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Thank you for reading my stories. This is the first in a series about the coming of age of Jeff. This initial chapter is a set-up piece so please bear with the length as I introduce a few characters, all of whom are over the age of 18-years-old. If you like it, please provide a rating and any comments!
We live in a fairly affluent section of our city, strong middle to upper-class neighborhoods with a great school district. Most of the heads of households here are either very successful professionals or the divorced spouse of one. In general, incomes are high enough that the stay-at-home spouses don’t need to work. Instead they spend their days doing Pilates or yoga, charity work or playing golf and tennis at the private clubs dotting the area. The more adventurous engage in other extracurricular activities but that is for another story.
High disposable incomes allow many families to travel around the world, collecting travel destinations and passport stamps like a badge of honor to brag about with their friends. Some couples have no qualms about leaving their high-school age kids home alone while they jet to far-off destinations. Hmm, absentee parents, ready cash and easy access to drugs and alcohol… what could possibly go wrong with that?
My name is Nick Newman. I’m a successful software executive fortunate enough to own a home in the area. While I do pretty well, I do my best to put enough money in investments so that I can ensure a good future for my wife and two pre-teen kids and hopefully retire at a relatively young age. We have a fairly good size home sitting on a half-acre lot and have good neighbors and friends that we often socialize with and even travel together.
Unlike some of our neighbors, we don’t have a pool in our backyard so we joined a private swim club in our area to give our family a place to swim and hang out on those hot summer days. In my off time you can generally find me either there, on the golf course or at the gym working out. I work hard trying to keep myself in good shape and hopefully keep the coming demons of middle age at bay.
I also volunteer my time serving on several boards of director including the swim club where we are members. Because of my business acumen, I was asked to be treasurer where I have oversight and control of all finances for the club. It takes up more of my time than I would prefer and I am constantly dealing with headaches that always seem to come up with staff and with demanding members and patrons. But this story is not about me or them, it’s about a guy named Jeff whose life would intersect with all of ours in the years ahead.
When our current pool manager decided to move on after the end of the summer season, it created a vacancy that would urgently need to be filled since that person is responsible for all pool operations including managing the lifeguard staff. Rather than try to hire someone from the outside, we decided to promote one of our existing lifeguards into the role. The best candidate was Jeff Hanson. He was a certified lifeguard and had come up through the ranks, starting as a guard as an 18-year-old just after completing his junior year in high school.
Although anyone can get lifeguard certification at the age of 16-years-old, as a rule we required our guards to be at least 18-years-old since they tended to be a bit more mature and responsible at that age. This was not so much the case with Jeff. He was older than all of his classmate peers because he was held back a year in school due to poor grades. But that didn’t seem to make him any wiser, it just meant his body had one extra year to develop.
Jeff had served as the current manager’s de facto second in command for the last couple of years, so he knew how to maintain and operate the pool and the guard staff seemed to hold him in high regard and even awe for some reason. He was always very outgoing and friendly, taking time to stop and talk to the members and their kids. Jeff got the job even though he had some questionable things happen in the past working at the pool, but who doesn’t after working the same job for five years.
There was the one incident a couple of years ago when one of the pool members walked into the women’s changing room and caught Jeff in flagrante delicto with one of the female guards. Although the pool was technically closed at the time and both were of legal age, it was bad form for Jeff to get caught face-fucking one of his colleagues on-premise. It seems the member heard someone gagging and choking in the locker room and went to make sure someone wasn’t in distress. They weren’t.
The next day both guards were summarily fired on the spot after the manager heard about it. Interestingly, numerous members came to Jeff’s defense but not so much for the female guard. They begged, no, they implored the manager to give him another chance citing his past history saving numerous kids and even drunk parents from drowning and other mayhem. Jeff was somewhat of a legend at the pool balgat escort so the manager ‘agreed’ to rehire him but on a probationary basis.
Now at the age of 23, his former classmates had gone on to college, most had graduated and were starting their lives while each summer, Jeff lived for those three to four months lording over the pool. Sometimes he helped coach his old high school swim team but otherwise his career prospects were dim, primarily on account of his lack of motivation and drive. Oh, he had a drive all right, but not in a way that would necessarily propel him ahead in life.
In middle school Jeff was pretty much a skinny dork and literally a 125-pound weakling. Short in stature with an awkward personality, he was mostly ignored by the other students at school. He might have been labeled a nerd but that would imply him having some level of high intellectual ability and exceptional mental acuity, neither of which he would ever be accused of possessing. With no apparent friends and no confidence to make any, Jeff mostly just kept his head down, seemingly destined for the life of a dim-witted loner.
But something started happening to him when he turned 16-years-old. It seemed like almost overnight he grew six inches and put 30 pounds on his gangly frame, adding muscle and tone to his body and giving his self-esteem and confidence a boost. Although Jeff didn’t participate in any organized sports, he started giving thought to joining the boy’s swim team after seeing flyers around school for upcoming tryouts. A swimmer since he could walk, he had fair ability in the pool and was proficient in all the strokes even though he had never swum competitively before. To prepare for the tryouts, Jeff spent a few weeks hitting the local YMCA pool each day to see if he could improve his speed and form.
On the day of the tryouts, the boy’s locker room was loud and raucous as guys changed into their swimsuits. There was obvious comradery amongst the current varsity and junior varsity team members as they told crude jokes, snapped towels at one another and laughed getting ready for their tryouts. Yes, everyone had to try out anew for the team each year even though it was a mere formality for them. Jeff and the other newbies were either sneered at with contempt or otherwise ignored as they quietly changed in the dark shadows of the locker room.
Once poolside, all the swimmers took their places on the bleachers, the current team sitting in the first few rows and the wannabe’s scattered around behind them. The tension was palpable as the numerous banners from all the state championships the team had won hung prominently from the wall for all to see on the other side of the 50-meter pool. Coach Jones, or just Coach to most, was a gruff, pompous ass who ran his swim program like a fiefdom. These were his championships after all and they somehow defined him.
Coach made some opening remarks about his elite teams and how fortunate they all were to be considered for a spot. He spoke about their most recent state championship (their 13th consecutive one by the way), thanked everyone for their interest, wished them good luck and then began calling the swimmers forward one-by-one to check in.
Starting with the existing team, when their names were called each swimmer would cockily strut up to the coaches table to be met with a smile, a knowing wink and high fives from the staff. The Olympic team had nothing on these kids, all of whom were sporting the best swimsuits and gear that money can buy. Their team was the best, they knew it and they acted like it. In fact, a slot on the team was so highly coveted that families actually moved into the school district from other areas of the city, state and country merely to give their kid a shot at making it.
Yes, seniors would ultimately graduate, creating vacancies on the team, but there was an endless pipeline of talented swimmers from top clubs in the area that was always being groomed by the coaches to fill those spots. An unproven outsider trying to break into this exclusive club had better odds of flying to the moon. Fortunately for Jeff, he wasn’t smart enough to connect the dots and realize he was probably just wasting his time.
There was always an undercurrent of quiet speculation of parents paying off Coach to select their kid for his team since simply being a part of his program set them apart from all others. Then there were the incessant rumors of payments from college coaches and boosters whose programs benefitted from particular talent being steered their way. Coach Jones always countered that the fake news was being fomented by jealous opposing coaches and other enemies, the latter of which he apparently had many. But of course, none of this were ever proven or substantiated and his machine of a program kept rolling along, churning out championships as it went.
After checking in, each swimmer was ordered to join either Group A (varsity caliber swimmers), Group batıkent escort B (JV), Group C (highly regarded prospects) or Group D (all others). Group D designation was like getting sent to Siberia or being lined up for the firing squad. Regardless, whether it is due to inexperience, ineptitude, lack of talent or something else, swimmers never made it out of Group D by design.
“Hanson, Jeff!” yelled Coach Jones, snapping Jeff out of his momentary oblivion. “Get down here!”
As Jeff stepped down the bleachers, he was met with snickers and snide remarks from some of the team members as he passed by them. He wasn’t sure if or why they were laughing at him. You would have thought he was still wearing his toddler Buzz Lightyear swim trunks and water wings instead of his bulky board shorts.
“All right, all right, that’s enough!” Coach half-heartedly barked at the team as he attempted to quell the noise.
“Welcome Hanson. What swim team or club experience do you have?”
“Uh, none Coach,” Jeff answered.
The coach stared at Jeff for moment rubbing his chin. “Ever swim competitively?” he asked.
“No Coach but I’ve been working out at the Y recently,” Jeff said eagerly.
Shaking his head, Coach looked down at his clipboard and scribbled a few notes. “Ok Hanson, you’re in Group D,” he said dismissively with a wave of his hand.
After the swimmers were separated into their groups, the coaching staff started the culling process. Tryouts would be run similar to a regular swimming competition. Starting with Group D, 100-meter race heats would be swum freestyle since that is the stroke most every swimmer learns first plus it speeds up the weeding out. The two fastest swimmers out of each heat would move on to a championship heat.
The winner of the championship heat would then be slotted as the lowest seed to compete with the Group C swimmers. The Group C winner would then compete in Group B along with any other worthy prospects that Coach could cherry-pick at his discretion. It was a cruel and physically and mentally exhausting process for the swimmers, designed that way so that it was very unrealistic for any but the very best (or preferred) candidates to score a prized spot on the JV or varsity teams.
Somehow Jeff never got the memo about the difficulty. Sometimes being oblivious in life is not a bad thing. Once in the pool Jeff went balls out, figuratively speaking, and easily smoked the Group D competition. His initial success was a combination of him being a much stronger and faster swimmer than even he realized, and the questionable talent he was competing against. In fact, there was so little regard for this bunch that the coaches didn’t even bother with timing their heats. That wouldn’t happen until Group C swam. In any case, it was easy to eyeball Jeff as the winner of the championship heat and the sole survivor to move on in the competition. The losing swimmers were unceremoniously told to promptly leave the pool area.
The Group C swimmers were serious and talented. These are the promising ones Coach and his staff have been watching and grooming for years. They swam for competitive club teams and were invited (and expected) to train with Coach’s teams even though they were not eligible to join them yet. The swimmers that emerged from Group C formed the nucleus of future teams to ensure that Coach Jones’ winning tradition continued in perpetuity.
As the lowest seed, Jeff drew lane eight for his first heat. Despite the unenviable lane assignment, he got off to a fast start after the gun and at the turn was in 4th place but with a seemingly insurmountable distance separating him from the leader. Somehow Jeff summoned something from deep inside himself and he suddenly started picking up speed as he churned through the water. With 25 meters to go, he sped past the next two swimmers. Quickly closing in on the leader, he out-touched him at the finish, winning the heat by fractions of a second. His strong finish surprised the coaches since Hanson had never even been on their radar previously. But Jeff’s finish surprised himself even more, giving his confidence an additional jolt and he now knew he could compete with these boys.
The Group C championship heat was pretty much a repeat of his qualifying heat. Jeff started slowly and was behind at the turn, found some untapped energy and kicked it into an extra gear to blow by the others and win. Coach Jones was the first to greet Jeff as he pulled himself out of the water.
“Well that was quite impressive young man,” Coach said, extending his hand to shake Jeff’s. “For someone that has never swam competitively before, you sure kicked those other kid’s asses!” he chuckled.
“Welcome to the team Hanson,” he added before turning to walk off. Then he stopped and looking over his shoulder said, “Oh and Hanson, get rid of that crappy suit and get some real swim gear.”
Some of the boys Jeff had just beaten would go on to become beşevler escort his teammates and they would see great success continuing Coach Jones’ (and the school’s) winning ways over the next few years. During that time, Jeff continued to grow taller and more muscular and by the time he was 18-years-old, he was a 6′ 3″ 185-pound chiseled specimen with a wingspan longer than he was tall and size 14 feet to propel him through the water. In his junior year of high school, he became a state champion swimming for Coach Jones on his varsity squad. Jeff was soon on the watch-list of coaches for the men’s junior national team, Division I recruiters and anyone that ever saw him in his skimpy, wet swimsuits.
That summer, Jeff got his lifeguard certification and was immediately hired at the local swim club on the strength of the unanimous recommendation of the lifeguard staff. The staff consisted of a manager and about a dozen or so guards, and almost every summer the girls outnumbered the boys by about four-to-one. All generally came from the same high school and were products of either the boy’s or girl’s swim teams. In essence, this swim clique determined who would work there and who would never have a chance. It’s fair to say their parents, in some cases also pool members, also had a say in the matter. The manager just served at the pleasure of the cabal.
The swim club grounds consisted of an L-shaped pool with a shallow end and a deep end with a diving board along with a baby pool. The main building housed the Ladies and Gentlemen changing rooms with showers, the obligatory pump/maintenance room and an adjacent small cubbyhole manager’s office. There was also a small unisex locker room for the guards to use to change and shower. Although they were free to use the member changing rooms if they preferred, none ever lowered themselves to that level. Besides, if it came down to it, most had either seen each other naked or they might as well have.
There was no snack bar but members were always welcome to bring in their own food and drink. An ample supply of chaise lounges and umbrella tables surrounded the pool. Just off the pool deck were a couple of gazebos with BBQ grills that always seemed to be in use on the weekends. But one of the best perks was that members could reserve the pool for after-hour private parties as long as they hired some of the staff to serve as guards and help clean up.
Lifeguarding at the pool was boring work for the most part, made up of long spells enduring the hot sun sitting in a lifeguard chair. At least the roving guards got to walk around and engage with people and stretch their legs. But the day-to-day monotony was pretty much blowing whistles at bratty kids, bandaging stubbed toes and dealing with entitled, pain-in-the ass parents. Sure, there was the occasional excitement of having to perform an actual rescue but those incidents were fortunately few and far between.
Guards were permitted to use the pool when on break in order to cool down and relax. But since almost all were on the swim team, many used the opportunity to swim laps in the dedicated swim lane. And that is exactly how Jeff first attained rock star status at the club.
One afternoon in early June, the pool was only moderately busy given it was a weekday and it was very hot outside. A trio of fit young mothers were hanging out at the shallow end of the pool, chatting as their kids splashed and played in the water under their watchful eyes. In another area off to the side, several college-age girls in bikinis and aviators were grouped together sunning themselves. All blond, buxom and beautiful, they efficiently multitasked as they gossiped while texting non-stop on their smartphones. At the far end of the pool, a group of four or five stuck-up women in their late 30’s sat in the shade of an umbrella table drinking wine. They obviously had just come from their tennis club based on their attire. Yes, these were the beautiful people, all you had to do was just ask them.
That day there were four guards on duty for the afternoon shift, including Jeff. Sophie, a stunning 20-year-old blue-eyed brunette with long hair and a ready smile, was just home from college to work her third year at the club. She had kept her petite, tight body from her swimming days and somehow avoided putting on any weight while living in the dorms. Sophie like to wear a tight, one-piece lifeguard suit that emphasized her small supple breasts. She always had it pulled up way too far into the crack of her perfect little ass, leaving the intentional impression she was wearing a thong.
Aisha was a beautiful young woman of Pakistani heritage. An accomplished swimmer born and raised in London, her parents had moved to the city in the last year and she had easily made the girls’ varsity swim team as a junior. Also 18, this was her first year at this club although she had previous experience guarding at an exclusive country club back in England. Aisha spoke with a British accent, was slim with long, jet-black hair, perfect teeth and perky breasts with large nipples that always seemed to be standing at attention. The skimpy red guard bikini tops and hipster bottoms she favored only served to accentuate Aisha’s side-boobs and her silky, dark-skinned long legs and other prominent features.
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