Tales Told Out Of School. 3. On Being A Man In A Girls' School.

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Showering Together?

There were a half dozen curtained-off private cubicles, and a communal shower with four shower-heads along the long side of it, with a shower-head at each end. He started the shower at the end of the communal area, and the next two shower-heads, adjusting the temperature to be warm, to rinse out their clothes, and then adjusted the heads to give a dense spray. They would be showering close together.

She stepped into the showers with him and rinsed out her hair, letting her clothing get thoroughly soaked to get the chlorine out of them, then turned her back to him and determinedly began to peel off her blouse after removing her necktie. She would just have to ignore him behind her. She had lost most of her shyness but was still not entirely sure about his intentions. All men were unpredictable when it came to a woman. Especially in a circumstance like this one, with her getting steadily undressed close to him.

Margaret heard him beginning to disrobe behind her as he threw his wet shirt aside after washing it out a few more times and began on his belt and trousers. She was not sure what she would see when she eventually turned to face him. This was not a predicament many young women would choose to be caught in, but she had little choice so she had better put up with it.

She stood there and listened, trying to interpret every sound, seeing his hand reach out for the soap from the corner dish beside her and he began to shower properly. He had said that they would shower in their underclothes, hadn’t he? She took a quick look over her other shoulder and saw his shirt and trousers lying there on the tiled floor along with their socks, but didn’t see anything else. It seemed that he was still in his under-shorts. That was a relief.

Her skirt took longer to rinse out with it being mostly wool, and heavy. She undid the straps and slowly unwrapped it from her, wringing it out before fastening a strap, and placing it outside of the water spray to hang from a towel-hook at the side, to drip and drain. A few minutes like that wouldn’t harm it.

She felt the water getting warmer, and realized that he had adjusted the temperature of the two showerheads that were directed onto her, now that she had taken her skirt off. He seemed conscious of what she was doing all of the time and was no doubt watching her, admiring how her breasts moved around as she did her hair. Men were all like that. She ignored it and kept her back turned.

“Shampoo?” She saw that she was being offered a bottle of hair shampoo, so took it from him.

He must come down and shower here each morning.

“Thank you.” She took a fast look at him but he had turned away from her and was busy soaping down his legs, so she started on her hair. He still had his undershorts on.

She began to relax.

Her bra and panties would not suffer from warmer water, and they would be staying on her, as little as they would hide of her body when they were wet, and as little protection as they would be either.

When she finished, wondering what the next step would be, she noticed that he had already climbed out of the shower, and was placing his outer clothing and her blouse and tie into the washer after he had squeezed water out of them. He still had his back to her.

She was taken aback, seeing the scars there. She had seen bullet holes on her father, but only on his leg. These, were on Steve’s body.

“I’ll put it on a cool wash, short cycle. I won’t use bleach, and not much detergent. That won’t harm your skirt will it?”

He turned to catch her response and she blushed at what she could see, but he was as attentive to her in turn. It was one thing to see a person fully clothed, but another altogether when they were relatively unclothed. They were both trying to hide their curiosity and concern over what the other might be thinking, though they both soon gave up and did not look away.

She could see so much about him even though he was hidden away, but not well. He was obviously... big. He was looking at her in turn and in the same place, deciphering what he could make out behind her wet panties. Whatever he could see, did not help his condition.

He had arms that were almost as big as her legs, and was ripped like an old-fashioned wash-board. There were those same three bullet holes, but also, longer scars as though he had been in a knife fight, and had got the worst of it. Or maybe not. He was still alive!

She tore her eyes away from his body, back to his face, suddenly finding her tongue.

“N…N…No. A short, cool wash is alright. It’s the dryer that would damage that skirt, so I’ll dry it between towels and hope that it’s dry before I need to go back to school.” Her eyes fell away from his body and other things she had noticed. There were other parts of him that were well-built too, behind the single covering he still had on. She was curious about that, as all young women were, but more from the point of view of knowing her enemy, than for any other reason. A lot of women came to grief getting to know about that part when they didn’t want to.

She submerged her concerns once more, having no choice about it now; turned off the showers, and twisted out her hair, conscious that he would be watching her do that too as she raised her arms, causing her breasts to stand out even more, and to reveal how poorly her bra contained them. Her panties might be translucent too, being wet and of a thin cotton fabric but there was nothing she could do about it, and there was nothing for him to see except perhaps a suggestion of hair behind them, but he had a lot of that too on his belly and going down into his undershorts.

She shouldn’t stare. He was mostly trying to ignore her too, but was as unable to do that as she was unable to ignore him. The situation was not safe for either of them. She let out a giggle before she even knew what had happened, and raised her eyes to see him smiling at her, even giggling himself. Then it all became serious again, but not nearly as serious as it had been.

"We are both curious. It's only natural between you and me. I would say that there is no harm in observing, and getting one's curiosity out of the way."

His words helped. She would not ask the questions she wanted to ask. Those might come, later.

She watched as he shrugged into a large white robe and, with his back to her, stripped off his undershorts, wrung them out, and dropped them into the washer, then toweled himself off under there. She could still see more than she should, in the floor length mirror beside him, giving her palpitations. He fastened the robe close about himself, and then brought her a robe too, and waited for her. She was not sure how she would do this, but he knew.

She turned her back to him expecting him to drop the robe onto her shoulders. He said nothing to warn her what he would do. He pulled at the back of her bra and unfastened it from her before she could stop him, even removing the straps from over her shoulders and down on her arms. She gasped in alarm, worrying about what he intended, clutching at the front of it, looking back at him, seeing that he was holding her robe ready for her and still smiling. He did nothing else. She was being bounced around by emotional uncertainty, never having been alone with a nearly naked man, in such a predicament as this before. He was waiting for her to put her arms into the sleeves.

She let the straps fall from one arm, still holding her bra to cover her breasts, took the strap over her wrist, then put her arm back as he slid the sleeve onto that arm. She did the same for the other, holding her bra up on her again, and repeated it, feeling him slide the next sleeve onto her arm and bring her robe up onto her. He even lifted her wet hair out and over the back of it after she had shrugged into it and closed it around herself, dropping her bra, but still not knowing what he would do.

There was no point in worrying now. That horse had already left the stable. She turned away from him, took her panties down and then followed his example, dropping both panties and bra into the washer as she brought the robe closer about herself. She saw that there were mirrors everywhere, and she'd been standing directly in front of one.

He had probably seen everything about her as she'd done that with her bra and panties. But she'd also seen him the same way. She toweled herself dry on her legs, as he had done.

She would deal with her skirt separately, and roll it into toweling. She didn’t want it to either shrink or stretch, though the mix of fabrics supposedly avoided those dangers. She got started on that, laying it on one of the long wooden benches.

“I’ll see to all of this later. Come on, we can go upstairs. I can make tea or coffee, and when our clothes are dry I’ll bring them up.”

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