The Salt Vault

“Looks like this is the place to be!” Enormous Stately African American Queen ambles into Utopia. Everyone scrambles to make room for her. The two Latina women wrapped modestly in their skimpy Y towels move closer together, sleeping supine Asian woman next to PP continues to snore softly, Big Black Panty Woman shifts to the side, nods in recognition to SAAQ before closing her eyes and settling back into her silent dream world.

Queen Stately plants herself heavily on the bench next to PP, sighs loudly, before beginning the slow process of removing her black gold trimmed one piece with the skirt swim suit. (When was the last time you saw a suit with a skirt? PP had one in Hacienda Heights in 1968, but she cut the skirt off. Once a tomboy, always a tomboy)

“I sure had me a workout today. Whhhhooooeeeee!” Queen Stately sighs, as she continues to peal off her suit, revealing a tacky rose tattoo on her left large brown melon of a breast. PP stares. She tries not to, but just can’t help it. It’s that tattoo etiquette again. If you have one, doesn’t it invite appraisal?

“I had me a Personal Trainer today and I tell you, I worked it Girlfriends,” QS chuckles, the rest of the women with the exception of Softy Snorer, joining in.
“What did you do?” PP asks, always eager to begin a new story.
“I did everything!” she laughs, slapping a gigantic fleshy thigh in delight. “I did me a hour on the elliptical and then another 30 minutes on the bike and then I did a nice variety of machines.”
”Wow! You did do a lot!” PP exclaims, truly impressed. If she does even a half hour on any of the torture machines, she feels like she’s accomplished something. Though it’s never the same as swimming. But you all know that, don’t you?





QS pulls out a zip lock bag bursting with Epson salts, unzips it, and begins clutching out handfuls of the big salts and spreading them all over her massive body. As she covers her breasts, arms, thighs and then her astounding belly, the salt sparkling like diamonds on her dark soft skin, PP marvels at her matter of factness about this process in front of them all. It’s like she’s at home with a group of lovers.

“You gonna turn yourself into a Salt Vault,” Black Panty Woman asserts seriously.
PP giggles. A Salt Vault? Damn she loves this! BPW is a goddamn poet. PP thinks of saying this, but then decides against it. Not sure why other than the poet joke might not go over big with this crowd.

Salt Vault Queen chuckles. “Yeah, you got that!”
“But you better be careful,” BPW continues, “if she see you with that salts, she gonna kick you outta here.”
“You serious?” SVQ frowns.
“Oh, yeah. She real nice, but I seen her get mad and kick people out when they use their stuff in here.”
”Why is that?” PP asks, knowing the answer but not wanting them to stop talking. “Cuz of the mess?”
“Mmmm…. You got it,” BPW nods.
“Hey! If they’re so worried about the mess round here, they could clean up that Nasty shit in the steam room. You seen it next door?”
“Mmm..yeah, I seen it.”
“I always wash up, I never leave no mess,” QSV harrumphs. “They could clean up that nasty ring round the hot tub too. You seen that?”
”I seen it, all I’m saying is if she see you, she gonna kick you out!”
QSV frowns again as she pulls out another enormous handful of salts and angrily massages them into her belly.
“What’s the salt do anyway?” PP asks, trying to change the subject slightly.
“It takes away all the muscle ache,” Queen Salt asserts.
“Really, wow. How’s it do that?”
”It just soak into your skin and pull out all that pain in your muscle. Works all over.”
“You can put two cups in your bath too,” a quiet up till now woman offers.
“Yeah, that work too,” Queen Salt agrees, smearing the salt all over as PP watches in rapt fascination. The way the salt glistens on her skin mesmerizes her.” It don’t have no smell,” she continues. “I always thought this was the problem. I always wash up,” she repeats.
BPW nods, “I know. I seen you. I’m just saying, she will kick you out.”
“Which one? The Spanish one?”
”That’s the one. She real nice, but she gets mad. I seen it.”
“Maybe I should cover myself with a towel?” QSV glances around for a towel with absolutely no intention of using one for this purpose.
Grinning, PP decides she’s gathered enough material for one story. Besides she’s feeling that faint hungry post swim 9 p.m. space out energy loss. She doesn’t have the reserves of these women.





Maybe she needs some Epson Salts?

Or not. One thing she can say, she rarely has achy muscles all over. But then again, swimming doesn’t make you ache unlike the goddamn machines.

“I’ll warn you if I see her coming,” PP offers as she rises, shaky, to head out of Utopia.
Queen Salt Vault nods, completely unbelieving of PP’s intention or completely spaced out in her Salt Vault. It’s hard to tell as PP opens the door, exits Utopia, and heads off for a shower.

Sugar on Top

Standing for a moment under the hot spray of the shower, PP let the water pound down on her tired head. Damn she was spent! The swim had been hard (She’d had to share a lane with Serious Swimmer Looking at her Sports’ Watch Constantly Woman, who’d been of course, serious and splashy; her mask had leaked; the time was late (now 9:45 p.m.) and though it was always a delight to go to the Y with her Sexy Italian Lesbian Poet Buddy, DL, PP was wiped out as she stood in the spacey warmth of the shower.

DL had already finished her shower, pattering off to get dressed. Muttered something about where her locker was tonight which PP didn’t quite catch. But since DL had left the shower next to her, PP could now see a beautiful Chinese woman soaping up at the end shower. Her dark hair covered in suds, her long arms delicately massaging her scalp, her firm flat belly sudsy and sexy, her long legs….....PP’ s eyes surreptitiously followed the length of those legs and lo and behold…..

She had goddamn spike heels on in the shower!

Shit!
Can you even believe it?

Where the hell was DL?

PP was beside herself with incredulous sensual delight. The spikes were high! At least 4 inches. They were those girly stilettos with the little straps on the top of the foot and sparkles of rhinestones down the heel and of course, she was completely naked. So there she stood, soapy water running down her beautiful pale form with the suds collecting in little puddles around the sparkly spikes of her stilettos.

Fantasy was reality at the YMCA showers!

“DL!!!!” PP shouted out. She couldn’t help herself. She had to get DL here quick to witness such an exquisite shower spectacle. Why the hell would High Heel Woman even wear her stilettos in the shower, she wondered. Like she didn’t have any flip flops or those ugly plastic holey shows that everyone wore, and she didn’t want to step on the gross locker room floor, but she did have her stilettos on hand, so why not? They were water proof right?

Hell.

PP didn’t really care why HHW was wearing the stilettos in the shower; she just wanted to get DL over to the shower as quick as possible to see it.

“DDDDLLLL!!!!” she hollered again; this time more loudly. But no answer. Damn. Well, too bad. PP had to rinse her suit out, go to the bathroom, and get dressed before the beautiful Vietnamese Clerk from upstairs booted them out. No time to find DL now.

So PP just resigned herself to not sharing the fantasy in reality with DL and went to get dressed, but not before spying DL in the row of lockers next to hers and telling her the story.

“GET OUT OF HERE!” DL exclaimed after hearing PP’s High Heel shower story. “I can’t believe I missed it. Damn. I’m slipping!” Her eyes wide with sparkly delight. Her grin bigger than a Lesbian Cheshire Cat.






“Yeah. It is too bad,” PP agreed. “She was really quite something.”
DL just shook her head.
PP giggled, went to the mirror to brush the tangles out but not before spying HHW in the row of lockers next to hers. Naturally, she was dressed now, in tight blue jeans and some willowy blouse, but she still had the all purpose high heels on.
“Pssssssttt…..DL,” PP ran over to her friend. “She’s in the next aisle if you want to see the shoes.”
DL’s eyes grew wide in lascivious anticipation, as she nodded surreptitiously and strode not at all inconspicuously around the lockers.

Twice.

“They’re PINK!!!!” DL exclaimed.
PP nodded. She hadn’t noticed this detail, only the rhinestones. But of course, DL would notice the femmy colored aspect of the stilettos.
“Yeah?” PP giggled. “I didn’t notice. I just saw the rhinestones.”
“That too! I can’t believe I didn’t see her in the shower. Damn!”
“But you went to look at her now.”
“And did you notice I circled her twice?”
“So you’re definitely redeemed!”
“Am I?”
“Absolutely!”
“Damn!”






Later, PP and DL were walking out of the Y, through the demolished construction zone that used to be the front lobby, DL still shaking her head in amazement as they discussed HHW.
“It’s like a little bit of sugar on top,” DL quipped.
PP giggled. “Oh yeah.”
“....and maybe on the Bottom too!” DL giggled, suddenly shy but not being able to help her sexy self from imagining the scrumptious possibilities of …..

High Heels in the Shower?

If only PP could pull off such a feet. (Pun intended)

The Power of Prayer

“I have the pain. From the period. I take Africa Medicine and put up my Vagina. It little seed. I put it up. And Poof! Pain is gone!” Diabetes Woman, aka GUW, nods with satisfaction at PP who grins, delighted with the Vagina Africa Medicine Story. The YMCA sauna, a.k.a. Utopia, is gonna be excellent today!

But PP doesn’t really get the story as attested by the buxom, dyed blonde African American Reclining Woman, who after hearing the Miraculous Account, affirms for them all loudly, “Praise the Lord!”
“Yes. He praise!” DW agrees, though PP thinks she probably has a different Lord, one who passes out Magical Vagina Seeds for cramps. PP sure wished she’d had some of these Magical Seeds 20 years ago when her cramps were so goddamn debilitating.
Where had DW been when she needed her? Probably back in Eritrea, birthing many babies and drinking sugary coffee.

”He has the Power, you know that, don’t you?” AARW asks as she rolls over, her brown folds deliciously falling.
“I know…. I know,” DW nods, as she continues to massage her languid breasts with some oddly mustardy green goo.

Yet, PP knows who has the Power round here, and it ain’t the Lord. At least not the Lord they’re talking about. No. The real Power belongs to Hot Tub Mama, who wasn’t around this evening, having been sorely disappointed earlier in the day.

“They no come,” HTM had lamented to PP earlier as she settled onto the too skinny white bench opposite the hot tub where PP, pleasantly post swim exhausted, floated. As soon as HTM uttered her heartfelt lament, PP got really scared cuz she knew exactly what HTM was talking about. And PP wasn’t even telepathic. At least she’d never thought so. Somehow reading HTM’s mind was esp. unnerving to her.





HTM looked like she was ready to cry. Or at least to let out a huge sigh, which turned out, she did. “They no come today,” she repeated.
PP nodded. She was talking, of course, about none other than the Hermaphrodite and her Masseuse. Damn! Too bad they weren’t around today. PP could really use a Part III to her blog!
But HTM’s disappointment was going to have to do. Along with PP’s telepathy.
"Maybe they'll come later?" PP ventured hopefully.
"No." HTM was adamant. "They come always at noon. Now it almost 3. They no come..."
"Too bad," PP offered as she climbed out of the tub.
HTM shrugged, then glanced over at the two Asian Women who were sitting on the bench next to her. "Hello!"
They both gave HTM a wary look.
"HELLO!" HTM hollared at them.
Frowning, one of the Asian Women picked up her towel and headed into the showers without answering, her friend following.
HTM shrugged. Then settled down into some serious staring into space.




PP grinned as she heard singing echoing from the locker room. “Ohhhh Happy Day! Ohhh….Haaaapppyyyy Day!”
Smiling to herself, PP nodded toward Disappointed HTM, as she headed to the bathroom stalls. Now, in the stall next to her, PP heard an unabashed explosion, then an answering refrain, ”THANK YOU JESUS!”

PP couldn’t help herself; started laughing aloud, her laughter drowned out by another astonishing explosion followed by more thanks to the Son of God.

His Power was everywhere, PP mused, thinking how politically incorrect or even blasphemous her blog was gonna be.

Hell, maybe if HTM had used a bit more Prayer Power, the Hermaphrodite and her Masseuse woulda shown up.

Or maybe not.
Maybe the Africa Medicine was the ticket.
If you had a Vagina.

Or even if you didn’t.

Either way, Praise the Lord!

She a Man--Part II

Dear Readers,
If you haven’t read Part I of “She a Man”, it’s in Blog organization and follows this entry.

“You mean she had a Penis!” Incredulous African American Princess exclaims, her dark diamond eyes wide in astonishment. Her 3-inch gold hoop earrings shaking back and forth as she stands majestically nude on the second step of the hot tub.
HTM nods in satisfaction. Finally someone gets what she’s talking about. Honing in on PP she points for validation. “Hey! Hello! You remember? Yesterday?” HTM nods over at PP, who starts to grin. Not again. More Penis Speculation?
“Yesterday?” PP smiles. “What about yesterday?”
”You know!” HTM waves her hand at PP, impatient. Dismissive. Why was she fucking with her when she was in the middle of a story? “That …..” HTM shudders in disgust. Momentarily too upset to carry on.
“What was she?” IAAP asks, shaking her lovely head of braids in long waves. “A hermaphrodite?”
HTM shakes her head. Her indignation fueling her energy back up. Waves such speculation aside. “No….no…. she have a…..” HTM starts to do the Penis Hand job dance again. Today it’s more graphic. She’s thought about it all night it seems. The two fingers on the left hand make a small hole so that the third finger of the other hand can do the in and out in and out motion. PP starts to crack up. HTM is seriously obsessed. How marvelous!
“And then……they go in there….” HTM nods toward the sauna. “…and they do Aaaaaahhhhh…..Oooooohhhhh…..ahhhhhaaaaaahhhh…..Oooooohhhh…… sounds!”
“You mean they’re having SEX?” IAAP mouth drops open. “I’m telling you. This is not why I come here. I’m going to buy me a condo with my own pool and sauna and then Those Types can’t come in and disturb me in such a disgusting manner. This ain’t no place for THAT!”
HTM smiles. Satisfied. Smug. At least Someone gets it.
“Can I come to your condo?” PP jokes with IAAP, who looks her up and down, appraising.
“I dunno….” she answers dubiously.
‘I promise I won’t have sex in your sauna,’ PP wants to say. But then chickens out. Maybe she’s going too far joking with these women. They really believe that SPW has a penis and her girlfriend and she were having sex in the sauna and this is gross and nasty and against all principles of the YMCA value system.
“….Oh, all right….” IAAP relents. “You look okay. You can come to my condo. When I get it.”
“Thanks,” PP grins. Can’t wait to go to IAAP’s condo. But too bad about the implied no sex clause in the sauna. PP wonders what she can do to change that.
“…..they come on Monday. You saw?” HTM is pointing at PP again. Undaunted by her lack of cooperation regarding the Penis Spotting.
“Yeah…I saw them yesterday, but I didn’t see any sex in the sauna….”
IAAP frowns like she doesn’t believe PP as HTM starts in again with the Orgasm sounds. “Ooooohhhh…..Oaaaaahhhh…..Ohhhhhh…..” Then she starts to rub her enormous breasts with both hands and PP stares openly in rapt amazement. What a demonstration! Why, this is better than Dancing with the Stars!
“Mondays, huh?” IAAP asks, yawning lazily, completely oblivious to the impact of the Breast Massaging.
“Monday, They come.” HTM pauses, winded.
“What does she look like?” IAAP asks.
“She too skinny…” HTM shakes her head in disgust.
“Oh! I know who you mean. She got blonde hair and real cute figure and a big tattoo on her back here….” IAAP turns and points to the small of her back.
“That her!” HTM pounces on the description. “She too skinny. No like!”
“Don’t worry,” IAAP laughs, “she’s not after you!”
“Yeah, you’re not her type!” PP mutters, but no one’s paying attention to her at this point. After all she refuses to validate HTM’s rendition of the Penis Woman Story!
“I’m coming on Monday, then, to check it out!” IAAP climbs out of the tub. “Hey, anyone got a extra towel? I need one to keep my braid from losen…..I just called upstairs and no one even answered the phone. Hell, someone could die down here and they’d never know it.” IAAP's scorn filled the steamy room.
“Speaking of which. Did you guys hear that a woman passed out in the hot tub this afternoon?” PP asks, remembering the weird scene upon her arrival to the Y’s women’s locker room that afternoon.





HTM nods, all knowledge of the YMCA is hers. “That woman. She Asian Woman. She old. She fall down.”
“I saw someone lying over there where you are,” IAAP nods to the corner above where PP soaks. “She seem okay to me.”

“She okay!” HTM waves any concern in the air away. PP nods. It had all seemed pretty distressing or at the very least, disorienting. When she’d entered, she was confronted with the official YMCA spokeswoman who was informing everyone who entered the Locker room that someone had passed out in the hot tub. “She’s ok. But the paramedics are coming through pretty soon, so you might want to get changed over there,” waving vaguely toward a line of lockers past the Hot Tub No Pass Zone. PP made her way over to them thinking how surprising it was that women didn’t pass out in the hot tub and sauna all the time. Hell it was amazing how much stamina some of these women had. Sitting in the hot tub for 1 or even 2 hours at a time. PP always felt like she was gonna pass out after 10 minutes, esp. if she hadn’t eaten in awhile.


“Mondays, you say?” IAAP interrupted her musings, as she wondered why it mattered that the paramedics had to be shielded from all the changing women. Don’t they see women in various states of disrobe in their jobs everyday? Or maybe it was for the women’s sake that they were being told to stay out of sight? Hell, it didn’t make any sense. If someone were really in bad shape from passing out in the hot tub, shouldn’t they be closing the locker room completely?

Hell, PP would want them to do this if she were lying there passed out.
Damn!


“You come?” HTM was asking IAAP as she stood in front of the sink now, rinsing out some fruit and then redoin the head towel as she started to munch on an apple. PP has always thought it’s really weird to eat in locker rooms, but for HTM, it’s a daily ritual. Biting down on the apple, she continued to nod at IAAP.
“Yeah, I usually come at 5, but next Monday I’m gonna try to make it earlier.”
PP wanted to shout out, for the Sex Show? But refrained. Again they were so serious. It was almost as if HTM was selling tickets to a big event and in a way, it was.

At least for her.

Sighing, PP stood up in the tub, then caught herself, feeling a little dizzy. Was it the heat? The talk?

Nah, it had to be HTM’s sex show that had caused her weak knees.
Even though she wasn’t her type.
HTM still made some awfully good orgasm sounds while demonstrating how a penis worked before massaging her ample breasts.


If only PP could put on such a show!

Maybe in her next life.

Or maybe next Monday!

She a Man!

“I am so scared!”

Hot Tub Mama rolls her eyes heavenwards. Shudders her mighty brown scarred shoulders in flabby terror.

PP giggles as she leans back into the hot tub’s steamy watery warmth. What the hell was HTM so scared of, PP wonders. Hasn’t she ever seen anyone with a shaved pussy before? PP did have to admit that this is always a little startling. But hey, whatever. Could have some benefits for certain oral activities even if it seems a little vulnerable in full view.

Or Shave Pussy Woman and her friend were speaking Spanish. It could just be a cultural thing, the shaving. Who knows? SPW was petite, muscular, fit. With an overly obvious religious crucifix tattooed above her shaved pussy. Her toned midsection tan and flat. Her dyed blonde hair tied back carelessly in a stick up off her head back bun. Lots of bangles and earrings, heavy make-up. Sitting on the edge of the tub, completely out of the bubbly water except for her bejeweled ankles dangling over the edge. Hence, the shaved pussy was very much in HTM’s face.

But why she couldn’t handle it was a mystery to PP until the two women got out of the tub, SPW donning an impressive pair of spangled wedgie high heels before heading into the sauna.

HTM slid over towards PP, nodding conspiratorially. “She a Man.”
“What?”
Nodding in her knowing commanding way, HTM grimaced as she repeated, “She a Man.”
“How do you know?” PP was awestruck and completely amazed. SPW hadn’t looked like a man to her. She had breasts and what looked like the necessary... how can PP put this delicately?

Oh, she can’t. She had a clit. Granted, it was very hanging out there. But hell, she didn’t have any protective pubic hair, so what would you expect?

Evidently, HTM thought that what was hangin out there was NOT a clit as she began making strange finger motions to somehow convey that what It was was a Penis. Holding up two fingers with her right hand and then with her middle finger of her left hand she rubbed in jerky little spirals on the first two fingers. Obviously HTM had some interesting sign language attached to the male genitalia.




Not knowing how else to react, PP just started cracking up. She just couldn’t believe that HTM was right and the penis fingering demonstration sent her over the edge. “Maybe I’ll go into the sauna and check her out…..”

Completely alarmed, HTM grabbed PP as she tried to make her way out of the tub, “NO NO! You no go there! Wait! You wait!! It not safe. They do SEX massage.”
“Are you kidding?” Now PP was really curious. She wanted to see the Sex Massage with the SPW or Transgender and her Spanish Masseuse, and tried to politely free herself from HTM’s iron grip so she could head into the sauna for the show.

Now part of PP knew that HTM was either overreacting or PP was just misunderstanding her broken English. Yet a bigger part of her really wanted to go check out the SPTransgender in the sauna. She just didn’t know how to escape HTM.

Suddenly, there was no other option.

PP just started to laugh. It was all too funny. The YMCA, of course, is a place of diversity and acceptance. Maybe HTM was right. But if she were, she should be a little more accepting. And since she wasn't, well, hell. Laughing did seem to be the only answer!





Such frivolity, was not HTM’s way, and PP knew this, as she gently disengaged herself and slid past her. HTM gave a mighty sigh, settling back at her favorite corner jet in the tub. Watched out of the corner of her squinty brown eyes as PP climbed out of the tub, still giggling.

Suddenly, an enormous belly laugh erupted from HTM. It rose up and out and filled the echoy locker room with its stupendous mirth. PP glanced over at her. HTM was beside herself with giggles.

She couldn't help herself. No matter how much she tried to keep her Authoritative HTM demeanor, it was all too funny. A man in the women’s hot tub. Get out of here!

Wiping her brow and waving her away, HTM eye’s glittered in golden hilarity. “You go. You go….” She sighed, breathless now, easing back into the jet.

PP nodded. Thank goodness she had HTM’s permission to check out the Transgender Sex Massage in the sauna.

Too bad it was all just HTM’s over active imagination.

Or was it?