I must admit to owning a little bit of the blame for what happened. If pressed I'd even go so far as to say the main fault lay with me. Of course, if you want to be technical about it, the entire thing was my fault. And all I did was turn in the wrong direction.
I'd recently moved to a new area. With the first really hot summer day I went to the local pools. Not a bad place, I found. I like swimming and I stayed there as long as possible, finally getting a pointed suggestion from one of the staff that I should go away as they wanted to shut up shop.
I climbed out of the pool and headed towards the changing rooms. It's one of these deals where they have a common main entrance to the change-rooms and the toilets. You walk into this short rotunda and you have men's change rooms and toilets to the left and women's to the right. I just turned left and waltzed straight on in.
I guess I should have paid more attention to the signs. Men to the left and women to the right was what I was used to in the pool I used to go to. Other way around in this case.
Normally in a situation like this you realise you're in the wrong room and change direction smartly, getting out while you're still in one piece. In this particular case there was a slight hitch that precluded me making that swift about-turn.
The hitch was about five foot three and a hundred and fifteen pounds, and each one of those inches and every single pound had been put together with loving care. I mean, she was gorgeous. Early twenties, blonde, blue eyes, a very nice set of breasts that were not overly large, and a figure that curved in all the right places. With her colouring she must have had her share of Scandinavian blood. She had also been slightly naughty at some stage because what tan she had seemed to be very evenly applied, with no tan lines.
Now the reason that I know beyond a doubt that she was truly blonde and had no tan lines was because of what she lacked, and that was clothes.
If there had been other people in the change room I'd have snapped out of my trance and bolted, carrying an indelible memory with me. But she was the only person there and I just stood and stared.
A rage of expressions flickered across my new friends face. Shock, embarrassment, anger and irritation, and finally, fear. That last one confused me until I looked at the situation from her point of view. She was alone and naked and a strange man had just barged in on her and was standing there, eyeing her off. The silence from the pool area would have been a stark reminder that the place was closing down and we were probably the last two people in the place.
The red from anger and embarrassment faded, leaving her very pale. Her hands started to try to hide her vulnerability but then fell helplessly by her side. She seemed resigned, as though whatever was going to happen would happen.
"Alright, there's no need to be rough," she said quietly, probably hoping to placate me. "I'll do what you want. Just go easy."
It actually took me a few moments to catch on to what she meant. I'd never considered myself a rapist and it came as a bit of a shock to find that she did see me that way. I was feeling quite narked over that.
"Well, that's great," I said, smiling. "Do you have a favourite position? I mean, I wouldn't want to choose a style you don't like."
"What?"
I sighed, loudly. "The position you prefer when you get attacked. I mean, do you like to lie flat on your back, lean against a wall, bend over a nearby bench? Would you like to turn around and touch your toes so I can make an assessment?"
She was looking at me as if I was insane. I was trying to look as though I expected her to follow my suggestion.
"Are you insane," she asked, sounding even more nervous.
"I don't think so, but the jury is still out on that question. Until they decide, I'm claiming sanity. Um, are you saying you don't want to bend over and present yourself? Pity. Ah, have you got a blanket handy that I can spread on the floor? It looks a bit cold the way it is."
There was a sparkle in her eyes now and she was getting quite irritated.
"No. I don't have a blanket handy. You have no intention of raping me, have you?"
"Hey, be reasonable. It's not my normal way of doing things, but I'm quite ready to oblige you. You shouldn't dismiss my abilities just because I'm new to rape. I might have a natural talent for it."
She was glaring at me now, furious.
"What the hell are you doing here?"
"Oh, I just turned the wrong way when going to get dressed. The pool I'm used to have the change rooms the other way round and I just turned left from habit and voila, here I am."
"But why are you still here?" she shrieked.
"Have you looked in a mirror? Why do you think I'm still here? If you'd told me to get out at once I would have bolted. Since you didn't I thought I'd enjoy the view while I can. You're really something to see, especially dressed the way you are."
Flattery didn't work. She just shrieked, "Get out," flinging out an arm to point to the door. My, her breasts bounced in a most delightful manner.
I put on a remorseful expression, hung my head and sidled towards the door, keeping tossing glances back at her as I went. She was well worth a few last glances.
After that I hit the men's change room, showered and dressed.
Walking out to where I'd parked I found Blondie out there already, looking at a car and muttering under her breath about a flat tyre. Now I can be a gentleman at times. I offered to change the wheel for her.
The offer was refused. I wasn't worth talking to, it appeared. I shrugged, leaned back against a handy post and watched and waited while Blondie set to work. She was quite efficient. She loosened the wheel after a bit of a struggle, a few rude words and a couple of pointed suggestions that I push off. Then she jacked up the car very efficiently and finished removing the wheel. With the wheel off she went and took out her spare. A bit heavy for her but she managed, giving me a triumphant look as she bounded it down onto the ground. That's when I felt I really had to step in.
"Sorry to break it to you," I said, "but that wheel is even flatter than the one you took off."
She tossed me an irritated look and then what I'd said registered. She almost ricked her neck she turned it so fast to check her spare. It may not have been flatter than the one she took off, but it was just as flat. Poor Blondie looked as though she was going to burst into tears.
"OK, girl, enough stuffing around. I'll put your wheels in the back of my van and we'll go down to where-ever you get your tyres done and get them fixed up. You can consider this my apology for upsetting you earlier."
She bit her lip, not wanting to, but it was either go with my helping hand or call up someone to come and give her a hand.
"Hey, don't be silly," I said gently. "If you call a garage to come they'll charge through the nose. If you call for a friend you may be stuck here for hours. Just throw some nasty thoughts at me and lock up your car while I load the tyres."
With that I picked up the two wheels and strolled over to my van. She watched me for a second then hastily started locking up her car. (Yes, I picked up both wheels. Maybe I was showing off a little. So sue me.)
"I'm Paul," I told her when she got in the van, hoping to break the ice a little.
"Lynette," she said. Just that. Nothing more.
"You'd better give me directions. I'm new in town."
She silently pointed. Cold shoulder all the way, apparently.
She finally broke the silence.
"You scared the hell out of me back at the pool. I was thinking I was going to end up a statistic on a police file. Why the hell didn't you just turn and walk out when you saw you were in the wrong change-room?""
"Um, yes, sorry. The problem was that when I walked in and saw you standing there I just froze. All I could do was look at you. The only thought that went through my mind was 'Dear god. What is this miracle you have place in front of me'."
