This is the second chapter of "The Locker Room Incident." This will make a lot more sense if you've already read the initial chapter.
This story is a work of fiction. Some real institutions are mentioned, but they are used fictitiously. Insofar as the author knows, no real person affiliated with any of those institutions has ever behaved as described in this story. Any similarities between any character in this story and any real person are coincidental and unintended. I encourage comments on this story, both favorable and unfavorable. Thank you for reading.
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The couple in the apartment across the alley finally walked away. "That was great," I said, "but it would have been even hotter had I known we were being watched."
"I wish I'd known they were there," Rachel replied.
"I'm sorry," I said, "I should have closed the blinds."
"No," Rachel replied. "I think it's great that they saw us. I'm actually kind of proud."
Rachel stayed that night, Sunday, and Sunday night. We left the blinds on the bedroom window open and used many of the rubbers I had bought. We didn't see the couple across the alley again that weekend.
The alarm on Rachel's phone went off at 4:00 a.m. that Monday. "What the fuck?" I asked groggily.
"We need to get there earlier," Rachel said, "so you can do your full workout and I can dive for a half hour or so before anyone else shows up."
Ok, I thought, fair enough. I followed Rachel's car along the empty pre-dawn streets to the country club. Out of habit, I went into the men's locker room and changed into the baggy shorts I trained in.
It was just starting to get light when I walked outside. Rachel was already waiting in her tight lifeguard one-piece. "Mark, lose the shorts," Rachel directed. "For me, you can do your training naked." I thought the baggy shorts helped my training but, when a beautiful woman tells you to take your clothes off, you do it.
Rachel made up for reducing the hydrodynamic resistance. After I had done laps for almost 90 minutes, Rachel asked "what is your best 100 time in each stroke?" I told her. She went over to a bag she had placed on a table and came back with a stopwatch. "100 fly," Rachel said, "we're not having sex this week unless you get within three seconds of your PB." I killed myself and just made the time. We repeated that process with each stroke, although Rachel gave me a five second cushion on freestyle and breaststroke. I was fried when I finished.
"Ok," Rachel said, "put your shorts on and keep an eye out. I'm going to dive." Rachel wiggled out of her swimsuit and got on the springboard. I kept an eye out, mainly on her. She looked so damn good in the air with nothing on. Rachel dove for about half an hour. After her last dive, she said, "Diving naked is too much fun! Get your stuff and come to the women's. There's no one around yet. I need a shower and I need someone to wash my back."
That became our daily routine. Pain-in-the-ass Brittany suspected, I think, what we were doing each morning. Several times, we had to hide in the pump room when Brittany showed up uncharacteristically early.
Rachel did not go home with me on weeknights because she'd joined a gym for the summer where she lifted and did trampoline work. I did fix her dinner at my place every Saturday for the rest of the summer. A little before 9:00 p.m., we'd strip in the front room, go into the bedroom, and make sure the blinds were open. The couple across the alley was always at their window. Rachel and I would make love or, for variety, give each other oral while the unknown couple watched.
Rachel started school almost a month before I did. Having her leave was like losing a limb: I felt depressed and couldn't adjust. I worked at the country club for another couple of weeks after Rachel went back to school, but it was a drab place without her.
The weekend after my last day at the country club, I drove to Champaign to visit Rachel. She was still living in the dorms. I doubted that the University cared whether her boyfriend stayed over, but her roommate did. I got the cheapest motel room I could find out by the Interstate. Friday night, we went out with some of Rachel's friends. Neither of us drank at all and we ended the night early.
Back in my motel room, Rachel saw the box of rubbers I'd put on the table next to the bed. She picked the box up and dropped in the trash. "You don't need these anymore," she said, "I'm on birth control!" She celebrated by insisting that she be on top for the first time in our lovemaking. Rachel had a bit to learn about being on top but looking up at her breasts and gorgeous face as she got more aroused and then came made it memorable.
Saturday, we had dinner at a sort of upscale burger joint with Rachel's diving coach, Megan Kiernan. Although Rachel was just going into her sophomore season, it was clear that she and Coach Kiernan were friends. Coach Kiernan was soft-spoken and listened intently to what others said. Over the course of the meal, she extracted almost my entire, short, life story. I think I was being interviewed for the position of Rachel's boyfriend.
Practice for both Rachel and me started shortly after I started fall classes. While we talked by Skype every night, I didn't see Rachel in person until I picked her up in Champaign after my last fall final and drove her to O'Hare so she could see her parents over Christmas. I spent a couple of days with Dad in Columbus around Christmas (Mom had died of cancer during my senior year of high school). I saw Rachel again when I picked her up at the airport and drove her back Downstate.
Swim season got intense after the first of the year. It was several months before Rachel and I saw each other in person again. Our conference championship meets intruded into spring break. The men's meet was in Wisconsin while the women swam at Indiana the same weekend. Rachel finished fourth on platform and fifth on springboard. That was promising for a sophomore season. I swam on a relay team that won the Conference, my only Conference title. However, most of the other schools had pulled their top swimmers from their teams in that race, so our winning time didn't qualify for Nationals.
Once swimming was over, Rachel and I both had to carry extra loads in the spring to stay on schedule to graduate. In short, we didn't see each other in person again until the school year had ended for Rachel. Rachel and I had agreed to work at the same country club the next summer. There were people on the club's board who were big supporters of athletics at Rachel's school and at mine. We were promised that Brittany was not coming back.
Rachel lived with me that summer and went to work at the club by herself for about three weeks while I finished classes and did my finals. I was surprised when she told me that she was the only lifeguard during the week. Apparently, Brittany's replacement also went to my school and would start the same day I did. Rachel and I certainly didn't ignore each other during those three weeks, but I had my best set of finals grades ever. More proof, if I needed it, that Rachel MacDonald was the most positive aspect of my life.
Once I was done with school, we reverted to our routine of the previous summer. My first day at work, a Monday, we were about to start my timed 100s at the end of my workout when a strange young woman walked out of the women's locker room in a lifeguard uniform. I saw her, stopped swimming, and went to a corner of the pool. After a moment, I realized I had seen the woman on campus, although I didn't know who she was. The woman was a bit shorter than Rachel with thick shoulder-length black hair, slightly darker skin, and what appeared to be a good figure. Her intelligent-looking face seemed a bit Asian.
The young woman walked up to Rachel. She smiled and said, "Rachel? Hi. I'm Michelle Todori. I'm the new weekday lifeguard. They told me that you would show what I'm supposed to do and where I'm supposed to go."
"I'm glad you're here, being the only person has been quite a load," Rachel replied. Rachel looked down at me, smiled, and turned her head back towards Michelle. "That's my boyfriend Mark Powers in the pool. He's just finishing his workout."
Looking at me, Michelle asked, "you swim competitively?" I nodded and told her where. Michelle laughed. "I'm on the women's team! I swim mostly 100 and 200 fly and back. What do you swim?" I focused on the same events and said so. We'd had that short conversation with me in the water, hugging the side of the pool. That was odd and Michelle noticed it. "Are you getting out of the water?" she asked.
Rachel laughed. "At my request, Mark does his workouts in the nude," she told Michelle.
Michelle's smile widened. "Cool!" she said.
Rachel looked at me again and said, "Mark, you can get out of the water now." I had no real choice. I put my hands on the pool deck and boosted myself up out of the water. I was trying to stay turned away from Michelle, but Rachel said "Mark, you haven't properly said hello to Michelle."
