Thanks P_Anderer for editing!
This story mostly happens in and around a place known locally as 'The Spring', so I firstly need to explain what that is.
The Spring is located in a small lowland park in the middle of my Eastern European city. The park's center is a natural mineral water source, which was adopted long ago by the city authorities: a few asphalt alleys, park benches, children's playgrounds. The water of the spring runs from several taps where you can fill a bottle. There is also a narrow stream with concrete banks. The stream is maybe half a meter wide and half a meter deep, yet still lovely: clear and quick, with bright pebbles in the bottom. Being a home for a few ducks, it is a favorite place for locals to wander along.
At the beginning of the stream, people submerge into the cold clear water. In my childhood days, it was considered somewhat weird, and there weren't any conveniences for those who wanted to bathe, but they still did. In recent years, it was finally acknowledged as a popular amenity. The place near the rising of the stream was widened and deepened to produce a convenient two-by-three meters pool, maybe a meter deep, with stairs and bright tiling; changing rooms were added.
The water is cold, maybe 10 degrees Celsius (that would be 50 Fahrenheit for you in the US), so it requires some bravery to try. Still, it is a pleasant experience, both refreshing and energizing! So, there is somebody diving there at almost any time of the year. Obviously, there are more people in the summer, but there are some regulars, even in cold and snowy weather. Many of them are fans of a healthy lifestyle, some hipster young types and not a small bunch of grandpas (and an occasional grandma) clinging to their old habits. Others are just middle-aged people going for that feeling of being refreshed and energized before a long day--and that would be me.
The routine is simple: you get there, change in your swimming suit, get into the pool, then get out after a few seconds (or a few minutes if your spirit is strong and a line of others is small), maybe sunbathe or wander for some time, or maybe go in for a second dip, before changing back to your street clothes, and back to normal life. Those of the regulars who usually come at the same time recognize each other with a small nod or occasional "Hello", but rarely engage in conversation--at least not me, until that one time.
That was mid-winter one year, not too cold but still around freezing temperature; the crowd at the spring was small, mainly consisting of vaguely familiar faces. But hers was not; I was sure of it: I have never before seen a Black girl here, definitely not at this time of the year.
As I've already told you, my city is in Eastern Europe, and the population is primarily white. There are some foreigners, though: Asians, Arabs, and Black people. Most of them are students: the city's universities have a reputation of being decent yet cheap. Both claims are somewhat exaggerated if you ask me, but foreign students do come here. So, the girl must've been a student (I learned later she indeed was), and there would be nothing out of the ordinary to meet her in any other place in the city, but here, in the snow, in just her bright red swimsuit, waiting for a dip in 10-degree water? Now that one was definitely not ordinary.
We stepped up to the bath at almost the same time, and I gentlemanly let her go first. It seemed as though it was not her first time. She stepped in confidently, submerged completely and stayed under the water for a few seconds, and then loudly emerged, with splashing and snorting, visibly enjoying the experience. I looked at her briefly, not in a 'man-looks-at-woman' way, just an appreciative look at a fellow water-lover, somewhat weirdly proud even--I don't know which: either of this strange girl or the spring's effect on her.
She must've appreciated the attention: later, when we both were dressed and starting to make our way out, it was me who she asked where the WC was. Maybe she guessed I was her best bet for a conversation in English: that day's other swimmers were mostly grandpas, and those people rarely speak anything except our local language.
I showed her the way, and then we went to the bus stop together, and this brief encounter turned out to be a beginning of an unlikely friendship.
It was just all accidental: I went there three or four times a week, as usual, and she did, too. Our schedules intersected most of the time, so we started to say hello, then make quick small talk. Nothing too long at first, things like "How do you like today's weather?" or "You skipped last week." But somehow, we both found the conversations pleasant and started to know each other a bit better. We shared basic facts about ourselves, but mostly talked about books and countries: my country, her country, and various other countries we've never been to but planned or dreamed of visiting. After a few weeks, I suddenly realized that we started to wait for each other if one was late--without any explicit agreement.
She was indeed a student from Kenya, studying some engineering stuff, a sporty and book-loving type. She first dipped in the spring in a company of friends due to some stupid semi-drunken bet, but unlike her friends, found out she really liked it. "Makes me really aware of my body, really be in it," she explained. See, we talked about the body too, nothing too sensuous or flirtatious, yet she was quite open about it, and I liked that and felt at ease talking to her.
Once she mentioned how unusual the changing rooms felt at first. They were simple: not closed ones with doors, so not actually cubicles, just labyrinth-style spaces with a wall making a small corridor and a place to hide from others' eyes. After the latest renovation, the changing rooms were rebuilt for two people each: one for two men and one for two women, so when there were some people around (and there typically were), you needed to change together with some stranger. She complained about it, not in a self-conscious but rather in a playful manner: how weird it was at first to undress with no door to lock, and under the accidental stare of a white woman; odd, yet interesting odd, or so I understood. In a moment of boldness, I decided to go along with this playfulness and said half-jokingly: "You know, the one in the changing room closer to the exit could be even visible from the outside, if they aren't careful."
It seems I guessed her mood right because she answered, with the same playfulness: "Oh, it teases my exhibitionist tendencies!"
Nevertheless, I hadn't given this exchange much thought, till one time, when I was dressed first, and she waited in line, we started to discuss some new movie, and continued the discussion when she went inside--so I stayed close to the entrance to the women's area. Decently close, of course, just to keep the conversation with somebody inside. At some point, I noticed I could see her bending to look for something in her backpack: bending just enough outside of the protective wall that I could see her breasts from the side. I imagined she did it intentionally, so I shamelessly enjoyed the view of her small firm breast with its very dark, small, erect nipple, whilst continuing the conversation at the same time. Then, answering my question about the movie character, she looked in my direction, and I caught her momentary surprise from realizing that I saw her. But she just continued to look in her backpack, without any attempt to cover herself or step back, and I continued to stare, half thinking I probably should not.
In a few minutes, fully dressed, we silently walked towards the park exit, feeling a weird mixture of awkwardness, joy, and a shared secret--or at least that's what I felt.
"Sorry for the show," she said finally, "It wasn't intentional."
But her tone was light, and there was a warmth in it, so I answered simply:
"Sorry for staring... I thought it was and was just being polite," at which point she laughed and admitted, "It actually might've been! I really like to show myself... But I need to feel safe."
"I really liked looking at you, and I assure you are completely safe with me," I answered simply.
"So, we are good?"
"We are good."
