Note: This story is a continuation of "Poolside: Ch. 03, Pt. 3."
Originally appearing on Literotica on 09/07/03, but recently edited to correct several typos and other careless errors.
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On Monday I had turned 23 tears of age and was preparing to return for my second year of graduate school. I was working as a lifeguard at the country club pool where I had worked every year during my undergraduate summers. The club's main building had burned down during the winter, and construction people were clearing the site to build another. There was a temporary building used as a pro shop for golf, and there were several portable toilets.
And of course there was the pool. It sat atop a hill, with the metal-roofed, temporary pro shop about a hundred yards away, lower and to the north. To the west was the burned-out mess of the clubhouse, about 100 feet away. The absence of a real clubhouse lowered the daily attendance at the pool, and it also meant that once the pool closed, nobody was around, anywhere. It was now the beginning of August, and families went on vacation.
One of the other guards quit, and Katrina Thomas, the pretty daughter of a club member, had taken his place. It was hot, lazy, and dull work. We all were looking forward to returning to school, which is precisely the reason we guarded every summer. At least that's what we told ourselves!
I had just experienced a devastating breakup after a brief affair with Angie, an eighteen-year-old member of the club. Emotionally I was a mess. I had been so much in love with Angie that I had wanted to marry her. Now she was out of my life, and I was not handling it well. I had stopped working out on my birthday, and it was now Saturday. I had desperately watched the mail, in vain, hoping for a letter from Angie. For nearly two weeks Katrina had been giving me strange looks, beginning a week earlier on the Monday immediately after Angie's mother broke Angie and me up. ("Poolside Ch. 3")
I need to explain about Katrina. She and I share the same birthday, but I'm four years older. Four years apart, we each graduated from high school at 17 and turned 18 the summer before we went to college. She had just finished a successful freshman year at a major eastern university where she had set several records as a member of their swim team. She was truly an excellent swimmer.
The first year I had been a lifeguard, Katrina - a.k.a. Kat, T-Kat, K.T., or Kitty - was 14. She had taken the swim classes we had provided to the members' children in June. That year she had been a tall, skinny, shapeless girl with braces on her teeth. Her breasts had appeared as little more than tiny bumps on her chest. In the classes that year she had insisted I call her T-Kat, presumably short for Thomas-Katrina, but possibly also because she adored pussy cats. She had also developed an embarrassing crush on me that first summer, and she had followed me around like a puppy - in spite of her love of cats. She had certainly not been the object of my eighteen-year-old lust!
Katrina was clearly the most talented swimmer I ever taught. I told her mother Karen, also known as K.T., that she needed to make a decision. We couldn't teach Katrina anything more about swimming, so if Katrina wanted to learn more, she needed a real swimming coach. I informed Karen that Katrina was potentially Olympic material. Karen and Katrina talked it over, and after finally persuading Katrina's father that becoming a serious swimmer was what Katrina really wanted, a coach was found. Katrina was sent away for a week at a time, several times a year, to work with the coach. As a result of her efforts and subsequent accomplishments, Katrina had received a full athletic scholarship to college. Given her father's wealth, this probably wasn't necessary, but Katrina had earned it herself.
The other guards and I didn't teach "official" Red Cross swimming classes. We taught the classes to earn money, and the Red Cross believes such classes should be offered cost-free. However, in order to keep our Water Safety Instructors' certifications current, we did offer free official Red Cross Junior and Senior Lifesaving classes. Katrina took lifesaving every year, and she was always our best student. Even though Katrina easily passed the Senior tests every year, she was under age, and she had to settle for Junior Lifesaving certificates and badges until she was 16.
I recalled the previous summer when I had been demonstrating the cross-chest carry to the lifesaving class, using Katrina as the victim, by hauling her across the pool. I had deliberately moved my hand from under her armpit, slipped it under the top of her two-piece suit, and grabbed her right breast. It was a nice handful! I had felt her nipple getting hard at the same moment she had goosed me, causing me to let go. Her face had turned crimson, but I didn't know if it had been because I had felt her breast or because she had found me to be fully erect when she had grabbed my crotch. She had never said anything about it, and I was a"good" boy for the rest of the summer. Three months later Katrina was a freshman in college, and I was struggling through my first year of graduate study.
The previous summer had been Katrina's last lifesaving class as a student, and most people (except her mother) called her K.T. Now she was W.S.I. certified, and she had helped teach lifesaving with us during June. She had developed into an exceptionally attractive young woman, and the skimpy bikinis she was wearing while on guard duty this year barely covered her athletic, feminine body.
I glanced over at Katrina. She still had short-cropped, dark brown hair. She was wearing her blue bikini. This year she had five of them in different colors, all exactly the same size. They were the skimpiest I had ever seen at our pool. Two of them could probably have been stuffed into a cigarette pack with room left over for most of the cigarettes.
I started daydreaming about that tit-grabbing incident, and I realized that my penis remained flaccid. I was worrying about my lack of reaction to what had been a vibrant memory of an incredibly erotic grope, when I realized that Katrina was standing next to me. "When's the last time you worked out, Don?"
"I think it was the night before I walked into the pump room and found you dressing." I replied.
"Looking at my naked body makes you want to stop exercising? Gee, thanks!"
"I didn't mean it that way, Katrina! It's been about a week since I did anything."
"No wonder you look so bad! How 'bout you swim some laps while I watch this empty pool and make sure you don't drown?"
"No thanks. I really don't feel like it."
"C'mon, Don! Shake out of it! That little honey's gone, and you have to get over her!"
"What? Who do? . . ."
"Angie, of course!"
"Katrina, I don't know what you mean! Lots of girls are away with their families, so if you think I'm missing one of them, why pick Angie?"
"Because you and Angie were the talk of the pool chicks!"
"Pool chicks? You mean . . ."
"Yeah, all the nubile little teenie-boppers who lie in the sun all day lusting after the male lifeguards! You, mostly!"
"So why'd they talk to you about . . ."
"Don, you ninny! I used to BE a pool chick! As far as they're concerned, I'm just a version of them who's been to college!"
"And you - they - thought that Angie and I were an item?"
"God! It was so obvious that EVERYONE noticed. Who could miss it?"
