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Hot tattooed guy

Arriving at the pool area, I dug around Elle Vie Senior in search of the pool key (note to self: make large laminated card keyrings so as to find the damn key more easily, and prevent loss once thrown onto the grass. No prizes for guessing which resident has misplaced the greatest amount of pool keys.)

With an unsteady hand I slid the key in the lock whilst attempting to scan my surroundings through my dark sunglasses.

I hear voices but I can’t see bodies

Strutting from the gate to my spot on the other side of the enclosure, I noted with bitter disappointment that none of the five occupants were my proposed object of ogling.

Dammit!

Maybe he signed for a key but will only be arriving later? Or perhaps the entry I saw in the register was from the day before?

Ah well. I’ve half a book to read and cold pizza and garlic bread to eat and I did come here to relax. Perving would’ve jut been the cherry on top.

Unfortunately my bad luck was only just beginning.

The quintet had obviously been potting away in the sun for several hours prior to my afternoon arrival, as they were comparing sob stories, littered with crude expletives; vying to be heard over the din of the not-so-popular music blaring from a portable speaker.

Great. As it is I’m struggling to get stuck into this book without the distraction of drunk men, their girlfriends and mommy with the brandy-laced “my daddy issues are fokken bigger than yours.”

When the sobbing slanted towards aggression I decided that waiting around in the misguided hope of spotting the lesser-spotted lady-killer wasn’t worth the aggravation. I packed up my goods and returned to the guard house to swop keys for the less popular swimming pool. Anything for some peace and quiet.

On the way I was passed by the kid who used to bully Angel when she was younger; but with whom she is now friends with and I even give a lift to school to. He was riding a friend of his scooter to the pool, accompanied by the scooter owner’s pregnant teenage girlfriend.

I wasn’t thrilled at the prospect of sharing the area with a bunch of teenagers, however they are all quite respectful towards me and so I needn’t worry about too much noise  as they wouldn’t dare face the wrath of Auntie Harmz.

The boy left the gate open for me [see, good manners] and I entered the pool area to the sound of an Angel’s chorus. In my head of course. It’s just something that happens when I am confronted by the sight of such ethereal hotness!

*harps playing*

Whoo hoo! It is my lucky day after all and it’s evident I wasn’t the only person to exchange swimming pool keys. Thank you loud drunkards for sending me this way, and straight into the same breathing space as …

The Stripper!

Sadly he was fully clothed in a branded T-shirt and shorts, with no surf board abs on show. [who the hell hangs out at the pool with clothes on???] But beggars can’t be choosers and I was only too happy undress him …

… with my eyes.

A bonus was the huge grin I received when he saw me and waved with a “Hey Har!”

[as an aside, I have been hankering over The Stripper for over three years – our first encounter in 2011 is documented here; and I also note that I’m always reading a Paulo Coelho book when he is in attendance. How bizarre!]

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