The mansions of the canyon were gorgeous in June, with the trees filled out, the hedges trimmed, the flower beds touched up by hired landscapers. Kent had never felt right driving through the shady, winding lanes of this retreat of bankers and rock'n'roll celebrities until he bought his new van and had a professional artist render the words pool maintenance on its panels in an elegant flowing script. But that was two years ago. By now, the whole neighborhood knew that he was the best pool guy around.
Parking inobtrusively at the side of the home of his first customer of the day, he fetched his gear and slipped in through the rear gate, as he always did. There he found Nancy sunning herself in the nude beside the built-in spa.
Nancy's mother, the owner of the estate, was a well-known model who had passed along her drop-dead gorgeous face and figure to her offspring. Kent's eyeballs fell out at the sight of her classic knockers, nipples pancaked by the sun's rays. Those were surpassed only by her wispy muff, a hypnotically feminine triangle of hair even if it was several shades darker than her flaxen-hued pageboy locks.
"Hi, Kent," she said, smiling warmly. She made no effort to cover herself; nor, in fact, was there a swimsuit anywhere in the vicinity.
Kent turned back toward the gate, though his feet remained glued to the flagstones.
"Don't leave," she called. She lowered her dark glasses. "I've been waiting for you."
"I have sort of a tight schedule today," he mumbled. "Lots to do."
)
