Tomorrow's Wet World
Starring Philippa Forrester
Written by WetKram
Written by WetKram
Three years ago, I managed to work my way into the BBC as a runner. Take this here, give this to so-and-so, tidy this up! But from humble beginnings I had managed to get up the rankings, and finally my endless hours of hard work were showing signs of paying off. I was still a general "dogsbody" of course, but at least I was working more closely with celebrities, instead of fat cat producers and irate programming controllers. Having finished a rather good backstage assignment on the last series of "The Generation Game", I had enjoyed such sights as seeing the celebrities and the contestants getting gunged or soaked. I'd always held this love of wet or messy clothes, of course, but they were extra special days when this passion was carried over into my work.
My next assignment was that of an assistant on a report shoot for the programme "Tomorrow's World". It was really the first time I would assist in the filming of something, instead of taking orders backstage. Because of this I was really excited about the shoot. When I got the plan for the job, I was even more ecstatic. Not only would it be a shoot involving Philippa Forrester, the gorgeously stunning British TV personality I had always wanted to meet, but we would also be shooting the report at a swimming pool!
The report itself seemed to be quite interesting as well. An American diving enthusiast had pioneered a new waterproof fibre, which in effect could be woven into materials for clothing. A prototype diving bodysuit had been made, in which Ms. Forrester would test by wearing in the pool… with some highly expensive designer clothing underneath, in order to prove that it was so waterproof that the apparel would not get the slightest bit wet.
We all arrived on location around lunchtime on a cold Friday afternoon. The sports centre at which the swimming pool was situated was still under construction – hence the team's decision to use it, because there would be no members of the public roaming about in the background. As such, there was nobody at the sports centre at all, not even the construction workers who were supposed to be building it!
After preparing, setting up equipment and making sure everything was all right; it was green light on the shoot. Everything was filmed in sequential order, so the first task was to get the inventor talking with Philippa about the fibre, and she then outlined what the test would involve. The cameras stopped rolling for a tea break, whilst Philippa went off to clamber into the diving suit and her designer clothing. Philippa had been given £2000 to track down some highly expensive designer fashions to wear underneath, and picked some items to her liking. The inventor had really coined the whole experiment – Americans seem to love doing insane things to prove a point! As a matter of fact, having said his piece, the inventor had scurried off quickly. Perhaps he knew something we didn't!
It was nearing 4pm when we were ready to continue. So far the director had been a bit of an obnoxious idiot to say the least, and he really wasn't much fun to work with. He wanted to make a three-minute report into a three-hour epic, and insisted on as many takes as possible to get every single frame right. He was also rude to the rest of the crew, and particularly to Philippa. When she emerged from the changing rooms in the diving bodysuit, she looked "overly" large. The director referred to her as the "Michelin Man on steroids", to which she was noticeably hurt.
I can't remember precisely how many takes of Philippa getting in the pool the director wanted, but two hours flew by, and we were still to complete the report. How many more times to she have to wander down those pool steps? She was having enough trouble standing up in the bulky bodysuit with all of those clothes underneath as it was. The director really was awkward and totally unprofessional in my opinion. In fact, by 6pm, we had only managed to complete the sequence of Philippa clambering into the pool. We still had a couple planned sequences to film.
By this time, we had lost the light of day from outside, so we really had to call it a night. The director was fuming. To him, it was bad enough he had to demeanour himself to the level of making three minute reports when he really wanted to be making epic feature films. The so-called strain was clear on his face, and when a brave assistant dared to tell him that we had to come back the next day, he hit the roof, cursing at everything and everyone around him. Philippa, still clad in the heavy diving suit in the pool, bore much of the criticism, and was visibly close to tears at his abusive attitude to her. It was not really her fault of course, but the director was having none of it – he thought it was ALL her fault, and was not frightened to tell her how her felt. Philippa, still trying desperately to hold off the tears, slowly made her way to the edge of the pool, and once out, made a beeline back to the confines of the changing room. At the same time, the director and many of the crew, went home. I was told by one of the remaining superiors to call it a night also, so grabbed my coat and left for the car. We decided it would be a lot more economical to leave the equipment at the pool. What an awful day!
Ten minutes later, I was pulling into my street when my cellular phone spurred into action. It was Jack, one of the cameramen from the shoot – also a good friend of mine. He was on the tube, on his way home, when he realised that he had left his vital shooting script back at sports centre, and urgently needed it to be prepared for the next day's filming. As he had no real means of transport, I agreed to return and collect it, and this is where things got particularly interesting…
It took about twenty minutes to make the way back to the sports centre – the traffic had magically multiplied, and was murderous to say the least. Arriving back at by about 7pm, I noticed there was one vehicle left in the car park. I hadn't taken much notice of who had drove what that day, so I wasn't sure whom to expect when I got inside. Carefully unlocking the doors of the centre and then locking them behind me, it took a good five minutes to wander the corridors of the sports centre to get to the pool area. I knew someone was there, because the lights had been switched on.
Walking into the pool area, I noticed a figure in the shadows, their head bent into their lap. They were crying. I called "Hello!" and the person suddenly fell silent and looked up. I couldn't quite make out their face at the distance I was standing, so cautiously approached them. To my pleasant surprise, it was Philippa. I had yet to have the opportunity to actually speak to her, or introduce myself, but I guess as a general assistant, there was no reason for me to do so.
"Are you alright?" I enquired. "Umm..." she slowly sought out the words to say, "Not really!" she replied, and continued to weep a little. "Hey what are doing here still?" I asked, "Everyone's gone home!". "Oh, nothing much," she said, "I thought I'd have a little practice ready for tomorrow."
Bizarrely, I hadn't actually noticed she was encased in the diving suit, I guess I was just struck in awe at actually being alone with her. "I see," I replied. "Look," I continued, "If it's any consolation, that guy was a right idiot!". To that, a trace of a smile crept across her face – "He sure is!" she laughed. Rather foolishly, I continued in my attempt to be comforting. "It looked impossible to move in that thing, let alone swim in it!" I stated. "I thought it was going to drag me under!" she replied. "I guess having all of those clothes on underneath didn't help either!" I continued. "You know, without the suit on top my clothes, I would have probably been alright!" she added, laughing at her comment. I laughed too, then in my mind I pictured her in the water with those clothes on – I should have kept quiet, but I could not resist to ask her a deadly serious question in the guise of jokey humour: "Do you go swimming fully-clothed a lot, then?". Of course, she didn't answer, just smiled, and then began attempting to wrestle herself out of the thick diving bodysuit. I assisted as best as I could.
The plush designer clothing underneath had remained dry, despite two hours of non-stop soaking on the outside of the diving suit – it really did work! "I'm going to go and get changed I think," she stated, once out of the thick padding of the bodysuit. As she got up and began walking off to the changing room, I could not resist pressing it one step further: "So you don't want to go for a swim then?!?". I quickly followed the sentence up with some laughter, in order to cover my whole-hearted seriousness at the comment. I expected Philippa to smile back at me, or laugh at what I had said. Instead she came to a halt, turned around and started walking back towards me.
I felt my face turning red, but I should have not been so anxious. She sat down next to me again, this time a bit closer than before. "Do you think anyone will notice?" she whispered. I did not know what to make of it all, so just shook my head and said "Notice what?", playing the ignorant fool. "If I do a couple of laps in the pool right now?" she replied. Continuing to play naïve, I pointed out she had just taken the waterproof suit off. "Come on, don't play coy with me!" she protested laughingly, "you know what I mean!". Nervously, I couldn't think of anything to say next. It was infuriating. But Philippa had taken the bait, and seemed to really want to go for it. "You know," she began, "It would be really cool to have a swim in a £2000 bathing suit!". I remained cautiously silent. "Do you think what I am wearing is really worth that much?" she asked. I looked her up and down – the clothes certainly did look expensive. "Are they?" I replied. "Well," she started, "they gave me a huge budget to buy a selection of things I could wear – I ended up spending half of it on just the trousers!". Again, I hadn't really taken much notice, but Philippa was actually wearing a plush pair of black leather trousers. "They're great!" I exclaimed, and she made a slight grin at my response. Along with the leather trousers, Philippa was wearing a silver silk blouse, underneath a light pink blazer. She also had on a pair of black leather ankle boots, and having actually taken the time to look at her properly, I remembered how much I had always fancied her as a teenager, when she was on Children's BBC!
"It's no good! I'm going to have to do this!" laughed Philippa. I was simply awe-struck. Not only had she took me up on the suggestion, she actually very excited about it! Without a single moment's hesitation, she walked over towards to pool steps, and turned back to look at me. I was expecting to chicken-out at any moment, but instead she turned her head back to the water, and began to slowly step into the pool. I was so quietly excited at that moment in time, I almost blacked out. "This feels much better!" exclaimed Philippa. I almost wanted to shout at her and tell her to "shut up!". The sight of her slowly wading into the water was sexily arousing enough, but to have her continually saying how good it felt was making my heart pulsate with a fatally fast rhythm.
It took her at least a minute and a half just to get in the pool as far as her waist. By now I was feeling dangerously aroused – to the point that I was ready to explode. Not a word had been uttered for the last thirty or so seconds. She was just slowly making her way into the water, and letting me savour every visually stunning second. As her feet left the last of the steps and made contact with the floor of pool, I continued to watch in utter bewilderment as she moved to the centre. When she finally got there, we both waited in anticipation of the other speaking. I was now in a cold sweat, because it was all too much to take in! Sensing I wasn't going to say anything, Philippa let herself dip under the water with such graceful speed, yet again allowing me to take in the moment like I was watching the whole thing in slow motion. Her light golden hair slowly turned from dry to damp, and she ever so gradually disappeared under the water. In a matter of seconds, Philippa suddenly shot up again with a splash, gasping for a little air, and immediately sliding her soaked hair back out of her eyes.
"Oh this feels really amazing!" she exclaimed. "It looks like it too!" I had to agree. "Who needs bathing suits!" she laughed. Suddenly, the real wet clothes loving me began to show through. "That's right," I began, "I mean you only have to get changed once, and clothes always fit you better than skin-rubbing spandex!". Philippa began to laugh. "Indeed!" she responded.
I got off of the bench, wandered to the edge of the pool and sat down at the edge, so as to get a closer look at Philippa. I was as much petrified as I was excited, and I could not resist asking her the big question: "So do you do this often?" I enquired. Philippa hesitantly paused, and was right to be cautious. For all she knew, the paparazzi could have been waiting round the corner, and I might have set the whole scenario up to make a quick buck. Of course it wasn't the case, and I immediately sensed her trepidation at answering the question. I did my best to quickly steer off the subject. "Hey, look," I began, "If you need a little privacy, I can go again if you like?". "Oh gosh, please no, I didn't mean it like that!" exclaimed Philippa. "To answer your question, yes, I do this occasionally. But I beg you to keep this between you and me, okay?". I nodded, and told her that she had nothing whatsoever to worry about.
"I used to do it all the time as a child," she told me, "But lately it's been impossible to find the time or the place. My last boyfriend was not the sort of person you could tell about this hobby!". I was, once again, amazed. I confessed to Philippa that I had keenly practised the "hobby" as frequently as possible since I was 10, and to my surprise, she looked at me like I was lying. "What, you don't believe me?" I asked. I knew that my chance to join her was around the corner, so did not push too hard. "Well, I find it odd that if you love doing this as much as you claim that you're sitting on the edge there!" she stated. "Perhaps I am just biding my time!" I slyly remarked. "Perhaps," she said as she began moving from the centre of the pool towards where I was sitting. "Perhaps your just frightened that somebody might catch us?". "I doubt it!" I laughed, brandishing the keys to the doors of the centre. I purposely dangled the keys in front of Philippa as she reached the edge where I was sitting.
I knew in my mind she would grab them from me, and she didn't disappoint. Snatching the keys out of my hand, I watched in secret delight as she attempted to put them in one of the front pockets of her submerged leather trousers. "There!" she giggled, "If you want them back, you're going to have to come in here and get them!". I continued to play it coy. "I'll think about it. But you're forgetting that you only need the keys to get in the building, not out!". Philippa looked a little angry and frustrated, and moved as close to the edge of the pool as she possibly could, reaching her dripping wet hands towards me. I made no effort to resist as Philippa grabbed a hold of my left leg and tugged my foot into the water, letting the perfectly warm water quickly flooded into the Adidas trainer I was wearing, soaking my sock almost instantly.
I allowed my foot to just hang in the water, allowing the turn-up of the left leg of my jeans to dampen slightly. "Whoops!" laughed Philippa. "Looks like you've got a wet foot now. We can't have that, can we?" she asked with delightful glee. "No we cannot!" I sternly replied. I could no longer fight her invitations for me to join her in the water. I slid my other foot into the pool, and then flung myself forward into the water. "Oh this does feel good!" I thought out-loud. "See! You were really missing out, weren't you!" smiled Philippa. She came up close to my body, and I knew that things were getting dangerously intimate. But who could resist her? She slid her hand over my wet white-buttoned shirt, and then, just to make my arousal get even stronger started to tidy me up, by straightening my tie and dusting my shoulders. We gradually got even closer together, and I began to feel my way around her body. The wet leather of her trousers smelt fantastic, and I looked her in the eyes as she made the move to kiss me on the lips. This was like some incredible dream…
…In fact, when I started hearing strains of some annoying song by "The Beautiful South" in the background, I shot back into horrible reality. It was a dream all along. The song was playing on my alarm clock radio, it was 7am the next morning, and I was alone in my own bed at home. That was one fantastic dream I thought to myself. I knew right there and then in my mind that I wouldn't be able to look Philippa in the eyes properly on the remainder of the shoot, even though we had really done nothing together, not even spoken! My God that dream was vivid! I hurriedly got dressed and scoffed a snack bar for breakfast, and then raced down to the swimming centre.
When I entered the poolroom, I realised I was only the crewmember present apart from Philippa and the director. Philippa appeared to be in the middle of another argument with him, so without wanting to get in trouble myself, I remained silent and let them get on with it.
"What do you mean the suit doesn't work?" screamed the director in his stupid girlie voice. "Like I just told you," proclaimed Philippa in a fierce voice, "The suit is useless. All of the clothes underneath got soaked through. I was going to tell you last night, but you stormed off before I got the chance!". The director, still fuming, shouted at the top of his voice: "I can't take this anymore. Somebody else can film this crap, I'm going home!". He stormed off, brushing past me on his way out.
I looked at Philippa, who was not in the least bit upset at his departure. "Can you believe that guy?" she exclaimed. I mumbled a quiet "No!" under by breath. I sat down and waited for the rest of the crew to arrive. Philippa walked up and sat next to me on the bench. The whole was eerily reminiscent of my dream the night before. "I've got a blinding headache this morning!" began Philippa. "How's your head?" she then asked. I started to hesitantly answer. My head was hurting for some reason, but what was it to her I thought? "I don't remember what we ended up drinking last night, but it must have been potent stuff!" giggled Philippa. Stunned at her comment, I began to look her in the face. "Looks like he accepted our little story!" she grinned. "Story?" I mumbled, trying not to make it apparent that I hadn't got a clue what she was talking about. "The chlorine in the pool nearly ruined my leather trousers, but I think I know somebody that'll be able to salvage them!" she continued. Did it really happen? It wasn't really a dream after all? My head was spinning. I turned to Philippa, who looked at me with a beautiful smile on her face. She leant forward, ready to whisper in my ear. Suddenly a couple of the cameramen entered the room. Undeterred, Philippa finished what she was saying: "I take it you're coming back to my place later? Your things were pretty much dry when I left this morning…"
She edged away before the two guys noticed what she was doing and gave me a discrete wink…
My next assignment was that of an assistant on a report shoot for the programme "Tomorrow's World". It was really the first time I would assist in the filming of something, instead of taking orders backstage. Because of this I was really excited about the shoot. When I got the plan for the job, I was even more ecstatic. Not only would it be a shoot involving Philippa Forrester, the gorgeously stunning British TV personality I had always wanted to meet, but we would also be shooting the report at a swimming pool!
The report itself seemed to be quite interesting as well. An American diving enthusiast had pioneered a new waterproof fibre, which in effect could be woven into materials for clothing. A prototype diving bodysuit had been made, in which Ms. Forrester would test by wearing in the pool… with some highly expensive designer clothing underneath, in order to prove that it was so waterproof that the apparel would not get the slightest bit wet.
We all arrived on location around lunchtime on a cold Friday afternoon. The sports centre at which the swimming pool was situated was still under construction – hence the team's decision to use it, because there would be no members of the public roaming about in the background. As such, there was nobody at the sports centre at all, not even the construction workers who were supposed to be building it!
After preparing, setting up equipment and making sure everything was all right; it was green light on the shoot. Everything was filmed in sequential order, so the first task was to get the inventor talking with Philippa about the fibre, and she then outlined what the test would involve. The cameras stopped rolling for a tea break, whilst Philippa went off to clamber into the diving suit and her designer clothing. Philippa had been given £2000 to track down some highly expensive designer fashions to wear underneath, and picked some items to her liking. The inventor had really coined the whole experiment – Americans seem to love doing insane things to prove a point! As a matter of fact, having said his piece, the inventor had scurried off quickly. Perhaps he knew something we didn't!
It was nearing 4pm when we were ready to continue. So far the director had been a bit of an obnoxious idiot to say the least, and he really wasn't much fun to work with. He wanted to make a three-minute report into a three-hour epic, and insisted on as many takes as possible to get every single frame right. He was also rude to the rest of the crew, and particularly to Philippa. When she emerged from the changing rooms in the diving bodysuit, she looked "overly" large. The director referred to her as the "Michelin Man on steroids", to which she was noticeably hurt.
I can't remember precisely how many takes of Philippa getting in the pool the director wanted, but two hours flew by, and we were still to complete the report. How many more times to she have to wander down those pool steps? She was having enough trouble standing up in the bulky bodysuit with all of those clothes underneath as it was. The director really was awkward and totally unprofessional in my opinion. In fact, by 6pm, we had only managed to complete the sequence of Philippa clambering into the pool. We still had a couple planned sequences to film.
By this time, we had lost the light of day from outside, so we really had to call it a night. The director was fuming. To him, it was bad enough he had to demeanour himself to the level of making three minute reports when he really wanted to be making epic feature films. The so-called strain was clear on his face, and when a brave assistant dared to tell him that we had to come back the next day, he hit the roof, cursing at everything and everyone around him. Philippa, still clad in the heavy diving suit in the pool, bore much of the criticism, and was visibly close to tears at his abusive attitude to her. It was not really her fault of course, but the director was having none of it – he thought it was ALL her fault, and was not frightened to tell her how her felt. Philippa, still trying desperately to hold off the tears, slowly made her way to the edge of the pool, and once out, made a beeline back to the confines of the changing room. At the same time, the director and many of the crew, went home. I was told by one of the remaining superiors to call it a night also, so grabbed my coat and left for the car. We decided it would be a lot more economical to leave the equipment at the pool. What an awful day!
Ten minutes later, I was pulling into my street when my cellular phone spurred into action. It was Jack, one of the cameramen from the shoot – also a good friend of mine. He was on the tube, on his way home, when he realised that he had left his vital shooting script back at sports centre, and urgently needed it to be prepared for the next day's filming. As he had no real means of transport, I agreed to return and collect it, and this is where things got particularly interesting…
It took about twenty minutes to make the way back to the sports centre – the traffic had magically multiplied, and was murderous to say the least. Arriving back at by about 7pm, I noticed there was one vehicle left in the car park. I hadn't taken much notice of who had drove what that day, so I wasn't sure whom to expect when I got inside. Carefully unlocking the doors of the centre and then locking them behind me, it took a good five minutes to wander the corridors of the sports centre to get to the pool area. I knew someone was there, because the lights had been switched on.
Walking into the pool area, I noticed a figure in the shadows, their head bent into their lap. They were crying. I called "Hello!" and the person suddenly fell silent and looked up. I couldn't quite make out their face at the distance I was standing, so cautiously approached them. To my pleasant surprise, it was Philippa. I had yet to have the opportunity to actually speak to her, or introduce myself, but I guess as a general assistant, there was no reason for me to do so.
"Are you alright?" I enquired. "Umm..." she slowly sought out the words to say, "Not really!" she replied, and continued to weep a little. "Hey what are doing here still?" I asked, "Everyone's gone home!". "Oh, nothing much," she said, "I thought I'd have a little practice ready for tomorrow."
Bizarrely, I hadn't actually noticed she was encased in the diving suit, I guess I was just struck in awe at actually being alone with her. "I see," I replied. "Look," I continued, "If it's any consolation, that guy was a right idiot!". To that, a trace of a smile crept across her face – "He sure is!" she laughed. Rather foolishly, I continued in my attempt to be comforting. "It looked impossible to move in that thing, let alone swim in it!" I stated. "I thought it was going to drag me under!" she replied. "I guess having all of those clothes on underneath didn't help either!" I continued. "You know, without the suit on top my clothes, I would have probably been alright!" she added, laughing at her comment. I laughed too, then in my mind I pictured her in the water with those clothes on – I should have kept quiet, but I could not resist to ask her a deadly serious question in the guise of jokey humour: "Do you go swimming fully-clothed a lot, then?". Of course, she didn't answer, just smiled, and then began attempting to wrestle herself out of the thick diving bodysuit. I assisted as best as I could.
The plush designer clothing underneath had remained dry, despite two hours of non-stop soaking on the outside of the diving suit – it really did work! "I'm going to go and get changed I think," she stated, once out of the thick padding of the bodysuit. As she got up and began walking off to the changing room, I could not resist pressing it one step further: "So you don't want to go for a swim then?!?". I quickly followed the sentence up with some laughter, in order to cover my whole-hearted seriousness at the comment. I expected Philippa to smile back at me, or laugh at what I had said. Instead she came to a halt, turned around and started walking back towards me.
I felt my face turning red, but I should have not been so anxious. She sat down next to me again, this time a bit closer than before. "Do you think anyone will notice?" she whispered. I did not know what to make of it all, so just shook my head and said "Notice what?", playing the ignorant fool. "If I do a couple of laps in the pool right now?" she replied. Continuing to play naïve, I pointed out she had just taken the waterproof suit off. "Come on, don't play coy with me!" she protested laughingly, "you know what I mean!". Nervously, I couldn't think of anything to say next. It was infuriating. But Philippa had taken the bait, and seemed to really want to go for it. "You know," she began, "It would be really cool to have a swim in a £2000 bathing suit!". I remained cautiously silent. "Do you think what I am wearing is really worth that much?" she asked. I looked her up and down – the clothes certainly did look expensive. "Are they?" I replied. "Well," she started, "they gave me a huge budget to buy a selection of things I could wear – I ended up spending half of it on just the trousers!". Again, I hadn't really taken much notice, but Philippa was actually wearing a plush pair of black leather trousers. "They're great!" I exclaimed, and she made a slight grin at my response. Along with the leather trousers, Philippa was wearing a silver silk blouse, underneath a light pink blazer. She also had on a pair of black leather ankle boots, and having actually taken the time to look at her properly, I remembered how much I had always fancied her as a teenager, when she was on Children's BBC!
"It's no good! I'm going to have to do this!" laughed Philippa. I was simply awe-struck. Not only had she took me up on the suggestion, she actually very excited about it! Without a single moment's hesitation, she walked over towards to pool steps, and turned back to look at me. I was expecting to chicken-out at any moment, but instead she turned her head back to the water, and began to slowly step into the pool. I was so quietly excited at that moment in time, I almost blacked out. "This feels much better!" exclaimed Philippa. I almost wanted to shout at her and tell her to "shut up!". The sight of her slowly wading into the water was sexily arousing enough, but to have her continually saying how good it felt was making my heart pulsate with a fatally fast rhythm.
It took her at least a minute and a half just to get in the pool as far as her waist. By now I was feeling dangerously aroused – to the point that I was ready to explode. Not a word had been uttered for the last thirty or so seconds. She was just slowly making her way into the water, and letting me savour every visually stunning second. As her feet left the last of the steps and made contact with the floor of pool, I continued to watch in utter bewilderment as she moved to the centre. When she finally got there, we both waited in anticipation of the other speaking. I was now in a cold sweat, because it was all too much to take in! Sensing I wasn't going to say anything, Philippa let herself dip under the water with such graceful speed, yet again allowing me to take in the moment like I was watching the whole thing in slow motion. Her light golden hair slowly turned from dry to damp, and she ever so gradually disappeared under the water. In a matter of seconds, Philippa suddenly shot up again with a splash, gasping for a little air, and immediately sliding her soaked hair back out of her eyes.
"Oh this feels really amazing!" she exclaimed. "It looks like it too!" I had to agree. "Who needs bathing suits!" she laughed. Suddenly, the real wet clothes loving me began to show through. "That's right," I began, "I mean you only have to get changed once, and clothes always fit you better than skin-rubbing spandex!". Philippa began to laugh. "Indeed!" she responded.
I got off of the bench, wandered to the edge of the pool and sat down at the edge, so as to get a closer look at Philippa. I was as much petrified as I was excited, and I could not resist asking her the big question: "So do you do this often?" I enquired. Philippa hesitantly paused, and was right to be cautious. For all she knew, the paparazzi could have been waiting round the corner, and I might have set the whole scenario up to make a quick buck. Of course it wasn't the case, and I immediately sensed her trepidation at answering the question. I did my best to quickly steer off the subject. "Hey, look," I began, "If you need a little privacy, I can go again if you like?". "Oh gosh, please no, I didn't mean it like that!" exclaimed Philippa. "To answer your question, yes, I do this occasionally. But I beg you to keep this between you and me, okay?". I nodded, and told her that she had nothing whatsoever to worry about.
"I used to do it all the time as a child," she told me, "But lately it's been impossible to find the time or the place. My last boyfriend was not the sort of person you could tell about this hobby!". I was, once again, amazed. I confessed to Philippa that I had keenly practised the "hobby" as frequently as possible since I was 10, and to my surprise, she looked at me like I was lying. "What, you don't believe me?" I asked. I knew that my chance to join her was around the corner, so did not push too hard. "Well, I find it odd that if you love doing this as much as you claim that you're sitting on the edge there!" she stated. "Perhaps I am just biding my time!" I slyly remarked. "Perhaps," she said as she began moving from the centre of the pool towards where I was sitting. "Perhaps your just frightened that somebody might catch us?". "I doubt it!" I laughed, brandishing the keys to the doors of the centre. I purposely dangled the keys in front of Philippa as she reached the edge where I was sitting.
I knew in my mind she would grab them from me, and she didn't disappoint. Snatching the keys out of my hand, I watched in secret delight as she attempted to put them in one of the front pockets of her submerged leather trousers. "There!" she giggled, "If you want them back, you're going to have to come in here and get them!". I continued to play it coy. "I'll think about it. But you're forgetting that you only need the keys to get in the building, not out!". Philippa looked a little angry and frustrated, and moved as close to the edge of the pool as she possibly could, reaching her dripping wet hands towards me. I made no effort to resist as Philippa grabbed a hold of my left leg and tugged my foot into the water, letting the perfectly warm water quickly flooded into the Adidas trainer I was wearing, soaking my sock almost instantly.
I allowed my foot to just hang in the water, allowing the turn-up of the left leg of my jeans to dampen slightly. "Whoops!" laughed Philippa. "Looks like you've got a wet foot now. We can't have that, can we?" she asked with delightful glee. "No we cannot!" I sternly replied. I could no longer fight her invitations for me to join her in the water. I slid my other foot into the pool, and then flung myself forward into the water. "Oh this does feel good!" I thought out-loud. "See! You were really missing out, weren't you!" smiled Philippa. She came up close to my body, and I knew that things were getting dangerously intimate. But who could resist her? She slid her hand over my wet white-buttoned shirt, and then, just to make my arousal get even stronger started to tidy me up, by straightening my tie and dusting my shoulders. We gradually got even closer together, and I began to feel my way around her body. The wet leather of her trousers smelt fantastic, and I looked her in the eyes as she made the move to kiss me on the lips. This was like some incredible dream…
…In fact, when I started hearing strains of some annoying song by "The Beautiful South" in the background, I shot back into horrible reality. It was a dream all along. The song was playing on my alarm clock radio, it was 7am the next morning, and I was alone in my own bed at home. That was one fantastic dream I thought to myself. I knew right there and then in my mind that I wouldn't be able to look Philippa in the eyes properly on the remainder of the shoot, even though we had really done nothing together, not even spoken! My God that dream was vivid! I hurriedly got dressed and scoffed a snack bar for breakfast, and then raced down to the swimming centre.
When I entered the poolroom, I realised I was only the crewmember present apart from Philippa and the director. Philippa appeared to be in the middle of another argument with him, so without wanting to get in trouble myself, I remained silent and let them get on with it.
"What do you mean the suit doesn't work?" screamed the director in his stupid girlie voice. "Like I just told you," proclaimed Philippa in a fierce voice, "The suit is useless. All of the clothes underneath got soaked through. I was going to tell you last night, but you stormed off before I got the chance!". The director, still fuming, shouted at the top of his voice: "I can't take this anymore. Somebody else can film this crap, I'm going home!". He stormed off, brushing past me on his way out.
I looked at Philippa, who was not in the least bit upset at his departure. "Can you believe that guy?" she exclaimed. I mumbled a quiet "No!" under by breath. I sat down and waited for the rest of the crew to arrive. Philippa walked up and sat next to me on the bench. The whole was eerily reminiscent of my dream the night before. "I've got a blinding headache this morning!" began Philippa. "How's your head?" she then asked. I started to hesitantly answer. My head was hurting for some reason, but what was it to her I thought? "I don't remember what we ended up drinking last night, but it must have been potent stuff!" giggled Philippa. Stunned at her comment, I began to look her in the face. "Looks like he accepted our little story!" she grinned. "Story?" I mumbled, trying not to make it apparent that I hadn't got a clue what she was talking about. "The chlorine in the pool nearly ruined my leather trousers, but I think I know somebody that'll be able to salvage them!" she continued. Did it really happen? It wasn't really a dream after all? My head was spinning. I turned to Philippa, who looked at me with a beautiful smile on her face. She leant forward, ready to whisper in my ear. Suddenly a couple of the cameramen entered the room. Undeterred, Philippa finished what she was saying: "I take it you're coming back to my place later? Your things were pretty much dry when I left this morning…"
She edged away before the two guys noticed what she was doing and gave me a discrete wink…