Taylor stole a glance at the clock before pushing off from the blocks; it was a force of habit.
As a child, she'd swam thousands of lengths, mostly before the sun had risen. During university, her morning training was replaced by classes and weight sessions, before the goggles were pulled on for at least four hours every afternoon and into the early evening. Now, as an adult - despite no longer racing - the years of competitive swimming remained part of her nature, and Taylor couldn't help but measure her lap times.
After a vigorous 100 metres, Taylor pulled up. Swimming in a 20 metre indoor pool at the luxury hotel she was staying at didn't give her body the workout it was craving. It felt like her long tanned legs were getting all the action, while her arms managed just a few strokes before she reached the wall and had to turn again.
As she caught her breath at one end of the pool, Taylor noticed a fellow guest de-robing poolside.
The man had red shorts on -- from where she sat, bobbing in the water, it wasn't clear if they were swim shorts or, she suspected, he'd forgotten his trunks and was trying to pass off tight boxer briefs as swimwear. His body shape suggested he wasn't a swimmer -- she knew intimately the power held in a swimmer's broad shoulders and the stamina of a long-distance freestyler, and this man's toned body didn't have the same shape.
Seemingly oblivious to her, the man skipped the pool and headed to the sauna. He was singing to himself, his deep bass bouncing off the pool's low ceiling and echoing its way to her ears.
Taylor pulled her goggles back down and with one breath, glided mermaid-like through the water, surfacing at the other end of the pool, just steps from the sauna's glass front.
As she stood up, the waterline breaking at her nipples, she noticed the man sizing her up. She took her googles off, placing them on the pool deck, and tipped her head backwards, her long blonde hair -- darkened by the water -- dipping under the surface as her breasts pointed skywards.
She noticed him still staring at her as she righted herself, his legs spread wide as he sat on his towel lining the wooden seat. She grabbed her ponytail, pulled it forward over her shoulder, and squeezed the excess water from it, letting the water drip down towards her chest.
As she locked eyes with the stranger, he smiled coyly at her. Something about the handsome man captivated her -- with his dark brown hair and manicured stubble, complimented by a forest of chest hair, he wasn't her usual type but maybe, she thought, the adage about a change being as good as a holiday was true with partners too.
The two held eye contact and Taylor felt a yearning building inside her. It had been too long between partners, and her body was telling her to act, her mind conjuring up images of her hands in his hair as he nibbled her neck, his hands running down her body.
Aware she was being watched and in need of a release, Taylor ran her own hands over her breasts, feeling the nipples harden. The stranger shifted towards the front of the sauna bench, perching for a better look.
The pool had always been a workplace for Taylor: summers were spent lifeguarding and swimming scholarship had paid her way through college. When some of her non-swimming friends had spoken of water as a place of glistening bodies, summer romances and sensual sexual encounters, Taylor hadn't been able to picture it. But now, in this hotel, caught in a moment with this stranger, it was all making sense.
