Before I tell you about the next thing that happened to me at the pool where I started to work (you can read about the first thing in Marianne Eats Troy), I should remind you that I'm real and the pool is real so if you want to know anything more about what happened, just ask in comments and I'll get back to you.
Anyway, my second week at work and I was still buzzing from my first-day encounter with Troy, the hot twentysomething who I sucked off behind my counter. Because of that memory and because of all the cute young lads coming past my counter, some of whom I got glimpses of changing through the ever-opening-and-closing doors, I was loving this job.
Thursdays, it turned out, they closed the pool to the general public so that the local university water polo team could use it for practice. And that meant twenty or so fit young men between the ages of 18 and 22 walking past, some of them saying 'Hello Miss' as if I was a teacher or something. It was a little boring as, once they were in, there was nothing else to do but sit and wait for them to come back out again as no one else was allowed in. But the thought of seeing these cute just-showered lads walking back out kept me in place.
So, it wasn't my first week of them coming past but my second that the following happened. They'd all gone in -- 'Hello Miss' -- and done their practice and I could hear them in the changing room changing back, with no randoms going in so no glimpses of them changing. Then I heard voices raised, some bad language and then some clattering. Deep male voices getting heated and more clattering.
Worried that something might be wrong, I charged in to see two of the team having an actual fight, wrestling on the ground and shouting in each other's faces. Standing around them were the others in various states of undress, some almost dressed, some in underwear, some totally naked, covering themselves as soon as they saw me. 'What the hell is going on in here!' I shouted above the din of both the fight and of the other guys cheering them on. Silence. There's something about the voice of a woman in her late 60s that gets young men's attention, whether it's a teacher thing or a grandmother thing. Whatever it was, everyone shut up.
'Now, if you don't want me to get straight onto your university and tell them what's going on here and how the team is no longer welcome at the pool, then you'd better all get dressed on the double and get the hell out...' I said in the same tone. Everyone went straight to it... but don't think I was so angry I didn't get a good look at those young men dropping towels and pulling on underpants: is there anything sexier than a young man pulling on his underpants and readjusting himself in them?
'Not you two,' I said to the guys who had been fighting. 'You go and stand over there until this lot have finished...' I really had no idea why they were taking me so seriously. Whether it was the natural authority of someone who had brought up sons of her own or the threat that they would have nowhere to train if I carried out my threat (not that it was mine to carry out: it would have to be the director) but all these fit young men just did whatever I told them: most of them getting dressed in record time, the two miscreants standing sheepishly in their yellow team Speedos in the corner.
I said nothing, which kind of added to the severity, and soon the last of the team had let the door swing behind him, glancing back at the two trouble-makers left behind with a look of sympathy. I slowly took the huge ring of keys from my apron pocket and went over to the door and locked it, turning back to the two shivering boys, who now looked even more terrified. As well they should.
'So, what the hell is all this about?' I said in my best angry-adult voice.
'He started it,' said one of them, tall, blond, tousled hair, a very lack-lustre bit of beard trying to grow in. He was skinny enough that you could make out some of his ribs but very sweet and clearly very fit.
'No, you started it,' said the other, just as tall but dark with a bit of hair on his chest and fairly hairy legs. His hair was dark and curly, his eyes black and angry-looking.
'How old are you?' I said, severely. 'You sound like a couple of kids?'
'Eighteen,' they both said in unison, one of them adding the word 'Miss'.
'And put your hands by your side when you're talking to me,' I added, noticing they were both modestly covering their bulges with their hands... and I wanted to see those bulges. I wanted to inspect those bulges.
They both did as they were told and just stood there, avoiding catching my eye, waiting to see what I was going to do to them.
'Now, this swimming pool closes especially for your university team and this is how you thank us?' They looked down, embarrassed. 'How do you think the rest of the team would feel about you if I got onto the college and told them about your behaviour and how you were no longer welcome here?'
Neither answered.
'Hmmm?'