Showing Off at the Pool

by Paul (paulrun4@yahoo.com)

In the summer I swim every day at a city pool after getting off work. I’m a sports caster at the local news station. I look pretty good for my age if I do say so myself but took up the swimming to stay fit.

It’s not a bad pool. Standard Olympic-sized with a couple of diving boards at one end. Pretty basic but that’s just what I need. There’s almost always a lap lane open. I also like it for its men’s locker room. It’s basic too. Concrete walls and floors. One wall lined with urinals, another lined with toilets. No toilet stalls or doors, just concrete dividers for holding toilet paper. A wooden bench in the middle of the room. A few sinks, a mirror. An open shower area with a couple old-fashioned shower stands, the kind that has four nozzles attached to the top of a vertical pipe.

I’m in the habit of showering there every day after my swim. Since I come in the evenings the pool isn’t very crowded but there are always guys coming in and out of the locker room, mostly to take a piss. I usually take the shower head closest to the door. Anybody who walks into the locker room sees me that way. People rarely use the showers, and when they do, they usually keep their suits on. I take everything off, relaxing, washing the chlorine out of my hair, soaping up my body. A whole thorough cleaning.

It’s a public pool so every now and then you get some rough types there. There’s always a police officer hanging around for security. One evening after a good long swim I'd just slipped off my trunks to shower when two fully-uniformed officers walk in. One of them is young, looks like mid-twenties, tall, lean, tan, with a buzzed light brown hair cut. I’ve seen him at the pool once before. The other one is older and stockier. He wears his hair short too. It’s dark with some gray above the side burns. I’m the first thing they see when they walk in. I look up at them and stand there holding my trunks out in front of me. They stop a few feet from the doorway and look around the room authoritatively.

After a few seconds they acknowledge me. The old one takes the lead. Anybody else come through here lately? he asks. He’s all business.

Nope, just me. What’s the problem officer? The young one walks by me and paces around the room a bit, peering over the toilet partitions.

Indecent exposure report, says the old one. He steps by me to glance into the shower. Some creep running around flashing people. Last seen here at the pool, thought he might’ve ducked in the lockers. He stops a few feet away from me and looks me up and down real careful. I keep my trunks held out in front of me, feeling exposed. He’s staring me down and then the young one comes and gives me a thorough once over.

He don’t fit the description, Ned. The guy ain’t here. The old one nods and pulls out his radio. He has big hairy forearms. Then the young one pipes up again. Hey, I’ll be damned, he says. You’re on TV. Real big grin on his face. He recognizes me. I can breathe a little easier. I flash the old TV grin.

Yeah, that’s right, I say. He’s watched my station since high school. He tells me his name and asks me if I remember his team. I look up toward the ceiling to think. I’m getting more comfortable now so I let my suit drop to the bench beside me and cross my arms. After a moment I tell the young guy I can’t recall. So he tells me his name and the school he went to and I manage to place him with the basketball team there. The kid looks thrilled. He glances at the old guy. He’s showing off for him. The old guy has put up his radio and stands there listening with his hands on his hips. Now the young guy wants to talk sports, and here I am, standing naked. I’m happy to oblige because I think the kid is cute. But his boss makes me feel even more naked the way he’s staring me down. It’s okay though. I have nothing to hide.

The old guy doesn’t seem very interested in joining our conversation. He strides over to one of the toilets while we’re talking. He unzips and a stream of piss hits the toilet water. It’s almost loud enough to drown out our talking. It lasts a while. As it fades out he says over his shoulder, Well fellas, hate to interrupt this bull session, but duty calls. He shakes dry and turns around to us abruptly, zipper undone, all of him hanging out there. He isn’t wearing underwear. All of a sudden I feel small and shriveled from the cold water I just walked out of, and I give myself a couple inadvertent nervous tugs. He walks back over toward us and makes a to-do of re-tucking his shirt, still unzipped and hanging out. Looking at his partner he says, Ready to hit the road?

Sure, says the young one, and turns to me, offering his hand. Hey, it was good to meet you.

Good to meet you too, I say, smiling and taking his hand. It’s a firm handshake. When the old guy offers me his hand he’s zipped up again. His handshake is a vice. His look takes in all of me. I notice I’m not so small anymore, and maybe he does too.

Real pleased to meet a celebrity, he says. I just smile. Then I wish them good luck with finding their man, and they thank me while walking out, the young one in front.

I get in the shower. I use one of the less visible ones because now I’m hard and there’s no hiding it. I think about what just happened. The three of us, showing off for each other. Something different about the old guy. I wonder about him. I wonder what it’s like when just the two of them are together.