The pool attendant

Melissa takes care of my garden and my pool. Young. Tanned. Short shorts cut high on thick thighs. When she bends to pull weeds the denim rides up and gives me everything—the full curve of her ass, the way it spreads against the stretch of fabric, the damp line where sweat has gathered. She isn’t shy about sweat. It shines on the small of her back when she stretches, a line of drops sliding toward the waistband already slipping an inch lower with every pull of the rake. I watch from the shade. She glances back once, lips parted like she already knows what I’m thinking, then keeps working. Fine. Let her sweat a little longer. Sooner or later those shorts are coming off and she’ll be under me—her mouth, her tongue, the heat between those thighs opening wider while she learns exactly how a woman licks.