Do as I say

Oh fuck. Oh my god. Seriously - do as I say, don't ever try to do as I did.

So this morning I'm in the gym and Jack, the man I'm going to marry, is there. I leave the shower and a few minutes later he's with me in the changeroom having just got out the shower too.

He's unpacking his clothes, naked and wrapped in a white towel, his olive skin looking even better set against the pale cloth.

This man is seriously hot and makes me weak at the knees.

He's not hugely muscular but is beautifully defined. He has big arms, a sixpack like a radiator grille and the perkiest ass in the world.

So there he's standing, now in his briefs and using the hairdryer to blow-dry the flip-flops he uses in the shower.

If I could wrap you up in my gym bag I would do it, to take you along so that you can see how fit this guy is. Instead I think the next best thing is to try and snap a photo.

I sit on the bench and start to put on my shoes, he's sitting on a stool, looking in the mirror with his back towards me.

Pulling my togbag onto the floor I take out the mobile phone from the side pocket and pull the slide back.

Leaning over, pretending to tie my laces I angle the phone up and push the button. Snap!

Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The phone's on silent so there is no sound effect but I'd forgotten to turn the flash off.

This massive burst of light ricochets around the changeroom and he starts in the mirror, glancing at me.

It is quite obvious what I've just done. Fuck.

He turns around, gets up and the world quite literally stands deadly still.

Trying not to panic I sat up and just glared at the phone. I pulled a puzzled face and muttered "stupid thing" and tried to throw it nonchalently into my gym bag.

He didn't say anything and carried on.

Very sheepishly I continue getting dressed but he leaves first. I sit down on the bench and wait a bit.

I imagine him at the front desk speaking to the manager going "this guy in the changeroom is taking photos of people".

Fuck, fuck. My gym membership flashes before my eyes.

Taking photos of people in the gym changeroom is pretty-much illegal and you can be reported to police.

Imagine the embarrassment of being caught. Fuck.

About two minutes later I leave, walking slowly out the front door.

There is no-one at reception. I stand and open my protein shake to drink it, to hang around for a while but realise the place is deserted. He obviously hasn't said anything. I have gotten away with it.

It's been years since I had the voice in my head scream "BUSTED!" The last time was getting caught smoking behind the squash court by my Maths teacher.

Getting six of the best from the headmaster is one thing, getting taken down to the police station for outraging public decency is quite another.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. From now I am living the life of a nun!

EDIT: 15.30-ish
I was so stressed at being frog-marched to the local cop-shop that I didn't even bother to check the phone. Gabriel, chabang, Oliver and Mr Anon thank you for pointing out the fucken obvious.

And do you know what!?

Check it out. Here's the moment my respectable criminal record-free life nearly came to an end.

Yeah, I know it's blurred!

If you think you can do any better, come and 'av a go if you think you're tough enough. I'll lend you my gym card and kitbag*.

How hot is he though? If you recognise him, bring him to me. Preferably wrapped in cellophane.

* = this is of course a joke. Bring your own fucken kitbag if you wanna go.