I catch myself in the mirror and cock up a smile. I look damn good.
There’s no one around, and the tiled locker room is quiet except for the hum of a couple fans. I pull my phone out and quickly pose, considering a couple of pictures.
Seeing Troy more than once a week is off the table, but that doesn’t mean we can’t keep the good energy going.
The time has come for a sexy selfie.
I open a message to him. He’s going to lose his shit. He might throw his phone against the wall. We don’t text much, usually just to work out details about the hotel meetup, and zero photos have been exchanged.
But that’s part of the fun. I like to keep him on his toes, and I have no doubt his phone is secure.
My dick plumps up. I head to the back of the locker room just in case anyone walks in. I’m tempted to work up a proper boner and get it out. The gym setting would be perfect. But that’s definitely too far. Troy would probably cut off all contact with me immediately.
My bare, sweaty chest pushes the line enough already. After I pinch my nipples to get them hard, I pose, working through some options and trying to decide what faces makes me the sexiest.
Leaning back against the wall, I tug the top of my shorts down. I’ve got on my tight pink boxer briefs, and I pull my shorts lower, wondering how much waistband it would take to make him grunt.
Just for the hell of it, I kick my shorts off quickly for some outtakes I might use later. Holding the phone out, I cup my crotch and lean back, making a sexy scowl at the camera.
“Hey, catcher.”
The wall gives way, swinging, and an angry alarm blares out briefly as I tumble backward. When I land on my ass with a pained groan, I see the emergency door swing shut again in front of me, my shorts and phone still inside.
Scrambling to my feet, I tug on the handle, only to find it locked. When I spin around, I see that I’m behind the brick gym and facing a residential street, stuck in only my undies and sneakers. It’s dark out, but we’re in the city, and there are lights everywhere. Panicked, I look for something to cover myself, but there’s nothing around.
What in the hell, Orlando!
I don’t know anyone in this part of town. It seems like my only option is to risk going around to the entrance of the gym and back inside, but when I creep to the front of the building, there’s a city bus full of people at the curb and a driver cursing at a flat tire.
“Shit!” I head back down the rear of the building. My heart is racing. Getting caught outside in my underwear is the last thing I need right now.
Or ever, honestly.
A light bulb pops on when I peer down the residential street. I’m not sure, but I think I see a clothesline a couple houses down. With a deep breath, I clutch my phone tight and scurry toward it, ducking and running like I’m avoiding a sniper. The house is quiet, and when I slip into the backyard, I see a full set of laundry waving in the breeze.
I creep over.
Dress. Dress. Skirt.
I pause over one dress, black and flow-y. Maybe?
But behind that, I spot a pair of men’s pajama pants and a T-shirt, which I grab, promising myself I’ll find a way to return them later. As I shake the pants out, a light comes on over the back porch, and then another on a post right beside me, brightly illuminated my surprised face.
“Hey! Who’s there?” a woman’s voice calls out, and panic jolts through me.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The way to the front is lit up like a stadium, so I turn and jump the side fence instead, the clothes under my armpit so I can use both hands. I yell out “Thank you!” although they clearly didn’t offer me the clothes, and when I land on the other side, I immediately see two middle-aged people in bath robes gawking at me.
If you run fast enough, they won’t be able to see your face.
The thought hits me through the blur of panic, and I take off, sprinting across the yard with the clothes clenched in my fist. Their fence is much shorter, luckily, and I scramble over it, but I land in the shallow end of a swimming pool, dunking the clothes with me.
I haul my body out of the pool with a gasp and throw myself over the last fence, landing on the street.
Panting heavily, I pull the wet clothes on over my body. Before anyone can see me, I speed walk away from the scene of the crime and back toward the gym, the adrenaline high slowly dropping.
That didn’t go so bad, I tell myself as I walk inside.
