Over the next few days, I found myself thinking more and more about Cathy out there painting looking at all the naked guys. I tried not to let it distract me at work, but it was tough. For her part, Cathy hardly ever brought up the subject herself. It was me and my curiosity that was to blame. And, her response to my questions typically renewed my sense of extreme embarrassment.
It was the evening of maybe the third or fourth day of the painting assignment. “So, Cath,” I said, “how did the painting go today?”
“All right, I guess.”
I got a little bolder. “And how was the men’s swim class today?”
“Oh, about the same. I really feel sorry for the poor men having to swim naked with me there.” She took another bite of mashed potatoes, then said very matter-of-factly, “You know, I never realized what a variation there is in the size and shape of men’s penises. And their balls, too.” She started giggling uncontrollably. “I feel sorry for the guys with really tiny little pee-pees.”
I was sorry I’d asked. I could only take consolation in the fact that the painting of the barracks around the pool would not last forever. She would be finished and move on to where the view would be, ahem, different.
The next night at dinner, she casually mentioned that she’d met the new lifeguard at the pool. I asked, “What do they need a lifeguard for at a swim class?”
“Oh, I guess it’s for the free swim after the instruction is over.”
“Cath, I realize you’re just doing your job being around all those nude guys, but I’m not really happy about your going up to one of them and starting up a conversation.”
She looked puzzled, then explained, “Oh, the lifeguard’s a woman. They replaced the male lifeguard with a civilian woman. And by the way, she wears a bathing suit.”
“Why does she get to wear a suit and not the guys?”
“I don’t know. I guess the Army doesn’t think it’s a good idea for a girl to be naked in front of all those guys.”
“But it’s a good idea for guys to be naked in front of girls?”
