She sat by the shimmering pool like a fine looking mermaid , feeling ecstatic in her green floral bikini, her porcelain skin shining in the evening sun like yellow topaz. Her spiteful eyes were constantly staring at someone—an insanely fit-and-shapely woman swimming in the pool.
Next moment I saw her covering her belly and her thighs with a towel. She felt too fat to expose herself. She felt ashamed. Self-Conscious.
“I am so fat.” Mermaid Tears filled her eyes.
I was amused, because she looked stunning. She’s the most stunning woman I have ever met, and yes, she has a little chub on her belly, drinks a lot of beer, and eats like a true gourmand, but she’s gorgeous.
How do I explain this woman that men are not all after skin and shape? How do I convince her to shed off that towel of diffidence and feel like the real beauty that she is? I couldn’t, so I pulled the towel off her playfully.
“Okay, fuck it“, she said in her raspy voice, “I don’t care. Beer…”
Then after a scrumptious snack by the poolside, it was time for us to finally do it. She’d been wanting it for so long—the whole point of having her brought here, having her bought her such a charming piece of bikini. She stood up, a little tipsy from the effect of alcohol and cat-walked tothe edge of the pool, her bikini-clad buttocks swaying like a harmonized bob. Then she glanced back at me confoundingly.
What are you waiting for? Was the look in her eyes.
And there I sat in utter disquiet, with a poker face, carrying a culpable shadow on my temple, trying to protect a lie I have been keeping since a long time – I CANT SWIM !