Date: Sun, 18 Mar 2012 00:43:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Paul Runyon <paulrun4@yahoo.com>
Subject: showing off at the public pool

In the summer I swim every day at a city pool after getting off work. I'm a
sports caster at the local news station. I look pretty good for my age if I
do say so myself but took up the swimming to stay fit.

It's not a bad pool. Standard Olympic-sized with a couple diving boards at
one end. Pretty basic but that's just what I need. There's almost always a
lap lane open. I also like it for its men's locker room. It's basic too.
Concrete walls and floors. One wall lined with urinals, another lined with
toilets. No toilet stalls or doors, just concrete dividers for holding
toilet paper. A wooden bench in the middle of the room. A few sinks, a
mirror. An open shower area with a couple old-fashioned shower stands, the
kind that has four nozzles attached to the top of a vertical pipe.

I'm in the habit of showering there every day after my swim. Since I come
in the evenings the pool isn't very crowded but there are always guys
coming in and out of the locker room, mostly to take a piss. I usually take
the shower head closest to the door. Anybody who walks into the locker room
sees me that way. People rarely use the showers, and when they do, they
usually keep their suits on. I take everything off, relaxing, washing the
chlorine out of my hair, soaping up my body. A whole thorough cleaning.

It's a public pool so every now and then you get some rough types there.
There's always a police officer hanging around for security. One evening
after a good long swim I've just slipped off my trunks to shower when two
fully-uniformed officers walk in. One of them is young, looks like
mid-twenties, tall, lean, tan, with a buzzed light brown hair cut. I've
seen him at the pool once before. The other one is older and stockier. He
wears his hair short too. It's dark with some gray above the side burns.
I'm the first thing they see when they walk in. I look up at them and stand
there holding my trunks out in front of me. They stop a few feet from the
doorway and look around the room authoritatively.

After a few seconds they acknowledge me. The old one takes the lead.
Anybody else come through here lately? he asks. He's all business.

Nope, just me. What's the problem officer? The young one walks by me and
paces around the room a bit, peering over the toilet partitions.

Indecent exposure report, says the old one. He steps by me to glance into
the shower. Some creep running around flashing people. Last seen here at
the pool, thought he might've ducked in the lockers. He stops a few feet
away from me and looks me up and down real careful. I keep my trunks held
out in front of me, feeling exposed. He's staring me down and then the
young one comes and gives me a thorough once over.

He don't fit the description, Ned. The guy ain't here. The old one nods and
pulls out his radio. He has big hairy forearms. Then the young one pipes up
again. Hey, I'll be damned, he says. You're on TV. Real big grin on his
face. He recognizes me. I can breathe a little easier. I flash the old TV
grin.

Yeah, that's right, I say. He's watched my station since high school. He
tells me his name and asks me if I remember his team. I look up toward the
ceiling to think. I'm getting more comfortable now so I let my suit drop to
the bench beside me and cross my arms. After a moment I tell the young guy
I can't recall. So he tells me his name and the school he went to and I
manage to place him with the basketball team there. The kid looks thrilled.
He glances at the old guy. He's showing off for him. The old guy has put up
his radio and stands there listening with his hands on his hips. Now the
young guy wants to talk sports, and here I am, standing here naked. I'm
happy to oblige because I think the kid is cute. But his boss makes me feel
even more naked the way he's staring me down. It's okay though. I have
nothing to hide.

The old guy doesn't seem very interested in joining our conversation. He
strides over to one of the toilets while we're talking. He unzips and a
stream of piss hits the toilet water. It's almost loud enough to drown out
our talking. It lasts a while. As it fades out he says over his shoulder,
Well fellas, hate to interrupt this bull session, but duty calls. He shakes
dry and turns around to us abruptly, zipper undone, all of him hanging out
there. He isn't wearing underwear. All of a sudden I feel small and
shriveled from the cold water I just walked out of, and I give myself a
couple inadvertent nervous tugs. He walks back over toward us and makes a
to-do of re-tucking his shirt, still unzipped and hanging out. Looking at
his partner he says, Ready to hit the road?

Sure, says the young one, and turns to me, offering his hand. Hey, it was
good to meet you.

Good to meet you too, I say, smiling and taking his hand. It's a firm
handshake. When the old guy offers me his hand he's zipped up again. His
handshake is a vice. His look takes in all of me. I notice I'm not so small
anymore, and maybe he does too.

Real pleased to meet a celebrity, he says. I just smile. Then I wish them
good luck with finding their man, and they thank me while walking out, the
young one in front.

I get in the shower. I use one of the less visible ones because now I'm
hard and there's no hiding it. I think about what just happened. The three
of us, showing off for each other. Something different about the old guy. I
wonder about him. I wonder what it's like when just the two of them are
together.