excited for his first touch of another man in several years. "But feel free to shake the other thing too."

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Earlier the same day. Mollalla, Oregon.

A recently retired science teacher from Tacoma, sixty-year-old Grandpa Frank had driven his Baldwin steam car down to Oregon to visit the Great Oregon Steam Fair with his daughter's family.

Most vehicles were battery-powered, but because the steam cars of the era were almost as quiet and clean as the electrics, and just as quick, they remained the glamorous choice of executives and Hollywood celebrities. Not to mention gangsters. The Big Three occasionally took a shot at steam, as with Chevy's '69 Chevelle Thruster Deluxe, but mostly left this niche to Baldwin and Stanley. These were far advanced beyond the steam cars that we know from the 1920s, having been upgraded over the decades with conveniences like electric ignition, multi-stage boilers, power steering, air-conditioning, power windows and 8-track stereos.

The Great Oregon Steam Fair proved a cornucopia of old-timey and modern steam attractions. Grandpa Frank's family delighted in the vintage steam-tractor parades, the tractor pulls and tugs-of-war, the steam-train rides on a mile-long, scale-model railroad that curved through tunnels and miniature cities, the steam cars and steam trucks on display, and the little radio-controlled, steam-powered boats plying a little lake. On this warm, sunny August day, there were long lines for ice cream churned and chilled by steam power. For those with more substantial hunger, steam-turned rotisseries roasted chickens over wood flames.

Under dozens of festival tents, vendors had set up tables to sell steam-related books or equipment, or simply to show off the hobby contraptions they had built. Their nerdy owners giddily explained how their inventions work to the children, as well as to certain nerdy parents and the many idealistic young adults then part of the "back to the land" movement. Among the steam-driven novelties were cuckoo clocks, blenders and other kitchen appliances, scale-model trains, as well as table saws, drill presses, lathes and almost any other kind of power equipment ordinarily powered by motors.

Frank's grandkids were particularly taken with a mini sawmill, its sparkling eighteen-inch blade turned by a steam-powered crankarm, looking just like a scaled-down version of the big traction wheel on a real locomotive, but with teeth. A second steam device fed small logs into the mill so that it produced half-inch slices for the kids to take with them as souvenirs. Like so much else on display here, this machinery was made of gloss-painted cast iron and shiny brass, polished to positively gleam for this event and wow the crowds.

The saw's owner was a bearded man in his forties, wearing an old-style train conductor's uniform. He seemed even more excited than most to demonstrate his creations and laud the virtues of steam. Every few minutes, he added a log to the feeder machine as he excitedly explained the principles behind it and the saw.

This man looked at Frank, holding his eye a second or two longer than normal and briefly making Frank think, I'd sure like to feel your piston pump. Frank quickly suppressed the thought. Hey, not appropriate at a family event. Dirty old man.

As the rest of the family, and much of the crowd, moved on, the two men continued talking enjoyably. Most observers would have seen nothing more than two nerdy men talking about steam power. Only a few would have noticed the eye contact signaling their deeper mutual interest.

"How long have you been into steam?" Frank asked.

"Almost twenty years now. My house is completely electron-free. Electricity's okay for listening to music or radio, I suppose, and I might someday break down on that point. Everyone's saying computers are going to change everything, but I can't even see how that new handheld calculator from Hewlett-Packard has to replace my trusty slide rule. It's not like I'm against electrical technology, but I'm a tinkerer, and I have fun finding more physical ways of getting things done." The barely perceptible slyness in how the other man said physical resulted in a physical flow of blood to Frank's cock.

"Having just retired as a science teacher, I suppose it goes with the territory that I'm a tinkerer too. What do you do for a living?"

"I'm a civil engineer for the Bonneville Power Administration. Somebody has to design the dams and transmission lines so they don't fall down."

"Ha! You work for the big federal power agency, and you aren't into electricity! I fricking love that!"

"The Revolution must come from within," the other man hinted conspiratorially.

"I wouldn't object," Frank agreed, "although I'm more inclined to drop out than overthrow."

"Me too, truth be told." With a wink, he quietly added, "But since I'm on the inside, I'll be ready if I'm ever needed."

"And I'm not being sarcastic when I say I love the irony. Bit of a contrarian myself. I really am thinking about dropping out, on some level. With all this time on my hands, I might sell my little house in Tacoma. Buy some land, put up a log cabin, build steam machines, make some things to sell at craft fairs, I don't know ... raise sheep? Still trying to figure out what to do when I grow up."

"Raise sheep, eh?" asked the other man, one eyebrow raised.

Before the conversation could continue - or finish properly - more fairgoers swelled into the tent, and Frank's family whisked him away to show him their latest steam fascination.

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Later on, back at the Majestic Steam Baths.

As promised, Justin shook Frank's other thing (besides his hand), and then took it in his mouth. Against the superheated atmosphere of the steam room, Justin's mouth felt refreshingly cool on Frank's member. And skilled. Justin had an active way with his lips and tongue that was extremely pleasurable. And productive, in terms of bringing him off. Frank ran his fingers through Justin's damp hair as he tensed up and flooded his mouth.

The men began a long, messy kiss, rubbing their hands on each other's bodies as they muttered things about how much they liked each other already, but Frank's hands quickly found their way to Justin's throbbing penis. "Here, kneel on the bench," instructed Frank. Justin complied, thrusting his hips forward and backward, his cock thrusting in and out of Frank's mouth.

After another minute of drilling, Justin offered, "I hope you don't think this is too forward ..."

"You're fucking my face, Justin," countered Frank, briefly pausing. "What would be too forward right now?"

"I find you very interesting, Frank, and it's rare to find a guy who's into steam and men. I'd love to spend more time with you this evening, if you're free. Maybe even have you out to my place on the edge of the Coast Range sometime. I could show you more of my steam inventions and how I live electron-free."

Maybe it was the talk about next steps, or maybe the fact that Frank was sliding a finger up and down between his ass cheeks, but Justin seemed to be getting excited.

Frank responded to Justin's suggestion with an "Mmm-hmm!" around his shaft, also giving a thumbs-up to indicate his approval of these ideas.

"Oh, fuck, I'm cumming for you, Frank! Let me fill your hot mouth!"

Frank thrilled at the feel of Justin's balls pulsing in his hand, his cock flexing in his mouth, and his delicious semen coating his tongue. He gulped most of it down eagerly, then sat up and planted his mouth on Frank's. They continued kissing for minutes on end, their hands again exploring each other all over. For both men, it was a rare treat to get so much contact with another man's body.

The door to the steam room opened, and two amorous-looking young men rushed in. "Don't mind us!" one of them said as he bent over a bench and the other started licking his ass. They invited Frank and Justin to join in, an offer they declined.

The top man said, "We love an audience, don't we, baby?" as he positioned his cock - a pretty big one - against the bottom man's opening. As he slid inside the other man, who groaned deeply and approvingly, he pouted, "I hope you'll jerk off for us, at least," to Frank and Justin.

The two were glad to do that much, especially as the man being fucked started getting vocal. "Fuck me harder! Own me! Make me your bitch!" He practically squealed as the other man spanked his ass and then grunted loudly, emptying into his bowels.

Then, in an act Frank had never witnessed, nor cared to emulate, the dominant one bent down and felched his own semen out of the sub's ass. He salaciously said, "Thanks for watching," the mixture almost drooling out of his mouth as they left.

Exiting the Majestic for tamer surroundings, Frank and Justin crossed the street to Powell's so that Frank could pick up LeGuin's new time-turning masterpiece, The Lathe of Heaven, as well as Angle of Repose, The Gods Themselves and Forster's Maurice. Over dinner at Huber's, they had a very engaging time discussing Lathe's premise and implications, followed by the movie listings in the latest arts weekly.

For being somewhat of an apparent Luddite, Justin impressed Frank by being more on top of culture than your average middle-aged civil servant. Although he strongly preferred movies to television, he had seen episodes of most popular programs. As for seeing a film tonight, both men agreed that although the midnight showing of Midnight Cowboy at the nearby Blue Mouse sounded fun, they'd rather be inside, as they both suggestively (but very quietly) put it, before that hour. The Godfather came up, but Justin would rather not see something that glorified the Mob like that. They discussed Cabaret, but decided it was a bit more ... well, gay than they were in the mood for.

"How Diamonds Are Forever?" asked Frank.

"That's even gayer," deadpanned Justin.

After they finished chuckling at that, Frank suggested Deliverance. "It's showing up at the Fox in twenty minutes. Reviews are off the charts."

"Sounds like a date."

Leaving the theater after the show, Justin muttered, "That was really well-done. Great acting, impeccable plot structure, but ... why do they always have to portray us as sickos?"

"You mean mountain people, or homosexuals?"

"I live in the mountains, so both."

"Well, then let's go back to my room and put on an anti-Hollywood show for each other."

Back in Frank's room at the Governor Hotel, he sat on the edge of the bed, clothed, while Justin did a slow striptease for him. At the end, he let his erect penis spring from his briefs' confinement and into Frank's face. Frank gave it a quick lick, and then did a like striptease for Justin, after which Justin took Frank's shaft in his mouth, bobbing expertly up and down.

Eventually, Frank started breathing harder and rocking his hips subtly. Sensing this, Justin reached up to pinch Frank's nipples, instantly receiving a reward of salty, creamy semen. As before, the men kissed hard, swapping the delicious juices back and forth before swallowing.

"Justin, will you do me? I haven't been fucked in ten years."

"I'd be thrilled to."

Frank applied some petroleum jelly, lovingly rubbed it across Justin's penis, and then greased his own asshole. Justin inserted his finger, to which Frank responded so positively that he thrust it and out dozens of times before removing it and placing his cockhead against Frank's hole. It dilated further after a few seconds, and Justin slid in easily.

Soon the men were grunting and groaning lightly, but kept it down so as not to tip off neighboring guests that homosexuals were fucking in their room. Justin tensed up, unable to completely stifle his groans as he flooded Frank's canal.

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Sunday noon, August 6. East Burnside Street, Portland.

After a morning of room service, and each-other's-penis service, Frank and Justin left downtown just before noon, the radio news featuring more developments related to the Watergate break-in.

"You think this'll hurt Nixon?" Frank asked.

"I'm sure it goes all the way up to that motherfucker at the top, but I'm just as sure they won't pin it on him."

"I bet that whole China trip was just a big distraction to hide all of tricky Dick's dirty tricks."

"Like not getting us out of fucking Vietnam already?"

As they pulled up in front of Music Millennium, Frank inquired, "So help me understand ... you're shopping at a record store, but your home is electron-free? How's that work?"

An employee was just unlocking the front door for the day. "I have a Victrola," Justin answered as they walked in, Don McLean's new blockbuster "American Pie" playing on the store's system. "Like I said, I've gone to great lengths to make living without electricity very comfortable. It's not like I'm living with dirt floors and an outhouse."

"See, I didn't even think of Victrolas. I can't tell you how fascinated I am."

Justin picked up a copy of Neil Young's new album Harvest, whose hit "Heart of Gold" was getting heavy airplay, as well as the new singles of "Rocket Man," "I Can See Clearly Now," and perhaps the perfect record for Justin, "The Revolution Will Not Be Televised."

Having sized up his customers, the record-store guy conspiratorially said, "Listen, I'll let you guys be some of the first Americans to hear this new import we just got in. It's by some nobodies called Mott the Hoople, but it was written by David Bowie. I think it might go big."

Within about a minute of the needle hitting the grooves of "All the Young Dudes," both men recognized the meaning of this hot new gay anthem, and each bought a copy.

Leaving the record store, they decided to take one more walk on the wild side, to reference a song being recorded by Lou Reed that very month. At the Aladdin Theater, they enjoyed the bright spectacle of Johnny Holmes' huge prick on the even huger screen, paired with the shadowy spectacle of various horny men jerking alone in the seats, pairing up, or in a couple of instances grouping up. But they got the most enjoyment from keeping to themselves and sucking each other silly in this tawdry setting. Even if placed end-to-end (which they did), their dongs were only the length of Johnny's one cock.

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Sunday evening. Somewhere in the Coast Range foothills west of Yamhill, Oregon.

The men drove their steam cars out to Justin's place. His log cabin sat with various outbuildings and steam-powered machines, in a hollow where a creek flowed out of the hills across a meadow grazed by sheep.

Justin showed Frank around, explaining that he actually used the steam-powered sawmill he demonstrated at the Fair to cut logs for his wood-fired steam generator. He had a second kerosene-powered steam machine that kicked in whenever the wood-fueled one wasn't going. Since petroleum seemed destined to remain cheap and abundant forever, he would always have a low-cost way to stay powered up.

Steam pipes ran from the generators into the house, the garage and an outdoor hot tub. In the house, Frank discovered that despite the lack of electricity, the living was just as comfortable as Justin had promised. A huge picture window overlooked the flat Willamette Valley to the east, with Mounts Hood and Adams glowing in the far distance. Kerosene sconces and ceiling lights were kept ready by pilot lights, illuminating brightly with the turn of a key or the pull of a chain. The plumbing was modern, with cold and (of course!) hot running water. Old-fashioned steam radiators of polished brass warmed each room, along with a Franklin wood stove in the living room.

In the kitchen, steam fittings were available to run various small appliances, with the ingenious refrigerator and deep freezer powered by steam-driven compressors. Although he had a kerosene range, Justin explained that many foods - and, importantly, coffee! - could be heated much more quickly with the instantly available steam and boiling water.

As Neil Young played tinnily on the gramophone and the men sipped a couple of Weinhards, they killed the lights and watched the sky show through the picture window. A huge Auroral display had been triggered by yesterday's record solar flare. Justin stood behind Frank and wrapped his arms around him, kissing him on the neck. "Kind of romantic, isn't it?"

"Yes. This is my steam dream, and you've already built it."

"There's so much more we could do, too, as a team. Not a lot of people would be into this lifestyle."

"Except me," said Frank affectionately. "So ... what's the deal with those sheep out there? They yours?"

"No, I lease the land to a neighboring farmer, but he's retiring next year. I haven't found another tenant. I don't know if this is getting ahead of ourselves, but ..."

"But you already know I was thinking of starting a sheep farm," teased Frank.

"We could buy him out. You know, if you were cool building a life with this weird old gay steam nut."

"This weird old gay retiree is very cool with that."

The men started kissing, and stripping off each other's clothes, quickly entering into a side-by-side sixty-nine on the bearskin rug centering the living room, ejaculating into each other's loving mouths almost simultaneously. Still facing opposite directions, they effortlessly sat up and kissed without having to shift positions, gently rubbing each other's hands, and chests, and buttocks. Neither man could contain his glee.

"I never thought I'd find a man like you," confessed Frank.

"I never thought I'd find a man who truly liked a man like me. I'm just beside myself with joy. Okay, I'm beside you, which is even better."

"If you really mean it with your invitation, I can call an agent this week and get my house on the market."

"Yes, I fucking mean it! The sooner you can move in, the better! But are you sure you can live without electrons?"

"Well, I'll miss the occasional TV show, and radio, but I think I'll live."

"I was just testing you. I still hope to keep electrons out of the house proper, but not necessarily off the property."

"Meaning ... ?"

"Meaning I've been thinking for a long time about building a detached lounge behind the garage and putting a real hi-fi in it. I have a steam-powered electric generator I'm not using yet, so power's no problem. If you really wanted to watch television, you could have a place to catch Mary Tyler Moore, All In The Family, Laugh-In, Carol Burnett, or what have you. I might even join you occasionally."

"Really? That would be okay with you?"

"More than okay! I already told you, I'm not a purist." He smirked. "Just a weirdo."

"Mmm, my weirdo," said Frank affectionately.

"You could use the garage until we get the lounge built," suggested Justin. "And I have to admit, I wouldn't mind catching the Olympics next month. After the '36 Nazi fiasco, it will be good to see Germany finally put on a Games that isn't tainted."

"That will be nice. Hey, for the hi-fi, we could even get one of those new quadrophonic outfits."

"Well, no need to get carried away ... " Then Justin stopped and corrected himself. "No, you know what? If that's what you want, get it. I want you to feel like it's your home too."

"I already do."

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Historical and location notes:

- What I've called the "Great Oregon Steam Fair" is based on the actual Oregon Steam-Up, held annually since the late 1960s. The real deal is probably more amazing than what I have described.

- For more technical detail than you can handle on steam cars, watch Jay Leno's video describing his impressive 1925 Doble E-20. And then imagine how those cars might have evolved over the next fifty years as gas cars did in our world.

- According to author Chuck Palahniuk, the five-story, flatiron-shaped Club Portland had by 1972 become a palace of gay decadence, later known as the Continental. It featured steam baths, saunas, private rooms, television lounges, a big fuckroom filled with nothing but mattresses, a maze of gloryholes, a gay-porn cinema, and a cabaret theater with sex slings. In prior decades, variously known as the Outlaw Club, Club Mecca and the Desert Inn, it had served as a gathering place for Portland's criminal underworld. The building still stands, now filling out a popular complex of historic brewpubs, eateries and hotels.

- Portland is still home to two gay-oriented bathhouses. One is named Steam Portland.

- The historic Aladdin Theater is now a popular live-music venue. During its seedier era, it was solely responsible for turning Deep Throat into the longest-running film of all time, screening daily from 1972 to 1986.