Page 50 of Shroom for Improvement

Oh, fuck.

I fell. Fell hard. Tipped my head back, released a cry of ecstasy, and my orgasm splashed across the green glass tiles over and over.

One of my hands remained braced against the wall, the other still gripped my cock as I steadied my breathing, waited for the shame to catch up with me, and watched the evidence of my momentary lapse in control swill down the drain. What had I done?

There were boundaries I shouldn’t cross, even mentally, and I’d ignored them.

I smashed the water-off button and reached for my towel.

The din of a radio drifted through the shower doors. “By all accounts it looks and sounds painful, but the frequency with which they do it leads me to believe otherwise. Therefore, I have concluded wanking must be enjoyable. Or at the very least, a necessity.”

It took me a moment to realise I had not left the radio on, and the voice was coming from somewhere inside the bathroom. I whipped the towel around my hips and backed myself into the corner, looking about for the intruder.

But there was no one. It wasn’t even steamy in the bathroom. That had to have been the iciest wank I’d ever had.

Holy fuck. Had someone been watching me?

“Who’s there?”

Nothing. No response. I definitely didn’t imagine it.

“Oi pervert, I know you’re there.”

Still nothing.

“I heard you. Talking about . . . wanking.”

“Oh my gods,” the voice said again. “Oh my gods! He can hear me? You can hear me.” The voice was neither feminine nor masculine, and somehow both. Somehow a little alien and otherworldly.

“Who are you?” I said, panicking now, shooting my gaze around the small space, expecting to see a pair of eyes staring back from some nook or cranny. “Where are you?”

“You can actually hear me?” they said.

“Yes, I can bloody hear you. Where are you, and why are you spying on me?”

“I can’t believe it! I’ve been talking to you since you arrived and only now you can hear me. It’s a miracle.”

My heels hit the wooden skirting boards as I backed even farther into the bathroom corner. “Who are you? And why were you watching me... do that?”

“It’s me,” they said.

My initial panic waned, replaced by anger. I was cold, wet, naked, and a hidden stranger had just watched me masturbate, and was now... what? Holding me to ransom? Would they blackmail me?

“Who’s me? What do you want?” Was it one of the other guests? Maybe someone I hadn’t yet met. Were there any others? They sure sounded too friendly to be Mrs Ziegler or Mr Dupont. Besides, there’d be no hiding that nine-foot monster in this tiny room.

Was the speaker a ghost?

“It’s me! It’s just me! I can’t believe you can hear me!”

“Who the fuck is me? Show yourself and get out of my bathroom so I can get dressed.”

“Well, I can’t. Not really,” they said, their voice singsong and light. “The bathroom is me. I am the bathroom. And everything else. And don’t worry, I’ve already seen you naked, so no need to hide from me.”

I couldn’t make sense of it. They’d already seen me naked. “You’ve been watching me?”

“Since you first got here. I watched you pull up on the drive. You looked like you might try to drive away, so I froze the wheels of the car.”

“Wait.” I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What are you? Some sort of sprite or faerie? And where are you? And why the hell are you watching me in the shower?”

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