It wasn’t my fault. The men’s shower was occupied, and I had to report for duty. There were no ladies present in the corporate gym that day, so I used their shower, no big deal.

The ladies changeroom had more mirrors I noticed, exiting the shower. More mirrors meant I could do a little “posedown” to better examine my progress from this workout. I could see the veins of my shoulders straining to escape their fleshy prison. I looked good.

I switched poses, trying to isolate each muscle group; trying to see where I needed more work, and where I could relax for a cycle or two. So engrossed in myself was I that I didn’t even hear the changeroom door open.

Three female corpmates stopped dead in their tracks. The one on the left of the trio lost her grip on her gym bag, the bag thudding heavily on the tile floor. Her eyes bulged at the sight of me. The other two stood with mouths wide open, not even blinking as they drank me in visually.

I’ve been in more embarassing situations. I didn’t even mind being appreciated. The body is a temple, and I worked hard to keep mine in the best condition I possibly could to illicit exactly the reaction I was receiving from the fairer sex.

I threw them my most charming grin, preparing for a little harmless flirtation, as I obviously had the upper hand in this encounter.

It was only then, as I noticed the direction of the gaze of the one on the left, that I realized I wasn’t wearing my towel …