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I’m not some exercise Nazi but I do like to stay in shape. That morning, I did my twenty minutes on the treadmill then some weights then changed for the pool. It wasn’t busy.
It was a modern place, all pristine, white tiles and new age background music that sounded like whales shagging. There were a couple of wrinkly, old blokes sitting around and a middle-aged wifey doing lengths. I’d done mine and was about to go into the sauna and sweat for ten minutes but I stopped by the side of the pool to get a drink from the water fountain. It was near the entrance to the female changing rooms and as I bent my head towards the water I saw her. As my head was at an incline, I got a view of her that started with her bare toes and rose up over her slim, tanned legs and into the white ‘V’ of her bikini bottoms, a little pair that just about covered her lady bits. It was enough to keep her decent but there wasn’t a lot in it. Her stomach was still tanned from months of travelling abroad during the summer and her breasts swelled over her bikini top in a way that left one of the old geezers in the pool standing there with a look of undisguised longing on his face. Her long, blonde hair was tied back for the pool.
‘Hello David,’ she said, smiling at me like she knew exactly how good she looked.
‘Sarah,’ I said, resisting the temptation to say something cheesy like ‘you’ve grown’. I just about managed to avoid sounding like Sid James and instead I said, ‘haven’t you got a proper swimming costume?’
She frowned at me like she didn’t understand what I was talking about, but she knew alright. Sarah Mahoney had to know the effect she was having; on the middle aged bloke pretending to read by the pool as she dropped her towel on one of the loungers next to him, on the old geezer who had stopped staring at her and shuffled off out of there sharpish, in case he got a lob-on for the first time in years, and on me. She must have known the effect she had on me
I was not supposed to find Sarah Mahoney distracting. In fact an inner voice in my head was already cautioning me that even acknowledging the fact she had grown into a very hot young girl indeed was tantamount to suicide. Bobby did not want his pride and joy, his most precious possession, letched at by members of his crew. Bobby, though he makes a lot of his money out of the sex trade, would prefer it in fact if Sarah didn’t have a boyfriend at all until she was at least 25, then immediately married the first nice, harmless guy who took her out. He’s from the old school and what he definitely, categorically does not want is one of his closest men eyeing her up in the swimming pool. Not when he has tasked him with looking after her tonight at her big birthday party.
There is however one slight problem, something that Bobby is in fact quite unaware of. Sarah Mahoney has the hots for me, has done for a very long time. Sarah has fancied me since she was about 16 in fact, before her cute, hard-bodied figure lost all of its puppy fat. I know this because she has made it clear. As crystal. She doesn’t come out and say the words exactly but she can flirt for England.
‘So,’ she said, as she laid her big bath towel out on a lounger, ‘what you doing?’
I shrugged, ‘nothing too knackering, a few lengths. I come here the same time every morning.’
‘Yeah,’ she said, smiling, ‘dad said.’
Of course. I’d mentioned it to Bobby. He must have told her in passing and, the first chance she got, she came down here.
‘So what are you doing here?’ I’m not sure what I’d do if she said ‘I came down here to see you’ but thankfully she took the politician’s tactic and answered a different question to the one I actually asked.
‘Dad bought me a membership.’
‘Nice birthday present.’
‘It was a graduation present,’ and she smiled, ‘he got me the car for my 21st.’
‘Oh yes, the car,’ I was with him the day he picked it out for her down at the dealership, making sure it had every possible safety feature, ‘happy birthday by the way.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Do you always get up this early for a swim on your birthday?’
‘Couldn’t sleep.’
I nodded and looked around us at the plush surroundings of the spa, ‘not a bad gift for graduation either is it? I got a wallet when I got my degree.’
‘Yeah, well, Dad was chuffed. I was the first to get one in our family.’
‘Same here. Of course your old man doesn’t realise they aren’t worth the paper they’re written on these days,’
‘Oi.’ she said.
‘I mean, a trained monkey can get a degree in Media Studies.’
‘True,’ she agreed, ‘but I got a first in Business Administration,’ and she tilted her head to one side and gave me a shitty look like she was saying ‘shove that up yer arse mate’. I have to admit it’s a look that made her seem cute, pretty and endearing all at once.
‘So,’ I said, ‘you swimming or just here to pose? I’m not sure the old guys in here can cope with the excitement.’
‘At least you admit it’s exciting,’ she said, ‘I’ll go in if you’ll keep me company.’
I shrugged, ‘I’m not in any hurry,’ I said, knowing that I should have just told her I was finished then left. It would have been a lot safer but I told myself it was okay, because the one thing I was absolutely not going to do was put my job and my life in jeopardy by fucking Bobby Mahoney’s only daughter. Bobby Mahoney’s gorgeous, young daughter, I thought to myself, as she sashayed ahead of me into the clear, blue water. Bobby Mahoney’s gorgeous, young daughter who fancies me, I concluded, as I watched her cute little bum disappear beneath the surface. She leaned forward and was off, gliding effortlessly through the water.
We did a few lengths then swam over to the corner of the pool where they have three strong jets that you stand under. The water comes down so hard it massages your neck and back. It’s almost as good as a real massage. Normally it’s just relaxing. Of course it’s a bit different when you have a stunning blonde in a tiny white bikini standing opposite you with water cascading down over her breasts and shoulders. The little sod, I thought, she definitely knew how bloody good she looked.
All I got from her was that Mona Lisa smile, ‘how’s your wife?’ she asked, knowing full well that Laura and I were not married.
‘Fine,’ I answered, ‘busy, you know.’
‘Busy,’ her face creased up while she pretended to contemplate this for some hidden meaning, ‘poor you,’ she said, like I was being neglected.
‘Since I’m busy too. . .’ And I shrugged under the water as if it was no big deal.
‘Course,’ she said, like I was telling her porkies. She kneaded her neck under the water jet with her hands and this pushed her chest out. I had to force myself to look away from her breasts. The water was making her nipples hard. They were jutting out through the material, which was sticking to her like clingfilm, ‘great here isn’t it?’
‘Yes,’ I said.
‘Wonder if you can hire it privately,’ she said as she looked at the small collection of oldies around us, ‘you know, for an hour or a morning or something.’
‘Dunno,’ I said, ‘it would cost you.’
‘Yeah,’ she agreed, ‘worth it though. You could go skinny dipping.’
I laughed at the notion.
‘Would you,’ she said, daring me, ‘go skinny dipping?’ and her eyes locked onto mine. They were deep and blue and inviting.
I didn’t answer her for a while. ‘Maybe,’ I said and she smiled, ‘if I was on my own,’ I added.
She frowned, ‘where’s the fun in that?’
‘Come on,’ I said, ‘I’ll buy you a coffee.’
‘We can’t go yet, we’ve not had a smelly shower.’
‘We’ve not had a what?’ I asked.
‘Follow me,’ she told me as she climbed out.
She stood behind me, leaned past me and pressed the button on the shower, then pushed me gently into it until I was under the spray. ‘Tell me that’s not fantastic,’ she challenged.
It was fantastic. I’d assumed the two open shower booths behind the pool, half-hidden by a walled enclosure, were just conventional showers, which was why I’d never been in them. It turned out they were a part of the spa experience I’d been completely unaware of. The water felt great. It was hot and bracing and smelled of something girly.
‘Breathe in,’ she ordered and I did, ‘what’s that smell like?’
‘Like a tart’s window box,’ I told her and received a thump on my back for my troubles.
‘It’s ylang ylang and patchouli.’
‘I think I know them. A couple of Thai hookers?’ and she gave me another thump.
‘Stay there,’ she ordered when the water stopped automatically after a couple of minutes. She leaned forward again so she could press the other button. It was harder to reach and I could feel her left breast pressing against my back for a moment. Next thing, I was shocked by a fine spray of ice cold water.
‘Jesus,’ I hissed.
‘What about that one?’ she asked.
I breathed in, gasped more like, ‘Polo mints,’ I told her, barely able to say the words.
‘Sort of,’ she said, ‘it’s mint anyway. Wakes you up doesn’t it?’ I stepped out once it was over, ‘admit you like my smelly showers,’
‘Not bad,’ I said, ‘although I don’t want to be reeking of My Ding-a-Ling and Me-Julie when I’m out with the lads tonight.’
‘Ylang ylang and patchouli,’ she corrected, leading me out of the way by my arm so she could get in under the hot spray she’d just activated, ‘and don’t wind me up. You’re not out with the lads. You are coming to my party and you know it.’
‘Party?’ my turn to frown at her, ‘what party?’
‘Cruising for a bruising shit bag,’ she told me.
‘Oh yeah,’ I said dumbly, ‘now I remember. We are all off to Pizza Hut and your dad’s ordered a cake with some candles. I think he’s hired a clown as well.’
‘Only clown there tonight will be you. We are off to Café 21, appropriately enough, for dinner, then those who aint too old to cut it, will be going clubbing.’
‘Yeah, I know,’ I admitted, ‘your dad told me, asked me to arrange a driver for your lift home.’
‘He didn’t!’ her little face dropped at the thought of a gnarled gangster like Finney picking her up outside some cool club, ‘who is it?’ I gave her an apologetic look and spread my palms in a ‘little old me’ gesture, ‘really?’ she seemed thrilled, ‘honestly?’
‘Fraid so.’
‘Things are looking up!’