Finally, Wayne State University was offering Thursday evening swim classes in the new athletic building. Eve Harlan was a nine-to-fiver, and her hectic schedule wouldn’t permit her to do anything but work and go back home pretty much all week, every week. There were always meetings, staff functions, and last-minute problems with customers. Being a manager at Blue Cross and Blue Shield, there was never any time to take care of things that weren’t last minute, except on Thursdays.
Thursdays were hers, and she booked with lightning speed from her downtown office to get on with life—hopefully, soon to come, an exciting life. She could only wish upon one of the many stars dotting the January sky in Detroit that her exciting life would hurry the hell up and make an appearance.
Wishing upon a star was exactly what Eve did last October, and that wish had produced a trip to the Bahamas for the coming April. Yes, finally, she and her best girlfriend Margo were to leave Detroit’s cold, early spring behind and strut their stuff in front of the first man who crossed their path on one of the many beaches they planned on discovering. But before that could happen, changes had to be made. Not changes in their schedule; that was a done deal; not any changes in clothing that were already packed and waiting in a suitcase.
The change was something big time, enormous, life changing. Including dropping a few pounds so she, and Margo for that matter, wouldn’t look like beached whales that children hovered around and poked sticks into. Eve wanted to be really ready and hoped that another kind of stick would be poked into her—hot, thick, and slammin’ boners, from hot and slammin’ hunks. There was only one way to assure that—no more pizzas loaded with everything imaginable, including two kinds of cheese. That was the killer. What would she do without her double doses of Swiss and Parmesan?
When Margo, who still insisted that she looked great in a thong bikini while wearing a size twenty—women’s— decided she had to have pizza or die and offered to pay, Eve’s response was a stiff no. Though Eve was nowhere near a size twenty, she wanted to look really svelte in her orange and lime green two-piece that showed off an ass to kill for. The only problem was getting that ass!
The solution, other than staying away from pizza, was Wayne State University on Thursday evenings. She’d wanted to see the new facility, having passed it millions of times on the Lodge Freeway getting to work. She’d heard talk of how wonderful it was, with all the new state-of-the-art exercise equipment. She needed that but never knew she didn’t have to be a student there to use the facilities. What better way to get her ass in shape than to learn to swim in a new Olympic- size pool?
There was only one more little problem: trudging through the snow and cold to get there. It was terribly cold outside that particular night, like January in Detroit usually was, and her first mind told her to give it up that night. Go home and max out to Lifetime television with a bowl of popcorn—with butter. Her sane mind said, you paid the ten dollars for the swim class, so get that almost flabby ass over there. Now!
With a hasty foot on the accelerator of her recently purchased Mercedes L-class, she arrived. Eve walked into the new building and looked around. It was as gorgeous as every one said: blue-green glass windows all over the place, exotic plants here and there, new techno-furniture in the lounging areas, and, of course, a giant health bar situated by the miniature cascading water fountain. Eve was impressed, amazed and all of a sudden couldn’t wait to get into the pool, after years of avoiding them.
She walked down the long blue-green carpeted hallway and could hear the water before she got to the locker rooms. It sounded nice, kind of tropical and soothing. Everything she needed in her hectic life.
Eve entered the changing area, found an empty locker in the elaborately large room, and suited up. She looked over at the other students also suiting up and knew she purely had nothing to worry about. Some just sprawled across the benches wearing clothing way too tight in every thinkable place. She hoped they were going to the aerobics class down the hall from the pool.
Eve slid into her two-piece, which looked outstanding against her bronze skin and long, reddish hair. She took one last look at herself in the mirror to make sure everything was inside the bathing suit and took off for the pool. There was no way in hell she was going to embarrass herself by walking into a room full of people with flab hanging out anywhere. She’d rather stay home, enjoy the buttered popcorn, and get fat in peace.
Moments after stepping into the knee-deep water, which, by the way, she considered too deep for her liking, three of the women from the locker room walked in and jumped into the pool. She closed her eyes for a second, thinking that the water was sure to splash out and cover all four walls, especially once she stepped in. True, the thought was rude, but it was funny to her, and that’s all that mattered. When you live in a city where you turned into an Eskimo for four out of twelve months, you have to find some kind of comfort food, and a dose of levity didn’t hurt either. Her life surely hadn’t been anything to laugh about lately.
The man she was originally supposed to go on the trip with, along with Margo, found loving comfort in the arms of another woman—in Eve’s own apartment, at that. Needless to say, his part of the trip was cancelled, and she immediately spent some of his money on the new swimsuit, swim classes, and a tune-up for the Mercedes. That oughta teach a dude to cheat on a fly-girl like her.
She stood in her corner of the pool, fixing her straps, and secretly high-fived herself for not looking like a human flotation device, despite the amount of food she personally consumed. Eve smiled, imagining how quickly she and those women could have sunk the Titanic just by stepping aboard. Dismissing the thought before it got her in trouble, she relaxed and stayed in her little corner, awaiting the instructor.
Then he appeared. At least Eve was hoping that fine hunk of human DNA was him. He stood on the side of the pool and sized everyone up. There were only four women in the pool, and they all looked googly-eyed at him. The guy was hooked up from the floor up and just about the prettiest guy in creation. Normally white men weren’t her thing, but this one made every man she’d ever seen look like Laurel and Hardy. She couldn’t wait for him to crawl into that pool and see just how scrumptious he looked wet.
He got in, treaded to the middle of the pool like he had been born in one, and started his evening. Walking through that water was a breeze to him. He had long, masculine thighs that quarters could bounce from. They looked so hot, as if he could trap a woman between those thighs and squeeze all kinds of pleasure into her. The thought of it made Eve wetter than the pool had. He introduced himself as Jordan Whittaker, dipped his head into the water to acclimate himself to the temperature, and came up looking like an outrageously seductive stud muffin. His trunks tented in the front like someone had just gone down on him. At that point, he was okay with Eve. A male instructor and HOT enough to heat the water. Her evening was starting out fucking great. Those tiny trunks left nothing to the imagination, and Eve’s was on overdrive. His inches were already in the action mode. To Eve, the action mode was when the erection pokes out so far that it touches the stars and moon. And this man was packin’ in a major way.
When he got into the water, all that wavy strawberry- blond hair turned dark, and those hard muscles contracted from the cold water. His chest was so chiseled that the four women could do nothing but follow his scent, like tracking dogs. Of course, following a tight butt like that was simply their pleasure. They all smiled at one another behind his back and kept pace with him. As fine as he was, they would have followed him into a tidal wave, and he was fine enough to prevent rational thinking. They did, however, manage to hear him say it was a beginner class and that they’d start out with simple leg exercises and floating techniques. Eve was all too ready to do any exercise with Mr. Whittaker and would have been glad to bend into a human pretzel for him.
Once into his first lesson, Eve couldn’t understand how he managed to lift each of the others to get them to float on their backs. But he was strong. She watched the muscles in his arms flex as he lifted them, and it was to die for.
He got everyone adjusted to the water and made them feel that it was their friend. Hell. Her turn next. The last thing Eve wanted was to make friends with fifteen feet of water. She wanted to be nice and friendly with him and on every part of his delicious, slick body. No harm in fantasizing about it . . .

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