Poolside terror
By The Masked Writer
It was a sunny day and the air was warm, a perfect time to be chilling near the swimming pool. Martha leaned back on a cushioned lounge chair, catching the sunlight in her red halter bikini, emphasizing her slender, graceful frame. Though 72 years-old, Martha exuded a timeless elegance, her silvery-blonde hair pulled into a neat chignon and her skin still radiant from years of disciplined care. At five feet three, her petite figure bore the marks of an active lifestyle—lean, with delicate muscle tone from years of swimming, though softened by time. Her slim arms rested on the armrests, fingers tapping idly to the rhythm of a distant song playing from hidden speakers.
Beside her, sprawled on another lounge chair, Melina stretched lazily in her lime-green bikini. At 46 years-old, taller and fuller-figured than Martha, she radiated a confident vitality. At five feet five and roughly 150 pounds, her curves were prominent but well-distributed, hinting at a mix of natural strength and casual activity rather than rigorous training. Her slightly muscular shoulders and toned legs visible in the sunlight while her dark, cascading curls framed a face that was both striking and approachable. Her biceps carried a hint of natural power, a subtle contrast to her relaxed demeanor.
The two women appeared at ease, good friends despite a 26-year age difference. Melina sipped on a tall glass of iced tea and then said, her voice warm but slightly teasing
“Honestly, Martha, I don’t know how you do it. You’re out here swimming laps like an Olympian while I’m just trying to survive one Pilates class a week.”
Martha chuckled, her laughter light but genuine. “Oh, please You’ve got youth on your side, my dear. Swimming? It’s just to keep my joints from rusting.”
The two exchanged a smile.
“Still,” Melina said, her tone shifting slightly, “it’s amazing what you’ve built here. I mean, look at this place. Your house, the business, everything. It’s inspiring.”
Martha’s lips curved into a modest smile, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—a tinge of unease she couldn’t quite place. She adjusted her posture, her hands smoothing the fabric of her bikini as she straightened up. “It’s not just me,” she said. “The company is ours. It is a partnership. None of this would’ve happened without your contributions.”
Melina waved the compliment off, an unreadable expression on her face. “Oh, I know. But you’ve always been the backbone, haven’t you? Senior partner and all.” Her voice lingered on the word “senior,” almost imperceptibly, but Martha caught it.
Martha tilted her head, watching Melina closely now. Her young protégé had been nothing but loyal—or so she believed. For years, Martha had taken pride in mentoring her, watching her rise within the ranks of their business. Yet now, a sudden, subtle, tension crept into the air.
Melina reclined further. Her lips curled into a smile, but her eyes… her eyes seemed sharper now, as though calculating something.
“You know,” Melina said, her tone casual, “I was looking over some of the company’s numbers yesterday and I realized—there’s so much we could still do. So much potential left untapped. Wouldn’t you agree?”
Martha’s brow furrowed slightly, but she kept her voice calm. “Of course. There’s always room for growth. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, no reason,” Melina replied. “Just thinking out loud. You know me—always plotting the next big move.”
Something in the way she said “plotting” made Martha’s heart skip a beat. She forced a smile, but her mind raced. Had she misjudged her partner? Or was she overthinking things?
And Melina… well, Melina was just getting started.
Melina leaned forward, placing her glass on the side table with deliberate care The casual, friendly tone she had maintained earlier now carried a sharper edge. “You know, Martha,” she began, her voice smooth and almost soothing, “I admire everything you’ve done for the company, but I think it’s time we talk about… the future.”
Martha tilted her head, her instincts tingling. “What exactly do you mean?”
Melina flashed a charming smile, but with a calculated intensity in her eyes. “I was just thinking how important it is to keep up with the times. You’ve been such a cornerstone for the business—truly—but sometimes I wonder if it’s time to, I don’t know, embrace a fresher perspective.”
Martha straightened in her chair, the fabric of her red bikini taut against her lean frame. “I’ve always been open to innovation, Melina. You know that. But a «fresher perspective”?
Melina laughed lightly. “Let’s face it, Martha—you’ve had decades of success, impeccable leadership. But running a company is… demanding. And let’s be real, no one can keep that up forever.”
The faintest chill ran down Martha’s spine. She couldn’t tell if the younger woman’s tone was meant to flatter or undermine her, but the implication was clear enough.
Martha’s fingers curled slightly around the armrest of her chair. “I’ve been handling all of it just fine, thank you,” she said evenly, though her heart had begun to pick up its pace. “I may not be as young as I once was, but I’ve never let my age define me.”
Melina nodded, but her eyes never wavered from Martha’s face. “Of course. No one’s questioning that. It’s just… well, even the strongest of us slow down eventually, don’t we? Bodies get tired, minds don’t react as quickly. It’s natural.” She paused, her lips curving into a smile that felt anything but friendly. “But that’s why partnerships exist, right? To step in where one might falter.”
Martha’s stomach tightened, though she kept her expression calm. “Faltering?” Was Melina implying she wasn’t fit to lead anymore? And was it her imagination, or had Melina’s last sentence carried a subtle challenge? Her eyes flicked briefly toward the tall iron gate at the far end of the yard, locked tight. The house was empty, save for the two of them. She had dismissed her staff for the afternoon, wanting to enjoy the quiet with someone she had always considered a friend. But now, sitting there in her own backyard, Martha wondered if that had been smart.
The sunlight had shifted, casting Melina in sharp relief against the shimmering pool. Her strong shoulders glistened with a faint sheen of sunscreen; her posture was relaxed yet confident. Martha suddenly felt the weight of her years pressing against her. Could that be what Melina meant by “stepping in”?
Melina’s voice broke through Martha’s thoughts, her tone breezy again, but with an undertone that seemed to coil tighter with each word. “Honestly, the business and all. I mean…” She let the words linger, her gaze dipping briefly to Martha’s slender arms before meeting her eyes again. “It must get exhausting.”
Martha felt her jaw tighten. She chose her next words carefully. “Exhaustion hasn’t been an issue for me, Melina. But I appreciate your… concern.”
Melina tilted her head, her smile growing slightly wider. “Of course. You’ve always been such a fighter, haven’t you? A true inspiration. But you know, even the strongest fighters can get caught off guard.”
The words sent a jolt through Martha, and she forced a smile, masking the unease creeping through her. “Age brings wisdom, Melina.”
Melina laughed again, “Touché. But wisdom can only get you so far if the body can’t keep up. Don’t you think?”
For the first time, Martha felt a flicker of genuine fear—not for the company, but for herself. Here she was, alone with a woman whose ambition seemed to grow sharper with every passing moment. A woman who was younger, stronger, and clearly testing her boundaries. Martha’s mind raced, assessing her options. She glanced at the pool, at the loungers, at the wrought-iron gate that felt miles away.
Had she misjudged Melina all these years? Did she invite danger into her home?
Martha sat back, her smile frozen, her heart pounding. She wasn’t sure what Melina’s next move would be, but one thing was certain: she couldn’t afford to let her guard down.
Martha placed her iced tea on the small table beside her, her fingers brushing the cool glass for longer than necessary, trying to ground herself. Across from her, Melina reclined with an easy grace, her body language still relaxed but her gaze sharpening with every passing moment.
“You know, Martha,” Melina began, her voice silky and smooth, “I’ve been thinking a lot about balance lately. Partnerships, power, trust... It’s fascinating how delicate those things are, isn’t it?”
Martha gave a tight smile, her heart thumping steadily in her chest. “I’ve always believed that trust and respect are the foundation of any successful partnership.”
“Hmm,” Melina murmured, tilting her head slightly. “Trust. Yes, that’s an interesting one.” She let the word hang in the air. “But trust can sometimes… blind us. Make us miss the bigger picture. Sometimes, trust is a luxury we can’t afford. Especially when ambition comes into play. And let’s face it, Martha—you and I both know ambition is what drives everything. Isn’t it? And there are many factors…”
“What factors are you talking about?” Martha asked, her voice now tinged with steel.
“Oh, you know,” Melina said breezily, waving a hand as though the topic were trivial. “Eventually, other things get into play. Age. Physical stamina. The ability to… hold your ground when things get tough.”
The words hit Martha like a cold slap, and she felt her fingers tremble slightly before she clasped them tightly in her lap. Was Melina threatening her? Surely not. They had worked together for years. But the younger woman’s words were becoming sharper, more pointed, as though testing the waters for a reaction.
Martha felt a bead of sweat trickle down her temple. She couldn’t tell if it was from the heat or the growing sense of dread pooling in her stomach. “I’ve never had trouble holding my ground, Melina. “
“Of course not,” Melina said, her tone now tinged with something darker, something that sent a chill racing down Martha’s spine. “But everyone has their limits. And sometimes, knowing when to step aside can be… the smart choice.”
Martha’s heart thudded in her chest, her mind racing. She realized now, with startling clarity, that Melina’s friendly demeanor had been a mask.
“I’ve never been one to back down from a challenge,” Martha said evenly, though her voice felt distant to her ears.
Melina leaned back in her chair, her smile now entirely devoid of warmth. “I admire that about you, Martha. But… well, let’s just say not everyone gets to make that choice. Sometimes, circumstances decide for them.”
Martha’s hand instinctively gripped the edge of her chair, her knuckles whitening. Her mind screamed at her to not show the fear creeping into her veins.
The house was empty. The gate was locked. And Melina—young, strong, and increasingly threatening—was too close. For the first time in her life, Martha felt vulnerable. And for the first time, she began to fear that her trusted partner might be capable of far more than just threatening words.
Martha rose from her chair with an effortlessness she hoped concealed the trembling in her legs. “I think I’ll grab us another round of drinks,” she said casually, gesturing toward the house. “Can I get you anything, Melina? Another iced tea, perhaps?”
Melina’s eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, Martha thought she caught a glimmer of suspicion. But the younger woman leaned back in her chair, her smile returning, this time with a faint curve of amusement that Martha didn’t like. “Oh, don’t trouble yourself,” Melina said, her tone light but her gaze sharp. “You’ve done enough hosting for one day. I could join you if you’d like.”
Martha’s heart skipped a beat, but she forced a chuckle, waving the suggestion off. “Nonsense. You stay and enjoy the sun. I’ll just be a minute.”
She turned toward the house, her bare feet brushing against the warm tiles as she moved with deliberate calm. Her mind was racing. Her phone was on the kitchen counter—just a few steps away once she was inside. If she could reach it and call someone—anyone—she’d feel safer. The empty house, once her sanctuary, now felt like a trap.
The first few steps were easy. Too easy. As Martha reached the midpoint of the patio, she heard the unmistakable sound of a chair scraping against the tiles behind her. She froze.
“Martha,” Melina called, her voice low and commanding. “Where are you going?”
Martha turned slowly, her face carefully neutral, though her heart was pounding so loudly she was certain Melina could hear it. “Just grabbing those drinks,” she said lightly, gesturing toward the house again. “I thought you might like something cold.”
She turned again, hoping to put distance between them, but she hadn’t taken more than two steps before she felt it—a firm hand wrapping around her wrist. The grip was strong, unyielding, and entirely unexpected. Martha gasped softly, spinning to face Melina, who now stood mere inches away.
“Melina,” Martha said, her voice trembling slightly despite her best efforts to stay composed. “Let go of me.”
But Melina didn’t. Her fingers tightened around Martha’s wrist, not enough to hurt but just enough to make it clear that she wasn’t letting go. “Why the rush, Martha?” she said, her voice calm. “We were having such a nice conversation.”
To be Continued
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