opening theme:
Angel Farringdon Ft Smokey – Love It Shine El-B Darkside Mix
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Vladamir turned his pen between his fingers, his elbow resting on the wood panel table and a low light reflecting off his forehead. The clock ticked onto 3. Some time passed and it ticked onto 4. His inbox was full of little jobs – the sort you can store there for months at a time to guard against the possibility you will actually have to ask someone if you can help them with anything. When the clock creaked onto 5 he left the office, dropping his tie in the desk drawer, ready for the next day. He got his bike out from the underground garage. It was a fine September day – not as hot as the summer months but still warm enough for short sleeves. He rode to the pool, a north breeze playing behind his ears.
The changing room was steaming – all the mirorrs were fogged up with the heavy smell of skin and hair and the aftersmell of a place that’s never dry. Softly, then suddenly a new smell swung in from the door. It reminded Vladamir of the school kitchen at the end of lunchtime when the food has either burnt to the bottom of the pan or grown a thick skin – overcooked apples and decomposition. A large man with a lumberjack shirt half open entered the changing room, breathing heavily. His hair hung over his collar at the back and was tucked behind his ears at the side, a long side parting stretched round from the top of his forehead.
By now the only other person in the changing room had left. Vladamir finished unbuttoning his shirt and glanced over as unfastened his belt. The large man had taken a huge bag off his shoulder and was fighting to get it inside a locker. He banged the bag angrily at this space which was clearly too small before putting it down on the bench and unzipping it. Perhaps conscious of being watched, he glanced up, catching Vladamir’s eye for a second before Vladmir, embrassed, turned away. Trying to ignore the eyes which had not stopped watching him, Vladmir finished unbuttoning his flies and lowered his trousers to the floor. He stepped out of them and stood in his white shorts and briefs. Looking up, he caught those eyes reflected in the mirror inside his locker, still watching. He paused, and as he did so, the large man looked away and continued unpacking his bag. Watching in the mirror, Vladamir saw the man unpack three large beaver pelts which stank of mud and hair. Now able to fit the bag in his locker, the large man turned away. Vladamir quickly took off his socks and changed into his swimming trunks. As he straightened up he caught a glimpse of the large man watching him again. Vladamir blushed, snapped his locker closed, tied the key around his wrist and headed to the pool without a backwards glance.
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Vladamir was quite an accomplished swimmer and he spent some time in the fast lane of the pool practicing his butterfly. He didn’t once see the large man, but reasoned that he could have been elsewhere, lifting weights.
After a few dozen lengths and 10 minutes in the steam room, Vladamir returned to change. The room was now full of people who hadn’t left work until 5.30 or 6. Vladamir opened his locker and was overpowered by the smell of a beaver pelt sitting on top of his folded shirt.
closing theme:
Nikolay Myakovsky – unknown (bad metadata)
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