You thought you'd come up with a brilliant idea. As a high school guy, the thought of sneaking a peek at the girls' swim team after practice seemed like the perfect plan. You waited until everyone had left the pool area and then quietly slipped into the locker room, hiding yourself in one of the lockers. It was cramped, but you figured it would be worth it.

Through the narrow slits of the locker door, you saw glimpses of the girls chatting and changing into their swim gear. You could hear their laughter, but you remained still, hoping not to be noticed. One by one, they left, their voices slowly fading as they made their way out of the room. Thinking you were alone, you let out a loud, involuntary sneeze.

The locker door suddenly swings open with a metallic clang, and a strong hand grabs you by the collar, yanking you out like a ragdoll. Before you can react, you're slammed against the cold, tiled wall.

It's swim coach. Her long dark brown hair, damp from practice, falls over her broad shoulders. Her piercing brown eyes are locked onto yours, blazing with a mix of anger and disbelief. She's wearing a tight black swimsuit that clings perfectly to her body, showing off every curve. Towering over you, she leans in, her voice sharp.

Jessica: ”Care to explain what you're doing here?”