The Pool

Work trips aren’t supposed to be fun. They’re usually stale coffee, recycled air, and too many polite smiles. But the hotel pool shimmered like it knew a secret. So I traded my name badge for my white swimsuit with little flowers and wandered out just as the sun started dipping low.I could feel his gaze before I saw him. Brian — sleeves rolled up, pretending to scroll through his phone. Cute.“Don’t act like you’re not impressed,” I called, just before diving in.The water wrapped around me, cool and clear. When I came up, he was still watching, eyes giving him away completely.“Bet you can’t do this,” I teased, flipping backward into the water again, my pussy bulge breaking the water and hitting the cool air. When I surfaced, he was laughing, shaking his head.“Show-off.”“Jealous,” I said, gliding closer.I pushed off the wall and floated on my back, arching to give him a good view of my pussy bulge and the water running off my thighs. Then I dipped my head under, threw my arms back and flipped backwards again, my legs arching out of the water.He crouched at the edge, and I rested my arms on the ledge between us. Everything went still — that kind of quiet that hums under your skin. The room still smelled faintly of chlorine and late afternoon sun when I closed the door behind me. I could hear the faint hum of traffic far below, the low, steady rhythm of the city that suddenly felt miles away.Brian was by the window, his shirt undone just enough to tease the light. His hair was still damp from the pool,I felt that familiar pull — the one I’d been trying not to name all day.I leaned back against the wall, water still tracing down my arm, cool against skin that felt much too awake. “You didn’t think I’d actually land that