Lulu Mariner, pool customer and nudist influencer

"Who's this, Myrna? Isn't this job a little out of our area?"

The job order was printed out on paper, on a board with a spring clip, including a road map, a security gate access code, and the usual job checklist. The pool company provided a rugged tablet computer with cell data for sending work reports and customer approvals back to HQ, but that usually stayed locked in the truck because swimming pool water, pool chemicals, and hard concrete decks are torture tests for ruggedized slate computers that would otherwise shrug off rain or being dropped.

"She's a new customer," Myrna said. "Renter, but it's a fancy place. She didn't like the shape the pool was in, and she wanted a service she could trust, so that's us. Or rather, that's you, Joe. This is your one job today."

"On my way, Myrna, thanks."

"Wait, Joe," Myrna says. "I wanted to ask, what should I wear to your wedding?"

"Sorta casual, I think? If you have a nice dress you look good in. We're gonna do it at my friend's work, El Gringo Loco, in their patio area. So whatever you'd wear for a margarita brunch, I think?"

Myrna laughs. "Haha okay, patio cocktail party dress maybe. My brother has dragged me to plenty of those."

Her brother, the boss boss and owner of the pool company.

"Alright Joe, on your way. You know the traffic, yeah?"

"Yeah, thanks Myrna, I'm already gone."

You punch in the security code at the gate and follow the written directions as to where to park the truck. The pool is fancy, it not only has a hot spa and a cold plunge by a sauna and shower hut, but it also has a main pool with a swim-up island with a cascade waterfall.

At least someone must be sweeping up the trash from the poolside palm trees. And they look freshly trimmed.

You're about through with the testing part of your work order for the pools when the customer shows up.

Show being the right word.

Nude and shining with oil, wearing only a big sun hat, big sunglasses, and a pair of flip flop sandals.

Paced by a mini quadcopter with a little camera pointing at her, hovering at a steady angle in front of her.

Aw geeze, was this Naked TV or something? You close your gaping mouth and try and look All Business Pool Guy.

"Ms. Mariner?" you say.

"Oh hello, you must be Joe," the shining vision of womanhood says. She looks completely comfortable in the altogether, even in front of the hired help. "Oh, they didn't tell you?" She laughs. "I'm a nudist influencer."

"Ma'am," you acknowledge. "I suppose I can see that."

She has a nice laugh, you'd have to say. And for someone probably your fiancée's age, she doesn't have the dangerously fit look that Anne Campion, soon-to-be-Mrs. Anne Campion, after you marry into her family name, that Anne does. But she looks good. Not fake, but fit like a swimsuit model. Or a no swimsuit model, which is what a nudist influencer would have to kinda be.

"Come walk me around the pool, tell me about your work," Ms. Mariner says. "What needs to be done to get things shipshape?"

You cast an eye at the quadcopter with the camera.

"Don't worry about how you sound, we won't use the audio. But this is my new place, I want to show it off in the sunlight, and it looks best if I'm interacting, you know? Come tell me about your work."

You walk with the basically naked lady around the pool, the cold plunge, and the hot spa. She's pleasant and charming and very normal for someone whose oiled tits are shining in the sun and whose bush is catching little sun glints off the curls. She doesn't look body-sculpted, and for a lady in her late thirties who must get a lot of sun, she looks great, actually. The little tits probably help with the gravity thing, and she chats about her exercise routine, stretching and yoga and swimming. Kind of like Karen Yoshida, minus the kickboxing. You hope minus the kickboxing. You have enough dangerous women in your life already, between your self-defence instructor fiancée Anne and your situationship hook-up gal Karen who left a foot-shaped bruise on your chest after nearly killing you at first sight.

Ms. Mariner manages to charm you into talking about your personal life and get you to admit you not only have a girlfriend who's your boss, but that you're getting married soon. She coos happily, and laughs at the dramatic circumstances. An expat, a fitness instructor, whose husband got someone else pregnant, and who had arranged a mercy fuck party for herself and her friends, and had fallen pregnant herself. Just in time to arrange a juicy divorce settlement and twist your arm, not very hard, into promising to go from Joe Kelly to Mr. Joseph Campion, her prince consort and future diaper duty man. You don't think you let anything slip about Anne lending you out to her friends, her divorce lawyer, and even to the legal aid lawyer who had helped with the pre-nuptial agreement Anne's lawyer had drawn up.

"Your fiancée is getting quite the stud," Ms. Mariner says. "I'm envious. And you're planning an open-house honeymoon?"

"Yeah. Still trying to nail down the place. You know, short notice, size, location, all the stuff."

"I know," she says. "What it took me to get this place. But it's almost perfect, so all the, ah, well, all the everything was worth it."

But the conversation turns back to the weather, and the pool job, and you let out a little tension that's building up in your shoulders. When a pretty naked lady is talking with you about sex, nodding and smiling, well, what's to do. You hope you stayed cool.

"The cold plunge is in pretty good shape," you tell Ms. Mariner. "A little touch-up, but you can use it tonight. The spa will be a quick turn-around, you can use it tomorrow. I'll leave a test kit, you want the indicator to be here." You point to a color on the card where you've made a mark with a felt pen. "To get the pool the way you like will take longer. I'll have to come back and test. It could be a few days."

"Thanks, Joe, that's what I was looking for," she says.

"So here's what's lined up. Give my boss a sign-off here if that looks okay."

She signs off on the work order with a big loopy LULU MARINER like she's giving a publicity autograph on her portrait.

She's a pretty nice, chill customer, pleasant to deal with. The only fly in the ointment, like they say, is the buzzing quadcopter with a camera, hovering nearby and capturing video of Lulu Mariner, Professional Naked Lady, smiling and nodding at you while you try and be Mister All Business Pool Guy.

"Come up to the house when you're done," she says. She laughs when you glance at the hovering eyeball monster again. She waves a hand at the flying eye robot. "Don't worry, I'll park it for the day when I get back in. Thanks for helping me get the outside shots around the pool. I'm not on camera all the time. I have a fixed rig in the wellness studio indoors, and a videographer for shooting everyday household things, you know, or when someone visits."

You watch as Lulu Mariner, Professional Naked Lady, walks back to her rented mansion. This time, instead of leading her, watching her smiling face and perky little tits, her camera drone follows close behind her to get some action footage of oiled butt cheeks shining in the morning sun. She's got a bit more in back than up front, but Lulu's buns have a smoothly toned shape instead of cut at the muscle contours like Anne, who's a bit of a maniac with her routine. With you as a slacker, your routines have met a little at the middle, more on Anne's side than yours, but you figure that's to the good.

And now that you've moved in with Anne, she works out a bit less, because that time is devoted to getting pronged, balled, rogered, pounded, and hammered at the end of your dick.

You can't complain.

You wonder if the baby will round out Anne's butt a little. Anne, your second boss, your almost-wife, seems unbothered. She cares about how she looks, but she's unfussy. "A little more bum won't matter to me, and you'll like it, Joe. Just keep up with the oil on my belly. If I can't dodge stretch marks, then at least I'll have tried. And outside the clinic or the ladies' showers, you're the only one I show my tummy to, boy-o, so it'll hardly matter if Baby sticks me with a bit of a tum."

Today's work is a bit of a haul back and forth to the truck for chemicals and equipment. You give the pool ladder's chromed steel handles a little soft polish, just for good measure, and wipe down any tile that's looking cloudy.

You load up the truck, write up the job, use the fancy tablet to take a picture for the boss, text Myrna that it went fine, and leave the truck in order.

Come up to the house when you're done.

Did that mean what you think it meant? No, it couldn't. Could it?

One Page Oracle:
boss's sister? no, but maybe someone pool related.
a customer? yes
any other connections? no
who?
random event: TAKE FUTURE PLANS (physical)
who?
SOCIAL ADVENTURER, goal ENRICH SELF.

A pool customer who wants to take advantage of hosting Joe's post wedding open house for their own advantage, maybe she is inviting other bored rich women? Maybe the random event is her propositioning Joe.

You have 1 XP, Hard +2 (with Fucking Huge), Hot +2 (with Charming), Cool 0, Control -1, and the Character Moves Always Hard and Group Sex.

Roll +COOL(0) to STALK Lulu Mariner. On a hit, maybe you can charm her into helping find a honeymoon place. On a miss, she makes an offer on her terms. 2d6 = 10, Lulu is alone and open to your proposals.