Body fat and pubic hair-A romance?

The pool refracted the blue hue of Summer bouncing it off tiles
shipped in from Marrakesh. It had a deeper than average deep end that
tapered into the shallows until it was Morroccan beach. No Jacuzzi or
diving board, no inflatables. Make no mistake though, this was the pool
of someone with cash flow.

They say water can soothe even the lunatic fringe, calm mad folk,
appease and supplicate those with the weight of this and other worlds
squarely shouldered. Sassafras Devindamere knew this process well. She
would stare for hours at the pool's surface, the rivulet effect of
breeze, leaf fall and pebble. She studied the tiny waves sent gently to
the scum channel dumping their load of body fats and pubic hair. For
her this detritus was the excess baggage of her life, her trouble and
strife. The water somehow bore it away and this allowed her to be easy
for a while.

Gazing at fish, the test pattern on T.V, cumulonimbus thunderheads and
the pool. These were her favourite mesmers, "They send me", she once
told her favourite fighting fish. "I love the sound of a distant train
to", she confided in a silver shark with swim bladder problems. Most of
all though it was her body of water at the bottom of the garden that
took care of those pesky mental asides. It sent her. It had damn well
probably saved her life. Beneath the hard core of corporate nasty and
urban anon was an easily wounded, super sensitive so and so.

Jesu Cortez was one of the hundreds of young, mongrel Hispanic men that
helped keep the pools and gardens for the big notes and high rollers of
Desposito Valley. He knew bugger all about water P.H and free available
chlorine. He didn't know shit from clay when it came to filtration and
the derisory world of faecal choloforms. His hometown, Xalon, Mexico
had no pools and only two flushing toilets which simply emptied
straight into the Rio Queso. The drinking water was almost chewy.
Jesu's knowledge of the liquid that made seventy percent of him stopped
at dysentery.

But he worked cheap and often without a shirt skimming leaves until he
glowed like a donkey humping people up a hill. Sassafras, too busy for
what she called "Domesticus Autisticus", or in laymen's terms, marriage
enjoyed watching Jesu sweat. This was always done discreetly from the
kitchen with a pair of field binoculars. The two had never actually
met, the lady of the house left brown envelopes of cash under a cactus
for Jesu. This is what they had agreed over the phone, this is how it
had been for two years.

Jesu's body was an insinewated vascular bundle of perfection. His
physical work and meagre calorific intake meant he pretty much burnt
all he ate leaving him lean and ripped. Sassafras particularly liked
the intercostal muscles around his ribs that showed when he twisted, no
man she knew had those. He had that taper that she loved in a Greek
statue. Starting strong and chesty then whittling down to the thin end
of a wedge where his low abdominal loin slapping muscles met the crux.
Some days her whole body throbbed for the crux.

Oh, she had plenty of suitors, some pent up and gold-diggity eyeing her
copious assets, some attracted to her because, in all fairness she was
a handsome lady.A bobbed brunette and immaculately kept she was petite
with some meat, snack-sized breasts and longish legs free of dimple
zones. At thirty-three she was prime, head screwed on savvy mixed with
money and a pertness and fascia that gave her a young girl air.

Unknown to Sassafras Devindamere this was not lost on Jesu. He to was a
peeping Tom, a low tech voyeur employing only naked eyes, no
binoculars. From within the big Tibouchina bush he was plenty close
enough to see the size and scope of the woman's pool side semantics. At
first he had only hung around out of wanting to know who left the
envelopes under the cactus.

But once he'd clapped eyes on her and seen the laid bare rawness of her
ritual coupled with the nubile stature of the forbidden a powerful
infatu set in. Every day for six months with an almost anthropological
bent Jesu nestled up in his hide and watched "The Lady of the pool"
come for her aqueous spiritual repair. Every day before work, with an
almost anatomical bent, Sassafras would study the pectorals, obliques
and erector spinnae of the pool man as he netted leaves and frog
spawn.

It wasn't often but every now and then Ms.Devindamere would return home
with a man in tow. She had needs, sometimes she ached for the crux. On
these occasions the pool ceremony was dropped in favour of a sordid and
raunchy debauche, a good old fashioned romp and Jesu's bush wait was in
vain. He hated those men with a smouldered Latino seething. One time,
it was Friday, Sassafras returned home office party drunk. She had her
Margarita goggles on and had chosen an older, fat fuck of a man for the
night.

Jesu saw them arrive and was traumatic. He wanted better for her, he
knew her sacred side and this union was nothing short of a personalised
heresy. "Sass, let me cup you again", the pig valve candidate was
starting to think this was too good to be true. "Sass I'm hot and gooey
for you, I'm a freakin' freight train for you!" and then they went into
the house and Jesu saw and heard no more. That is until he went to the
front door.