"I—" he started. There was a long pause. "I don't suppose we could see each other again? Go out to dinner or for drinks?" I don't date clients," Marissa replied reflexively, and almost immediately she wished she had kept her mouth shut.Alan fell silent. He looked away and out the window.She searched his face for hints. There was pain there, not the same as he felt for his wife. But something new. It probably matched her own.Her emotions struggled for control. Her once-contained feelings told her to say one thing. The business-like whore told her to say something different.Alan appeared to be at a similar loss for words.What are you thinking? she wanted to ask him, but couldn't.As the two parts of her warred over what she should say, they quickly came to a consensus. Shit or get off the pot. Make a decision, Marissa. Head or heart. You can't follow us both."Did we have something last week, Alan?" she said finally. Her voice was so low, she wasn't sure she said it out loud. "Something. Once the fabric was wet, it just about vanished and looked more like a floral tattoo. My swim shorts were styled as brief shorts and made from the same vanishing fabric as Thuy’s swim costume. We wrapped cotton sarongs around ourselves and headed off to the pool.The pool deck was now deserted except for the couple by the spa. We didn’t want to impose on their space too much, so we chose a pair of lounges on the other side of the spa – directly opposite them. The man was laying on his front, his wife was sitting up reading a fashion magazine. As I laid out our towels, the man then turned over and lay on his back and watched us from behind his shades. “Do you want some sun cream darling?” I asked Thuy, “Mmmm – yes please. Can you use the coconut oil instead?” she smiled up to me, “Make sure you don’t miss anywhere – I wouldn’t want to get sunburnt in any sensitive places.” Thuy lay on her front, spread her legs apart, open to the couple across the spa. The crouch of her swimsuit was.
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