In preparation to go to the pool, Olivia asked me the (relatively absurd – to an Englishman) question, ‘Have you got any flip-flops?’ Why on earth would I need flip-flops to go swimming? We’re going to the pool, not the beach, right? After a few minutes of cross-cultural debate, she gave me a pair of sandals and I shut up. Then came the question of what I’d be wearing. ‘You can wear these, it’s all I could find,’ said Olivia, as she passed me some shorts smaller than the boxers I was wearing under my jeans. If the 1980s called up to report an artefact missing, I’d let them take it back without argument.
Twenty minutes scanning Tesco for some more suitable swimwear provided no desirable substitute. Their two options: Speedos or Speedo shorts, were not going to be seen on me in the next thirty years. I’m not wearing anything like that until I’ve got a beer gut and some kids to embarrass on the beach, I thought. We decided to leave it to chance. Either see what’s for sale at the pool or I go looking like a lime green David Hasselhoff.
We were down in the foyer of the pool complex to check our shoes into the cloakroom. All the hygienic hubub that Olivia explained to me earlier was happening before me. Another overly complicated process that Poland seems to have an affection for. Having been seated for all of five seconds and with my first shoe half off, an angry cleaning lady hovered in front of us. Let me make a mess before you try and clean it up! I thought. Her apparent hatred increased as I found it impossible to place my flip-flop on without balancing my shoed foot on the ground. We duly bagged up our shoes and handed them over with our coats to the cloakroom attendant.
‘Fuck that,’ I responded to seeing the price (four times that of Tesco’s) cut-off cycling shorts behind a second counter. It was time for some Baywatch action. Taking a rubbery wristband from a third desk, Olivia and I parted ways to our respective changing rooms.
I don’t fucking believe it. Opening the door to the changing room (corresponding to the number on my wristband, not that anyone told me) I was greeted by the sight of the cleaner with OCD. Seeing a solitary corner with a shower curtain, I concealed myself from the miserable bitch to get changed. Wow, these are even smaller with me in them. The material finished about an inch from the tip of my cock. Acres of thigh that have never seen daylight were exposed to the fluorescent glow of the pool lighting. I’m going to blind people, I thought.
Stepping out into the pool area, I was immediately stopped in my tracks by a lifeguard. ‘You can’t go in the pool in those shorts,’ explained Olivia. We dropped into the jaccuzzi to discuss the matter. Apparently my efforts to wear (the most) appropriately sized shorts was inappropriate. The most appropriate shorts to be worn in the pool (but not the jaccuzzi, the slide or the sauna) were skin tight swimming shorts. The ones that I refused to buy earlier. The ones that through their lack of surface area revealed more skin than the shorts I was wearing, and with their body hugging characteristics: reveal the contents contained within in high definition.
Restricted from using the pool and the activity of swimming, Olivia, myself and my hideous shorts had a play on the slide before going into the steam room and the sauna. It was a good job that there was no one else there, as I noticed myself emerge from the leg of my shorts. ‘Check,’ I looked at Olivia and then down to my crotch so she’d follow my gaze. ‘They are pretty inappropriate.’
Exiting the showers, I again met my nemesis in the changing rooms. It’s a good job I’m English, I thought as I doubled checked that I had my miniature shorts on. Again she looked at the square foot of ground that I was occupying and moaned something in Polish. Helpless and not wanting to help her in any way, I ignored her snide sounding foreign remarks. What else was I supposed to do? And with a customer comes first work ethic, she left, leaving the changing room door wide open so I could feeze my tits off and her floor could dry quicker.
Just a few rules so you can enjoy the pool a bit better
No comments:
Post a Comment