I had joined the community center by my new apartment, supposedly, to "socialize" myself with my new neighbors and make friends—this was what I told my mother on the phone last night, and I thought it sounded convincing enough. I had just moved to this town the previous month to start a new job, one I was very excited about. However, my mother worried constantly about me, as I was one of those people who always received "needs improvement" checkmarks in the "socializing with others" box on my elementary school report cards. Never mind that I socialized just fine once I got to know people—I was just one of those people who had always been slow to warm up to others. However, this, to my mother, translated into being antisocial. So, I was joining the community center to make friends.
In reality, I was joining it because it had a pool.
I haven't always loved to swim. In fact, I was terrified of drowning in water over my head until I was about eleven. That year, however, I decided to try swim lessons again, and once I got over the embarrassment of being the oldest kid in a class full of six-year-olds, I discovered I loved the water. I joined swim team the following year, and continued swimming throughout high school. I was never very competitive, was never one of the kids cheered on dramatically at meets because I was in a dead heat for first place, or even second—but I loved it. The way my body would glide weightlessly through the water when I pushed off from the wall, my powerful frog-kick that never went lopsided or broke the surface during a breast stroke race, my best event. I wasn't very fast, but I had good form.
I pulled into the parking lot of the center after work one Tuesday evening, navigating through a light early fall drizzle as I maneuvered into a space. The pool was open late on Tuesdays for free swim, and there was no need to compete with the swim lessons, water aerobics, and "Get Baby Acquainted with the Water" classes that often took place in the other lanes. Plus, it was a rainy weeknight, which might not have meant much at a larger place, like the Y, but here, it meant that the pool was probably going to be dead.
I changed into my bathing suit in the (as predicted) mostly empty locker room, actually feeling brave enough to strip out of my street clothes by the lockers, instead of in a changing stall like I usually did. My suit was a blue one-piece that I'd had for several years—broken in, but not terribly worn-looking. I noticed as I pulled it over my hips that it was a little tighter than I remembered, probably because I hadn't worn it for several months.
I pulled the suit carefully the rest of the way up, slowly easing it over my breasts, and tugging the shoulder straps into place. The suit did indeed fit rather tightly, and I could see in the half-mirror over the sink that my nipples were quite visible through the stretchy blue fabric. I reached down between my legs, almost absent-mindedly, to adjust the crotch of the suit, in order to avoid a potential wedgie, and felt a sudden rush of blood fill me with heat. Just how long has it been since I've gotten laid? I thought. If I was getting horny from the mere act of putting on a slightly ill-fitting swimsuit, I was in trouble. I checked the mirror once more before I left the locker room, noting that my cheeks were slightly flushed (the humidity in here, I told myself). My nipples still strained against my suit, so I decided to wrap my beach towel under my armpits. There. Much better. It wasn't like there was going to be anybody out there anyway. I didn't know what I was worried about.
I pushed through the heavy swinging door, and the sharp, clean smell of chlorine stung my nose. The air was even thicker and more humid than it had been in the locker room, and a slight haze hung over the water. I surveyed the pool briefly, noting an elderly woman wearing a swim cap doing a lazy side stroke in the far lane, and a young man in the middle lane teaching a little boy how to hold onto the wall and practice flutter-kicking. Save for them and you, the room was empty. I slipped off my flip-flops, depositing them underneath the first chair I encountered. Then I quickly unwrapped my towel and hung it over its plastic back. Your lifeguard chair was situated right next to me, and I briefly debated walking behind it so you would take less notice of me. Shaking my head in disgust, I pushed the thought out of my head and squared my shoulders. I couldn't believe how self-conscious I was all of the sudden. As I walked in front of the chair, something inside me warmed ever so slightly, and I turned my head and craned my neck to look up and at least acknowledge you. I didn't want to seem rude, after all.
The first thing I registered about you was that you were wearing a shirt with your community center-regulation swim trunks—a detail I found a tad odd for a lifeguard. Every other male lifeguard I'd ever seen had seemed painfully eager to show off their abs, their muscled chests, and firm biceps. Also, from a more practical standpoint, it was probably easier to save a drowning person's life when you weren't weighed down by a waterlogged T-shirt.
The second thing I noticed was your very dark hair and pale skin, another striking contrast to the other lifeguards I'd seen here—even though this was an indoor pool, the other lifeguards appeared perpetually blond and tan, to the extent that I had wondered my first few times here whether this was a job requirement.
I looked up and met your eyes the best I could, given the odd angle of my neck. "Hi." My voice came out way too loudly, echoing off the green and gray tiles. "Kinda dead here tonight, huh?"
You looked down at me and grinned. "Yeah. That's why I brought a book. Don't tell my boss, she kind of frowns on it if we're not watching the pool all the time."
I smiled back. Your voice was intriguing, silky and playful. "I won't tell, don't worry." Your eyes had done something interesting when you grinned, crinkling in the corners and dancing mischievously. I wasn't close enough to make out the title of the book you were reading, but when you shifted in your seat, it brought the lettering on your T-shirt into focus: "Always a Browncoat." I smiled slightly.
"I'm just going to swim a few laps. I promise not to make you dive in after me. Enjoy your book." I started padding away from the lifeguard chair, but couldn't resist: I turned to look back at you, wanting to see what you looked like in profile. My heart lurched and began racing when I realized that your eyes had been following me as I walked away. Quickly, you diverted your gaze back to the paperback in your hands. I turned back around, feeling the flush in my cheeks and neck. Fuck, you were cute. I felt my crotch swell slightly again, and looked down to find that once again, my nipples were at full attention. Dammit. I needed to get in the water immediately, if for no other reason than to hide my sudden, confusing arousal under its camouflaging ripples.
I sat down at the edge of the pool and dipped my hands in to check the temperature. Cold around the edges, but I knew my body would get used to it quickly. I checked to make sure my hair was firmly in its knot on the back of my head, and carefully pulled my goggles down over my eyes, applying pressure with the heels of my hands to seal them. I'd had many a nightmare race where my goggles hadn't been tight enough, and they had filled with water immediately upon entering the pool from the diving block. I leaned forward and put my hands one over the other, keeping my fingers straight and cupping my palms. Then I slid forward into the water, using my feet to push off the wall. The seal on my goggles held, and I was in business.
I began breast stroking my way down to the other side of the pool, keeping my palms cupped, bringing my arms down and around, and back up to my mouth. Like you're scraping down the sides of a bowl of cookie dough, then bringing them up to your mouth to eat it, my old swim coach used to say. My legs frog-kicked, my head went under the water smoothly at the top of each stroke, and soon, I was lost in the soothing rhythm of swimming. I had missed this. I almost forgot about the lifeguard and how horny I was. Almost.
It was when I was taking a rest on the wall nearest the lifeguard chair that I noticed you looking at me. Not obviously, but unmistakably. You used the book as a prop, I noticed, glancing down at it occasionally, but mostly just tilting your head down and keeping your eyes on me from under those dark brows. As much as I didn't want to admit it, it excited me. I looked around, noticing that both the older woman and the father-son duo had left the pool. I was feeling reckless and horny, a combination that could only lead to trouble.
Pushing back off the wall, I treaded water and looked up at the lifeguard chair, waiting for you to notice me. Finally, you did, putting your book in your lap (I noticed you didn't bother keeping your place), and looking down at me, amused. "You drove everyone else away, eh?" Damn, your voice was sexy.
I made a show of looking around me, feigning surprise. "I guess I did. What a shame, huh?" I put my feet on the floor of the pool and stood up. The water covered me only to the middle of my stomach, and I knew you could see my nipples.
"You looked like you were having fun down there," you said.
Boldly, I called back, "You looked like you were having fun up there. How's the book?" Your face reddened, and I knew I had you. I checked the clock. It was almost nine. "Hey, what time does the pool close?" I asked.
