Semper Prixus (pt 8).

Tough Guy has retreated back to his supporters, all of them glaring him down while they rub suntan lotion on each other – but Kyle is immune to that sort of thing by now.

The Shark has disentangled himself from the kids and is pulling himself out of the water in the shallow end, stopping to shake hands with the glaring crew; he listens and looks up, locking eyes with Kyle yet again. Dirty, Kyle thought, and felt it all of the way inside of himself. Dirty. He couldn’t shake the feeling of a film all over him suddenly.

The Shark was heading into the locker room. Kyle waited for him to enter, counted to twenty five, and then went in himself. His sandals slapped against the concrete, slick with his sweat, and he didn’t know what he would do if he tripped in front of them. You tolerate him, Kyle thinks, you let him play with your kids, you let him touch your kids and you don’t even know it, but you think you’re going to run me out of town.

He steps inside the locker room; a dad walking out pulls his kid away from Kyle, grimacing. The Shark is showering; Kyle walks between the long rows of lockers, the cement went and stinking, keeping out of sight – on his back there is a large shark tattoo, though it is odd the way it’s reversed, the tail starting at his neck and the body of it disappearing into the band of his shorts, right where the gills are. Everyone showers in their suits because it’s the rules, but there’s something about seeing the old man who is not an old man in the shower bay doing it, running his long fingers over his torso and bending the shark in half when he reaches down to soap his toes. Kyle knows what he is doing. He’s waiting. For some kid to come in here.

The Shark stands and Kyle ducks back out of sight. He feels very sick to his stomach. When he was a kid and his dad was beating the shit out of everybody he could get his hands on, Kyle spend most of his days at the YMCA; all the other kids swam in each other’s pools, but Kyle was angry and unpopular so he swam by himself. He knew the Shark already before he showed up at the Y one day – all the kids did, he was a combination of Santa Claus and the Boogeyman, a real nice guy, nobody had a bad thing to say about him, but everybody knew something and all the kids said under their breath to watch out or he was going to get you. And that kindness was the trap Kyle was caught in, because he was a lonely boy and the Shark’s interest was like air for him to breathe. The Shark told him there was always money on the bottom of the pool, change that fell out of the pockets of some of the kids’ suits, and he gave Kyle his goggles and helped him float so he could look down and search for treasure. The Shark’s hands moved right up into Kyle suit, and then he stuck a finger in him deep, and although he was only ten he had his first orgasm forced on him by that finger which the Shark quickly cupped in his free hand and drank. There was blood on the inside of his leg when he showered later.

He peeks around the locker and this time the Shark is looking right at him. Waiting.

Hi Kyle, he says. Come here.