We both stood there looking at each other, practically at opposite ends of the pool. Our eyes were mirroring the moon's shimmer on the water... or was that a just a wicked glint?

It felt like we were strangers at opposite ends of a 12-foot dining table, fully laden with candelabras and about to feast on a nine-course spread. And with any luck, I thought, the metaphor might even become more appropriate. He certainly was devourable.

I leaned back and sucked in the hot night air, lifting my chest up just high enough for the water to lap teasingly at my nipples. A few stars were defiantly shining through the city sky and twinkling mischievously down at the cleavage staring back up at them. I was well aware of the effect it had on men, not that this one looked like he needed too much more encouragement. “What a beautiful evening” I murmured dreamily, and I knew I was living one of those perfect moments that I should remember and treasure away, so as to be able to recall it later at the pub with my (jealous but amused) girlfriends.

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Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope and that enables you to laugh at life’s realities. - Dr Suess