Coopting the shower.

The facilities for the pool had an employee locker room, separate from the normal male and female ones. It was where the three of us stored our clothes and belongings. Our shifts honestly rarely interfered. I would normally shower and change first thing, leaving the room free for David after me. Never once had I had my privacy violated in the 2 years I had worked here. Even the drunk assholes that roll around just before closing respected the sanctity of the employee lockers. David would not in a million years walk in on me. I walked towards the door separating the office from the Lockers. The sound of running water and steam grew louder as the door swung open, and fluttered closed behind me. A painted cinder block wall cornered to block direct views from the locker room into the shower. I felt immediately dirty being so close to David. I could hear the water splatter and music as he hummed and scrubbed his body. I was going to ask him if he could give up the shower real quick so I could get ready for my shift. Just a perfectly normal solution. "Hey man, I messed up and need the use the shower real quick." I imagined the conversation in my head, leaving him to his privacy for a minute so he could dress. He'd come out in shorts with a towel, exclaim "It's all your's bro," and I'd be free to my own private shower. This would have been a reasonable thing to do. Nobody had ever walked in on me in the shower for this very common courtesy.

The other part of me made my stomach clench, and my mouth dry. What if II accidentally walked in on him? He wouldn't be at fault because some stupid girl walked in on him in the shower. It was probably largely the hangover, and partly the exhaustion that gave this idea way too much weight in my head. My body had made the decision while my mind played with fantasy. I found myself at my locker, swinging it open, and removing my shower bag, flip flops, and a towel. My shoes popped off easily. The symphony of water cascading over man playing as I inserted them into my locker. Then the socks. My hands quaked as I reached for my running top. It had built in support for my D breasts. They shook but didn't slow as my areolas, then nipples were exposed, until the mass of tissue released and softly dropped my breasts from the garment. It was in my locker in a pile with the shoes and shocks. My shorts and underwear likewise came down rapidly, and I instinctively shook them off, stepped out with my left foot, while my right deposited it into the locker. The red swimsuit in the locker screamed at my brain. "Put me on and go to work!", but brain was not driving today. Ovaries had the wheel. The pale outline of the suit on my body highlighted my pink nipples, toned stomach, and my vagina peaking between the copper toned masses of my thighs. I placed my ear buds into my ear. I didn't play any music. That wasn't the idea. It was just an illusion for the "blonde moment" of my humiliating mistake. My feet decided now was the time to slip into the thongs of the cheap sandals, and with a shower bag and towel hanging from my sides in akimbo arms, I walked toward the divider.