Just Fine

Sammy Braddy balances barefoot on the tiled lip of a turquoise pool, electric-blue tie-dye leggings blazing against the golden stone wall behind her like a crack in the sky. A black V-neck crop top sits tight across her chest, and the water below sends ripples of reflected light dancing across her tanned legs. Iron gates frame a flight of terracotta steps to one side, a potted geranium adds a dash of red, and the warm Mediterranean stone glows as though it has been soaking up sunshine all day. Just Fine is an understatement on the scale of calling the ocean damp, because Sammy looks considerably better than fine.

The black crop lifts away and Sammy cups her breasts from below, her palms pressing into their generous, rounded weight as the blue leggings shimmer at her waist. She holds the pose with the composure of a woman posing for a sculpture, feet planted, spine straight, chin lifted. The leggings peel off next and she stands at the water's edge with her hands clasped between her thighs, completely bare, her long legs tapering from the width of her hips to narrow ankles, her blonde hair blowing across her collar. The pool splashes at her feet, the stone radiates heat, and Sammy, naked and unhurried against all that gold and blue, looks like the reason someone built a villa here in the first place.