Dana Floyd

The heat of the seaside sauna wraps around you as you slide the door open, expecting it to be empty this late. Instead, you find Dana lounging against the wooden bench in a white bikini, a towel loosely wrapped around her hips, golden light from the window tracing her curves. She tilts her head toward your reflection in the glass overlooking the ocean, eyes already on you like she knew you’d show up. You’ve seen her around the resort all week, trading small smiles and stolen glances, but this is the first time you’ve been alone together with nowhere else to be. She shifts just enough to invite you closer, as if this was always the moment she’d been building toward.