"Aunt Sarah! Watch me dive!" I patiently raised my eyes over the edge of the magazine page towards the pool. As I watched, Mason splashed below the surface and swam to the bottom four feet down. The bursting swells of his rising bubbles chopped the reflection of the bright morning sunlight. He emerged a few seconds later brandishing a shiny penny; the same penny I had seen him dive after and retrieve no fewer than fifteen times in the last twenty minutes.
"Yay! You got it! Again... Great job, Mason!" I worried that the excitement was waning in my voice after cheering the repetitive triumph.
Checking my phone, I saw that it was almost eleven and his swim class would begin momentarily. The lesson's structure for ninety minutes of our morning came as a relief to me as a novice at babysitting. Lowering my sunglasses to the tip of my nose to make sure he saw me looking at him, I waved the boy out of the pool and over to my chair. After reapplying his sunscreen and adjusting his goggles, I sent him to join the group of children already gathering around the legs of the instructor. My "childcare" duties complete, I settled back on the chaise and resumed my article.
My friends, Deb and Jesse, had left early that morning for a long anniversary-weekend away. I had volunteered to stay at their house to watch Mason, their five-year-old son. Deb had balked, unsure that I could handle caring for a preschooler for four days. Right now, my babysitting duties were as complex as "sitting in a deckchair at their country club for a couple hours"; yeah, I could handle that.
I glanced again towards the class, spotting Mason splashing and paddling with the other kids. Confirming that he was supervised, I let my eyes roam the pool grounds. The complex consisted of three separate pools. In the far corner was the wading pool, occupied by clusters of bucket-toting infants held upright by chatting mothers clad in a uniform of visors and bandeau one-piece swimsuits. Mason's lesson was taking place in the shallow end of the central family pool, the bottom of which sloped away into a deep well for diving boards and a slide. And as I peered over my right shoulder I spied the designated lap pool, reserved for the use of adult members as well as the club's competitive youth team.
Watching the churning lanes of exercising swimmers, I mused that I probably could benefit from swimming some laps in the hour Mason would be supervised in lessons. However, I countered, that would have required my bringing a one-piece swimsuit. Instead, I rolled my eyes at the absurdity of swimming laps as I stared down the yawning valley of cleavage separating the aqua cups of my bikini. In acknowledgement of my babysitting duties, my top covered a responsible amount of my ample bust. And, though the cheeky cut of my briefs showed a hint of my bum, I hid those beneath a pair of soccer shorts in Mason's presence. That said, I didn't trust the knot behind my neck holding my bikini-top in place to survive the stress of a vigorous swim.
I watched Mason and eighteen other kids splash and frolic in the shallows while the patient lifeguard tried to pass out kickboards to begin the lesson. My eyes returned to my magazine, reassuring myself that it was better not to have brought work with me instead since the pool deck was teeming with distractions. I was surrounded by kids splashing, whistles blaring, mothers shouting, and the universal moving background of a summer morning at the pool. Recording zero billable hours for the day would be a pain to recoup next week but backtracking to correct distracted work would be its own problem. Besides, I thought as I turned the glossy page and felt the sun warm my chest and belly, the occasional weekday dalliance was a nice reward for all those long hours behind a desk.
And I soon discovered that even reading my mindless magazine was not something I could concentrate on amidst the bustle of the pool. The background din of splashing and whistles organized into distinct voices as the swim teams' practice let out. A trio of high school boys slowed their gait as they passed my chair, the volume of their voices rising as they boastfully compared performances from the recent meet. Their eyes lingered tactlessly, greedily drinking in the pale humps that swelled above the coverage of my top. I gazed sternly at them over top my sunglasses, silently advising that their raging adolescent hormones still required discretion.
A pair of moms in long sleeved rash guards paraded by, quickly ushering their children to the wading pool. Each cast an accusing glance back at me, then huddled conspiratorially. "Oh, come on, has no one ever worn a two-piece to this pool before?" I wondered, almost speaking the words aloud in my exasperation. I puffed a touchy breath and combed my red hair with my fingers. The brisk action of my ribs and arms set my melons waggling if anyone was paying attention. With my hair away from my face, I returned to my magazine.
The light was blocked as an impediment arrived between the sun and my mag. I glanced up from the page and came face to face with a dripping-wet male torso and blue, square-legged compression swimsuit. Blinking in shock behind my rose gold tinted lenses, I raised my head to find a handsome black face beaming down at me, still beaded with pool water. My mouth hung silently agape in confusion at the stranger's sudden, sodden arrival.
"Hope I didn't startle you, I'm Mark!" the man held one hand to his soaking chest in introduction. "Did I see you with Mason? I didn't know that Deb and Jesse hired an au pair?" From his elevated vantage point, his eyes were unquestionably filled with all but the dearest bits of my jugs. But, unlike the teen gawkers, Mark at least made an effort to disguise his ogling.
I shook free of my stupor from the interruption -- and from Mark's bulging, spandex-forward greeting -- and sat up in my seat as I held out my hand. "I'm Sarah," his wet hand enclosed mine as we shook. "And believe me when I say I am NOT a childcare professional, just a soft-hearted friend who's maybe in over her head. To be honest, I'm such a bad babysitter, I have no idea what to do with him this weekend." I giggled, explaining about their trip and my four-day adventure in parenting.
"That's so kind of you to volunteer like that; it's always so hard for parents to find time to be alone together..." Mark trailed off and blushed, grinning juvenilely as he realized he had just invoked the image of our mutual friends banging. I also smirked and blushed like a naughty child at the suggestion.
While we were on the subject of ogling, Mark's fit stomach and chest demanded more than a casual glance. However, the real attention-grabber was the captive bulge in the front of his trunks. My libido dumped a shot of lust into my bloodstream, and I choked down an amorous sigh at the warming rush. With a concerted effort, I forced my eyes north back to his face.
He cleared his throat to change the subject. "Uh, anyway, my daughters, Michelle and Theresa, are friends with Mason at school, so it's great that they can see each other here, as well. Those are my twins there, with the boards." He pointed to the pool, where two little girls kicked across the water towards the lane dividers.
