The Pool of Lust

My first adult job after leaving school was as a pool lifeguard. Many of my friends, male and female, worked at the local swimming pool, which made shifts fun to do. Constant training gave us pool-fit bodies, sculptured and toned, that differentiated us from our peers, and the many residents of this small town, whose ideas of exercise were the pool table and trips to the bar. My friend, Lyndon, also worked at the swimming pool, and in time the two of us would explore our bisexual interests a few years later when we attended university.

During my second season as a lifeguard, I'd broken up with my non-work-related girlfriend and was feeling somewhat gutted by the lack of female opportunities in this small town. Sure, my female colleagues were gorgeous, and many of them were single, but my mother cautioned me about workplace romances, advising me about how they can destabilise the office dynamic regardless of whether relationships succeed or fail. When they fail, I was told sternly, it usually means the end of the line for one party because they resign.

So, with that advice remaining clear and present in my mind, I ignored my female colleagues as potential suitors. However, not everyone who worked at the pool were as wised-up about office romances, and unbeknownst to me, my single status was the talk of several female colleagues. There were three specifically from a pool of ten that harboured designs on me: Fiona, Rachel and Emma.

Fiona was a tall, stocky, sandy haired beauty and was well proportioned up top. Of the three, she took the least interest in our competitive fitness regime and so wasn't as toned as she could be. Fiona also had a reputation with men and had acquired it well before she became an adult. We were the same age and graduated from the same high school together. She had dated Lyndon a few years earlier before either of them started working together but was now single.

Rachel was Lyndon's age and two years older than me. Taller than Fiona but slimmer, toned, with long, luxurious legs, and much more modest chest endowment. Rachel had a reputation for being a sloppy drunk, and for getting into situations, which later proved embarrassing. Indeed, I almost fell afoul of my ex-girlfriend one Saturday night when it looked as if Rachel and I were getting it on when in fact I attempted to prop up a barely conscious Rachel in a crowded pub. Not a good luck that's for sure. Of the three girls, Rachel was the one that I had a slight crush on, but I felt confident that she had no interest in me. Ultimately, I was wrong about that, but I missed my opportunity when I left for university and never saw her again.

Emma had the best body of them all, super toned with a firmer chest but not as large as Fiona's. She was slightly shorter than me with long, black hair, a gorgeous hooked nose that's wasn't too pronounced. Emma was intelligent, ambitious and driven. Her career goal was to become a surgeon, eventually realised, and had recently come out of a relationship with a teacher at the high school (such liaisons are illegal now). Emma and I were friends since childhood, having been members of the swimming club and competed in local competitions. She went to a different high school from me but joined mine for the last two years until graduation. I considered her a very close friend, but damn she was sexy. We almost hooked up at the pool Christmas party, but one too many drinks and an indiscrete comment ruined that opportunity forever.

One day, during high summer, Fiona, Rachel and I had the day free, although Fiona and I were rostered for a three-hour evening shift. The three of us hopped in Rachel's car and drove to the coast for a couple of hours. The weather was great, cloudless and hot. The sea was running a mild swell, and many professional surfers were riding the larger waves at the southern end of the beach.

The seafront was a gaudy agglomeration of amusement arcades, unhealthy fast food outlets and tacky souvenir shops that were all doing a brisk trade with the tourists. At one point during our amble along the seafront, one of the arcade's had a coin-operated "love tester" machine on the footpath. There were five ways to measure one's desirability to the opposite sex: Cold Fish; Lukewarm Fish; Hubba Hubba; Casa Nova; and Hot Tamale. For laughs, the two girls each dropped a coin in the slot; both reached Hubba Hubba with a struggle; and both giggled. I was then badgered to try my luck, and after some persuasion, I relented. I parted with my coin and gripped the handle. In a nano-second, the lights illuminated to all the way to Hot Tamale which cause the girls to completely lose their shit. I recall glowing, bright red with embarrassment.

Later, we sat on the beach and shared a portion of fish & chips, and my gaze wandered over to the waves. I asked the girls if they fancied joining me for a swim, but both declined. Undeterred, I decided to hire a surfboard from one of the vendors dotted along the beach and check out the waves. While I wasn't a hardcore surfer like those at the southern end of the beach by any means, I enjoyed the surf only in the high summer months with my ability to "ride" the wave was successful about one in every five attempts. Plus, surfing requires a level of fitness so much higher than a mere pool-fit body, becoming beach-fit required a higher level of commitment than I was prepared to invest.

I discarded my shirt, kicked off my runners and entered the cold sea wearing just a pair of shorts, the ones I was going to work in later that day. The sea was initially biting as I tentatively entered it, but once I leapt over the first wave and adjusted to the shock, I got going. Given the modest size of the waves, I had a relatively productive round on the surfboard, gently coasting the swell and remaining upright with a higher frequency than my average. Alas, the strain and the temperature of the water took its toll, and I quit within half-an-hour.

As I exited the surf and walk up the beach towards the girls, I noticed they were staring intently at me, exchanging words and bursting into spontaneously laughter. It appears I was the butt of jokes. After I returned the board, I towelled dry and put my shirt back on and sat down beside them.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing." Replied Rachel.

"We were commenting on how good you are on the board." Added, Fiona unconvincingly.

"No, seriously, what were you laughing at?"

"You're shape," Said Rachel.

"My what?"

"You're very...hard."

Raucous laughter ensued, but I was perplexed.

"Hard?"

"Yes," Offered Fiona, in between bouts of giggling, "Quite the six-pack you've got there."

"You've seen it before," I replied, alluding to the competitive training we do each day before opening the pool to customers.

"I haven't seen it for ages. You're looking more toned than ever." Both girls exchanged knowing glances.

True, of all the staff, Fiona and Rachel trained the least, but my fitness regime hadn't altered that much in two years although I had recently broken the pool, and my own personal best, time for 100 metres freestyle, breaststroke and butterfly. The previous times had stood for some years and were set by the Beaumont twins who were phenomenally powerful swimmers in their day and popular lifeguards.

I opened the tunic of my shirt and looked down. Yes, I was looking pretty good, but I'd never previously stopped to examine my own level of fitness. To me, training was competitive, and I trained to win. I also played badminton and squash, again not for fitness per se but to win the championships. I was the undefeated champion of the former sport in the local competition, but no way near enjoyed the same degree of success with the latter. At no time was I visiting the gym and "working out" on my physique.

"Hmm, you don't get too many of those in a biscuit tin," I said, hamming it up by quoting a line from the un-PC comedy Med Behaving Badly.

"Absolutely!" Rachel.

"Hot!" Fiona.

"Are you guys flirting with me?"

Both girls erupted in fits of laugher again.

"Well?" I asked with a smile.

"Oh, Jason," answered Rachel, "That's quite an ego you have."

"Thanks!"

The three of us enjoyed the banter, but I noticed the way they looked at me behind their sunglasses was different. It was a furtive glance here, or a flirty peek there, combined with a knowing glance at each other with a smile or a laugh. This went on for some time but, try as I might, I could not get any information out of them, so I simply laid back on my towel and let Mr Sun dry me out and warm me up.

Alas, it was time to leave as Fiona and I had the late shift at the pool. Retracing our steps along the seafront, either I walked faster, or they walked slower, but somehow, I gained a length on them, and I could hear their incessant giggling again.

"What?" I asked, turning to face them, "Have I soiled myself or something?"

Again, the girls lost their shit, doubling over with laughter and falling into each other.

"Of course not."

"Then why are you staring at my arse?"

"Who said we are?" Rachel.

"It is nice arse, though." Fiona.

"Stop objectifying me!" I challenged, in jest, "Unless you're going to back it up with action."

"Who said we're objectifying you?" Rachel.

"Might just do that." Fiona.

I turned to face them again, walking backwards, outstretched my arms and told them that I was too much man for them. Predictably, they burst into howls of laughter while I turned around and ambled forward again.

The truth was that I was a raging mass of hormones since my acrimonious breakup with my ex-girlfriend earlier in the yeart. We had sex every waking moment, and I was missing that intimacy. Since my breakup, I had some one-night stands with local "girls" that were mostly awful, but one experience was great.

Jennifer was a cousin of a mate, she lived on the opposite side of the country in a large city, had enormous breasts whose cup size was at the lower end of the alphabet and was four years older than me. Jen was a bundle of fun, a committed drinker and partier. She was also more experienced in the arts of love and took my anal virginity the previous Easter. While she came to town as often as she could, a relationship wasn't really a possibility since I was due to depart for university in a few months that would increase the distance between us. Anyhow, the lack of getting laid regularly was extremely frustrating for me, but I doubted neither Rachel nor Fiona were being real, and then there was my mother's advice.

As we made our way to Rachel's car, I could hear them murmuring and laughing, but I didn't challenge them anymore. The car journey home was unremarkable and lacked any flirtier exchanges. Fiona was dropped off at her house first, and I was second.

"See you shortly?" I said to Fiona as she exited the car.

"Yep." Came the simple, unemotional reply.

About an hour later, I walked into the pool and signed in. There was no sign of Fiona, but she wasn't as diligent as 95 percent of our colleagues. An evening shift consisted of three staff, typically. Tonight, Fiona and I were joined by Granville an older, more experienced lifeguard who was duty manager. Everyone wanted to be on shift with Granville because he was the most relaxed, the most humorous and the only manager to actively teach us young'uns how to manage a swimming pool.

Personally, in my two years working at that pool, I learned so many managerial skills that assisted my later, non-pool career. Except, tonight Granville looked and sounded terrible, appearing to be suffering flu on a hot and humid summer evening. Nothing could be worse.

Fiona ambled in ten minutes late, as usual. Dressed in the green polo sweater, a size or two too small, which accentuated her endowed chest and blue tracksuit pants that comprised our uniform. She smiled and waved at me but otherwise, it was business as usual as we got on with our shift, with no hint of the flintiness earlier in the day.

Evenings were the busiest but most satisfying shifts because of a myriad of extra tasks that need to be done before the pool closed. Duties included water testing, acid washing the toilets and showers, cashing up and replenishing the vending machines, as well as ensuring patrons didn't drown.

The pool deck itself was fully enclosed with enormous glass windows and roofing that allowed for maximum sunlight. Given the heat of the day, the ambient temperature was blistering, well over 40 degrees Celsius with a humidity level that was off the scale. The only relief from this wall of heat came from the emergency evacuation doors, but, since there wasn't a whiff of wind outside, there was no succour. This shift was effectively completed in a sauna, and the sweat was never ending.

Poor Granville suffered the most. The pallor of his skin was pale and deathly, but, despite this, he remained in good spirits as we completed the first pool side patrol together with Fiona attending the kiosk in the reception area. When the first hour elapsed, Granville looked at me, and with a hoarse but amused voice told me go to the staff "lounge" and change my top as it looked as if I'd just emerged fully clothed from the pool itself.

The description of "lounge" was widely deceptive. It basically consisted of separate male and female bathrooms that opened onto a central room with lockers on the walls and a wooden bench in the centre. On top of the bench were two containers. The first, white, crate contained freshly laundered uniforms: green polos and a mix of blue shorts or blue tracksuit pants. The second, black, box was for dirty uniform. Basically, the pool provided the uniforms and laundered them for staff three times a week. It was first come, first served for fresh staff uniforms. As a result of these containers, there wasn't a lot of space to sit on the bench. These three rooms were badly designed, cramped and impersonal. The locker room opened to a short hallway that lead to the pool deck through one door and the reception through the other.

I wandered into the staff lounge, whipped off my shirt and flung it into the dirty laundry container. As I rummaged through the white container searching for a shirt that fit, I heard the toilet flush in the female bathroom and out came Fiona still wearing long pants despite the heat. I was bare chested and dripping with sweat, holding a fresh shirt.

"You should give a girl warning before you remove your top!"

Her candour took me aback for a second before I smiled and replaced the shirt.

"I'd say the same if you were topless."

"Like this, you mean?" And with that, Fiona pulled up her shirt to reveal a one-piece swimsuit with a pair of big tits straining against the fabric.

"Nice!" I said in admiration, but, in truth, I've seen Fiona in a swimsuit many times, so she wasn't revealing anything new to me.

"Better get back on deck!" I said shuffling to the door.

"Here, let me sort you out!" Said Fiona as she grabbed the collar of my shirt.

I turned to face her and stared directly into her eyes; blood frozen in my veins. Fiona was folding my collar and, when done, looked at me, and I saw her pupils dilate. Our faces were literally centimetres from each other, but neither of us made a move. Time seemed to stop, and I could hear my heat thumping in my chest, but then it resumed, and she released her hands from my collar and turned away. With that, I exited and re-joined Granville pool side with an uncomfortable bulge in my shorts.

"All good?" Asked Granville.

"Yeah, why?"

With an amused eye, despite suffering so, he observed Fiona, and I exit the staff lounge together.

"And?"

"Just wondering?"

"You know something?"

"Nothing at all." He walked away towards the pool covers on the opposite side.

Granville was a lady's man and flirted outrageously with staff and his boss, despite being married with children. I met his wife, and while she's lovely, she's not at all easy on the eye. Emma had a soft spot for Granville but never pursued anything because he was overtly chasing his superior who managed all the leisure facilities in the local government area.

Sally, our boss, was easy on the eye, single, mature and great fun. After a gruelling Saturday night on the grog one time, I walked her home, all two miles to an adjacent village without any disreputable motives. I was merely being chivalrous given the lack of taxis at that time of night. At her home, we stayed up for hours talking and drinking, but nothing happened except me straggling the two miles back to my place with foot blisters.

Between 8 and 9pm, Monday through Thursday was adult's hour at the pool. The kids are kicked out, and the mood lighting kicked in. Such nights reminded me of my Ex as we would occasionally participate when I wasn't working. On more than one night when the pool was full of adults, I fucked her in the shallows without detection. Sex in water is not as easier as it seems, but it is pleasurable.

After completing an hour or so in the kiosk, I returned pool side for the last half hour with a visibly failing Granville. I offered to close the pool with Fiona so that he could go home early, which he was grateful for because he had faith in me that I would take care of business. Granville agreed to leave at 9pm - thirty minutes earlier - once the pool had booted the customers out. Policy dictated two lifeguards to be on duty simultaneously.

There was no escape from the relentless heat and humidity, and therefore no relief from the sweat. I was drenched within ten minutes of joining Granville, who was in the same boat. We sounded the time warning at 8.50pm, and patrons departed for the changing rooms. Hopefully, they would make haste and leave enabling Fiona and I to shut up shop by 9.30pm, the official end of our shift.

As the hand struck 9pm on the Speedo clock, Granville enthusiastically departed but not before a warm thank you for my consideration. I walked through the male changing room and noticed very few people left. Fiona noted the females were hanging around, which meant we couldn't start hosing down the changing rooms. The till takings and the office were locked as were the doors to the pool deck; therefore, there was no need to supervise the patrons as they left the building.

"Fancy a swim while we wait?" Asked Fiona as we stood together on the pool deck.

"Nah, man," I replied, observing the mist of steam emanating from the surface of the water, "I'm pretty tired from surfing."

"Suit yourself." And with that, Fiona disrobed and dived into the 27.5 degrees Celsius water. How such a water temperature would be refreshing was baffling.

"I'll check the water quality and take a shower," I shouted to Fiona, resting in the shallows.

Since it was the end of the day, the full test needed to be performed, so I made my way to the testing area behind the staff lounge and began the task which took about ten minutes after all the logging was completed.

Feeling utterly exhausted and dripping with sweat, I walked to the reception area and yelled into each changing room, announcing a walkthrough. When no answer came back, I went to the main doors and locked them. I closed the emergency doors that did fuck all to alleviate the heat and so secured the building. Now, the last few maintenance tasks needed to be done before going home.

On the pool deck, Fiona had finished her swim and was showering, so I pulled the pool covers on and went to the staff lounge.

"All locked up!" I yelled at the door to the female bathroom. No response.

I walked into the male bathroom to be stunned by its occupant. Fiona draped in a towel was sat on the toilet.

"That means we're alone."