Showing posts with label Intrigue. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Intrigue. Show all posts

Monday, 11 April 2011

The Lone Girl At The Pool

Swimming is a great source of exercise. By jumping into a single contained body of water and not drowning for upwards of twenty minutes at a time, one can be refreshed, invigorate, and reminded what it feels like to have half a litre of chlorinated water swilling round between your eardrums, behind your optic nerve, and in your nose. But picture this scene, imaginauts – you are a girl.

Picture these other things also! In this XX chromosomed scenario, you are a girl who also decides to be healthy, fit and active. You go to said body of chlorinated water with an eye to jumping in it and not drowning for a while, thusly exercising your muscles. It’s a wise decision, and will help with your asthma. The only problem is that, upon arrival at the swimming pool, you find that you are... The Lone Girl At The Pool.

Suddenly everything starts to fall apart. Old men are doing groundbreakingly slow laps of the fast lane. Large men with varying quantities and qualities of facial hair are lounging around the steam rooms. Boys are hogging the slide, forcibly pushing each other down and jumping on top of each other loudly. And muscular douchebags – oh, those muscular douchebags! – are sat in the Jacuzzis. How do these bros manage to have six-packs when they do no exercise at the gym, instead spending two hours every night in the Jacuzzi before heading off down the pub to glass a minority? It’s an irritating mystery, girls. They may look hunky and powerful, but they seem to do bugger all work to get to that stage. What do they know that I—

I mean, picture yourself as a girl. What do you do if you are the only girl there, and the men are imminently about to start tearing their eyes into your legs, bum, and boobs? We’re here to help, literal and visualised girls. We’re here to help.


So what should your first few moves be? How can you manoeuvre yourself through this situation without causing embarrassment or self-awareness, or bringing leering, judgement, and yes a small degree of self-awareness from the boys? Well let’s start this off by breaking down who the men at a swimming pool will be, and what they are doing there. Pre-planning and research is key to your success!


Location #1: The Kid’s Pool

If there are no women in the pool apart from yourself, then by process of logic there will be no mothers watching over the kid’s pool. This will dramatically decrease the number of kids in the training pool in the first place, leaving only the sons whose fathers are either exceptionally well-meaning or whom only see their sons once every month. In the first case, there is no problem. These devoted dads are dedicated to their doggy-paddling delinquents and won’t pay you any notice. The latter set of dads, however, could prove problematic. Ignoring their brattish sons at the first opportunity, these lanky deadbeats will ogle you as soon as they hear your footsteps approaching.


Location #2: The Main Pool

Focus on the main pool. All manner of pondlife could be floating around in here – from yappy frogspawn right through to warty toads. Be particularly careful as you scan, as certain swimmers may be underwater as you sweep the horizon, biding their time until you swim past before they latch onto you. These are some of the most dangerous predators in the pool, as their eyes are resistant to the sting of chlorine, making them immune to any pepper spray you may fire at them following an awkward encounter at the car-park afterwards.


Location #3: Steam Rooms/Sauna

Not every, or many, pools have either a steam room or sauna. So don’t waste your time looking in the sauna if you don’t have one, or you may rip into the fabric of linear space. If you do have either of these rooms in your pool, look for the tell-tale sign of blobby movement behind the door. The majority of steam room/sauna users are fat businessmen. STAY AWAY!


Location #4: Jacuzzis

A bubbling hotbed of male testosterone, the hot tubs are the most terrifying of sights for a young female to behold. Only one form of the male species frequents the hot tub – the “bro”. Bros are youths between the ages of eighteen and thirty who only go to the pool to lounge around in the Jacuzzis. Bafflingly muscular despite their hard-drinking, tough-bro’ing lifestyles, these men are thoroughly tanned and tattooed liberally. You wouldn’t want to come across on in a night club (or would you?), let alone a whole posse of them in a hot tub. Sat alone in there, cramped on all sides by mean-flirtin’ bros who all have jobs in construction? NIGHTMARE!


Check by next month for more advice!

Wednesday, 16 February 2011

My Novel -- Freedom Fighters of Earth in the Year 2088

Chapter 14: The Unintended Betrayal of Peter

Georgia stood up off the bed and walked over to the mirror, aware that they were still watching her every move. Although she felt more scared of them than she did of the potential for Pirates of the Caribbean 4 to ruin Johnny Depp’s career, she showed no emotion as she put on the earrings her grandmother had made for her. Grandma had been a gifted craftswoman, and Georgia couldn’t help but admire the way that the beads glistened against the chandelier above. She never felt stronger and more empowered than when she wore these earrings, which were styled to look like a pair of chickens giving birth.

“Georgia? Are you there?” came a rumble in her inner brain-wave, indicating that Peter had returned from his mission and was now in the mood for a dalliance. She knew that she should show no sign of his arrival in her ears, but a tremble in her lip was all it took. One of the Corporation’s probes flew past her window, casting a backwards look at her before it went to megaspeed with news of her careless lips.

“Damn it,” she whispered to herself. She had been careless, and now they would know about Peter’s survival. If only she’d been more care FULL, she could’ve saved him from torture. Now he would doubtless be drilled within an inch of his life.

Georgia took off her bra to reveal a smooth pair of carefully-rouged breasts, firm in all the right ways but big too. Some women have breasts which look like they are welded at the top so they can’t dangle, but Georgia worked out three times a week at the gym and her chest-cannons were plump in all the ways that men liked. Peter certainly liked them, and she thought back to the way he used to tease her nipples.
Her breasts had been compared in the past to those gummy cherries you can buy at a pick n’ mix sweetshop. There was a cautionary shimmer to her nipples, which were not erect at this time but could prick outwards at the first sign of arousal. Sometimes she iced them up and went out for walks around the hotel, enjoying the admiring looks she got from strangers as they pressed tightly against her silk tank-top. In the light of the room, they looked to be bright red, but the reality was that they had more of a light-tan colour to them. If you saw her nipples detached and sat on a scientific desk, you’d be unable to tell if they belonged to a white woman or a latino.

Of course, she was white. The latinos had been sent off in search of off-world activity all those years ago. She sighed at the very thought of all those dudebros flying off to parts unknown. How she wished she’d taken the chance to have one of them visit her parts unknown before they’d left the planet. Her tick-list of ethnicities would always remain incomplete.

Georgia considered putting on a lacy green bra, before eventually setting for her favourite blue cushion-smuggler. She spent one last moment admiring her perfectly-sized and equally-spaced cans, before forcing the blue straps over her shoulders and restraining them. They put up a fight: she’d expect nothing less from those freedom-seeking jugs. But, after a few minutes, she had the bra on and followed it with a dressing gown.

Time was slipping away. Peter was in trouble because of the dystopian society Georgia knew and hated on a daily basis. She had to find the army of hope, and ask them for help in saving her paramour. With one quick tweak of her beautiful left nipple, teasing it into a place where it would have maximum allure, she picked up her gun and left the room.