By The Pool

She sits by the pool, wrapped in clinging silk. She has done up her long black hair messily, so that three lengthy strands have broken free from their prison to drift down around her long neck. They twirl around in the slight breeze, lazily caressing her olive skin. Absent-mindedly, she tucks them back behind her ear when the wind blows them around into her face. As if mesmerized, she stares into the light blue of the pool at her feet: into the light of the reflected moon – full but broken by the gently lapping ripples made from her twirling feet. There is a glass of white wine resting on the ugly beige tiles next to her, but it is full, and no lipstick lines its rim. She sighs, and is sad, but she can't say why.

Slowly, she slips her silk robe from around her shoulders, revealing royal blue skin and golden spires, reaching up from below the line of cloth to their points at the center of her back. For a minute she pauses, mid-motion, allowing the robe to dip down, like the curve of a southern shore meeting the motionless sea of her back. The wind is warm on her skin, and so she pulls first her left, and then her right arm out of the loose sleeves, letting the soft material drop to the ground.

She is naked, but her body is painted from the neck down, except where her feet have been swirling the water – there the paint slowly washes away, its deeper blue spinning in tiny whirlpools and then floating on the surface of the pool, refusing to mix. A golden temple is painted on top of the blue background, with its base dipping just below her hips: a temple with thirteen reaching towers surrounding a dome the color of the snow capped peaks of Himalayas. On top of each spire is a large orange sphere of flame, where, if you looked closely enough, you could see a small yellow sunburst encapsulated.

The right hand corner of her lips twitch into a slight grin. She leans over to her left side, shifting her weight so that she can lift herself off the ground, and off of her now discarded robe. With her other hand she reaches underneath and pulls the garment out from under her: its hem dipping into the water. Slowly, as she looks at the robe in her hands, her smile gets bigger. She purses her lips, considering. Then, with a sigh, tosses it into the pool, where it floats slowly away, towards the center.

She can't help but tense as the sliding door behind her opens. She feels suddenly exposed, even slightly guilty, for being caught without any of her clothes on, even though she's been without them most of the day. Even though she was just photographed for hours, wearing nothing but blue paint, for just a moment, she feels helpless. Purposefully, she does not turn around, and forces her muscles to relax. She reaches over, takes her wineglass, and brings it to her lips, tipping a swallow full into her mouth. She lets it sit on her tongue to savor its taste before allowing it to pass own down her throat.

A woman emerges from the house behind her, bringing noise from the party with her. Inside, people are talking, laughing, drinking, dancing to the pulsing and neverending beat. The woman is laughing too. Laughing and dancing and drinking as she emerges through the doors. She is wearing silk as well, loosely draped over her naked skin, with the front completely open. She is beautiful, and relishes her beauty. She too has been painted from neck to toe, but her skin has largely been left its natural, porcelain, color – with a crisscross pattern of long, thin horizontal lines, connected by shorter vertical ones.

She shuts the sliding door behind her, shutting out the noise of people, but only reducing the sound of the music – the bass seems to have no trouble penetrating through the barrier. She shuts the door a little too hard, unintentionally slamming it into place. She giggles.

“Angeline!” she says as she turns back to the pool, “You're naked.”

Blue-skinned Angeline can't help but smile, though she neither speaks nor turns around to look at the newcomer. The other girl doesn't seem to mind, as she takes a sip from her wine – red, not white – and dances around in a circle, slowly, to the music pounding its way through the walls. She makes her way over to the side of the pool and looks from Angeline to her robe, now caught against the metal ladder on the other side. With a laugh like the musical tinkling of clay wind chimes, the girl drinks the rest of the wine in her glass, tossing it into the water, and pulls off her own robe. She gives her collar a kiss, and then it too follows where her glass had gone. Gracefully, she sits next to Angeline, letting her feet and calves slip into the cool water.

Angeline looks at her sideways, still smiling. One couldn't help but smile around Elaine, her own never ceasing smile seemed to affect you just like a yawn. Mysteriously it spread from person to person. Still, her smile was close lipped and crooked, as if she was thinking of other things. Raising an eyebrow, Elaine looked carefully at her friend. She wanted to ask what was wrong. She wanted to find out what was bothering Angeline – what had been bothering her for the last few months as far as she could tell. But she knew better than to ask. It would have earned her only a leveled stare that wasn't unfriendly, but clearly said that she didn't feel like talking. So, instead, she said, “You won't believe it, but Jack, you remember, the photographer's son? He asked for my phone number. I think I was the third girl he asked, but it was still cute, so I gave it to him. I'm sure he won't call – and I think his dad will kill him when he finds out he snuck into the party...,” she trailed off as she realized that Angeline wasn't listening, but had gone back to staring at the slowly rippling water.

Elaine sighed. She didn't know what else to do, so she reached out and put her arm around Angeline's waist and gave her a slight squeeze. Angeline shivered, even though it wasn't cold out. Her back stiffened slightly as if recoiling from Elaine's touch. Confused, but nonplussed, Elaine lets go and leans back lightly onto her fingers. She looks over at Angeline and smiles again.

Angeline smiles too now, quickly, as if it was pulled out of her. There are tears in her eyes as she reaches out and lets her hand rest on Elaine's skin, just above her knee. She leaves it there only for a minute. She takes a deep breath, staggered by tears that are ready to fall. She slips off the tiled floor and slides into the pool, breaking the reflected moon. The chlorine and water begin their work on the blue paint, but she seems not to care, dipping beneath the surface so that her even her hair gets wet. She floats back up and rolls onto her back, gracefully taking long backstrokes down the length of the pool.