Free Dying Forever (Waking Forever Book 3) by Heather McVea Page A

walked after Sylvia toward the opposite end of the pool where she joined ten other swimmers. Not able to help herself, Alison decided to sit down on the aluminum bleachers and watch the class.
    It was obvious from the start that Bryce did not know how to swim. In spite of her beautiful lean body, she moved through the water like a spasming hippopotamus. The instructor was patient and took additional time to assist the clumsy woman with her technique.
    Bryce struggled with the basics; she was unable to relax her body and lay flat in the water. Alison covered her mouth, hiding her amusement at watching the woman’s backside bob up and down in the water as she attempted a breast stroke.
    After ten minutes, Alison started to feel guilty about her voyeurism and walked toward the locker-room. She entered the locker lined, white tiled room. It smelled of chlorine and Chanel No. 5, mixed with a myriad of floral scented soaps and shampoos.
    It was nearly eight o’clock at night . The evening rush had thinned, and those left in the aquatic center were still in the pool; so Alison stood alone as she spun the combination lock on her locker. Distracted by how Bryce had managed to still look gorgeous while making a spectacle of herself, Alison shook her head as she made the third attempt to enter in the combination.
    Finally opening the locker, Alison grabbed the bottle of Paul Mitchell shampoo, a navy blue bath towel , and her purple shower flip flops. Winding her way through the maze of lockers, sinks, and changing rooms, Alison walked into one of five shower stalls. Each stall had a frosted, plastic curtain and a white tile dividing wall that came to Alison’s shoulders.
    Putting her toiletries on the narrow stainless steel shelf at the back of the stall, Alison pulled the curtain closed, peeled off her black Speedo swimsuit, and draped it over the half wall along with her towel. Turning the water on, she stood to the side of the stream, waiting for it to heat up.
    Glancing down the row of stalls , and realizing she was the only one using the showers, Alison stepped under the hot water, tilted her head back, rinsing the excess chlorine out. A sudden wave of vertigo washed over her, and she grabbed for the shower wall. Her stomach knotted, and for a split second she thought she might vomit. Leaning her forehead against the cool tile of the stall to steady herself, Alison took several deep breaths, water from her short wet locks streaming down her face.
    “Hello , Professor Bailey.” Christine’s voice came from directly behind Alison.
    Spinning around, Alison pre ssed her back against the wall, her eyes wide with panic as she crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “How did you get in here?”
    The woman stood on her tip-toes, her arms crossed and resting on the top of the dividing wall as her eyes roamed up and down Alison’s naked body. “I see the swimming has kept you very fit.”
    The woman’s exaggerated smile sent a chill up Alison’s spine as she grabbed for the bath towel and quickly wrapped it around her naked body. “I’m calling campus security.” Alison forced the confidence into her voice as she pulled the shower curtain back.
    Christine suddenly stood face-to-face with the blonde, her voice a whisper. “Are you certain?”
    The woman was at least two inches shorter than Alison, but managed to square her shoulders and set her jaw in such a way that she was more intimidating than her small frame would suggest. Looking past the woman, Alison could see the blue emergency call box on the wall near the end of the showers.  “What?”
    “I asked if you’re certain you want to call security.” Christine’s voice was low and seductive as she ran her index finger along Alison ’s bare, wet shoulder.
    Revulsion at the woman’s touch shot through Alison and , clutching the towel tighter to her body, she pushed past the smaller woman. “Move!”
    “Why so testy , professor?” The woman began laughing, the