“Shit! There’s some guys coming in,” whispered Vicky with a look of panic on her face. “Quick, quick, hide in there! Hide in there!” ordered Vicky frantically, pushing Donny into the open stall, closing the door gently behind them. Donny shuffled back against the narrow bench inside the stall and paused as his mother locked the door.
“…you know what she’s like man. A fucking handful..,” said a deep voice emanating from the entry. Another voice laughed obnoxiously in response.
“Just let her go man. Plenty of fish in the sea,” added the second man.
“This is actually pretty fucking funny!” whispered Vicky to Donny, taking him by surprise with her language and sudden mood shift.
Vicky placed the bag gently on the bench and added, “…bet these twerps wouldn’t think there’s a mother and son hiding behind this door!”
“Mom…,” replied Donny dismissively, betraying a smirk.
BANG BANG! “What the fuck? Fucking door’s stuck,” one of the men complained before spitting on the ground nearby.
“Check the other one, dickhead,” replied the other man with sass. Vicky stifled a giggle before snapping into a tense posture when the man began to knock on their door.
“Anyone in there?!”
“Y-yess?!” mumbled Vicky, affecting a masculine tone.
“Sorry!” said the man with forced civility.
“Won’t be long!” Vicky gurgled.
“Oh my god mom! You’re unbelievable!” whispered Donny, suppressing an urge to laugh out loud.
Donny heard the man’s footsteps lead back to the other side of the room where he plonked his butt down on the bench and returned to conversation with his colleague.
A few minutes transpired with mother and son feeling like foolish children playing hide and seek, losing themselves for a few moments in the juvenile thrill of it all. All the while the two strangers seemed quite quite content to wait for the lone, accessible stall to become available to them.
“Shit. These guys are actually waiting for the stall,” whispered Vicky, now looking at her son with growing concern. “What do we do?”
“Wait ’em out I guess,” replied Donny decisively.
“Are you nearly done man?” cried one of the men impatiently as he rapped on the door again.
.
“Fuck,” murmured Vicky, gripping her son by the arms in a bid for support.
“Alright. We’ll quickly change into our swimmers and then head out. Put one towel around your body really tightly and the other one over your head as though you’re drying your hair. We’ll just walk straight out,” explained Donny, figuring he could easily distract the two men with an apology while his mom slipped out of the changeroom quickly. “I’ll keep ’em occupied. You walk out fast.”
“Just one minute,” called out Donny, attempting to mirror the timbre of his mother’s earlier manly tone.
“Shit. Okay, okay. That’ll do,” replied Vicky as her arms slid limply from her son’s side, yielding to his plan. Without further ado, Donny whipped off his t-shirt and began unfastening his belt. Vicky gazed ambivalently at her son’s hands as they wrangled with the buckle.
“Come on mom, quick!” barked Donny as the metal arm of his belt buckle sprung free of it’s restraint, sending his shorts to his ankles, exposing his white briefs.