In Charlotte's Changing Room
Charlotte stared at her reflection, fingers grazing the sleek fabric. The bold cut hugged her curves in all the right places—but did it look good enough? She rotated, scrutinizing every angle. Friends online had praised her figure countless times, but her heart still fluttered with nerves. Could she own this? Could she own the pool?
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In Alexander's Changing Room
Alexander stood before the mirror, trunks in hand. He recalled the sinewy perfection of Marco's form, then flexed his own arm deliberately: bicep coiled like a spring, chest firm. His gym routine—long neglected in favor of board meetings—hadn't produced Greek‐sculpture muscles, but he looked the part of a CEO-athlete. He gave himself a curt nod. Impressive enough.
He slipped on the trunks, tested one precise stroke in the mirror, and grinned. All systems go.
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