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Skinny dipping with the bad girl(3)
Back home, the house was still roasting despite leaving windows open and every fan going full blast. I flopped into bed just as the sky lightened, excited at meeting the mysterious girl. Who was she? If she was visiting, how did she know about the Mason's pool? Had she scouted the neighborhood for a suitable place to sneak into? Maybe: there weren't many pools in our lower middle-class neighborhood. There had been no cars parked on the street anywhere near the house, so she had to have been close enough to walk. Maybe she was homeless and had a backpack and sleeping bag hidden somewhere in the back yard. No. In the daylight there would be no place to hide. Plus, the Masons had a pool and landscape service tending the place—I'd seen them and their trucks there many times. There was somet
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