Oh, what lovely weather it is in LA this fine summer evening—so very hot. Scorching, really.
The garden club ladies have decided to venture out—an occasion rarer than a modest society matron. A day of swimming, they call it.
It was Grace’s idea, of course—bright-eyed, ever-eager Grace. The blonde gets positively giddy over the simplest things.
But… that’s not why Rita agreed.
She agreed because she’s had her eye on someone. Someone special. And recently, she found out that same someone works as a lifeguard at the very pool Grace suggested. It wasn’t a question, wasn’t even a decision. It was an immediate yes—perhaps too immediate.
She’s been watching them—weeks now, maybe more. Youthful, vibrant, exuding the kind of effortless energy that turns heads. Mm… just her type. Rita swoons every time they’re near.
She dresses with deliberate precision—not too revealing (she is married, after all) but not an inch more modest than necessary.
A red one-piece. Sleek, sophisticated. It clings just so, an elegant bow at the front, the high-waisted bottom sculpting her figure to perfection. Bold, commanding—yet undeniably alluring.
A white bathing suit cover drapes over her like whispered temptation. She slips essentials into her bag—tanning oil, sunglasses, a silk hair tie.
Her dark waves, gathered in a sleek ponytail, cascade like a velvet ribbon beneath her red sunhat. Striking.
She takes one final glance in the mirror—undeniable.
She arrives.
Sliding on her sunglasses, she saunters through the gate, gaze sweeping, scanning. Hunting.
Her ladies spot her first—she waves, elegant, effortless.
“Oh, hello…” she purrs, drawing out each syllable like fine wine.
But her attention is already elsewhere.
And then—there they are.
Perched atop the lifeguard stand, surveying the shimmering water, oblivious to the predator that has just entered their territory.
Oh yes… today is going to be a very, very hot day indeed.