My name is Kit and I'm twenty-three years old. I know Kit is an unusual name for a man but I had no part in choosing it. My mother was consumed with American history, especially the old west. Kit Carson was a famous frontiersman and army officer. My mother was fascinated by his life and exploits and she named her only son after him. So my name is Kit and I'm used to it.
I work in the maintenance department of the local university. It's a large state school, the job is easy and the benefits are fantastic. I earn an hourly wage higher than most non-salaried federal employees. I have fully paid health insurance and a retirement program that will follow me into early retirement and make my life easier than most.
Not bad for a guy that never graduated from high school and still lives at home with his mother. You might conclude a number of things from my situation but you'd probably be wrong about most of them. Some of you might smirk at the thought that my relationship with my mother is more than is apparent. Its not. I love my mother but I also respect her and I'd never consider approaching her for something that a son shouldn't expect from his mother.
You might conclude that my sexual experiences have been limited because I never went to college or have an apartment to entertain female guests but you'd be wrong again. I'm very popular at the local pub and I'm there four or five times a week. I rarely leave without an attractive member of the opposite sex on my arm on the way to their home, apartment or nearby room for rent. I'm a believer in the "use it or lose it" school of physical fitness and the results have been predictable. I've never had a single complaint from any of the women I've entertained. However, I have received numerous complements.
My assignment in the maintenance department at the university is the Sports Hall. There's a large indoor arena; several smaller gyms; workout areas and men's and women's locker areas with large shower rooms lined with multiple showers on the walls. I get to work at two in the afternoon and work until ten-thirty, including a thirty-minute dinner break. It's a huge building and I'm not alone. I overlap with four other workers and spend the first half of my shift cleaning empty rooms and sweeping hallways and the floors in the gyms. The rest of the time, after most activities are complete and on non-game nights, I'm responsible for the locker rooms and showers, both the men's and women's. I have several green uniforms, trousers and shirts that I can rotate to have a clean one each day. The shirts have an oval on the left breast with "Kit" embroidered on it which is perfect since it's my name.
I give each area a general cleaning, sweeping the floors, disinfecting the flat surfaces and mopping the shower floors. I'm usually finished by ten-thirty and, after a shower before leaving, I have time to visit my friends in the pub where there are attractive women usually waiting for me.
My Sunday schedule is different. Sunday mornings are reserved for intensive cleaning focused on the locker rooms and, more importantly, the showers. Activity in the Sports Hall is almost non-existent on Sunday mornings. I come in between six and seven in the morning and spend about four hours in each of the locker rooms doing a deep cleaning. On a Sunday over a year ago, I finished with the men's locker room and shower about nine. I took a short break and started on the women's area. The place was empty. No sounds other than the echoes of my labor. I finished the locker room area and started on the shower area by just after ten.
The shower area gets special treatment. My supervisor believes the shower area is a potential breeding ground for problems. I use a special, highly antibacterial mixture on the walls and floor of the shower. It's a major project involving a hose, bucket full of antiseptic, a wall brush on a long handle and a mop. The mixture is damaging to clothing and after staining a uniform beyond recovery, I generally work in my underwear and canvas shoes.
The mixture also dries on the wall if it's left on too long and is difficult to remove. I break the room into thirds and clean it a section at a time. I spread the cleaning solution on the wall of one side of the room and rinse it off with the hose before moving on to the back wall. I was spreading the mixture on the last wall of the room, wearing just my tighty-whities, when I heard noises coming from the locker area.
I heard the voices of excited women. Many voices. Many women. It was obvious to even me that one of the women's teams had entered the locker room. I was stunned. I'd never encountered a team in the locker room on a Sunday before. "Why today?" I wondered. I hoped they were changing into their game uniforms prior to a practice or game. If so, I was relatively safe since they wouldn't be taking showers. If, on the other hand, they were finishing a practice or game, I was trapped and probably fired. I kept still and as quiet as I could to avoid detection.
I learned later that the women's softball team had an unscheduled practice that Sunday morning and had not put it on the schedule. I always checked the schedule carefully before cleaning the locker rooms just to avoid the situation that was developing. Unfortunately, the practice had just ended and the locker room was full of tired, sweaty and dirty young women who were anxious to get showers.
I'm not a big person, but my size was not important while I was trying to look as small as possible, hiding in the back corner of a large, brightly lit shower room without privacy barriers between the showers. I cowered in the far corner as the first of the athletes hung her towel on a peg at the entrance of the showers, walked in, completely naked, and turned on the first shower. While she was waiting for the water to warm, she turned and saw me.
She screamed and tried to cover herself. "What the fuck are doing in here?" she shouted. "Who the hell are you?" she added.
"I'm the maintenance man. I clean the showers every Sunday," I said without looking up at her, trying to minimize my presence and preserve her modesty.
By now, her scream had brought the entire team into the shower, all seventeen of them. Some were naked like the first woman; others were wearing sports bras and panties. Still others wore bras without panties or panties without bras.
"You need to get out of here, now!" she said, staring directly at me with her hands on her hips ignoring her nakedness.
Her request was going to be difficult to fulfill since I had to negotiate a path through a bevy of mostly naked women.
While I was considering how I was going to proceed, another woman said, "I saw a shirt on the bench in the other room. You're Kit, aren't you?"
"I am," I replied.
"I don't care who you are. You need to leave," the first one repeated.
"This stuff," I said, pointing to the bucket and mop, "is not good for you. I need to rinse it off the wall and floor or your skin will burn."
"Then hurry up," she said as she turned under the shower and began to wash herself.
As I worked, the rest of the team finished undressing and turned on the showers where I had completed cleaning while the rest waited patiently for me to finish, all naked.
I was almost done when the woman nearest to me said, "Actually, this is quite funny. Kit," she asked, "did you ever imagine being alone in a room with seventeen naked women?"
"I never imagined myself in a shower with more than one naked woman," I replied.
Most of the crowd laughed at my statement. "You're cute," said one.
"He's more than cute," said another. "Kit," she added. "Turn around and look at me."
I did as she asked. "Look up at me," she ordered.
