An indoor pool, people frolicking and having fun, some of them swimming as they please.

The day was going normally as usual, with families having fun and nothing more.

My co-worker and I watched from our posts. After that shift, we would go home.

I hoped it wouldn't take as long as it sometimes did, because I was tired. I wanted a shower,

and I would have one before I left. Claire was looking at me from milestone to milestone and decided to ask,

What's wrong with you? She looked at me with a smile. Claire was a beautiful woman.

The bathing suit she was wearing made her curves stand out. We had the same uniform,

but she looked so stunning in it that it was hard to miss.

I tried to look away before answering her, for she was questioning me with her eyes, and her smile had faded.

Oh, nothing, I just want to shower and to go home, was my reply.

To which she nodded, for perhaps she wished the same thing.

The shift continued, and that particular day, people were refusing to leave.

Claire and I did our best to convince people to get out of the pool.

After that, we had to clean up. There was still work to be done and no desire to do it. I assumed that she was just tired, but it could have been something else.

Claire was doing her best, and night had fallen. Everyone started to leave the indoor pool,

and I had some hope. Maybe I wouldn't be so late getting home. Sooner rather than later, however, it became clear that I would be late.

When the last person left, there was still the job of cleaning up. Claire sighed deeply and got to work. In my desperation to get off

that shift, I noticed her. Claire was working tirelessly. Every time she bent over, her breasts became

even more visible, and I was forced to look away, so she wouldn't notice that I was watching her

intently. She might have been as fed up with cleaning as I was, so for the moment, she had not

noticed my insistent gaze. It was already late. It had been a couple of hours since the last

person had left, and we were still cleaning as if our lives depended on it. Or at least, that was what our work depended on. Claire was sweating, as was I. And we were both desperate for a shower. Her hair was wet, falling over her face, and I reached out to brush it

...