Author’s Note
This is a new departure. I may have gotten it completely wrong. Wouldn’t be the first time.
Rachael was dehydrated.
She panted her way through the last quarter mile on the exercise bike, fantasising about the water fountain in the corner of the gym. Since the old man on the ergometer had finished and the fan had stopped blowing cold air in her direction, her skin had begun to glisten with sweat; she was glowing, and as she felt her body beginning to need replenishment.
Would that water spout be cold enough from the get-go? Would she have to stand and press the handle down for ages? Would anyone be watching her as she bent down to drink straight from the chrome faucet? Would she suck it in or would she have to turn her head to capture the stream? She had forgotten her water bottle in the changing room and the effort of going down the spiral staircase to the lockers to find it out was such a drag; besides, the gym was all but abandoned at eleven o’clock.
She concentrated on the numbers on the screen, willing herself closer to the finish line, to the completion of her mission. It had been a hard day.
Eternal Fitness was a twenty four hour gym on the edge of the city, conveniently inconvenient and on her route home from work. She had stayed late to kill off some paperwork and, while driving home, had a chance on the roundabout to either go ahead via the twenty four hour McDonald’s or the twenty four hour gym. Her heart wasn’t in a burger, and she had felt that punching a bag could substitute for a manager and she could pretend she was stomping on a client if she took a ride on the exercise bike.
And now here she was, cycling like her happiness depended on it, driving herself on to the goal, a long cold drink of water and a hot shower before the short drive home and a long sleep.
She pushed herself on, increasing her cadence and torque to spin the wheel faster and faster and hasten the end – and then it happened – the yards to go counted down to zero and she sat back in the saddle.
As the fan wheel slowed down, she realised that she was not entirely alone in the gym – there was one staffer, whom she had noticed before; he was passing time on a treadmill, drinking deeply from a water bottle as he went.
She slipped off the bike and towelled off the seat and handlebars, observing her form in the mirror which also gave her a view of the instructor. She was fairly impressed with her own look; she was precisely 5’8” tall, toned and mildly athletic, with pleasantly curvaceous shoulders and pronounced feminine curvatures to her chest, ass and hips. The perfect fit of her workout kit, allied with the satisfying patches of perspiration and effort on her body, gave her the look of someone who put a lot more effort into their workout than she habitually did. She had a red flush to her cheeks and a deep pink to her lips which even she might have acknowledged made her look hot to go. She looked like a woman who had just been riding, and hard. She just rued that it was the AeroCycle that had been her saddle.
He, on the other hand, was a little disappointing now she had him in focus. About six feet tall, he wore company gym shorts and his company polo; he was tanned, but probably from hours of a half empty gym and easy access to the sunbeds. He was drinking deeply again from his enormous water bottle, reminding her that she needed a quick sip herself.
She walked to the fountain and pressed down on the handle, but to no avail. A tiny trickle dried to nothing within a few seconds. She looked around to see if she could spot another water fountain, but she knew there wasn’t one; she walked over to the instructor to let him know the fountain was broken.
“Right,” he said. “The mains seems to have given up this afternoon. The maintenance guy is in tomorrow, but I’m afraid we have only one bottle based cooler and it’s in the men’s changing rooms. Don’t ask me why.”
“Fuck,” she said. “‘I’m absolutely gasping.”
“Listen,” he said. “There’s nobody else in. I can wait outside for you to stop anyone going in. Sure you could get a shower and get changed in there too. I can redirect.”
“Thats very kind, thank you,” she said, and after he had towelled the treadmill handles, he walked out with her, down the spiral staircase to the changing areas.
“Gets quiet enough in here at night,” she said, and he ummed.
“You should see it on a Wednesday about 2am – we have maybe twenty in the place. Mums escaping the kids, shift workers. There’s a lull until most people’s bedtime. I’m only on about an hour, myself. I see from the log that the water’s not too warm in the showers”
They reached the changing room, she grabbed her kit bag from the ladies’ changing and re-emerged; the instructor opened the door and let her inside. It was entirely empty, with just the canned music disturbing the silence. She grabbed a cup and placed it under the tap, drank one cup and then another, then another.
“Are you really thirsty?” came the instructor’s voice..
“I’m pretty dehydrated,” she replied.
“Then you need salt,” the instructor replied.
“Mouthful of water, one of these on your tongue and drink four or five cups of water, and you’ll be fine,” he said,, throwing them to her. She caught them, and before she could say thank you he had turned to the water cooler with his own water bottle, filling it. He had earphones on, and seemed to utterly ignore her.
“Showers are all cubicles with locks”, he said, as he walked away.
She kicked off her shoes and walked down the corridor; all was silent as she diverted into the last cubicle, closed and locked the door, hung up her bag and stripped off. The water was cold. Icy. She laughed as she lathered the shower gel up on her naked skin, reasoning that the cold water couldn’t hurt her tiredness.
“Fucking cold,” said a disembodied voice, and she noticed that the walls of the shower cubicles were composed of a mint green frosted glass, and that in the booth right next to her was the obscured shadow of a man.
She couldn’t quite remember the last time she had been this close to an entirely naked stranger. She didn’t know whether or not to speak, to give away for certain to the man beside her that she was a woman.
“Did he give you an electrolyte tablet?”
He had obviously heard the conversation. She glanced at the lock again.
“He did.”
“Ah. Fine. They’re alright. What brings you to the men’s changing rooms?”
“Water cooler. None in the ladies’” she said. She considered calling out to the instructor, and she remembered the earphones he had been wearing earlier.
“Those fizzy tablets are okay, but I’ve something much more effective.”
“Much more effective?” she asked.
“Yup. Much more effective, and warmer,” he said.
“Warmer? That sounds awful.”
“Depends,” he laughed. “On how thirsty you are.”
He turned on his shower again.
“It’s cold,” he called out over the sound of the water stream.
“Very,” she said. She felt strangely surprised at herself carrying on this conversation with the man next to her, but both the lock and the unexpected exhilaration of their mutual nakedness had her enthralled.
“If only there was a hot tap,” he said, quite seriously.
“Would be nice,” she responded.
She watched the blurry outline in the cubicle wall, and saw it turn side on; she could make out the shape of the man, and he was certainly a man; she knew he was watching her too. She stood slightly more side-on to the wall, coquettishly hoping he could see the swelling of her breasts and the shape of her body through the misty glass. She lathered the soap across and around her pubic mound as she did so; it didn’t feel awful.
“It was cool that they managed to make these cubicles only frosted one way, isn’t it?” he laughed, and she stood stock still.”
“Fuck, seriously?” she exclaimed.
“Yeah. Serious technology that.”
She crouched down in a fetal position and almost squealed.
“I’m joking,” he said. “Sorry. I can’t see anything. Well, not much.”
“Thank fuck for that,” she said, and stood back up.
“Can you?” he asked.
“No, no, of course not!” she said.
“Thank God!” he said, and she distinctly saw his hands taking turns to stroke his cock; maybe he was just lathering and maybe he was just being thorough; but he was taking a long time about it; slow, methodical, and she knew he knew it.
“You can’t see anything at all?”
“No, no, not at all. You just take long showers. Long cold showers.”
“Long, vigorous, healthy showers.” She could hear the smirk in his voice.
She rinsed the suds from her body, watching the apparition in the wall.
“Cold showers are healthy, just not very pleasant” she said, and he could hear the concentration in hers.
“There’s an art to the cold shower,” he said.
“I’m sure there is,” she said.
“I could show you,” he said, and opened the lock on his cubicle.
She paused.
“You could just tell me.”
“It’s hard to put into words,” he said.
“Is it?”
“Very hard,” he replied.
“Very funny,” she said.
“Oh no, very serious. Very important lesson. You don’t know when you’re going to be stuck with only cold water. You’ll still need to shower.”
“I’ve had cold showers before.”
“Then maybe you have nothing to learn. But my door’s open if you’d like a lesson.”
“A lesson?”
“A lesson.”
She opened the lock on her side.
“So come here and give me a lesson,” she demanded.
He slipped into her cubicle; he was older but slightly more in shape than she had assumed from the quick look she had when he was on the ergometer. She felt a strange admixture of excitement and fear when he walked in and locked the cubicle door behind himself; but she was, peculiarly, keen to embrace whatever was about to take place; she understood how reckless it was, and the thought filled her chest with fireworks and her crotch with an expectant tingling she had first put down to the minty shower gel.
He advanced towards her, his fully erect cock standing at almost perpendicular attention, and reached out to her, first gently cupping her breasts and then running his hand down her still slightly soapy body to her ass, as they began to kiss, more lustfully than passionately, as if trying to send each other messages through touch alone; he kissed down her neck, over her round pert breasts and down her midriff, kissing the fuzz of her pubic hair and then, upon his knees, lapping and licking at her clit and her labia, stealing kisses at her thighs. He took her hands and placed them on his head.
“Warm me up,” he demanded.
She looked at him in disbelief.
“What?”
“You know what I mean.”
“You obviously didn’t hear that I’m dehydrated.”
“I did. You wanted a lesson.”
She refused.
“No. Not that. No.”
He licked and kissed her as she expressed her outrage at the request. Importantly, though, she wasn’t pulling away.
“This is the first lesson. When you’re cold, this warms you up. Give it. Warm me up.”
She shook her head in disbelief, noticing him gripping his cock with his right hand as he squeezed her soapy ass, and she found herself giving in, relaxing, and then, in disbelief, watching herself releasing a stream of hot piss over this stranger’s face; she watched the delight in his eyes as she watched the straw coloured fluid flood his face and stream down his body; he stood up slowly and crouched to ensure the stream of her piss soaked his hard, thick cock; he continued to stroke it as she emptied herself on him; she was excited by how it felt to gush on him, the sense of power and domination it gave her, and how he seemed to be thrilled by it.
Far too soon, she was empty; he took her head in his hand and kissed her, then stood again under the shower head; he took her hands and turned her around, bending her over, having her take hold of the handles in the shower; she prepared for that thick hard cock to enter her from behind and braced herself for what she assumed would be an initial hard thrust inside her; she wanted it intensely.
The cold water from the shower continued to fall on them both sporadically; she suddenly felt a shockingly warm jet across her ass, down the back of her thighs and across her exposed and newly needy cunt; the searingly hot piss had a serious force and she felt her knees buckle with the pressure of the forbidding lust she now felt powerless to control. She fell to her knees and turned towards him, cupping her breasts in presentation, and she saw an awed, determined look upon his face as he directed the powerful jet towards her tits; his aim was true, and they both laughed in thrill to see the stream soak her chest and run quickly down her body; she felt it soak and warm her pussy, and now she understood the lesson.
Her face no longer possessed any confusion in its expression; she understood; she had given in. Without thought, but fully aware of her action, she knelt down further to feel the stream on her face; and most surprisingly, she opened her mouth; without hesitation he directed the jet fully and deliberately into her face; it ran into and out of her mouth obscenely; she knew it, and showed him. He was not dehydrated, and he continued to soak her with increasing force until he was done; he roughly picked her up from the floor, squeezed a large dose of her shower gel onto his hand and, holding her close against him, lathered all her body; she took some of the lather and washed her face while he rubbed firm and fast at her engorged clit; she reached behind and took his cock in her hand and tried to line him up with her desperately needy pussy; he directed the cold water at her body, rinsing her off, then arched his back to release his cock from her hand.
“Not yet. Still cold?”
“No. Thank you.”
“Useful lesson, isn’t it? Want to get warmer?”
“Yes.”
“Dry off. Follow my car. And have a big drink. A big one.”
“Yes.”