A changing room gift

I'm in just a towel, dressing for my homeward bound journey.

Some non-descriptive types mill around - all of them out of focus - some with swimming goggles, some in board-shorts, some with floatation supports and some with sun-cream, sun hats ... it doesn't matter ... they all pass by as if bored to the core by their very existence ...

*BOOM* the self-returning door hits the wall to signal the arrival probably just another formless, thin, hairless :

GZKZK-K!!  A glitch in the matrix.

I'm not sure why I bother to glance up, but it's like some magnetic force, the universe, or my reason for being is compelling me to actually look ... is it a two-sixth-two-five sense that draws me, forces me ... tells me to look?  I'm not sure.  I don't care anymore.  I've already looked up ...  it's part of the script - so it must happen.  I cannot re-write this eventuality ... my hand is forced.

I'm in just a towel and *BOOM* I can't believe what I see.  Not the usual disappointment, but a gift!  A reward.  An offering from the Gods of 2625.

My attention is completely undivided in this moment.  I feel my cheeks flush and begin stealing glances like the true professional I am.  My heart is racing - beating in my throat - like some premonition of things to eventuate.

I drink every nuance in - with my eyes.  Eye colour - blue - which goes well with the expanse of erotic grey/white beard.  Brand new speedos - black.  The 2625 perfectly packaged.  Thick and short and perfect.  Everything is in its place.

The minute his attention is anywhere near my gaze, I appear aloof and slightly bored, but the nano-second it's not, the way he moves and the clearing of his throat becomes an insight - the depth of the voice and the capacity to 'be his' is measured.

As it is written, so I shall be his.  The choreography is sublime.

Our eyes meet and there is mutual 'knowledge'.  A twinkle in the eye - that says 'don't go home just now' and then, the heels pounding the floor towards the pool entrance.  

I will follow.  I will put on my wet swimmers and return to the pool.  I have no will.  I may as well be a robot given a binary command. He's an electro-magnet.  Humming.  Pulsating - like some premonition of things to eventuate.

I have no choice in the matter.

I will follow.

The dive.  The displacement of water.  Perfection.  

According to the script, everyone at the pool oblivious to the fact that a God of 2625 is amongst them.  I am used to this but still fail to understand.  

Are they blind? 

Why do they not scream and throw moistened panties, or even start to cry together and scream as if at a Beatles concert?

What's wrong with these people?

Are they insane?

I am.

I am insane.  I am guilty.  A guilty thrill.  A thrill like no other.  A crazy thrill.  I've lost the plot.  I've lost it bad.

Thousands of people everywhere.

But in this moment, there really is only one.

The main character.

The reason for all of this.

He is in sharp focus against a cast of blurred extras.

Some with swimming goggles, some in board-shorts, some with floatation supports and some with sun-cream, sun hats ... it doesn't matter ... 

There really is only one.

A busy day at the pool.

A changing room gift.

Thank you.