Poolside Geezers

This is why Walter didn't notice three older geezers creeping up on him; they'd been checking him out for a while.

"Excuse me, miss, do you mind if we sit here? Every other spot is taken," one of them asked nervously, gesturing to the empty loungers beside Walter.

"Be my guests," Walter replied, forcing his voice into a higher register to avoid sticking out like a sore thumb.

The three guys scooted their chairs right up next to him. Walter felt a rush; he could tell they were into what they saw. Their eyes were all over him, and there was no missing the bulges in their swim trunks.

One of them finally spoke up. "Cheers, love. I'm Michael, and these blokes are Carl and Frank. We're from England."

"Pleased to meet you," Walter said, slipping back into his natural deeper voice for a moment. "I'm from England too, as it happens."

The three guys exchanged glances, and Walter could see the wheels turning in their heads. He needed to think fast.

"I've got this super rare condition, 'Peterson Syndrome,'" he explained, trying to sound convincing. "There are only six known cases worldwide. That's why my voice can sound a bit wonky sometimes."

They seemed to buy it, and the atmosphere lightened up. Michael, who seemed to be the leader of the group, leaned in a bit closer.

"You know, it can get pretty crazy around here. You shouldn't be alone here. "