I’ve been trying my hardest to feign interest in my book. In truth, I’ve been on the same sentence for about ten minutes now and yet, I still couldn’t even begin to tell you what it’s about. But, in my defense, it’s hard to pay attention to mere ink on a page when you have an alluring goddess in a skimpy blue bikini, gliding effortlessly through a swimming pool before you. Accentuated by the shimmer of water – as much as I try – I can’t help but caress every inch of her curves with the periphery of my vision and fantasies about running my hands over them.
Finally, as if to torture me further, she draws to a halt at the shallow end of the pool and casually saunters up the steps. I watch transfixed as water droplets trickle from her long hair and slide, seductively, down her supple and flawless body. So hypnotised by the pulse racing scene, I don’t notice – until it’s too late – my book tumble from my slack grasp and drop into the water below me. Realising this, I lean over and watch in frustration as my book, ironically titled Into the Blue, sinks all the way down to the bottom. Damn, and I didn’t even get to finish it as well.