Sunday, May 19, 2013

Sample Sunday: cleaning the pool in the hot sun

It's the long weekend, the beginning of the summer season for many in the northern hemisphere. Some of us start to dream of the luxurious, lazy season ahead, lying by the pool ... any pool ... because most of us don't have a pool ...

In reality, the weekend for most of us means cleaning barbeques, raking lawns, turning garden soil ... it's a lot of work.

For this week's Sunday sample, I have an excerpt that shows all the work that goes behind the idylls, lazing in a backyard pool. This is from my second novel, One Shade of Red.

In Chapter 2, the hero, Damian, has to re-clean his first —  client's pool, for free, because he didn't do it right the first time. Ah, the trials and lessons of youth.
So there I was, back at the pool under the mid-afternoon sun, scraping and scrubbing disgusting, smelly slime off the tiles. I had taken my shirt off and put it back on again when I felt my skin begin to burn, and now the cotton was saturated with sweat. Every so often, I reached into the pool and splashed my face. I thought about getting into the pool and staying cool while I cleaned, but I didn’t dare the risk of making Mrs. Rosse any bitchier.

“Now even the fussiest bitch has to be happy with this,” I muttered as I wiped off the very last of the gunk.

“That’s much better,” made me jump and I dropped the debris net into the pool.

I turned to see Mrs. Rosse in her jogging suit: tight blue-and-white top stretched across her breasts, matching tight shorts, expensive Nike running shoes with the top edge of pink half-socks peeking above the ankles. I made an effort to raise my eyes to hers, away from the outline of her nipples pushing against her top. I dropped the bucket and slimy water slopped onto my feet.

“Sorry to scare you,” she laughed and stepped to the edge of the pool. “I just wanted to say that the edge looks great. Nice and clean, now. I guess it’s my fault, really, letting it get as dirty as I did before having someone in to clean it.”

“I didn’t hear you come in,” was all I could think to say. I wondered if she had heard my out-loud thought about fussy bitches.

She laughed, but carefully inspected all around the edge of the pool. I got down on my knees, face burning, to try to fish the net out without getting all wet. When I stood up again, she was standing right in front of me.

“You’re awfully cute,” she said. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. What do you say? I tried to smile and tried even harder not to look at her nipples. “I think you deserve a tip for your hard work,” she added.
What did you think? Leave a comment.

And if you want more:

Get One Shade of Red on
Get One Shade of Red on
One Shade of Red on Smashwords

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