It's not every day that a guy is stripped, humiliated and ogled by a group of women. That happened to me. Embarrassing -- and how it came about was my own fault. Some would say it was bad luck. But not so fast; hear my story.
I was in the men's locker room of our university athletic center. I was taking a shower but when I turned the water off, I could still hear the sound of running water. Now, the women's locker room is on the other side of that wall. The idea of naked females showering just a cinder block wall away was pretty enticing. But alas, without x-ray vision, I only had my imagination to rely upon.
Until a few days later. The electrician had been called to fix an issue with the HVAC system, and he entered an access door in our locker room that served the ventilation system for the two adjoining locker rooms. After he finished his work, he left but failed to fully close the access door. That meant the lock hadn't engaged. I noticed it and, when no one was around, I went in to see what I could see. There was ductwork and pipes serving both locker rooms. On the ladies' side, there was a large louvered ventilation grid several feet off the floor that returned air to the system. The drywall wasn't flush to the edge of the grid by a few inches, and it was effectively a peep hole. I pressed my eye to the hole and was rewarded with a view of a girl, so close that she was only visible from the knee to the waist. I stared at her vulva, covered with pubic hair. Another girl, showering on the opposite wall, was visible in full body, showing her bare back and buttocks. Water flowed and the girls lathered and washed their bodies. If I moved to my right or left, I could watch others as they entered and exited the shower. All nude, of course.
Now, I'm no pervert. I don't lurk at the bottom of escalators hoping for an upskirt look. But sloppy work fitting the drywall wasn't my doing. Circumstances can conspire to tempt any normal guy. I'm a normal guy.
It became my routine to slip through the unlatched access door in the men's locker room around the time that a women's sports team would be finishing their practice. I had positioned a small stool to sit on, and arranged some snacks and a water bottle to make myself comfortable. And a box of tissues - I'll let you imagine what they were for. I'd settle in my spot and luxuriate in breasts, behinds and vulvas of all sizes and coloration. I loved to watch skin glistening from the soap and water, as body parts moved and jiggled from the washing. After I had my fill (or the girls left - usually the latter), I'd wait until there was no movement on the men's side and quietly exit.
The women's lacrosse team was scheduled to practice that afternoon. I particularly favored the lacrosse team, as all that running gave them nicely toned bodies. I entered my lair; it was to be just a normal day. Until some busybody on the men's side noticed the access door wasn't latched - and pushed it shut. And locked. When I went to make my exit, I was trapped.
There was nothing I could do. I had to knock on the wall until someone finally appeared, and ask to be let out. But the door was locked, and only the custodian had the key. By the time the custodian - and a campus police officer - came to unlock the door, I was busted. Despite having had a lot of time to prepare, I couldn't think of any innocent explanation for my presence in the walls.
"I was just curious what was in there," I pleaded. But the police officer entered himself and found my perch. And the peephole. The next day, I was summoned to the university administrator's office, where I faced off with him and the head of the women's lacrosse team.
"Alex, we've expelled students for less," the conversation started. I pleaded for mercy, citing my excellent academic record, the effect expulsion would have on my mother's frail heart (or did I say it was my father's frail heart? Not sure; no matter.) After an excruciating interrogation, the two campus officials retired to consider my fate.
When they returned, it wasn't what I expected. "There was a time when your expulsion for voyeurism would have been a foregone conclusion," the Administrator began. "But relations between the sexes, and our tolerance of out-of-the-ordinary sexual behavior, have changed. The women on the lacrosse team were consulted on what to do with you. After all, they are the victims here. They asked us not to expel you."
"I'm so grateful," I stammered, with full intention of lighting some candles in church next time I was near one.
"On one condition," he continued.
"What condition?" I asked, nervously.
"The lacrosse team is having the last game of the season next week. They're having a celebratory party afterwards at a local sorority. They want you to be their waiter at the event. And you'll be wearing a black bowtie and shoes. Nothing else."
"Say what?"
"Now, it's pretty unusual, but there is an appropriateness to this punishment. You violated their privacy and ogled them. They are asking to do the same to you. An eye for an eye, so to speak," he said.
My mind was racing a mile a minute. I'm no prude; I've been naked with a woman before, but the woman was too. To be naked around a few dozen clothed women? That's embarrassing. It's insane. But did I have a choice? Expulsion or...
"I'll do it," I said.
