The Locker Room

The locker room was finally quiet. Miranda sat alone, the striped towel cutting into her

skin. All she needed was one second of courage. Her trembling fingers

found the knot. Suddenly, the door crashed open. A tall girl

with wet auburn hair strode in. She marched straight to the open rinse-off shower.

Without pause, she untied her top. Then the bottoms. Thumbs hooked,

fabric peeled down her toned legs. Completely naked. Water streamed over her breasts,

down the curve of her back, between bare buttocks that flexed. Miranda’s breath died.

A tiny, mortified scream escaped. The naked girl glanced back. Their eyes met.