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Feelings, new feelings, of pleasure and discovery and ecstasy were flooding my body. I could feel an orgasm on the horizon. Much to my own surprise, I grabbed my breast, twisted my nipple between my fingers and let out a groan of pleasure. My eyes, long since shut, squeezed even more tightly together. It was coming.
With a short cry, I felt delight course through my veins, my muscles shuddering and twitching. The orgasm seemed to stretch on forever, new waves constantly crashing down. Just as I was at the tail end of the waves, I heard:
“Oh shit.”
My eyes immediately opened wide, and my heart practically stopped.
Simon.
He’d come back.
And I was on the floor, knees open, naked and pleasuring myself.
Simon, apparently having figured out what he was seeing, turned around at once. I remained on the floor, confused and alarmed.
He blurted out, “I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were in here, I thought everyone had left.”
“Well, not everyone,” I muttered.
“I know, I can, um, see that,” he replied.
What else had he seen? Oh, who was I kidding. He’d seen it all. The primal part of me wondered if he’d liked his glimpse of the show.
His back still to me, he continued, “I’m sorry, I just — I dropped my little rally towel here, after that whole, ah, ‘prank,’ and I came back to get it, it’s from a game that was important to me, in school, and I thought, well if you wait late enough at night, all the girls will have left and you can safely go back and get the damned towel, so that’s why I’m coming in now, and I guess you didn’t hear me over the sound of the shower, but for what it’s worth, I did call out, asking if anyone was here, and, and… I don’t know why I’m still talking, you don’t need to hear this.”
He took a breath, and reiterated, “I’m sorry.”
I shook my head, then realizing he couldn’t see that, I elaborated, “You don’t have to apologize. I am here really late. Your plan was almost a good one.”
Simon laughed. “Yeah. Almost. I should’ve factored in that maybe I’m not the only one who likes to take crazy long showers. And, uh… relax.”
He tripped over the words as though they were nodules in his throat. In the air between us hung the unspoken knowledge that he’d caught me masturbating. There was no way around that — we could laugh and act casual as much as we wanted, but he’d seen me touching myself and orgasming. And from the way he’d said ‘Oh shit,’ I knew he liked very much what he saw. That was gratifying.
We were momentarily silent. What else was there to say? For better or worse, things had once again changed. I no longer felt like resisting the pull of the current.
Standing slowly, making sure I had my footing on the slick tile, I looked around the showers. Of course I hadn’t brought a towel in with me. Again, in fairness, I thought I was alone. Evidently not. Resigning myself to this situation — and figuring he’d already seen me in a state far more inappropriate than mere nudity — I asked in a mild voice:
“Where’d you leave the towel?”
“Can I just come and look for it?” he returned. “I’m not sure where I left it, and after, um, all my other failings, I’d rather not make you go on a hunt for the thing.”
Unable to hide the truth, I replied, “Simon, my towel’s not in the showers, a problem you might be familiar with. I’d have you go grab it, but you’ll never find my locker.”
“If you just give me directions—”
“It’s not gonna happen,” I said with patience. “Trust me.”
In a pained voice, he replied, “Then shall I simply go to the other side of the room while you, ah, array yourself, and then you can bring me the towel?”
I rolled my eyes. He was going to some lengths to protect my dignity, which had long since been dispensed with.
“Just wait there,” I said, and began to search through the showers. There were rows and rows of showers, such that all were visible at any time, but the intricate dispensers, hand controls and racks on the wall made it look like a maze. I plodded around the room, trying to recall which shower he’d been in during the incident. The image finally came to my mind in a haze, and I went directly to that showerhead. Ah-ha — I was right. The towel was lying right there, on the floor. He must have accidentally dropped it in the confusion.
Or… was it an accident?
I ignored the thought, and grabbed the towel. It was so flimsy. How could something so inconsequential hold so many memories?
Towel in hand, I made my way back to Simon, who was still firmly facing the opposite direction. He stood still, like a statue, which fit well with his unruly hair and sloping shoulders. I got closer, and then closer once more, until I was about a foot from him. My body ached to touch his, to be pressed up against him.
