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From: apuleius@poboxes.com (Apuleius of Madaura)
Subject: RP: Shower Buddies Chapter 2 by Stone Wolf (MF humour)
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Judging from my email, this story has stimulated quite a response among the ASSM
readership (apart from the obvious :-) so I'd like to make one thing clear: I am
*not* the author of this story. This story was written in 1996 by Stone Wolf who
had an anonymous penet.fi email address which has been invalid for quite some
time. It turns out there was a second chapter of Shower Buddies, which someone
has kindly sent me. There is almost certainly no more of this story :-(

- Apuleius

---------------------------------

Shower Buddies -Chapter 2

 Julie walked down the hall holding her bathing stuff protectively to her
chest. Almost a week in this place now, and she almost knew where she was
going. It was still a shock every time a guy walked around a corner as if he
owned the place (which was somewhat understandable), but it was subsiding. Of
course it was nothing like the shock she'd had the other day. That was
definitely something she was going to have to watch out for.
 Turning left down the hallway, she came face to face with a steel door
sporting a faded red exit sign. This was definitely a wrong turn. She backed up,
turned around in the intersection, looked left, looked right, looked straight
ahead. Okay, where the hell was she? There were two guys walking down the hall
to the left, maybe she should ask them.
 Then the taller one noticed her. One look into his eyes, and the words "Not
good." flashed across her synapses. She came to a swift decision and walked
straight ahead, pretending she hadn't seen them. She was so busy listening to
see if they had come down the hall behind her that she almost missed the bath
room door. Ducking quickly left through the door, she listened, and heard
nothing.
 What had she panicked about? Just a feeling. But a damn serious feeling, none
the less. Julie had this way of understanding people, just looking into their
eyes. That guy was trouble, even a whole hall length away and talking to a
friend, she could see the look in his eyes, just seeing her in that short green
robe. Not like the guy in the shower a few days ago. In spite of the shock, and
even if he'd seen more than she was ever willing to let tall-dark-and-gruesome
even think about, he was actually kind of funny. Almost adorably clumsy. And the
look in his eyes? Always halfway between terror and embarrassment.
 A smile crossed her lips and broke into a grin as she disrobed, hung the robe
up, and picked up her cloth, soap, shampoo, conditioner, backbrush... you get
the picture. Suddenly, thinking about that day, she realized that by some
mistake of hers, this was the same bath room. She'd actually tried to avoid
it, going the other way from her new room, but somehow, she'd gone all the way
round the far side of the floor and come back again.
 Well she was here, and there was no avoiding that, but she wasn't going
through the same dumb thing again. She picked up her towel, too and took it
with her to the stall. There was no-one else there, and she decided to go for
the far stall. Dumping the towel on the floor beside the raised lip of the
stall, she stepped in and closed the curtain.
 Putting the cloth and soap down on the shelf, the bottles and brush on the
floor, and the other stuff on the shelf too, she turned on the taps and
started to try and adjust them to the right temperature. For some reason, the
hot water kept pulsing and making funny noises, and the tap sometimes felt
loose in her hand, and then sometimes it quivered with its own tension. This
was weird. She fiddled with it some more, as strange sounds started coming
from the pipes.
 Great, symphony number two for shower and plumbing. If I wanted this kind of
racket first thing in the morning, I'd have moved in with Jen at the Hall. Is
the water going BROWN? Only a guy could tolerate this.
 There might have been a squeaking sound, and maybe the dull thud of the door
closing, but she couldn't be sure over the splash of the water, and the
altogether unsettling whine of the pipes. Bare feet padded over to the showers
and someone stepped into the next stall and pulled shut the curtain. This
barely registered, as the hot water pipe began whining louder and louder, and
even started to visibly vibrate. Just a tinge of panic started to creep into
Julie's thoughts, as she tried alternately turning and smacking the taps.
 Can plumbing explode? I don't know but you're gonna to find out. Maybe it'll
just go away. Yeah, like that thing in that Alien movie I knew. I shouldn't
have stayed up to watch that.
 "Hey!", came a male voice over the enclosure wall, "You better have a hand on
that shower head, 'cause I don't want a head shot from some crazed chunk of
airborne aluminum!"
 For a moment, Julie froze in her fiddling with the taps, as it dawned on her
that she'd heard that voice before, though not anything like that confident or
coherent. That moment proved to be disastrous, as the air bubble worked its
way up to the top, and the shower head flipped up and off in an explosion of
air and water. There was a loud ping! as the head hit the ceiling and
rebounded into the next stall, followed by a curse and a white, solid jet of
water that blasted Julie across the side of her head.
 Shocked, Julie stepped out of the way of the half-inch torrent, which kept
going in an almost straight downward slope and punched aside the plastic
curtain, revealing an angry looking figure holding the shower head. It was the
guy from the other day, and he was rubbing his already bruising hip with one
hand as he stared at her across the stream of high-powered froth. She stared
back at him, then looked at the rapidly growing pool of water on the outer
tiles.
 I don't need this. Hey! It's him! Ow. Wake up! Too much water. No kidding.
Little bits of floating crud, yuck. No, look up. At him. Very good. Now SAY
something.
 "Help?" she said, as plaintively and apologetically as she could.
 He hesitated for a second, weighing the proprieties of shower etiquette,
versus the Masterton Monsoon, and Julie added, "Please?"
 Seeming to come to a decision, he stepped into the shower, physically blocked
the stream with his chest, and advanced on the angrily spouting pipe.
Unfortunately, the closer he got, the closer the blinding spray came to his
face, until he was taking it in the neck. "Unless he grows another foot or two
of arm", Julie thought, "he's not going to reach that pipe."
 Sensibly, he decided to sidestep the stream, in order to advance on the
headless shower. One step ahead of him, Julie realized that he was going to
have to let it go again, and stepped deliberately into place behind him. As he
sidestepped, the stream, it sprayed over his shoulder, into her face, then
came full force on her breasts. The pain was like an unexpected flurry of
punches against her flesh, until she got the stream centered on her sternum,
then it was just a firm steady force, splattering off of her in all directions.
Probably because he heard a wet flesh-slapping sound, rather than
the expected plastic boom of the curtain being ripped out of the way, Harold
looked back over his shoulder. And stopped.
 What is he doing? Take a wild guess. He's not looking at.. Yep. No. Yes. Well,
tell him to stop it! Are you sure? I mean it is kind of..
 "Look, splphth! can you just put the splfffp, thing back on??" Julie gurgled.
She was not enjoying this, and it wasn't even so much the fact that he was
staring at her, but more that every moment he delayed getting the stream under
control was that much more pain on her rapidly reddening skin.
 A flush coming to his face, Harold turned around and braved a storm of side-
spray to jam the shower head back in place and pull it back down, where it
couldn't (okay, might not) come off again. Satisfied that it wasn't going to
come right off again, he turned around, all serious, and said, "Look, if you
hear that whine again, you reach up and grab the shower head real quick, so it
doesn't tip up and off, okay?"
 Julie walked through the now tamed stream to the shower head and stretched up
to practice grabbing the nozzle. Suddenly, realizing that the crisis was over,
she looked at Harold, who was still just standing there. Hey! "Hey!"
 After one quick glare and a meaningful rub of his now visibly discoloured
hip, he stepped around her and out of the stall. The angry slap of his feet
into the puddle on the outer floor was audible, as he returned to his own
interrupted shower.
 Suddenly, Julie felt kind of bad. Well, she had asked, and he had helped her.
After all, he could just have chucked the shower head at her and told her to
fix her own problem.
 "Hey!" she said.
 Harold's head came back into view around the wall, though he steadfastly
stared at the curtain, as if it held some special interest.
 "Thank you," she said, then more quietly, "I mean it."
 "You're welcome," he said, somewhat sullenly, still staring angrily at the
curtain.
 "Look, I'm sorry, okay. About the thing hitting you, and me shouting at you
like that. It's just... Well, it's just that I'm not used to having a guy naked
in the shower with me. That's all."
 Suddenly, a smile pulled at Harold's lips, and she laughed, "What?"
 Harold looked her in the eye, "It's just the naked bit that bugs you?" he
said, with a broadening grin.
 "No! I mean I'm not used to having a guy in the shower with me at all, naked
or not.. Well, especially not naked. Not that it's ever happened before.. But.."
she trailed off. "Arghh! You know what I mean!"
 "Yes, of course I do," he said, laughing to himself as he walked back to his
stall.
 God! He is infuriating! But he is funny. Yeah, but he was also in my shower.
Well whose fault is that? Well, I could have taken care of it myself. And
what? Stuck your finger in the hole, like the little Dutch boy? I could have
turned the water off. Yeah. That's right.
 "Hey!"
 "Yeah? What?"
 "Why didn't we just turn the water off?"
 The only reply was the sound of a hand smacking a forehead, at which point
Julie started to grin. The grin stayed with her the whole time, as she cleaned
up. Thinking about the look on his face as he tried to get close to the
water's source, without getting the dental cleansing of a lifetime, made her
almost burst out laughing.
 Eventually, having finished all that she came to do, she took one last rinse,
looking suspiciously at the faucet that hadn't uttered so much as a peep the
whole rest of her shower, and then reached out to turn off the taps. Thinking
about what she was doing, she burst out laughing, again, then turned off the
cold and the hot taps. Immediately, a rattling whine started to rise from the
pipe.
 "Hey!" called the guy, from the other end of the room, "Flick the hot water
tap on and off a couple of times before the whole thing blows up!"
 Warily, Julie reached out and grabbed the tap. It felt like it had a life of
its own at her touch, writhing and twisting and shaking. She swiftly turned it
on, then off, then on again, then off. The noise and vibration subsided, until
there was just a hiss, and a distant whine. Shaking her head at the
strangeness of it all, Julie picked up her stuff and headed out of the stall.
 Then she stopped, considering that he had already left the shower, and was
probably almost done drying.
 "Hey! Are you done, or are you still hanging around out there, waiting for
another peep?"
 "Hardly! What's more to see?" was the pithy response, followed by a pause,
then, "Sorry. No, I won't look. I'm just going to go and occupy a toilet for a
couple of chapters."
 "Thanks," Julie muttered, then realized that she'd brought her towel over for
this very reason. The thought, "How convenient," died a swift death, as she
pulled aside the curtain and saw the half-inch deep lake on the tiled floor,
and in the corner, the sopping wet mush of a bath towel.
 Great. Now what am I supposed to do? Walk all the way back soaking wet and
dry myself off with.. I don't have another towel. Damn!
 "Umm, hey? You still there?"
 "Yeah, but I'm occupied. Why?"
 "Uh, my towel got soaked. I don't suppose I could borrow yours?"
 Pause, "Sure. It's on the counter."
 "Thanks a lot," Julie said, and realizing that there wasn't a whole lot of
choice in the matter, she collected her stuff and stepped hesitantly out of
the shower, into the lake, looking over to the counter, as she did so. No one
there. Satisfied, she bent over, picked up her towel, which was indeed
completely waterlogged, and walked up to the front of the bathroom.
 On the left, a stall door was closed, with a pair of bare feet planted firmly
either side of the toilet, facing her. Julie put down her things on the
counter, except the towel, which she hung on the empty robe hook, and picked
up his towel.
 Mmmm. Guy-smell. That secret mixture of sweat, water and mildew, lovingly
aged in a dorm-room heap to pungent perfection. And the tangible results of a
God-given conviction against fabric softener. Honestly. Do guys get together
and show off their towel-burn? "Hey! My towel can rip off fifteen layers of
skin!" "Yeah? Well they use mine to sand the edges off of curbs!" Funny. Now
give him a break. Beggars can't be choosers. Especially silly ones who don't
buy spare towels.
 Julie hummed as she began scrubbing her hair and arms dry. As the rasp-like
towel scrubbed across her reddened, bruised chest, she yelped, "Shit!", and
began gingerly patting herself dry, instead.
 As she worked her way down, she started to feel a bit of a tingle. Just a
little one. You know, the kind you get when you've just had a good shower and
you feel all clean and free and fuzzy. And that little tingle starts to grow
as you dry yourself. And it gets a bit more urgent, and you think, "what the
hell? Why not?" and you close your eyes, and "let your fingers do the
walking".
 And then she noticed Harold's guilty face looking out from beneath the stall.
 "And just what the hell are YOU doing??"
 "I... I dropped my bookmark. You shouted, I... then I... book mark.. you know..
startled.. dropped it."
 "Yeah? Well you can have your towel back!" Julie threw the towel at the space
at the bottom of the stall and whipped around to grab her robe and put it on.
 The NERVE of that guy!! I mean there I was... Okay, so I was... Well he
shouldn't have been looking! "Bookmark, my ass!"
 "I'm sorry?" was the unsure call from the stall.
 "Well I don't care!", Julie said as she grabbed her things to her chest and
pulled open the door. She stormed out into the hall, looked left, looked
right, and stormed off to the left.
 But I do. What for? Because he's probably sorry. But he keeps on looking at
you doesn't he? Well maybe it's not his fault. How's that? Did he suddenly
lose the ability to close his eyes or something? No. But maybe he really did
drop his bookmark. Unh-hunh. Really! And maybe it just happened to be hanging
on the bottom of the door? Maybe that's why he was looking UP? Okay, so he
didn't have to. My point, exactly. Well I still think he sounded sorry. Hmph!
Now I suppose YOU'll be wanting to go back and apologize to HIM? Well, maybe..
No! Don't even think about it! Anyway, you're here.
 And so she was. "Here" being W427. Pulling the key out of her robe, she
unlocked the door and went in. The door wasn't even closed before she'd thrown
her pile in the corner and started towards the dresser in search of clothes.
 And she never even saw tall-dark-and-gruesome watching her rush down the hall
and into her room.

-------------------
end of it all (to date)



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