The changing rooms are new, it’s a while since I’ve been to this leisure complex and I’m well impressed. They’re unisex, just rows of cubicles next to rows of lockers.
Once I’m changed and in my cozzie I stash my bag in a locker and turn the key, looking round, and as I do so the cubicle door next to me opens and I look at you and smile.
I walk to the shower and stand under it stretching my arms up, laughing with the tingle of the hot water on my body; again you’re next to me in the shower. Out of the corner of my eye I watch the rivulets of water course down your muscles. Casually I walk past you into the pool and climb down the steps.
I’m holding onto the wall when there’s a huge splash and you’ve done a great flash dive by the side of me, making me cough and gulp water. Unimpressed I move away and start swimming my lengths, and I see you zooming up and down the pool like a torpedo in Speedos. You’re still at it by the time I’ve finished and I make my way over to the steps; we narrowly avoid bumping as you perform a flash tumble turn and stop, smiling at me.
Mmm, I think, nice smile. You ask me whether I’ve finished and I tell you nearly, you say you only have a few left to do and you’ll catch me inside. I smile and agree politely and head for the shower. When I’m showered I’m putting my bag in the cubicle, when I turn round to close the door you’re standing in the frame.
I look at you confused, as you slip in with me and lock the door. You hold a finger to my lips and tell me not to make a sound or they’ll throw us both out. I’m so stunned that it does not occur to me to disagree.
“I saw you watching me showering” you say.
“And what were you watching then?”
“Your breasts.”
This time it’s your honesty that stuns me into silence.
Slowly you reach out and brush one of my nipples, not that they could have got any firmer. “So, how wet are you now?”
“Too wet.”
In response you pick up my towel and gently dry my arms, the combination of tenderness and the invasion of privacy is spinning my head.
“Close your eyes.”
Why am I obeying you? Jeez.
There’s a rustling noise then as I open my eyes to check what you’re doing you’re fixing a leather shoelace from one of my boots round a wrist. I try to pull away but all that swimming has built up your muscles and you’re yanking me over to the bench for me to stretch up to the cage over the cubicle, the one that’s designed to keep out perverts, and you’re looping it over before tying round my other wrist. I’m begging you to untie me but you just look at me, tell me you’ve got to finish your lengths, and walk out the cubicle. I gape at the closed door, but then it opens.
“Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back for you…”
It's hard to know how long I'm in there, with one foot on the ground, the other braced against the door, stopping it from swinging open. Once the door moves and I strain desperately against it, fortunately the handle's released and the swimmer moves away.
It moves again and I push even harder, but you call "Let me in" and I release it. It swings wide open and you stand in the doorway.
I glare and look anxiously at the door.
You smirk and swagger in with your sports bag. Slowly you close the door and lock it. I breathe out.
