You take a deep swig from your bottle of water, the sun beating down on your face. The sound of waves on the shore resound down the beach, helping you calm yourself.
They needed at least one manager here, you knew, but wouldn't it be better if the manager were a woman? Especially with the way you were being treated by the talent these days.
"Hey, manager!" Speaking of… You swallow, preparing yourself, before you turn. There, dressed in a dangerously form-fitting bikini, is Ouro Kronii, warden of time. A sling top barely contains her breasts, and the bottoms were held on via two strings—just one pull from falling away.
"Yes, Ms. Ouro?" Not being in front of the camera, you're free to dress more conservatively—a hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. Nobody ever said you were fashionable—in fact, most of your friends say you've got the fashion sense of a mid-30s dad. "Is everything alright?" She clicks her tongue at you, for some reason, and rolls her eyes, running a hand through her hair.
"I just wanted to check with you. This swimsuit is fine, right?" Ugh. Here we go again.
"Miss Kronii, I'm just a supervisor here. Your wardrobe was approved weeks ago." You try to stop her. God knows you try, every time, but she was committed to pulling things like this. Last month, it was insisting on a private meeting at a karaoke place—and before that, offering trying to meet you at your home. Thankfully, you were able to bring her around to more reasonable meeting spots, but…
"Yo!" If there was only one girl you had to worry about, you'd be fine. It'd be annoying, but you'd survived worse. "What's up, dog?" Another girl bounds up to you, throwing an arm around your shoulder.
"Miss Mori." You try to slip out of her grasp, but the reaper is a lot stronger than you. And a few inches taller—which unfortunately means her breasts push right up against your other shoulder. "Are you ready?"
"No worries." She nods happily, releasing you. "I got this!" She flexes an arm, giving you a lopsided grin. She's as spirited as ever, at least—comforting, if not for the way she tended to cling to you.
"We," Kronii corrects, clearing her throat. "And I see you're dressed for the occasion, too." She looks the pink-haired woman up and down, taking in her swimsuit. You can't help but follow her lead—the amount of skin the reaper is showing is downright scandalous. A microbikini, barely covering more than her nipples, left her breasts almost fully exposed, mounds of flesh heaving as she breathed, a bit harder than normal, considering she'd jogged all the way over here.
You do your best to avoid envisioning that sight, but the thought enters your mind anyways. And the bottoms had an intricate skull pattern on them that drew the eye—honestly, much more conservative than her top, but it still revealed a lot of the skin of her groin, including a V-like set of lines that seemed to direct your attention straight to her private parts.
You swallow, uncappng the bottle of water again. You hadn't even started shooting yet, and you were already tired. The two curvy women were bickering about something again—you tuned them out, trying to focus on keeping alm and not staring at the way their breasts would jiggle when they gestured, or the meat of their thighs.
To be honest? You failed. Quite thoroughy. And given the way the wardenand reaper kept stealing glances at you, a growing smile on her face, you could tell she knew that.
"I'm sorry," you choke out. "I need to take a break for a bit. I'm not used to all this heat." Blatant lies—but at least it excused the flush on your face. "Maybe you two should enjoy the beach while we wait on the camera crew to get set up?" You cast a look back towards the parking lot, but there was still no sign of the camera van. Where the hell were they?
"Oh, I'll keep you company. I'm not really great with the sun, you know," Kronii tells you, glancing at Calliope. The reaper narrows her gaze at the warden.
"I'd love to hang out, dude, but would ya mind doing me a solid first?" she asks, something shining in her eyes. "We're probably gonna be out here like, all day, right?" You nod, forcing yourself to keep your eyes on her face, and nowhere else. "Ya mind helpin' me out with some sunscren? I'm not flexible enough to do it myself, you know?"
"Shit," Kronii mutters, biting her lip. "Should've thought of that first…" You don't catch her words, overwhelmed by the propostion. What was this, a bad porno?
"Miss Mori, I don't think that that would be appropriate. As your manager, I have to keep to certain codes of conduct," you inform her through gritted teeth. Even so, you can imagine it—spreading lotion onto the csoft skin of her back and onto her chest… ack! Focus. You're a professional, not some horny teenager!
"Relax, dude." She elbows you, chuckling. "Ain't nobody gonna report you for helpin' me out a little. C'mon, let's head over." She inclines her head towards the towels you'd lain down.