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Index > Nancy
By Sam

Everybody needs something in their life that will reliably make them feel better when they need cheering up. Going swimming is mine. No matter how bad I feel, going swimming never fails to make me feel good. One sunny day last June, I needed it more than most and I got just what I wanted.

It was a Sunday. I woke up early and reached out to the warm body of my boyfriend. I was soft and warm and naked, and I wrapped myself around him, hoping to wake him up. I lay with my head on his chest, my arm across his stomach, and let my hand wander slowly southwards. I was hoping for a long lazy morning of sex and cuddling and talking, followed by a cooked breakfast, more sex�you know the drill. As my fingertips slipped under the waistband of his shorts, my fast-asleep boyfriend grabbed my wrist and flung my arm off him. Never one to give up easily I wrapped my arm over his stomach and round his back and squeezed. He sat up abruptly, throwing me off him.

�What�s up with you?� I leant up on one elbow, staring at his broad back, his untidy hair.

�Nothing, I�m not in the mood that�s all. I was asleep.�

�Well you�re awake now, might as well make the most of it�. I stroked his side. He grunted and leaned over on his side, and started putting on a t-shirt.

�Hey, what are you doing? Come back to bed.� I tried to pull him towards me.

�I said I�m not in the mood!�

�Please. Please just come back to bed.�

He was out of bed now, escaping my grasp. I had his fingers in my hand.

�Don�t beg.�

�Please, I want you�

�I said don�t beg! It�s degrading�

He pulled on his jeans and stomped out the door. Not as degrading as having a boyfriend who won�t fuck you, I thought. What�s wrong with me? I stretched my arm above my head, then brought my right hand down over my hair � long and dark and soft and shiny � my collar bones, my breasts � nice and round, not too small and not too big- over the nice curve of my hips and bum � it was a nice body, many men would have been happy to wake up to this, surely, but just not this man. I could hear him stomping about downstairs, making coffee and putting last night�s dishes away. I knew if I hung around we would just end up fighting and I�d get depressed. I got up and quickly got dressed.

�I�m going swimming, I�ll see you later.� I went straight out so we couldn�t end up talking, and fighting, and drove to the pool.

I paid my money and walked purposefully to the changing room, smelling the chlorine and hearing the banging of the locker doors opening and closing. I felt at home in this environment. I took off my clothes and put on my black bikini. I�ve always been quite a shy person; more of a swimsuit person than a bikini one, but daring to wear a bikini actually makes me feel better. I put my clothes in the locker. I checked my reflection and surveyed myself in the mirror as I pulled my hair into a ballerina�s knot. My breasts looked fuller than usual. I pulled my stomach muscles in and looked at myself side on. I was still smarting from this morning. I didn�t know whether to feel angry or sad.

As soon as I entered the water I felt better. The water folded around me like a fluid blanket, and as I pushed off and stretched out I felt like a fish flying through the water. The sun was shining through the windows and it cast dappled sunlit patterns on the bottom of the pool. Being underwater was like being in another world, where my breath and the ache in my muscles were the things that mattered.

Like seals, people sometimes looked more graceful in the water than on dry land. I regularly saw an old man in the changing rooms at the pool, he walked with a stick and an awkward looking limp but in the water he was spectacular, twice as fast as I was. It was the same for me. On dry land I was often awkward, self conscious, and sometimes I�d lose confidence in my curvy figure in a world of skinny girls. In the water though, it was a different story, I felt lean and lightened, sleek and strong, and my body came into its own.

I swam hard for half an hour, then stopped and leant against the wall at the shallow end. I was still breathing hard and my muscles were tight and sore. I looked around me properly for the first time since arriving.
The usual mixture: three retired people who swam slowly but steadily; a pair of young women who swam two abreast with their heads out of the water, chatting; a mum and a small child with waterwings and a hoop; three young boys who messed around but were fast and effortless swimmers; two �serious� girl swimmers like myself and a man. He had short black hair, black shorts and goggles, and a nice, strong body. He was a good fast swimmer, but he didn�t seem to be taking it very seriously; he stopped every few lengths to lean against the wall and look around, like it was all too much effort. Smugly, I thought, well I�m not as fast as you, but at least I don�t stop for a rest every two minutes.

I continued swimming. The two chatting women kept getting in my way � they wouldn�t move out of the way for a shark, I thought � and I kept having to change my course and position in the pool to accommodate them. I was dimly aware, as I came up, that I was swimming much nearer to the path of the black haired man, and when he went past with his fierce front crawl he created waves which made me swallow water. When I reached the end and turned he was standing there resting � lazy, I thought � and pushed off. Had he smiled at me? Hard to see. I pushed off, irritated but also a little bit pleased. Any interaction was rare in the swimming pool, and if someone liked you in a bikini with wet hair and no makeup, well they�d seen you at your worst. I returned to the shallow end, looking forward to seeing him again, but he wasn�t there. I felt oddly deflated, but no sooner had I pushed off again, he returned from the opposite direction, glided right past me and brushed most distinctly against me, grazing the side of my breast and catching my nipple with his fingertips. Surely that was an accident? And yet I felt a tightening in my stomach and a jelliness in my legs that was threatening my ability to swim in a straight line.

I composed myself for the return journey and swam fast and straight to the shallow lane where he was waiting for me, leaning casually with his arm resting on the poolside and his goggles pushed back on his head. He fixed me with deadly blue eyes. I took off my goggles and tried to brush the water out of my eyes, off my face, and stroke the loose wet strands of hair off my face. Shit, I must look like crap, I thought. I looked up; he was staring unashamedly at my chest. I checked my bikini hadn�t slipped or anything. Was this really happening? One of my friends had been chatted up at the swimming pool before, but I had assumed that it was something of a rarity.

He put his hand out and took hold of one of the straps. Before I had time to register what was happening his hand was withdrawn.

�You had a twist� He smirked at me, his eyebrows raised slightly, as if in an unspoken question. He really was gorgeous, those blue eyes, that muscular, swimmers body, the water in beads over his dark skin. Definitely not a sunbed tan, more like the skin of a man who works outdoors.

�You�re a good swimmer,� he said, his eyes ranging over me.

�Thanks, you too.�

�Well, today I was somewhat distracted�

�Really?� I smiled at him and he smiled right back at me, and our eyes locked together.

�You know I was� He picked up a stray tendril of hair and tucked it behind my ear, then let his hand fall to my shoulder, touching the strap for a moment then brushing lightly over my breast, sending an electric shock from my nipple down into my stomach, and then picking up my hand under the water. We are holding hands! I thought. What am I doing?

He asked me where I was from, how often I came swimming, whether I was part of a club. Easy questions, that I should have had no trouble answering, but I couldn�t seem to concentrate on anything other than him holding my hand under the water. I stammered and trembled with nerves.

�You�re cold, lets get out of here and go and continue this conversation in the changing rooms.� He let go of my hand and climbed casually out of the pool without even looking back to check that I was following. He leant casually against a bank of lockers until the coast was clear, then walked straight into a changing cubicle, holding the door open for me. He wrapped his arm around my waist and I felt our skin drying, our bodies warming up together. He lifted my chin towards him and we kissed and he tasted of water and swimming pools and our bodies pressed closer and closer together. I felt dizzy and my knees buckled but he held me tight, and when we stopped he leaned back from me and looked me up and down.

�You�re cute.� He kissed me. �And beautiful.� His hand traced my arms, my breasts, my stomach. He brought his mouth to my ear. �And strong� and soft� and sexy.�

I heard the gentle thud of cubicle doors closing, the sharper noisier click of lockers slamming, people walking past, talking. So close but so far away. He released me and guided me down onto the bench. He looked down at me and smiled, and pushed down his trunks, so his hard cock appeared right in front of my face. He grabbed a handful of my wet hair and I opened my mouth and he entered my mouth, and I tasted his chlorine skin. He thrust back and forth, hard and confident, and our little cubicle became an insulated capsule, far away from the rest of the world.

He stopped, and pulled out, and kissed the top of my head. He took hold of my hands and brought me to my feet. His erection was hard against my stomach. He slipped his hands into my bikini bottoms and pulled them off. He sat down on the bench and pulled me onto him. I knelt on the bench and wrapped my arms around him. He slipped the straps of my bikini down and kissed my breasts, sucked my nipples, as I lowered myself onto him, feeling tight against him as he entered me.

I held him and he dug his fingers into my hips, pulling me closer, deeper. He kissed my neck and told me again how beautiful I was. I leaned into him and carefully, quietly, pulled back and forth in a rhythm until I felt him about to come.

I slowed down then and held him tight, moving almost imperceptibly, our bodies so close we felt like one person. At the end he kissed me deeply for a long time.

Afterwards, I felt shy and awkward. I fumbled with my bikini and got worried about people seeing us leaving the cubicle. We got dressed in separate cubicles and met at the coke machine. He looked lovely in a black t-shirt and jeans, his hair towel dried and messy. He looked at me with his lovely blue eyes, kissed me on the cheek and left. I stood there alone for a moment, blushing and wondering if I was in the middle of an extremely vivid dream. I put some money in the machine and got out a bottle of diet coke, and headed for my car.

When I got home, I got straight on with peeling the potatoes for dinner. My boyfriend came into the kitchen.
�You�re cooking a roast?�

�Of course, its Sunday�

�Yeah, I�m sorry about this morning�I guess I�ve just been a bit tired lately.� He stood in the doorway, leaning awkwardly against the doorframe.

�No problem� I said cheerfully, scraping peelings into the bin. �Go and have a sleep if you want. I�ll call you when it�s ready�

A look of confusion passed over his face. If he noticed my eyes were sparkling he didn�t say, but I didn�t trust myself to be around him. It was as if I had it written all over me: I fucked somebody else this afternoon.
It was too dangerous to be around him while I felt this giddy lightness, I might have given myself away. I made light work of cooking the two of us a roast dinner with all the trimmings. I made cheerful conversation while we ate, about the news, what was on t.v., what we�d got on next week. If he felt sorry or sad, he didn�t say, but I was sure that we both knew that something had changed.

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