Go to a relaxed Leisure Centre

You throw together a quick sandwich before heading to the Leisure Centre. At the front desk there’s a crowd of men, deep in debate with the girl on the counter. There’s a sense of menace about them. They’re all tall, or at least taller than you, and they’re loud and they’re muscular. The girl looks harried and fed up with them, but she’s holding her own.

“This place is for locals,” the girl states.

“We’re locals. See, we’re members.”

“As members you must behave yourselves. Management reserves the right to bar anyone it deems disruptive.”

“Understood. No disruption,” one of them jokes, saluting as he does so. Several of his friends burst into laughter.

She’s so busy dealing with them, she doesn’t notice you walk past and off to the small café. Krystal is already there, waiting.

“You came?” she says with a big smile. “See if Blair can hold her temper this time.”

Soon after some of the men you saw at the entrance blunder in. They take their time chatting to the girl at the counter, using similar risqué language as before. They take their coffees and sit at the other end of the café. You can still feel them there, their talk derogatory about the others in the café, especially Krystal.

“Look at that fat one, she needs to be doing some exercise.”

You can see Krystal shift uncomfortably at the statement. You must do something. You can’t let them demean Krystal, but as you start to rise Krystal touches your wrist and shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, “leave them be.” Her hazel eyes keep you sitting

Soon the other four join you, in their gym shorts and tight tops, which leave nothing to the imagination. You can hear the men at the end splutter into the coffee, their admiration for the four very vocally expressed.

“I bet she goes like a train.”

Layla shoots them an evil glance, which only gets them laughing.

“Let’s get out of here,” Krystal proposes, and the six of you head quickly to the court.

You and Krystal sit in the balcony. The women warm up beneath you. Layla picks a spot directly under the balcony, one which you can’t see except if you leaned over. That would be too obvious. You’ve got three other women, whose physiques you can admire. Seeing Layla stretch would just be a bonus.

The play begins; Layla with Anissa, Blair with Spencer. They start with a knock around. Blair is energetic, enthusiastic and a bit too eager. Layla is the most skilled. Anissa and Spencer are far behind. What you’d expect from previous Wednesdays. But around ten minutes in Anissa gets worse. In fact, she keeps glancing over at the entrance to the court.

“Ignore them,” Layla tells her. Ignore who. You can’t see what the women are seeing. But it’s clear whatever it is, Anissa doesn’t like it. A few more failed volleys and Layla’s had enough. She spins round and glares at the door.

The door opens. Three of the men from the café swagger onto court. They’ve changed into gym shorts and t-shirts. Tattoos grace their arms. They’re muscular and fit, and slide across the court like predators.

“This court is booked, get off,” Blair shouts at them. All three men smirk.

“You ready for a real game. I can teach you,” their lead states in a predator’s growl. His hand reaches down to cup his groin.

“If you don’t leave immediately, I’ll call security.”

“You don’t want to do that. You want to really enjoy yourself.”