When we awoke in the small hours, we smiled at each other. We knew we were a couple. I wasn't going to be afraid of people seeing me with the gimp girl. She didn't care if I was the strange French-speaking guy.
I helped round up her clothes and sighed as I watched her put them on. I was already in love with her naked body. I hated to see it covered.
She seemed to read my thoughts. "Don't worry big boy, we'll be naked together soon enough. I'll need me some more fucking. But now, I have to study for a sociology test tomorrow. I smell like animal lust and need a shower. And I should eat...something more nutritious than cum, which is what you are probably thinking of. I'll talk to you tomorrow." I followed her out of my room.
As we entered the common room, we saw one of my pod-mates. He just looked at me and cocked an eyebrow. To her he said, "Hey neighbor."
She glanced at him and said, "Hey." Then she looked at me and took my hand. "Tom, it's been nice." Then, she kissed my hand. "See you soon." It was the coolest move I have ever seen. She grabbed her sticks and walked out the door with a sly glance over her shoulder. Damn, she was good.
---------
I saw her the next day in French class. She arrived before me and saved me a place. Not only that, she had gotten me a coffee
"Wow, thanks." I took her hand. "When are we going to be together again?" I asked as the professor came in and started to get ready for class.
"You are way too distracting for me to spend any time with you in the next day or two. I have a paper due in European History tomorrow. And did you remember that we have to submit our critical analysis, in French, of her selections from Les Fleurs du Mal on Thursday?"
"Oh, fuck!" I hadn't read Baudelaire since high school. I was supposed to have been reading it the last couple of weeks, but I had been distracted.
"Let's get the damn poetry behind us. Then you can come to my PE class with me on Thursday afternoon."
"Your PE class? Really?"
"What, the handicapped girl doesn't have to take PE? The ADA says we are to be treated like able-bodied people β with accommodations. I bet my PE is way more fun than anything you have done. Bring your trunks and meet me at the natatorium at 5:30 Thursday."
"The natatorium? What?"
At that point, Madame said, "Attention, mes amis!" And I had to keep my questions to myself.
---
I got my Baudelaire done. Even though we sat next to each other, India didn't say a word to me. When Madame finally stopped talking about the effect of the Franco-Prussian war on the writing of Mauriac and we were leaving, India spoke.
"5:30, Natatorium, right?"
"Sure, but I've done my PE requirements," I answered.
"Not like this," she said and clipped-clopped away.
---
When I arrived at the Natatorium, the girl at the counter asked, "You here to see India?"
"Yeah."
"Sign in here. You have to wear your swim suit, and you have to shower before you can enter the water spaces. Don't worry, it's pretty warm in here. When you exit the men's locker room, you'll find the endless pool to your right, at the end of the hall. It's none of my business, but you might want to flip the latch once you go in there. I'm just saying... Here's your locker key. Return it when you come back through. And please shower again β for my sake."
I really didn't get what was happening, but I was getting the idea that I might have a really good time.
"Oh, and India's swimming class is just scheduled for an hour, but nobody's scheduled after her, so... Well, hope you get a good workout." And she turned back to her paperwork.
I donned my trunks in the locker room, passed through the shower and exited the locker room. I followed the hallway to the end, and I walked through the door marked "Endless Pool." It was probably 15' wide and 25' long, full of water that was obviously streaming from one end to the other. I had seen smaller versions advertised on TV. And swimming the crawl in this rectangle was India. Her normally awkward limbs seemed in fluid motion.
And she was wearing a thong bikini. I saw those perfect ass cheeks working hard. Her back was beautiful, with just the elastic strap of her top across her lower shoulders and those skinny arms working hard to propel her against the force. I started to get hard.
She rolled over onto her back and started the backstroke. Her breasts seemed to keep her small frame afloat. She saw me and said, "Hey!" It was interesting to see her swim the strokes and actually not move in space because of the water movement of the pool.
"Are you going to jump in and swim a few laps with me, or just stand there looking at my tits?" I jumped in and began doing the sidestroke next to her as she continued her leisurely backstroke. Swimming wasn't really my thing, but my mom made us take swimming lessons throughout childhood, so I was adequate.
We watched each other as we moved through the water. After a bit she said, "Stop." She stayed on her back and flipped the opposite direction, the water carrying her to the back of the pool. I floated toward her and landed in her open embrace, both arms and legs.
"You really like this," I commented.
"Yeah, it's the only place I feel like a normal person. In hot, bubbling water my muscles relax and I can move like other people," she answered.