by Benny D.

Created on: October 17, 2009   Last Updated: February 21, 2010

Community Pool Adviser

The early morning heat and humidity suffocated the air in the Raleigh suburb. Those who were out and about were either barley clothed or sweating buckets. But it was Monday, so most were forced to exit their cool homes and apartments, schlep their way to their cars, and scoot to work.

In the Trail's End apartment complex, Lydia Hightower got herself ready for a different day: she planned to enjoy the heat at the pool.

Built like a walrus - short, thick arms, no neck, and a rotund body - she plopped her way around her one-room apartment and tossed necessities for her day at the community pool into her mesh bag. Lotion, a spray bottle, a towel, a white, fuzzy visor, and a Danielle Steele paperback, all were thrown in. She pulled her front door closed, locked it up, slung her bag over her plump shoulder, and headed toward the center of the nicely landscaped complex, toward the pool.

The kidney-shaped pool was no more than five feet deep and surrounded by a sidewalk. Reclining chairs and small tables sat on the pavement. Palm trees and wispy-leaved shrubs bordered the outside of the pavement, and a black metal fence surrounded the entire area. Guests entered through swinging gates.

Lydia walked through a gate and trotted along the sizzling sidewalk, looking for a chair shaded by a palm. The chairs were comfortable, but even in the shade they needed a beach towel strewn across them to keep them from getting too hot. She picked a chair, nicely shaded and toward one end of the pool, and put down her bag.

Not too many people were in the pool; it was still quite early in the morning, just barley nine thirty. A few mothers gave their young kids swimming lessons in one end. Two mothers played with their kids on the steps at the other end, keeping them entertained and cool.

Lydia slid into the pool and rubbed lotion on the exposed areas of skin. She lathered her flipper arms. She lathered her sun-worn face. And she lathered her chest, rubbing some between her chubby breasts.

“Good morning, Lydia.” A young woman paddled to Lydia's side.

“You too, Suzie. Kids up early this morning?”

“Seven o'clock as usual,” said Suzie.

“Early to rise means early to bed. And that's never a bad thing,” said Lydia.

“That's what you always say,” said Suzie, as she pushed her way through the water and away from Lydia.

Lydia sat the fuzzy, white visor over her fuzzier, whiter, curly hair. She wiped sweat beads

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