Jake has been at the pool an hour when he sees her. Sauntering out of the all-gender locker room, wide hips swaying, fiery red hair hanging down her back in an avalanche of gleaming curls. The same age as him, eighteen, nineteen. Freckles. Dimpled chin. She's on the chubby side, maybe a size 16, curvy with big thighs, but those breasts, holy shit! Huge, round, jiggling lightly as she walks, her nipples showing through the skin-tight fabric of her swimsuit. He tries not to get hard.
She sees him watching her, admiring her. She smiles, bites her lip. Coy. She's checking him out now. Jake knows he's attractive -- dark haired, athletic, chiseled. He gives her a show, flexes his pecs. She grins, and slips into the pool. Jake's heart is racing as she eases through the water towards him.
"I've seen you here before," she says when she reaches him. Nods towards the tiered seating above, "from the bleachers. I'm Sasha."
"Jake," he replies, smiling, lifting his eyes from those incredible breasts.
She moves closer to him. "You look pretty good in that speedo," she purrs, eyes twinkling.
"You look pretty good yourself," he says, then flushes. *Suave, Jake, real Suave*.
Sasha doesn't seem to mind his clumsy flirting. She has an almost predatory aspect as she leans in, whispers, "I didn't actually come here to swim. Wanna help me out of my swimsuit?"