The best part of it was, she had a routine. He never would have been able to get her if she hadn't been so damn predictable. Sure, she was hot -- long, lean body from her daily workouts, thick dark hair that he had never glimpsed out of its braid, beautiful firm tits. But he wasn't about to go for her in a gym full of old ladies getting their daily workout or soccer moms bringing their kids to practice.
She always avoided the crowds though. She'd show up promptly at 7:30 pm, flash a smile at the clerk manning the front counter, and head downstairs to the locker room. Within 10 minutes she'd be at the pool in her suit, her curves straining at the clinging fabric. She would do an hour of laps, rarely pausing, and get out just as the gym began its usual closing announcements. By 9 pm she was striding with her long legs toward her car. He was always there to watch her.
She'd rejected him, that was why it was her fault he had to get her. He'd attempted to start several conversations with her during her swim, when he had managed to get the lane next to her. She was unfailingly polite and always exchanged a few words with him. She was also obviously uninterested. He still hadn't managed to get her name. God damn it, he just wanted to peel away that swimsuit, put his hands on her, to hear her scream and moan as he pumped into her. It was hard to swim next to her every night with the blood pounding in his ears and an erection in his shorts, her gliding by obviously so unaware of him. It was time for that to change.
It had been snowing that night, a mean, hard ice that clung to the trees and the streets. Only a few diehards were at the gym now, he noted, and wondered if she would be there. Then there she was, striding across the pool deck, nodding to the lifeguard before slipping into the water. He lost the rhythm of his swim and came up choking on water. It didn't matter though. Tonight was the night.
He got out a few minutes before she would, nodding casually to the lifeguard as he walked by, and headed to the locker room. After making a fast stop at his locker he ducked into the women's room.
Fortunately for him it was set up the same as the men's, and it was easy to tell there was nobody in there. He positioned himself on a bench in one of the shower stalls, praying he picked a close one. He heard her come in a few minutes later and start the shower a couple of places down from his. She was humming.
...
She positioned herself under the spray, braced her hands on either side of the shower controls, and closed her eyes, allowing the spray to beat on her neck and run down her back. She sighed then and reached back to pull the elastic from her hair, working a hand through it until the braid had come loose and the wet curls tumbled free. It had been nice tonight, she thought, swimming with hardly anyone else in the pool. Maybe she'd go home and treat herself to a glass of wine with dinner.
She heard motion behind her, but wasn't fast enough to turn before strong hands closed over hers. A large body pressed against her back and pushed her against the wall. Air rushed out of her lungs as she was crushed against the shower controls and she gasped as she fought. It was no competition though; he simply bracketed her wrists with one of his big hands and kept her against the wall with his body weight. She only stopped when she felt something slim and hard pressing against her ribs. The knife would find the swimsuit a paltry defense and slice into her without a problem.
She sagged against the wall then, chest heaving, her wrists still held above her head, and concentrated on regaining her lost air. He was still against her, panting into her ear, and she could feel his erection grinding into her bottom through the thin material of the suit. A distant part of her refused to acknowledge what was going to happen; the rest of her screamed for her to free herself.
