The Heir

I strip off my sweaty clothes, folding them neatly and stacking them on top of my sneakers, leaving the pile on a bench for the moment. Then I turn on one of the shower heads, twisting the nozzle till the spray runs hot and steady. I’m about to step under when I realize I forgot to grab a towel.

I hurry across the cold tiles, starting to get chilly now that the sweat is drying on my skin. Though it’s still more summer than fall, all the interior spaces of Kingmakers are well-insulated by the thick stone walls, and the wool uniforms are starting to make a lot more sense to me. It’s never entirely warm inside this place, especially when you’re naked.

I pull a scratchy, thin towel out of the linen cupboard and hurry back toward my shower. I’m practically jogging, rounding the corner of the nearest locker bay with my head down.

I thought I was alone in here, the loud spray of the shower echoing around in the space, drowning out any other sounds.

So I wasn’t expecting to plow headlong into another person. We hit hard, my bare feet slipping out from under me on the tiles, so I crash down on top of a stranger.

The other person is just as naked as I am. I quickly realize from the long, slim legs sliding between mine, and the soft, round breast on which my palm lands—not to mention the startled shriek of outrage—that I’ve collided with a girl.

Despite how tangled we are, she leaps up again as quickly as a cat hitting water. She crosses her arms over her bare breasts, but not before I get a glimpse of a pair of milk-white tits, the pale pink nipples stiff with shock and fury.

She doesn’t seem to realize that covering her breasts has left her pussy bare. I have to physically wrench my eyes up to her face, to avoid fixating on those delicate pussy lips, clean-shaven and the same shell-pink color as her nipples.

It’s the girl from outside, the one who was dancing. I know that before I even get a proper look at her face.

She recognizes me too.

“Did you follow me in here?” she demands. “I saw you spying on me!”

“I wasn’t spying. You were dancing outside. Anybody could see you.”

“Why were you hiding in the bushes, then?”

“I wasn’t hiding! There were trees in the way. There’s a difference between standing on the other side of a tree and hiding behind a tree.”

“I don’t think there is,” the girl says, her pretty face twisted up in a scowl.

“I didn’t follow you!” I say. “I was exercising. What are you doing in here, anyway?”

“What am I doing?” she cries, half-scoff and half-shout. “What the fuck are you doing? This is the girl’s room!”

“No it isn’t,” I say, though I don’t actually know for sure.

“How do you know?” she demands.

In truth, I was guessing. Based on . . . not much, really. The fact that the changing room looked big and gloomy, and smelled like a bunch of dudes might have showered in there.

I’m about to admit that when I catch the flicker of uncertainty in the girl’s blue eyes, and I realize that she’s guessing too.

“You don’t know either,” I say.

“I . . . well . . .” in her discomfort, the girl drops her eyes, which inevitably run down the length of my naked body. I haven’t bothered to cover up, so my cock is hanging there in plain sight, slightly swollen from unexpectedly rubbing up against a sleek female body.

Her cheeks flush pink and she whips her head to the side with comical speed.

“Are you going to put some clothes on?” she demands.

“No,” I say calmly. “I haven’t showered yet.”

“I have to shower, too,” she says.

“So?”

“So, there’s no separate stalls.”

“Go in the other changing room then.”

“You don’t know if that’s even the girls’ room!”

“Neither do you.”

We glare at each other, equally as committed to being stubborn as we are unsure of whether we’re actually in the right.

Neither of us wants to cave. But we can’t stand here naked forever.

“I’m showering right here,” the girl declares, tossing her head so her blonde ponytail swings back over her shoulder. Dropping her arms from their protective stance across her chest, she snatches up the towel she dropped on the ground and marches over to the showers.

I stare at her back, trying hard not to let that turn into staring at her ass, then I pick up my own towel and follow after her.

She’s already standing under my shower head, soaping up her hair with a hefty lather of shampoo. Ignoring her, I turn on a second nozzle and step under it before it’s even warm.

I scrub myself with equal vigor, and an equal attitude of I don’t give a fuck.

The trouble is, it’s hard not to look over at the girl as soap suds run down her naked body, and her little breasts bounce on her chest as she shampoos her hair. I can’t stop thinking how slippery smooth her skin must be, remembering how her bare thigh slid between mine as my cock pressed against her flat, tight stomach.

I turn around and face the shower nozzle, so she won’t see my cock stiffening up all over again.

I’m only halfway through showering when I hear a sound that makes my blood run cold: the voices of two girls chatting and giggling as they stroll toward the showers.

I turn around right as they reach me.

The girls stop dead in their tracks. They look a little older than me, maybe Sophomores or Juniors. They’ve got towels wrapped round their bodies, and they’re wearing identical expressions of surprise and amusement.

“Hello, hello,” one of them says to me.

“Are you lost?” the other asks.

Well, fuck. Guess the ballerina was right after all.

I grab my towel and hurry out of there without answering. They don’t even wait till I turn the corner before bursting out laughing. Their giggles echo off the stone ceiling, reminding me what an idiot I am about a hundred times before I reach the door.

I draw a few more amused glances walking back to the dorms dressed only in a towel, with my duffle bag slung over my shoulder and my gym clothes tucked under my arm.

I’m embarrassed, but I can’t say I entirely regret the experience.

It definitely had its pleasant moments . . .