Chu Me Learns To Swim

Over recent weeks one has been giving Chu Me lessons on how to swim. There was never any need to learn when he was a child, in that land far, far away. His village was surrounded by flooded fields and all the residents were traditionally content skimming across the surface in plastic flip-flops, propelled by large wooden poles. So, since taking him under one’s wing, it has long been on the cards for me to teach him this valuable skill.

Anyhoo … we were in the pool yesterday morning. One was elegantly contained in a ravishing aubergine Gucci swimsuit and matching cap, while Chu Me had his favourite pair of Hom budgie-smugglers on with a bright orange pair of inflatable water wings.

It would be wrong, one suspects, to say he ‘found his feet’, therefore we shall say he ‘found his flippers’ very quickly in our lesson. Within an hour he had grasped the technique of the front crawl. Even with his water wings, he managed to accomplish a satisfying speed up and down the length and one was delighted.

Bobbing majestically at the deep end of the pool – one treading water like an aquatic ballerina and Chu Me paddling his hands to stabilise his inflatables - one congratulated him on his efforts.

“Bravísimo, Chu Me! That was perfect!”

With a gleaming smile arcing across his proud-as-punch face he shouted, “Breast stroke?”

“Well, as you’ve done so well, why not.”

No sooner had I said those words, one felt Chu Me’s hand brush against one’s right hooter. One’s cat-like reflexes took a hold; kicking harder with one’s feet, one raised further from the water, raising one’s arms into the air and making pincers from one’s hands. Like a Praying Mantis, one’s pincers shot down and with a nip of stunningly manicured nails, one burst his inflatable water wings. The air rapidly squeaked out of the puncture holes as Chu Me looked on in horror. His head slowly starting to sink below the surface, one turned and propelled oneself to the ladder at the side. Exiting, one picked up the towel that lay on the lounger and stormed off elegantly to the steam room, “Outrageous!! Naughty Chu Me … Crusty is shocked!”

The window cleaner had passed by moments later. He saw the bubbles on the surface of the pool, bursting to emit small yelps and he dived in to pull one’s faithful houseboy from the crystal clear depths.

“What on earth is all this noise?” One shouted, as one left the steam room to investigate. Before me, one saw Chu Me lying on a lounger, panting heavily. The window cleaner was sitting in a chair, saturated and removing his shirt. The disrobing revealed a muscled, tanned torso with a six-pack stomach; tiny droplets of water falling from his jaw line and landing on his pectorial plane, creating tiny rivers that meandered down his body to the belt above his downstairs area.

Sahaying towards him, he stood up and one grabbed the back of his head and pushed one’s lips on his. After a few seconds, he began to struggle and our lips were released.

“Dame Crusty, what are you doing?”

“The kiss of life, dear! You’ve had a terrible trauma”

“But I’m fine…”

“Better make sure, dear” and with that one planted one’s lips upon him again. Finally, releasing him from one’s vice-like medical grip, Chu Me explained he had not intentionally brushed one’s bosom. It had been the ripples of the pool that had turned him towards me. He was simply trying to stabilise himself.

One looked at him briefly before the pieces all fell into place. Turning to head towards the door of the main residence, one chuckled loudly thinking how easy it is for misunderstandings to happen.