It was about a month later, an evening when I had arrived rather later than usual. I hurried through my series of routines on the exercise machines—keen to get my work-out, for now I was really getting into it and didn’t want to miss a session. I finished just before closing time and hurried to the shower.
The showers were deserted, and since I had given myself an especially rough session, I decided to have a really good shower. I set the shower temperature, and began to soap myself up, really getting into it, imagining how that woman in the tight sweater would have showered. I stood on tip-toes, one hand against the tile wall, and tried curving my torso, stretching and enjoying the act of open preening—all in my own private world.
“Hey!”
I started and slipped in my surprise, almost fal
