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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I'd been fortunate to land a swimming scholarship at a well-regarded university just north of Chicago. The summer between my sophomore and junior years, an alum had gotten me a maintenance job at a North Shore country club. My dad was a general contractor in Columbus. I'd worked for him for several previous summers, so I actually had some handyman qualifications. The club had a 25-meter pool I was allowed to workout in before the club opened each morning. The job provided some pocket money, which scholarships don't.
The club opened to members and their guests at 8:30 each morning. I had keys and was typically in the pool by 5:30. I could do a decent workout, shower, and start work by 8:00.
It was about 7:30 a.m. on my second Tuesday on the job. I had just finished showering. Since the club wasn't open yet, I wasn't concerned about walking nude between the shower and the unassigned locker I borrowed each morning. I toweled off and stepped out of the shower area with my towel in my hand. My mind was elsewhere as I turned towards the lockers. I bumped into someone.
Taking a step back, I realized that the person I'd bumped into was Brittany, one of the lifeguards. Brittany was in her lifeguard one-piece. The suit was conservatively cut but fit like a second skin. That didn't really work to Brittany's advantage because she had a figure. However, her cute face, long blonde hair, and long legs drew attention and Brittany apparently thought she was gorgeous. I'd had to deal with her a couple of times already. To me, she came off as spoiled and bitchy.
"Uh, Brittany," I said, "what are you doing in the men's locker room?"
"Looking for the first aid kit," she snapped. "Why don't you cover up?"
"This is a men's locker room," I answered, "and I just had a shower. If it bothers you so much, why are you staring at my dick?"
That brought a laugh from the girl standing behind Brittany. I'd been so surprised by running into Brittany that I hadn't registered that someone was with her. The other girl was also wearing a lifeguard one-piece but to considerably better effect than Brittany. The second girl had a much fuller chest which the suit outlined in detail. She had flat abs, shapely hips, and strong-looking legs. What really caught my attention, however, was her intelligent-looking, slightly freckled face, with sparkling green eyes, framed by shoulder-length copper-colored hair.
The second girl realized I was appraising her. She gave a slight smile and gave me another look from head to toes. "Hello," I said, "I'm Mark Powers."
In a somewhat low voice that I found quite sexy, the second girl said, "I'm Rachel MacDonald. Pleased to see, er, meet you."
"Mark, what the fuck are you doing here this early?" Brittany asked petulantly.
"You know I work out before the club opens in the morning," I replied.
To Rachel, Brittany sarcastically said, "I forgot, Mark's a big-time college swimmer."
"Really," Rachel said. "Where?"
I told her where I went to school. "Brittany," I added, "shouldn't you find that first aid kit?"
"Come on Rach," Brittany said, "maybe it's in the office."
Brittany led Rachel away. As they left, Rachel turned back and gave me another small smile. As I heard the locker room door shut, it dawned on me that I had enjoyed standing there buck naked talking to two women in swimsuits, one of whom was extremely attractive.
Getting caught nude by Brittany and Rachel seemed hotter as I thought about it while I did my morning tasks. I was disappointed realizing that it probably wouldn't happen again.
I bagged a lunch each day which I stored in a refrigerator in the maintenance room behind the room holding the pumps and filters for the pool. I had just sat down one the concrete step into the maintenance room to eat when Rachel walked up. She'd covered the tight swimsuit with shorts and a polo shirt. Even more conservatively dressed, she was a beautiful girl.
"Got a minute?" Rachel asked.
"Sure," I replied. "You're welcome to sit down if you don't mind the furniture," I said, gesturing to the step I was sitting on.
Rachel sat down, keeping a few inches of separation. "I wanted to apologize," she started. "Brittany knew you were in the locker room this morning. She walked in on you on purpose. I shouldn't have gone with her. I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking."
I turned my head and looked Rachel in the eyes. She seemed sincerely sorry. I also got a better look at her face. I suppose Rachel's face wasn't "model beautiful," but it was damn good. She had a wide mouth, prominent cheekbones, and those eyes which seemed both intelligent and curious. I wasn't angry about what had happened that morning, but Rachel MacDonald would be a difficult person to be angry at anyway.
"No big deal," I said.
Rachel laughed. It was a low, sexy laugh. "You didn't seem to mind standing there naked while Brittany checked you out."
"I had every right to be naked there," I replied. "It was pretty hot, to be honest. However, I don't think Brittany was the only one 'checking me out.'"
Rachel laughed again. "Maybe not," she said. "What events do you swim?"
"I've swum just about everything," I said. "My strengths, if I have any, are probably 100 and 200 fly and back. You look like you might be an athlete too."
"Very perceptive," Rachel replied. "I'm a diver in Champaign." That was a reference to the flagship state university, a big sports school, downstate. Rachel's school was in the same conference as mine, but I wasn't surprised that I hadn't seen her before. The men's and women's swimming and diving teams generally had separate schedules.
"What year?" I asked.
"Going into sophomore," Rachel answered. She looked a little older. I'd have guessed she was a junior or senior. "What year are you?"
"Going into junior year," I replied. "Where are you from?"