I have joined a fan club. As you might have guessed by now, I am not the only person at my gym who has noticed that Delroy is possibly the most gorgeous man on planet Earth. Here’s what happened. If you remember, last time I saw him he said he would be in the pool on Monday night …
So here we are on Monday. I would have preferred an early night, to be honest, but nothing was going to get in between me and the pool this evening, so that’s why I had an hour’s nap after work and then applied a full face of make-up (waterproof eyeliner and mascara FTW) and washed and styled my hair, just so I could go and wreck it all and get covered in chlorine.
Went to the gym. Got there in time to do about 30 minutes of weights, not my full routine but better than nothing. Then I ran downstairs and put on my best swimming costume and got in the pool and swam lengths and waited.
After about ten minutes the door to the men’s locker room opened and Delroy’s tennis mates appeared and headed for the jacuzzi. About seven of them, all really physically fit, in seven different shades of Black is Beautiful. And then, just in case there was any danger of my becoming distracted, a second later, the whole pool was illuminated with heavenly golden light and a choir of angels sang alleluia as Delroy himself appeared, for God has so blessed him that these things follow him everywhere he goes. It was the first time I’ve seen him less than fully clothed and I nearly wept.
Readers, shall I compare him to a summer’s day? No, he is more spectacularly and supernaturally lovely than that. His perfect skin is the colour of milky coffee. His big brown eyes are for drowning yourself in. The mouth, the expansive, generous, smiling mouth, lips you could kiss until your own lips wore out. The heart-breaking biceps. The tribal tattoos. The broad shoulders, the smooth chest, the cheekbones like cliffs that you want to fall off and plunge to your death. I have never seen anything so perfect in my whole life.
So I watched him get in the jacuzzi with his tennis buddies and, as if by magic, a whole cloud of bikini-clad young girls with nice tits and hair that says they don’t swim appeared and clustered around him like fruit flies around a rotting lemon (an apt metaphor, if you could see my kitchen). This made the jacuzzi very crowded. I left them to it. I made sure he had noticed me and then I stayed in the pool and swam lengths and waited for him to come to me (GOOD MOVE).
He came to me. He dived into the water to get to me, which was impressive as well as dangerous as there’s only about five foot of water. We swam up to the other end of the pool, away from the tennis guys and the bikini girls and had a short conversation which was ostensibly about swimming except not really and then we had another short conversation about where I live, because reasons. Then I asked him what it would take to get him over to my house and he acted coy, which he is good at. Then he said it was time for him to go in the steam room with his buddies so I said okay, and right there, in the pool, he opened his beautiful arms for an embrace. An invitation which I gladly accepted, taking the opportunity to squash my bosom against his chest and kiss him on the neck, for as long as one politely can when there’s a jacuzzi full of people watching. He must be the happiest man in the world.
And that, readers, is my top tip for making yourself go to the gym on a Monday evening. 1 Health point.
Mad Cobra: Flex