She was laying there below the tall, massive hotel building. Her smooth belly was shimmering in the blazing afternoon sun.
A meaningless murmur of noises was heard from the nearby hotel restaurant. Sounds of speech, of rigid metal spoons clatter, and of the delicate chime of porcelain dishes.
On the other side of the pool, a gentle breeze played soft music on the coniferous trees in the nearby woods.
Hush! The pool was sleeping, hugging the garden grass, like a girl hugging her favorite teddy bear.
An old man was lying by the pool, resting in his eternal lounge chair. A newspaper covered his face, and his chest moved up and down with his breathing.
Shooting an advertisement
The young photographer looked at the girl posing by the pool, through the lens of his camera.
The bearded photographer looks through the camera lens at the modeling girl that stood in the low waters of the pool.
He noticed her smooth white skin highlighted by her black bathing suit.
While the shutter lens produced it's typical noise, indicating creating of a picture, in his mind, he assessed his chances to get closer to this beautiful creature. He decided to try his luck later.
For a moment the photographer focused on the background behind the pool. The light shined on the clear water reflecting the images of the big oak trees behind the pool. The pictures of the trees on the water flickered as a soft wind blew, forming small ripples accompanied by soft music played by the wind on the trees leaves. The photographer moved his camera taking a photo of the reflections of the model girl and the trees in the pool.
He instantly knew it could be his best artistic photo. He decided that he would keep this photo for his photo collection.
He was pleased by this artwork photo. It was by far beyond the requirements of the ignorant swimwear manufacturers that hired him. His dream was to show his art photo collection on a photo exhibition and be famous worldwide.
The model stood up: "Hey! Your job is to take pictures of me, not the water!"
The photographer pointed to her reflection in water: "It is a picture of you, honey. Look, I shot your image in the water."
"Aha! You want to see me in the water?" The girl jumped into the pool, diving to refreshing her sweating body and aching muscles.
The makeup team reacted in desperation. Now the makeup should be applied again, but the photographer raised his hand. "No. It is OK. I'll shoot a couple of pictures of her in the water." Looking at the producers' red face, he added: "Swimsuits are made for the water, right?"
The director yelled, "Cut, take five!" And added quietly to the producer: "What on earth is he doing?"
The photographer took on the role of director and turned to the girl: "Keep swimming on your back. Raise your hands... Now lean your body to the other side."
He wished he had his waterproof camera with him. With that camera, he could have photographed the girl under the water.
The director looked up at the sky where heavy clouds covered the sun. Then he glanced at the big clock on the wall and shrugged: "Well, it seems we have to finish work for today anyway."
Within minutes everyone gathered the equipment and left the pool.
The girl remained in the water: "What good and refreshing water! I can stay here forever!"
The photographer looked at the glistening wet girl with lust in his eyes: "I wish I had a bathing suit. I'd like to join you."
The supermodel splashed water on him playfully: "Come on you coward. Come on naked to the water ."
The photographer did not need further encouragement. He took off his clothes and jumped into the water.
"Cool!" The girl encouraged him.
The photographer approached the girl using long swimming strokes.
The girl drew back, frightened: "Hey, go away, don't come near me."
The photographer slowed his swimming, approaching her cautiously: "Why don't you take off your bathing suit. It is fun to swim naked."
"Are you crazy? Naked out here?"
The photographer looked around. The pool was deserted; all the vacationers had left the pool area for dinner. Only the old man was still laying on the lounge chair: "are you afraid of the old man? Let him enjoy himself."
The girl stared at the old man but did not respond.
Now the photographer was right next to her. He reached his hand to unbuckle her top.
The girl turned around gracefully and pulled herself out of the pool.
"Come on, come on. I'll invite you to dinner."
The model blew him a kiss in the air: "OK. I'll just take a quick shower and put something nice. See you in half..." She waved and walked away swinging her hips with each step of her long legs. Before she disappeared into the hotel door, she shook the water from her long hair like a dog going out of the water.
'What a stupid bitch!' The photographer thought. 'But I have to admit, this bitch has a great body.'
He swam slowly to the edge of the pool rose and put on his clothes on his naked body.
***
The model girl was sitting in the hotel lobby, dressed in a tight, expensive designer dress. She was smoking one cigarette after another nervously. The ashtray on the small desk at her elbow was full of cigarette butts. She had been waiting for an hour, and she began to think that this son-of-a-bitch photographer, would not show up.
She saw the old man from the pool, dragging his feet slowly through the hallway. For a moment their eyes met, and the old man nodded almost imperceptibly. The model pulled automatically at her short dress, in a futile attempt to cover her long bare legs, as she noticed the expression of reproach in his eyes. She stubbed out her unfinished cigarette in the ashtray, stood up abruptly, and left the room.
The old man continued on his way down the long corridor leading to the elevators. He stopped at a closet door that was not fully closed and peeped through. There the photographer was busy, making love to a waitress.
Investment opportunity
It was early morning. The rich old man was already lying on the garden-bed next to the pool as usual. The photographer showed up, bleary-eyed, his long hair disheveled, carrying his camera in one hand, his camera bag hanging over his shoulder, and a heavy three-legged telescopic camera-stand in his other hand.
He was hoping to catch the early morning light glittering across the empty pool.
He paused at the sight of the old man. Then he changed direction and drew a chair next to the old man. He placed the camera and accessories carefully on the grass at his feet, and greet the old man politely: "Good morning, sir."
The old man glanced at him from the corner of his eye, and muttered a feeble “Good morning.”
The old man was accustomed to being disturbed by flatterers trying to sell him something.
He turned his face to the pool hoping that the man would disappear.
But the photographer did not disappear: "You are, sir, the famous Mr. Birnbaum? Are you not?"
For a moment the old man gazed at his intruders' face, barely nod a brief acknowledgment, pressed his lips into a thin line disapprovingly, and then turned again to stare at the calm pool.
But the photographer kept pressing: "What a lucky coincidence. I have a proposition for you."
The old man sighed, 'What an unbearable man': "Sir, I do not know what you intend to offer, and I do not care, I am retired from business." Then he added in a final tone: "Good day to you, sir." And again he turned to eye the calm pool, wishing this impudent person would behave politely. He hopes to enjoy the tranquility of the clear water pool, it was comforting.
But again the man's voice irritated him: "I know you are retired, Mr. Birnbaum. I also know that you are in the business of art donations. And that's exactly what I'm offering you."
The old man did not respond. He just lay there looking at the pool.
A light breeze was blowing, playing a soft tune on the leaves of the oak trees, caressing the water. The pool accepted this with pleasure, arching its surface in soft ripples that moved slowly down the side of the pool's walls.
But the photographer insisted: "Look, sir, I am an artist. You probably saw me last night as I photographed this dumb model-girl in a bathing suit. I do it for a living, but I am working on a special art project called 'Reflection in the Water' on my own free time."
His voice raised as he demanded: "Look here, please, just see this example of artistic photography."
The old man glanced briefly at the pictures, his eyes narrowed, and then he said in a cold-hard voice: "Do you have the permission of the model-girl to photograph her?"
The photographer was confused: "Yes.. no, but certainly she would not object.” Adding in a seductive voice, and pointing to the picture in his hand: “Look at this picture, this is art! Here is my proposition; fifty percent of my photos are yours if you spend the ridiculous amount of twenty-five thousand dollars for an exhibition."
The old man remained silent, looking hard at the picture.
"Please. What are 25 thousand dollars for you? I'll bring the model girl to you, and she would persuade you." The photographer said in a wink.
"You mean she'll seduce me?" The old man said flatly. He had always been in favor of direct speech.
"That's the idea. You would not regret it, you'll gain a juicy girl."
The old man shifted his eyes on something behind the photographer. The photographer turned and saw the girl walking briskly toward them: "Oh, here's the model. Isn't she a beauty? Just say you agree in principle to invest, and I'll arrange you a hot date with her."
The old man rose, looking at the girl.
The girl went past the photographer without even bothering to glance at his direction, and fell on the neck of the old man: "Good morning, Grandfather."
An hour later, the body of the photographer was found hanging in his room.
The bee
The old man sat by the pool depressed.
It was very quiet, not the peaceful silence he long for, but a sad silence.
The pool was empty. All the noisy vacationers had left it in favor of the dining room.
A waiter in a white suit and black tie with the hotel icon on it, approached him with a tray: "Sir, do you care for some snacks?"
The old man looked up to the courteous waiter and nodded.
The waiter arranged the table with some toast and some sweet biscuits. Holding a knife in one hand and a slice of bread in the other he asked: "What do you wish to have on the toast?"
The old man pointed with his head, to the honey.
The waiter gave him the toast with honey, poured him a glass of fresh orange juice: "Sir, do you need anything else?"
The old man did not respond, and the waiter turned and walked back to the hotel leaving the old man in solitude.
In the quiet pool area, a buzz was heard.
High above, a bee was hovering in the air.
***
The bee was a brave scout. She was flying high, patrolling. Her eyes were scanning over the vegetation to find sources of nectar.
The rays of the dying sun painted the world in red and made it challenging to locate nectar. The patrol bee was determined to bring one more dose of nectar for the queen before dark.
Spark of movement on the green carpet below caught her eye. A human being left the hotel in the direction of the pool.
It was the kind of person one should follow him. Often they carry a treasure of nectar.
She folded her wings and dove down, her eyes locked on the target. She missed the goal because the human moved the nectar out of her reach and put a big chunk on a piece of bread.
The bee soared back to the sky, and eyed the scene from above hovering and planning the next attack.
There was still time to get a significant portion of nectar.
Excitement mixed with the joy of the coming battle sharpened her senses, but still, it was impossible to attack. The human held the nectar close to his chest. The patrol-bee followed him at a safe distance.
Another human, seemingly an old man, was lying on a lounger by the pool.
The bee approached and saw with joy that this nectar on a slice of bread, was of excellent quality.
The old human apparently to cheer up, added a significant amount of honey on his slice of bread. He did not hear the hum of the battle bee from above.
Aware of the dwindling daylight, the patrol bee decided it was time to attack!
Again she dove with folded wings, straight at the pure nectar honey smeared on the toast.
Alas! Her legs sank into the thick pile of honey nectar. Why did this old human have to put such an amount of nectar?
The patrol bee flapped her wings rapidly in an attempt to escape. But instead, she lost her balance, and her delicate flying wings were stuck in the honey. She could not move.
The old man looked at the struggling bee stuck in the honey on the toast and tossed her with his fingers without thinking, into the air.
For a moment she felt relief by the sudden bailout despite the sharp pain in her abdomen from the blow, but the next moment she was gripped by the fear of death.
She fell into the pool.
In her last moments, she accepted the inevitability of death. She knew she did not die in vain.
One by one her skills were worn down. First, the ability of movement, then of sight, of hearing, of smell. Then there was only a feeling of happiness that flooded her mind.
In her last drop of life, she cried out in her mind: "Long live the queen!!"
introspection
Evening. The vacationers were all in the restaurant, enjoying the best dishes of the famous chef at the hotel.
The pool was desolated except for the old man.
He sat there pondering, reviewing in his mind the strange events of that day.
First was this nasty photographer trying to spoil his granddaughter, and then committed suicide.
Was it because he had refused to help him? Was it his fault?
One could argue that he had pushed the photographer to his cruel death. Had he been wrong not to help the miserable photographer? Was he too inconsiderate?
The old man got up to wash his face, and maybe wash out these evil thoughts as well.
He scooped to pull some water from the pool with his hand, but froze and gazed at his reflection mirrored by the smooth water. He saw an old man looking back at him. Is it me? The old man thought. The image of him as a young person came to his mind.
He did not foresee this future when he was young. But here he was, with no friend, sitting by the pool knowing that nothing good waits in his future.
Yes, he is rich, but is he happier than all those vacationers that saved penny to penny for a weekend vacation?
He remembered the happy couples with their children flocking the pool, and that made him felt more miserable. What has he really got with all his wealth?
Again he recalled the image of the disgusting photographer and pondered that flattery and smiles did not reflect respect. No one saw him as a real person. They regarded him only as an ATM that they should crack the code of, and scoop a handful of dollar bills. Even his beautiful granddaughter hugged him, and her head rang with gold coins. She did not love him, only his purse. Did wealth make him less lonely? More loved?
The old man's gaze fell on the struggling bee he had thrown into the water.
"How many people have I pushed to their deaths without thinking, as I did to this bee? “
The old man leaned deeper to look at the bee more closely. The bee's body floated on the water, dead. Dead like that miserable photographer.
“I wonder, how is the feeling of death” he murmured.
Suddenly his heart stopped. The old man fell into the pool.
He did not feel anything.
Darkness flooded his mind, “So, that is death.”
