The afternoon sun beat down on a scene of surreal perfection.
Darren, a king on his shaded lounger, watched his court unfold around the glimmering azure pool. It was a living tapestry of feminine energy, each thread distinct, each color vibrant.
There was something unexplainably wonderful about having your plan executed to perfection. Not just by you, but by other parties who were involved, even without their own realization.
The scene was just too beautiful.
Kara was the epicenter of noise and splashing, challenging a bemused Sandy to a race she was inevitably losing, her neon pink bikini a blur of motion.
Sandy smiling again was a pleasant scene for Darren. She had apologized earlier, but despite that, seeing her happy was what he wanted the most and he was glad that it was happening.
Ileana and Penelope had formed a small, supportive pod in the shallow end, their conversation a quiet hum.
