Pool cleaning

You decide to stack up some pool cleaning shifts. Steady, straightforward work, now that you've hooked up with the right company. Your boss doesn't ride you as long as you get the job done, and there's plenty of time to fit in the job between your lifeguard shifts. And as long as you're not too obvious about it, now and then you get a nice shot of the Mrs. of the house sunbathing or doing a couple of laps before you get to work.

The first stop, there are a couple of cute sisters horsing around in the pool, but when they see you, it's giggle, poof! and they're gone. Most of the day goes like that, fast, since you've got no reason to stick around.

The last job of the day is a small lap pool plus spa in a shady Japanese garden setting in a backyard up against an undeveloped hillslope. Your work order lists the name Karen Yoshida. You think you remember her chatting with your boss. If you got it right, she's a thirtysomething woman with kind of intense dark eyes, into fitness and stuff.

The pool's in good shape, so it's an easy job, and the shade is welcome after a long hot day. From behind a bamboo curtained door, you can hear what sounds like a recorded exercise guide, though you can't make out any of the words. Working along with it is a woman whose breaths and steps are strong and precise. You halt in surprise as she calls out a set of sharp yelps, and you hear a distinct thud! with each cry. Your eyes open wide, looking at the bamboo slat curtain waving slightly with the breeze. Somebody need a hero here, maybe?