The Lockeroom Shower

If I had been asked ten years ago if I'd ever been attracted to a woman the answer would have been a resounding, absolutely-never-ever no. Last night I would have answered the same, though my more mature brain would recognize the answer as false. Today, even after my encounter -- if I can call it that -- I don't know how to answer. Because the truth means something that doesn't quite fit with me. My definition: wife, mother, photographer, artist...fits like an extracted cork to an open bottle with the word lesbian.

As I drove down University Avenue on Tuesday night my mind was on the planet Mars. Venus, the female counterpart, was nowhere to be seen. I'd gotten in an argument with my husband the night before. It had been the most awkward kind of argument a husband and wife can have, the kind about sex...or lack there of.

My husband had asked the dreaded question: "Are you still attracted to me?" And it wasn't my answer that had been the catalyst to the argument, but the delay in the delivery.

"Yes." I'd said, a moment too late. In that second heard round the world, many thoughts had raced through my un-aroused mind. Was he physically attractive? Yes. Did he turn me on?

That was the question that cogged my brain as I stuttered to answer.

He wasn't amused. And even worse off then me, now hopelessly un-aroused. And when you haven't had sex in two weeks, being un-aroused is not a good thing.

This morning he had kissed me with all the gusto of a salty slug and left for work as he always does on a Tuesday morning. I kissed him back, feeling less than the nothing I had felt for some time.

As I pulled into the gym parking lot, I noticed it was empty save for one car parked next to the security light. A pyramid of foamy light pored down around it and I pulled in next to it, shutting off the engine and climbing out.

The woman behind the check-in desk was folding scratchy towels. She glanced at me and held out her hand to take my card. She knew I would need one towel and the locker room door buzzed open. I thanked her, beginning to feel my sour mood fade away.

Swimming was my preferred form of exercise. It allowed me to work various muscles with the added benefit of feeling cool as the silken water washed over me. It was sensual in a way running or weight lifting was not. Evening was the best time to go because I often had the pool to myself.

Tonight was the rare night that another body was in the pool. There was always the lifeguard, a young, black man who liked to watch me as I swam. His open appraisal had fueled more than a few fantasies during my late night swims.

I sat on the edge of the pool and dipped my calves into the warm water. I recognized the woman who swam next to me as she drew closer. She often exercised at the same time I did, though not in the pool. Her stroke was impressive -- smooth and even, not a beginner for sure. I let my thoughts linger on the woman as I pulled the cap over my long hair.

She was the kind of woman who had no shame when it came to her body. She floated through the locker room in only a towel -- not wrapped around her body, but her hair. She would stand under the hair dryer, back arched, pushing her perfect breasts into the air as she ran her fingers through her long hair.

I envied her, to say the least, and often fought my urges to stare at her curvy figure. My stares were not just about jealousy or appreciation; I knew that, but also about longing. And desire. I wondered what it was like for her husband to have that body in bed every night. Did he love her breasts as much as I did?

I slipped into the water and stretched my hamstrings, trying to think of something else. I was obviously under-sexed and leaching onto any action I could get. God, I really am pathetic, I thought. If she knew what I was thinking she'd probably switch to the furthest lane in the pool.

I dove forward through the water. It washed over me in exhilarating waves, exciting my already stimulated mind and body. I turned to the side for air, sweeping my right arm down and to my side. The woman passed me at the same time, making the same motion I was. The last thing I saw before my face broke the surface and I sucked in a gasping breath was the swell of her breasts at the neckline of her suit.

How had my eyes locked there so quickly? It was as if I'd been waiting for it...as if I'd been hungering for another glance.

Feeling more pervert than ever, I swam harder, pushing my body past my usual warm up into an all-out sprint. I needed to clear my head, empty the fog that had built up around my mind.

To my great relief, the woman exited the pool. She must have been here for awhile -- or she felt my stare even under the water and couldn't bear to be ogled during her workout.

I swam for another thirty minutes, pushing my body to the point of exhaustion. My arms shook as I lifted myself out of the pool. I had to take slow, even steps to control the shake in my legs as I slipped into my water shoes and headed back to the locker room.

The workout had done the trick. I felt incredibly light when I was done. Clearer than before -- less tight, more fluid.

At the top of the stairs in my gym is a long, open shower. On the far side is a door leading to the locker room. Six showerheads line the wall on the right side, paralleled by a white shelf where you can hang towels and baskets of toiletries.

The shower was empty, of course. I was the only one at the gym. I was so exhausted that the effort to peel off my suit was almost too much and when it was finally off I leaned against the tile wall, letting the hot water cascade over my naked body.

I stood there for maybe half a minute before I was startled out of my half-dream state by the creak of a door. The only other person I thought was in the gym was the lifeguard which made me turn around to see who had entered.

It was the woman, in all her one-towel glory which she now draped over her bare arm.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you," she said, setting her towel on the shelf. A bead of water from the ceiling dropped down and landed on her bare chest. She didn't seem to feel it and I was yet again caught staring at her breasts. I turned back to the wall.

She stepped beside me and turned on the water. I couldn't fathom why she would have chosen that shower, the one right next to me, out of all the others. Wasn't there some unspoken shower etiquette that said you should at least space yourself by two shower heads?

I bent down and picked up my shampoo bottle, hoping to cover the bare essentials of showering and then make a quick exit. I filled my palm with the green slime and lathered my hair with it.

I could feel every bead of water that showered down on me. I could hear every move she made and ever bubble pop on my hair. I was over-stimulated, over-aware and in way over my head. Try as I might I couldn't stop my eyes from darting to her.

She raised her arm to rinse out her hair and my eyes latched onto the side of her breast like a starving babe. They swayed gently as her arms moved and a thick cloud of bubbles foamed down from her hair to caress her nipple.

I forced myself to stare at the nozzle of my shower as I let the water run over my hair. I had to turn around so that I could lean my head back when I was again assaulted by her body.

She was too close and my peripheral vision was too good. I could see her, even though I wasn't looking. I turned back around to grab the soap and my eyes, being the traitors they were, watched her as I passed. I picked up the soap and began washing my body as if I was covered in some hidden parasite that I couldn't get off fast enough.

"Get a good look?" she said.

I froze, horror-struck. I'd been caught. Of course I'd been caught. She would have to have been blind not to notice my covert ogling.

"I'm sorry..." I said, the words freezing in my throat. I thought honesty would be the best policy. "You have a beautiful body. I don't mean to creep you out."

"I don't mind."

Yeah, right, I thought. The same way you don't mind being thrown up on by someone else's baby.

"Sorry," was all I could say as I reached to shut off the shower. Conditioner seemed like an unnecessary extravagance at the time.

"I like you watching me."

My hand froze on the cold nozzle. Heat flushed my entire body as I fought the urge to run, to escape the unknown arena of female honesty I was about to enter. After the way my eyes had drank in her body for the past few minutes you would think they would have no problem returning to her, but instead it took every ounce of energy I had left to look at her.

She was turned toward me, her wet body less than an arm's length from mine. It was the first time I'd ever really looked at her face. She had dark hair that was slicked back and disappeared behind her shoulders. Her eyes were a warm brown, her features plain yet pleasing. It was her body that was extraordinary.

"Do you want to touch me?" she asked.

And there it was: another pivotal question that had my mind careening with the multitude of consequences resulting from my answer. My delay didn't seem to bother her, especially when I answered, my voice full of certainty I didn't feel, "Yes."

She took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. She'd done it on purpose -- a silent cue to where she wanted to be touched. And it was a yearning so deep, that I now wonder how I had lived without it.

I stepped forward. It was all it took to reach her and before I could talk myself out of it, I reached for her. My touch was at first tentative, cupping the underside of her breast with almost feather-like pressure.

She moaned and leaned into the caress, spurring my efforts and my own resolve. I knew that an opportunity like this would never present itself again. I knew that this was much more about me than her -- and I wanted to know.

I cupped her breasts with both hands, molding the swollen flesh. Her nipples poked through my spread fingers and I felt my womb clench in foretaste. I was burning with arousal, my body humming in hunger for this woman's flesh.

I licked my lips, wanting to know how she tasted. Wanting to know how that tight nipple would feel against my tongue. Wanting her to moan again.

"Do it," she said, understanding my desires.

The water poured down around us, encasing us in steam and mist. I leaned forward and touched the tip of my tongue to her nipple. She rewarded me with the moan I'd been waiting for as I swirled the tip of my tongue around her areola.

She tasted clean and fresh; her skin was surprisingly hot. I drew her flesh deep into my mouth and this time the moan was my own as I felt my vagina clench and throb in wanting.

The arousal that burned its way through my body was shocking in intensity. It was stronger than I could have imagined experiencing, almost painful in its emptiness. I took more of her into my mouth, squeezing her breasts as if I would die without them.

She stepped closer and wrapped her arms around me, holding my head as I pleasured her.

In frenzied desire I clung to her, switching to her other breast which I showered in kisses before taking her nipple into my mouth. I flipped the tight bud against my tongue and then sucked, hard. It was delicious in the most unsound of ways. It made no sense. Her breasts were like a drug, a silent muse to my soul, pulling me ever further into her embrace.

Our bodies were flush and I began to gyrate against her, unable to stop myself. My hips moved in rhythm to my mouth, unstoppable.

She pushed her knee forward, forcing my legs apart. I spread them willingly as she rested her hands on my rear, guiding my thrusts against her.

I pulled away from her breast, fearing I was taking too much. I was like an animal unleashed and feasting on its first and only meal. Her eyes were hooded and her lips parted in desire. To know that she was taking as great a pleasure from my mouth as I was drove me over the edge as I ground my clit against her thigh.

She reached between us and with two fingers parted my lips so that my clit was flush with her wet skin. I ground harder, amazed at how close I was to orgasm.

She cupped her breast in offering and I complied, taking her nipple more gently this time between my lips. I worshiped her body with my hands and my mouth as I rocked to orgasm. I noticed her hand between her legs, rubbing vigorously at her clit as I came.

I shook against her and after one last hard pull on her nipple she came, shouting her cries of pleasure through the shower room.

My body shook as I stepped away from her. For the first time I realized where we were and how at any moment someone could have walked in and caught us. Fear washed over me at the thought. What had I done?

I was possessed -- completely enthralled to the point of delirium.

The woman, whose name I had yet to learn, seemed shaken as well and I feared she was about to run away screaming.

"You're very good at that," she said, catching her breath.

I was awash in relief and drowning in desire. Again -- damn them! -- my eyes were on her breasts. But this time I looked with less innocence than before for I had learned their mysteries. I yearned for more.

"I'm Sarah, by the way," she said, smiling. I smiled back and a laugh bubbled out of my throat. She returned it with gusto, her sweet bell-laugh vibrating through the small room.

"Nice to meet you Sarah. I'm Ann."

I stepped back under the flow of water still falling from the shower and reached down to grab the conditioner.

"Um," she said, watching me. "We should hang out some time."

I ran the cream over my hair and tried to dislodge some of the tangles.

"You're married?" I asked. I'd seen the ring on her finger but after what just happened I wasn't quite sure what that meant.

"Yes. So are you."

There was a long silence while we finished our showers. She was the first to turn off the water.

"Listen, if you don't want this to go any further, that's fine. No pressure. But what just happened was really nice...and I would like for it to happen again."

"Does your husband know?"

She walked away from me and grabbed her towel. She wrapped it around her wet hair, not bothering to dry her body. Beads of water clung to her as mercilessly as I had, willing themselves to soak into her, to be closer than humanely possible.

"No," she said. "Does yours?"

"I didn't even know," I said.

She smiled as if she understood though I doubted she really did. "I'll be here tomorrow night."

"OK."

"Same time?"

"Yeah." I felt my desire building again, a sexual anticipation I hadn't felt in years. To think that I could have this again...that I would have to hide it didn't really bother me. What happened between me and Sarah was as natural as the water that washed over our bodies as we came. As right as the pleasure we found in each other's arms.

We dressed beside our lockers in silence, each lost in thought. And that didn't uncomfortable either because I didn't really know Sarah and idle conversation would have been forced.

We walked out together, and the woman at the check-out counter showed no interest in our sudden togetherness. Of course not, women are together all the time. The young lifeguard watched us change numbers in the parking lot under the wash of the flickering security light and thought nothing of it. Women talk all the time.

As I drove home, my wet hair drying against my back, the radio loud and blaring through the open windows, I thought of my husband. And for the first time in a long time, I was anxious to get home. My desire was not yet sated and I needed a different kind of love tonight. The kind a woman can only find in a man's arms. And I wanted it. Not with the frenzied need that I wanted Sarah...but still a need.

I smiled as the street lights flashed by. Somehow, in my lonely trip to the gym, I'd found what I hadn't even known I was looking for. I touched my pocket and felt the small piece of paper folded in inside that had Sarah's number on it. My husband would be happy to hear I'd made a new friend.