3 comments/ 50528 views/ 23 favorites Locks and Clues By: LWeaver I step onto the mat, shoeless, and I know he's watching me. I kneel down, sit on my heels with my forehead on the mat, slowly stretching my back. In the mirror, he's squatting. He's got like 300 lbs on the barbell, and he goes down, and up. Down, and up, like it's nothing. He's 200 lbs of dark haired, shirtless muscle but I have to look away 'cause he almost caught me staring. Luke. His name is Luke. Belly up, now, I do the bridge. Give my abs a nice stretch. Push my chest up through the sports bra. I wonder if he likes my yoga pants. I stand up and I bend over, reaching for the tips of my feet. Am I being a little too obvious, pointing myself at him like this? Likely, but who cares? At this time at night, there's only us here at the gym. It's a gritty, warehouse-like establishment, sitting in between nowhere and barren countryside. The kind of place you get sick just watching it pass by the side view mirror. But it's the only gym in town that's open 24/7, and with my job, I kind of need that schedule. I put my sneakers back on, grab my water bottle and leave the weights room. I don't say bye to Luke, but I do stop by the scale and pretend I can't get it working. Maybe, I think, he's finally going to come and talk to me. Maybe, I think, he'll ask me out. I've pretended stupidity to the brink of mental retardation when a short, stocky girl with greasy hair walks up to me. She's chewing gum -- nicotine gum by the smell of it -- and without even looking me in the eye she says: "This is the power switch. It's not hard to find you know," and flicks it on. I smile bitterly, and I'm about to thank her when she says: "Well, brains obviously aren't your best asset," gesturing toward my breasts. I'm too shocked to reply in kind, and she leaves me there, silent and appalled. I glance back to see if Luke's noticed my embarrassing moment, but he's busy with his pullups. I sigh and leave. At least the scale was nice to me. On my way to the locker room, a squeaky male voice calls out to me. "Miss!" the voice says, "miss!" I turn around to see a short, thin man waving at me. He's wearing stained blue overalls and looks unwashed, but, thankfully, he's far enough that I can't smell him. The man, I think he's a janitor, yells at me: "Floor's wet, miss. Watch yer step." I nod in thanks, raising my bottle to him. There's no way to get to the ladies' changing room without stepping on the puddle, though, so I just hope he'll forgive my footprints on his floor, 'cause this girl needs a shower. There's a couple other girls in the changing room, behind the wall with my locker on it. Chit-chatting about shaving tactics, I think, but I'm just too focused on un-sticking these damn sweaty yoga pants off my legs to listen to them. My pants are now a wet rag in the dirty clothes sections of my gym bag. The sports bra and socks soon follow, and I scour the bag for shower supplies. Clean towel, check. Shampoo, check. Liquid soap, check. Flip-flops... Crap, I forgot my flip-flops. I keep looking for a few minutes, hoping to see them pop out of some unseen pocket, but of course they just aren't there. The other girls leave the room and a cold draft hits me. I'm still naked and sweaty, so I shiver, and I decide the floor doesn't look so dirty after all. I brave the locker room and shower floors with bare feet, and enjoy a long steaming shower. As I'm soaping up I can't help but wonder about Luke. Doesn't he like me? I've been coming here for two months and he barely ever spoke to me. Is he gay? Why do all the best ones always have to be gay? I think about him squatting, looking at me as I stretch, and I wonder what would happen if I made the first move. What if I went up to him and touched him. What if I... The shower goes cold and I snap back to reality to shut it off. My hand wandered between my legs and I'm so wet it can't be just the water. I blush and look around; there's nothing to separate these showers and anyone could have seen me. Thankfully, I'm alone. I sigh in relief, and get back to washing. I dry off my hair on the public dryer and get back to my locker wrapped in just a towel. I'm pretty sure my locker was number 77, but number 77 has a combination lock on it and I don't use padlocks. You see, I had an... accident with lockers and locks. I was in middle school and I used an old fashioned lock with a small key to store my stuff during gym class. One day, at the end of class, as I turn the key to open the lock, the thing breaks off and I'm stuck in my sweaty track suit. They call a janitor to cut the lock, but it takes a few hours and I have to sit in class with smelly clothes and everyone laughing at me. They never let me live that down, even in high school. I walk around, frustrated and dripping wet, barefoot on the disgusting floor, looking for my damn locker, but they're all empty. I remember where I was standing when I struggled with my pants, and there's no doubt about it. Somebody locked up all my clothes. I run around the locker room looking for the culprit, but there's nobody there. Nobody in the showers nor the stalls. My breathing gets heavy and my fingers scour my hair. I can feel myself flushing red with panic and anger. I lean against a wall and take deep breaths to calm down. I can't be the only one this happens to. At the lobby, they must have something that can cut padlocks. I hide behind the door as I push it open with one hand, the other holding onto my precious towel. I bend slightly to take a peek outside, and there's three guys chatting with the receptionist, the same girl who insulted me before. One of the guys glances at me, and I squeal. I shut the door and crumple up behind it. I curse my bad luck and get back to my locker. Sitting on a bench, I force myself back to composure. I'll just wait for the guys to leave, then I'll ask the receptionist for something to cut the lock. The receptionist... she doesn't really like me, does she? Did it really have to be her? On the bench, I hug my knees to my chest and stare at the lock, wishing my hate could break it. That's when I see it. A small note, stuck to my locker. In my frenzied state, I hadn't noticed it. It says "wear me", and there's an earpiece taped to it. I wonder if it's for me -- but who else could it be meant for? So this is a prank, after all? By whom? Why? I just sigh and obey the note. I rip off the duct tape, wear the earpiece and turn it on. All I hear is static. I fumble with the device, but it's really not that complex and there's not much I can do besides turn it on and off and regulate the volume. Tentatively, I say: "H... hello...?" A few seconds of static, then: "Hello, Vanessa," a digitally altered voice says, "took you long enough." It sounds like someone with a sore throat talking through a metal pipe. The monster voice asks me: "Were you masturbating under the shower?" I blush and sink my face into my hands. "Who... who are you?" I ask the voice. It knows my name, and... it was watching me under the shower? I'm sitting on the floor, now, and I didn't even notice how I got here. The voice laughs, and it's like a fork rubbing a cheese grater. "Wouldn't you like to know?" it says. I can't even tell if it's male or female. I ask it, "Did you lock my stuff up?" and I stand. My towel drops, and I squirm even though I'm alone. I grab it and wrap it around myself again, but it's wet, and it cooled down, and it gets me goosebumps all over my back. "Yes," the voice says, "would you like to know the combination, Vanessa?" "Tell me how to open it. This isn't funny, you know?" "On the contrary," it says, "this is plenty funny. The number is easy to find. It's hidden in the sauna. In there, nobody will even notice your current state of undress." "Or," I say, "I could just walk up to the receptionist and ask her to cut the lock. How about that?" It laughs again. "Well," it tells me, "you could try. But what if someone misplaced all their cutters? What then? The receptionist's clothes wouldn't even fit your tight little butt, and she hates your tits, so..." My house is a thirty minute drive away, and my car keys, of course, are in the locker. I think about walking back all the way -- in the countryside, at night, wearing just a towel or whatever clothing the receptionist might give me -- and my stomach twists and turns. "Ok," I sigh, "I'll do it." "Of course you will," it says, "remember: the sauna. If you tell anyone about this, I guarantee you'll regret it. I'll call you back in a short while." "Wait! I-" Static. I whimper, pulling at my hair. My head is spinning, and I lean against the wall. I take one quick peek at the lobby. The receptionist is gone and the three guys are still there, chit-chatting by the door. In a haze, I find myself at the other door out of the changing rooms, the one that leads to the corridor connecting all the gym facilities. I slowly push it open. The corridor, with its black marble floor and white walls, is empty. Neon lights glow on the ceiling, and there's not a single dark spot, or hiding place, for all its length. Various white doors, each with its own label, lead to the weight room, the swimming pool, the martial arts room. Tantalizingly close, I see the one labeled, "SAUNA". I see nobody at both ends of the corridor. I take a deep breath and, on weak legs, I take the first step out of my safe zone. The floor is cold and still wet from the janitor's work. A cool draft caresses my legs and I shiver. My knees are bent and I'm hunched forward, one hand on the wall and the other on my wet towel. I force my feet to go one in front of the other, glancing back every few steps. Anyone could walk out of these doors and see me, half naked and flushed. My towel is slippery and could fall off any second. I tell myself there's nothing weird. People walk to the sauna like this all the time, but my body betrays me and my nipples harden. I reach the sauna door, and my mind clears as I pull it open and walk in. I slam into something, and my body makes a wet slapping sound. "Are you alright?" Big, rough hands are holding my shoulders. I look up and see Luke staring at me. He says: "Sorry, I was just walking out, I..." I gasp and mouth a few words. I'm stuck between wanting to talk to him about me, about him, about us, and about my predicament, and no sounds come out and he's just looking at me. His eyes wander on my body. Suddenly, he lets me go and faces the other way. "Uh," he says, "see you around, mh, Vanessa...?" and he leaves before I reply. The door closes behind him. Stupefied, I look down at myself and I see the towel dropped, exposing my breasts. I blush and curl up, hugging my knees in shame, and it takes a while for me to calm down and start looking for the combination. There's nothing on the floor, nor on the benches. Nothing stuck to the walls either. I realize I don't even know what I'm looking for; it could be a post-it, or it could be carved into the wood, or written in sharpie. "Hey," I say to the earpiece, "what am I supposed to look for?" but all I get is static. My only option is scouring every inch of the sauna. The steam works its magic and I start sweating profusely. When all this is over, I think, I'm going to need another shower... at home! I drop on my hands and knees to search under the benches and I can't help but think about Luke in just a towel, bumping into me and seeing my... My belly warms up, and I know it's not the steam. I'm on the floor, lifting my ass towards the door. If anyone walked in, they'd see everything. I try to concentrate on searching, but I can feel myself getting wet anyways. Finally, I find something: a scrap of paper, and an iPhone. The scrap of paper has something scribbled on it, but the steam ruined it beyond comprehension. It could be a seven, or a one, or an ugly arrow. The iPhone's screen is locked and I'm looking at it, puzzled, when behind me someone says: "Excuse me..." I stand up and turn around. It's Luke. He says: "I forgot that..." and points at the phone. How long has he been here for? Did he see me? Like me, he too is wearing just a towel and I fight the impulse to check for bulges. Silently, I hand him the phone. He smiles, thanks me, and leaves. I get back into the locker room. It's still empty. The padlock requires three numbers to open and all I have is an unreadable squiggle. I twist the first tumbler on a seven and try to open it, but it won't budge. "Hey!" I cry into the microphone, "it won't open!" A few seconds of static, then it replies: "Of course not. You need three numbers." "You never said that!" "So what?" "I can't even read this one! It's unfair, it's..." "My game, my rules. Now, you can either go and get the second one, or we can end this here and I leave you there butt naked." I don't reply. It says: "Good. Hope you enjoy swimming! The second one is at the bottom of the pool. Unless someone else found it already... it was pretty crowded tonight!" "Wait, what? What if somebody else took it?!" "Well then you're in a heap of trouble, aren't you? Oh, and, go ahead and drop your towel off in here. You won't need it in the pool." "But the corridor! Am I supposed to?" "Yes. That's what you get for being a smart ass." "But I, I can't-" "My game, my rules. If you get out of there wearing anything at all, it's game over. Talk to you in a little bit." Back to static. I'm breathless. My world is spinning. I have to go back outside, this time stark naked. Just thinking about it I get a rush and my neck and chest warm up. I think about Luke seeing me in the sauna, what he must have thought of me, of my exposed body. Then I realize. The voice in the earpiece didn't answer me in the sauna. At the same time, Luke didn't have his phone with him. Could he be the one behind it all? What a coincidence, that the voice tells me to enter the sauna just when he's in there. What a coincidence, that he comes back in just as I'm flashing my ass at the door looking for the number. If it's really him, if Luke really is the creep behind all this, then I want to get to the bottom of it all. I want to look him in the eye and slap him and tell him what a worm he is. And I was falling for him, too! I drop the towel. My body, still sweaty and hot from the sauna, reacts with shivers and goosebumps. My nipples stand up. I regret yesterday's full body shaving; some hair, maybe, would have kept me warm. But I don't linger. With the kind of foolish bravery only someone this mad could have, I step back into the corridor. I can't help but try and cover myself up with my hands, even though I know it's pointless. The swimming pool is at the end of the corridor, way past the sauna and -- gasp! -- just beyond the men's changing room. I'm determined to get through this, and start walking before fear gets the best of me. I come to a junction. The corridor splits to my left towards the lobby, with the pool and the men's locker room still ahead of me. Sounds of splashing and whistling come from this side way, and my heart skips a beat. There's nowhere to hide, here; I could risk getting into one of the doors but I have no way of knowing if anyone's inside. The only real safe place right now is the women's locker room, but it's way behind me. No way I'd ever get there in time. My stomach twists as I approach the corner. My warm nipples brush up against the wall, and I get a shiver. I notice the wet stain my sweat just left on the white paint, and all my footprints all the way from the changing room to here, but I can't let myself get distracted. Slowly, I take a stealthy peek past the corner. The janitor is lazily mopping up the floor. He's got earphones on and he's whistling some song I don't know. He's about ten feet away from me, and coming my way. I hurry back behind cover, but I slip and fall. I scramble to get back on my feet, slipping and slapping on the floor, until I finally manage a steady crouch. I hope he hasn't seen anything. He's still whistling. Still washing, I think. My heart races in my chest and my breath is all ragged. I look around and I realize there's so many doors in here, anyone could come out at any time and I'd have nowhere to hide. I need to get to the pool as soon as possible. I hold my breath and focus on the janitor's whistling. I think I hear it getting farther away. I'm not sure, but I have no other option. I count to three, and I dash towards the room. "Hey!" the janitor calls out. Crap, he's seen me! I run to the door and I hope he won't notice it closing behind me. I want to take a peek, but I can't. Right now, I'm in a foyer of sorts. A room just before the pool, where people can shower and leave any bathrobes and footwear. It's covered in little blue tiles that feel cold and slippery on my skin as I push myself against the wall right beside the entrance. I hold my breath and I count to ten. Nothing. Twenty. Nothing. Sixty. Nothing. I think my troubles are over, but boy, am I mistaken. I can see the pool through a sliding glass door, and there's four guys swimming laps in there. I'm supposed to dive in, naked, grab something off the bottom that may not even be there and get back without being noticed. I get a lump in my throat as I brainstorm for alternatives and I can't find any. The foyer leads to the short end of the pool, and there's no hiding place at all, besides a podium that's quite far and useless to my goal. I want to chicken out. Maybe I can steal one of these bathrobes and ask someone for help. But then I'll never know for certain if Luke really did this to me, or if it's someone else. And what would stop them from trying again in some other, more insidious way? I have to go through with it. And those swimmers will see me fully naked. No way around that. I gather up whatever willpower I can find and walk up to the sliding door. I open it, and... I hide back into the foyer. No way, I can't do this. I just can't do this. "What's wrong?" the voice says into my ear, "too hard for you?" I don't answer. "And to think, you so much love to expose yourself around the gym." "Oh, shut up!" "So you haven't lost your spirit, then. Good. You'll need it on your hike back home." "I can't! I can't just..." "Oh, sweetie, that's OK. Tell you what, I'm having so much fun I'll change the rules so our little game can go on a little longer." "What do you mean?" "See the podium, there by the end of the pool? I want you to get behind it." "Just that? Get there and back?" "No. Get there, masturbate to an orgasm, then get back." My heart skips a beat. "You can't be serious," I bite my lip, "can you?" "Yes I can, Vanessa. Now get there. Hurry up, will you? I think you've caused quite a stir, people have started looking for you." I beg and squirm into the microphone but my only reply is static. I glance at the pool and the four guys are still doing their laps, back and forth. Even if I waited for them to leave, there's nowhere I could hide. I notice they're all pretty much in sync, swimming towards me. I hide next to the door and, after a while, look out: everyone's facing away. It's my chance. I step out of the foyer and run to the podium. I crouch behind it. My heart's beating so fast I can see it in my chest. The podium is barely tall enough to cover me if I sit down, and I try not to think about how dirty the floor must be. In front of me there's a mess of a shelf, full of swimming equipment. Not exactly the most arousing sight, but I must... "I'll do it," I say, "only once." "Yes," it replies, "let me hear it." I switch my brain off and get to work. I'm ashamed to realize just how wet I already am. My finger slides in with no effort, and I tickle my g-spot just a little. I think about Luke working the weights, Luke in the sauna. Luke telling me to masturbate in here. My finger slips out and rubs my juices all over my clit. Locks and Clues I draw little circles around it, leaning back against the podium. My legs are crossed and I'm constantly afraid of sticking out and being seen. I hear the swimmers getting closer and I can't hold a moan. I hope they got water in their ears. I grab my breast and softly squeeze my nipple as my other hand picks up the pace and my mind clouds up. My breathing gets faster and my belly warms up. I think about Luke listening to me. I moan for him. I think about him masturbating to the sounds I make. "I'm coming!" I whisper, and I do. All the warmth explodes and ripples of pleasure shake my body. It's really hard not to stick out of the podium but somehow I do. Or the swimmers are facing away. I don't know, and I don't care. I've done it. I've really done it. For a second, I feel like this ordeal is finally over. Far from it. The voice in my ear comes back and says: "Slut." But I'm too tired to reply. The voice says: "Well, you've earned the next number. It's a-" And static covers it up. It could be a three, or a six, or a tree. "Wait," I say, panting, "I didn't catch that!" "The last number is easy. It's in the locker room. See you there." Back to static. It said, "see you there". Will Luke finally reveal himself as my prankster? I collect myself -- what little is left, and I look at the swimmers. One of them is climbing up the ladder! But I don't care who sees me anymore. Besides, my back will be turned to them and I'll be in the changing room before they realize it. I get up and run, and I almost slip into the pool. I scream, and they notice me. I cover up my face and I can't make up what they're saying, apart from whistles and cat calls. Back in the corridor. The janitor is gone, and I run as fast as I can on the wet floor, all the way to the ladies' locker room. I close the door behind me and lean against it to catch my breath. When I finally do, and my heart goes quiet, I hear a faint kissing sound coming from beyond the locker wall. Slowly, I walk around towards it, and when I see them I gasp. The janitor is sitting on a bench, naked. The ugly receptionist girl, wearing nothing from the waist down, is going down on him in a sloppy blowjob. My eyes linger just a second too much and I notice he's very well endowed. Almost unnaturally so. The janitor looks at me and says: "Hi!" I turn to escape, and the girl says: "If you run, you'll never get the last digit!" I freeze. "What? Are you the one...?" "Yes," she says, one hand still masturbating that enormous penis, "I'm the one who's been talking you through the night. This is your last task. To get the final digit, you must have sex with us. A nice little threesome!" I instinctively bare my teeth and wrinkle my nose. "No," I say, "that's too much. You're sick. This is..." The janitor points at me, facing his girlfriend: "Hey!" he says, "ye said she'd be up fer it!" The receptionist chuckles. "Don't worry, hon," she says. She produces a small tablet out of nowhere, and fingers a few commands on it. Then, she turns it towards me, and I see myself masturbating behind the podium. She smiles. "Hidden camera," she says, "also, I have surveillance camera footage of this whole crazy night. Isn't that fun?" I can't stop staring at myself in the tablet. My hands over my mouth, I can just barely say: "What do you want?" "A threesome!" she replies, "or this whole thing goes online!" She walks up to me and puts her hands on my cheeks. I pull away, and she gets closer and holds me harder. "Play nice," she says, "it's for the best." She sits on a bench, guiding me by the head, spreads her legs and pulls me towards her hairy pussy. I try to resist and she says, "Do it, or it goes online. I mean it, you slut. All I have to do is push a button and your life is over." Tears streaming down my cheeks, I bend over and sink into her disgusting mess of pubic hair. "Come on," she says, "work that tongue, you whore!" I manage to find her clitoris. I shut my eyes and suck on it, ignoring the taste as much as I can. At the same time, sweaty hands grab my waist. I reach back to slap them away, but he catches my wrists and pulls me back into him. I scream as his monster dick forces its way into me. The receptionist grabs my head and pushes me back into her pussy. The janitor sinks deeper and deeper, stretching me wide open, and there seems to be no end to him. He gets to the bottom of me, hits my cervix, and I come instantly. I scream into the receptionist's pussy as mine involuntarily clutches and spasms around the monster cock. The janitor moans loud, pulls me even closer and says: "Damn, hon, she's tight!" She pushes me down with one hand and grabs one of my breasts with the other. She pinches my nipple and twists it painfully; I want to pull away but I can't. She says: "Look at that. This slut already came. You're in for a long night, Vanessa. My boyfriend here can ride me for *hours* before coming, and trust me, this threesome isn't over until he empties his balls in or on you." I want to speak, I want to beg them to let me go, but the janitor starts fucking me and my brain turns to jello. He fills me up completely, and stretches me some; he hammers into me non-stop, and I hang onto him like a tight, hot, wet glove. "Look at you," the receptionist says, "taking dick like the nice little whore you are. How could you ever think a great guy like Luke could ever want you? He needs a real woman, not some slutty cock-monger like you!" Luke? Is he what this is all about? She lets go of my head to torment both my nipples. In between the pain and the pleasure, my breath is a hurried mess of pants and moans. I gather up all my strength just to say: "You're... too much... of an ugly bitch... for Luke." "What did you just say?!" the receptionist erupts. She pulls hard at my nipples, and I cry in pain. "What do you know?! You're just a slut! You can't get between me and Luke!" "Who the fuck is Luke?" the janitor says, still fucking me. The receptionist blushes. She says: "Nobody," and pulls me back in between her legs, but her boyfriend won't let her. The janitor steps back, taking me with him. He straightens me up and, still fucking me, pulls my ear to his mouth and says: "Who, the fuck, is Luke?" "A guy... from the gym... I think... I think... she likes him," I manage to say. The janitor pulls out of me and I fall down, doubled over in pain. He looms over his girlfriend, blocking her escape. "Did ye cheat on me," he asks, "with this Luke faggot?" The receptionist shakes her head, but she's too terrified to speak. The janitor grabs her and flips her over. "Cheating bitches," the janitor says, "get it up the ass." "No, please," she begs, "you know I don't like it in my..." her sentence ends in a silent scream as he forces his way inside her. She looks at me with tearful, begging eyes; thankfully, I can only imagine the kind of pain she's in. I want to help her. But first, I point at the lock. She understands, and mouths me a number that could be nine, or five, or hi. I work the tumblers with shaking hands, with her cries of pain and her boyfriend's insults in the background. Seven -- three -- five. Nope. One -- six -- nine. Nope. It takes me a while, and her cries get louder and louder, as do his insults. Finally, as I input Seven -- six -- five and the padlock opens, the locker room door bursts open and a strong male voice yells: "What the hell is going on in here?!" It's Luke. Later on, after Luke has pacified the janitor and I've gotten dressed, as we wait for the police with the loving couple locked up in the sauna, Luke and I finally get a chance to talk. I tell him about some of the night, sparing the most humiliating details, and I find myself strangely calm about it all. I thought something like this would leave me traumatized, but somehow it hasn't. Perhaps it's his presence. Perhaps I'm stronger than I thought. Perhaps I got lucky. "I thought you'd left," I tell him, "why were you still around?" "Well," he says, "actually, I..." he looks off into the distance and I shoot him a puzzled look. I hold his hand and he smiles at me. "I always wait for you outside," he tells me, "today, you weren't coming, so I got worried, and... you know the rest." I smile at him. "Why were you waiting for me?" "To ask you, if you'd like to go out sometime." END