Just a changing room.

Through the archway a short corridor curves sharply to the right. Quickly the pool and Alessa's resting body are out of sight and the changing room opens out through another archway in front of you.

It turns out it's a perfectly normal looking locker room. Big, slatted wooden benches are arranged in rows in the middle of the room while standard looking lockers run around the entire room. The only major difference you see between this place and the locker room at your own suburban gym is that this place doesn't reek of old sweat and industrial strength cleaning agent. Instead it has a feminine, almost perfumed smell.

Next to you, a small cabinet holds big, luxurious looking towels and you help yourself. There's no-one around, and the only other entrance seems to be another arch in the far corner. You'd guess that leads to more doors or something, but even with the replenishing effect of the **** you're on you're still feeling pretty lethargic and post-coital. So you drop your clothes on a bench, slip out of the borrowed trunks and dry yourself off.

Your clothes are still a little damp from the humidity of the pool room, but you think they'll dry out pretty soon. "Ready to roll," you murmur to yourself.