He is lying on a pool chair, legs out in front of him, basking in the sun. It is humid and hot. No rain in days. The pool's water can be heard lapping near his side. Softly flowing by, his hand drifts back and forth in the cool water....drawing figure 8's with his fingers.....his mind drifting off. He hasn't had a day off in a while, and this much needed rest in the sun is perfect. In his mind, he is swirling off the waves of a distant beach, the white sands tickling his toes as he ambles through the waves as they crest and fall on the shore. This ocean water is warm, not like the pool, but his mind cannot tell the difference.
And then she moved closer. Her body rippling the pools surface as her shape breaks through the currents. Slowly approaching him, she is silent. Lowering her body deeper into the water, shoulder depth, her jaw jutted forward ready to float towards her prey, those circling fingers.... As she nears her target, she opens her pouting mouth, bares her teeth and waits for the moment when the hand stops making one figure and moves to the next. Then she attacks. Bites his index finger with her front teeth, the pull is light but intense. He doesn't struggle, he has heard her approach, smiling to himself that she has found him here by the pool. His eyes remain closed, imagining what little she is wearing. The bite has changed to a suck, which produces a larger smile on the prey, as he slowly retracts his hand from the pool, attacker attached and intact. His hand guides her out of the pool and standing next to him on the deck. Her body drips with the remaining of the liquid of the pool, creating a puddle around his chair, as it grows, and runs toward shelter, his feet get wet. She releases her jaws and sits at his feet.
She has seen his hat is adorning his loins while the rest of his body bakes in the sun to a golden bronze tone. His skin looks so soft and supple, but a bit cracked and dry at the same time. She sees a bottle of tanning oil, reaches it, and begins to apply it liberally on his thigh, then down to the ankles, one leg at a time. No one is speaking, except the pool, lapping its soft language, to no ears listening.