As Allen stepped out of his car, the Florida night wrapped itself around him, hot, sticky, thick. He reached down for his briefcase and felt his shirt, so recently cool from the air conditioning, peel slowly away from his body as a drop of sweat rolled down the inside of his arm. It had been a long evening getting the report finished, but now all he was thinking about was the cold beer in his refrigerator.
Walking across the apartment parking lot, he heard the sound of a boom-box coming from the pool. He cut across the clipped grass toward the sound and saw the small group sitting at pool- side, beers in hand, talking in the night. He smiled, wondered how long they would be there, then walked around the corner and let himself into his apartment.
Within moments he was down to his silk boxers and socks, reaching into the cold refrigerator for the beer. He sat down, flicking on the television to catch the news as the air conditioner came on; he leaned back into the pillows, focusing on the cool air rushing over his body. After the news, he slid open the glass door and, tilting his head, listened for the sounds of talking and music by the pool. All he heard was the traffic behind the front row of buildings and the steady chirping of crickets throughout the complex. He smiled, and figured it was a good time to take a quick swim before climbing into bed.
Without bothering to pull on a swimsuit, he wrapped a towel around his lean body and put the shirt he had been wearing back on. He knew from past nights that he would have the pool to himself, and could enjoy the silky movement of the water over his naked body. He walked briskly but quietly across the short expanse of grass, the only noise as he entered the pool area was the soft squeak of the gate hinge. He walked in the shadows, avoiding the glare of the solitary floodlight, making sure he was alone. Once he had been embarrassed to discover a couple in the shadows, after he had gotten out of his shirt and towel and was stepping into the pool. Now he checked the pool and all the chairs before beginning his swim.
Satisfied that he was alone, he left his shirt and towel in a pile by the steps, and walked into the pool, barely rippling the surface. The water felt cool against his hot skin, but he knew it would soon feel warm, having been warmed by the intense sun of the day. Gliding forward, he fell into a steady breast-stroke, moving quietly the length of the pool in the hot, still night. Back and forth he swam, careful not to splash, alternating between laps of breast-strokes and side strokes. As he neared the end of the tenth lap, he could feel his breath running short and the tightness in his chest begin to burn. "Break time," he thought to himself.
He spread his arms out on the lower lip of the pool's edge, arching his back to let his long legs rise toward the surface. Leaning his head back against the concrete, he spread his legs apart, then pulled them together, again and again, feeling the eddys of water moving over his thighs, curling up beneath his scrotum, moving his balls gently back and forth in the water.
He had made sure that he was resting in the shadow of a group of palm trees and magnolia bushes so that he wouldn't be looking into the glare of the floodlight. Looking up at the stars, his legs still moving back and forth under the water, he focused on the delicious feeling of the water on his skin, the currents moving over his legs and belly and ass, caressing his skin and waking up his nerves even as it relaxed him. When he swam during the days he cursed the necessity of having to wear a swimsuit; having tried all styles, from the loosest to the briefest, he knew of no feeling like swimming naked, the feeling of water moving over bare skin.
When he heard the creak of the gate hinge, he stopped and let his legs slowly drop deeper into the water. He heard the footsteps behind the magnolias, and waited quietly, slowly turning his head to see who was there. The woman looked neither right nor left, but walked to the edge of the pool, dropped her towel and started taking off her shirt. Allen watched as she peeled it off her arms, her brief bikini barely covering her slim hips. Her long hair reached down to the string holding her top across her back. She turned, and his eyes focused first on her full breasts, then traveled down her belly to the triangle of cloth hiding playfully between her thighs. As she started to reach behind her to untie the top, she noticed his towel and shirt at the far end of the pool and quickly glanced nervously around. He cleared his throat to let her know where he was.
"Oh," she said, when she spotted him in the shadows, "I thought I was all alone! Do you mind if I swim for a while?"
"No, not at all," said Allen. "But just so you don't have any more surprises, I better tell you that I thought I would be alone, so didn't bother with a suit." He tried to say it lightly, casually, but felt that he was shouting awkwardly into the still night.
She paused for a moment, staring down at him across the pool. He wondered if she were trying to verify that he was naked, but didn't think she could tell since he was in the shadows and she was looking toward the floodlight. "Given the choice, I really prefer skinny-dipping," he went on. "If it bothers you, I was just about ready to go back in anyway."
