Megan

You encounter Megan purely by chance.

It actually starts because you see the sun is still up, September is still hot, and you decide that now is the time to check out the pool before Fall really sets in. Really, of course, you intend to check out the girls. You don't know who made the rule that girls will openly parade around in bikinis that cover far less than a lot of underwear, but you need to thank them.

Of particular note are the tanning girls, sitting or laying in rows on the chaise lounge chairs surrounding the pool. Very few of them seem to have any intention of actually going into the water. No, they are here to be seen in barely-there bikinis. And you are here to see them. Triangle-tops that show underboob as well as cleavage, utterly uncovered asses framed by thongs. Today is a great day.

And there you find a sunglassed Megan, sitting on a lounge...with a towel wrapped around her? Reading a book?

"Hey," you say. And then realize the rudeness of it. "Sorry I'm interrupting you're reading."

"Oh," she looks up, lowers the sunglasses. "You know it's fine. The book will be there in an hour. The story stops as soon as you fold the page and picks up immediately. It's what I love about it."

"Do you normally hang out around here?" you ask.

"No...but, well, it's a warm day."

"You're pretty wrapped up for a warm day," you say.

"Yeah," she glances around. "It's...ugh. Okay, maybe this is just me? I feel like I'm responsible for some of these people, like I have the job to take care of them. It feels almost like it'd be...unprofessional? To strip down to some tiny bikini and jump in the pool with them. And then I did it, but I got here, and I look around at them and..." she shrugs. "I put the towel back on. It's nice just to read."