The drive to the property wound through tall gums and opened onto a glittering lake, the water so still it mirrored the clouds. The house itself was grand but rustic, with wide decks overlooking the private dock.
Marissa stepped out of her car, adjusting her long black leather maxi skirt so it flowed gracefully down over her black platform boots. Her sapphire-blue satin blouse shimmered in the dappled light filtering through the trees, the puffed sleeves catching every glint. Her blonde curls bounced, unruly but radiant, as she led her new clients--young newlyweds named Claire and Matt--down to the water's edge.
"It's beautiful," Claire breathed, gazing out at the sparkling lake. "But we've never had lake access before. I wouldn't even know what to do with it."
Marissa's lips curved into a knowing smile.
"Oh, I think you'll figure it out."
She guided them down to the little dock, where a wooden rowboat rocked gently. Without hesitation, she gathered her skirt, stepped inside, and picked up the oars. The boat drifted out slowly, satin blouse gleaming in the sunlight, leather skirt spilling luxuriously around her like black water.
Matt looked half-concerned, half-amused. "Are you sure that's a good idea in that outfit?"
Marissa just gave a wink. "The best ideas are the risky ones."
She rowed smoothly into the lake, then paused, looking back toward the couple on the dock. With a sudden laugh, she rocked the boat side to side. One sharp tilt--and in she went.
The splash echoed across the lake. For a moment, only ripples and bubbles marked the spot. Then she surfaced, satin blouse plastered tight to her, leather skirt swirling heavy and dark beneath the water. Her curls streamed down her shoulders in wet spirals as she swam confidently back to the dock.
Claire covered her mouth, laughing in disbelief.
"She's insane."
Matt grinned. "Insane but I kind of love it."
Marissa climbed onto the dock, water streaming from her sleeves, droplets running like rivers down her skirt, her boots squelching as she walked. Instead of fussing, she embraced the moment, wringing water from her curls with a smile.
To top it off, she strolled straight to a lakeside kiosk where the staging team had set up ice cream cones. She took one--triple scoop, vanilla and berry--and handed another to the couple.
But Marissa didn't rush. She leaned against the railing, dripping lake water, and deliberately took a slow bite. The sun was warm, the ice cream soft, and soon rivulets of melting cream trickled down her hand. She let it drip across her wrist, then down onto the satin of her sleeve, where it left pale streaks against the shimmering fabric. A glob of berry-pink ice cream rolled down the bodice of her blouse and slid into the folds of her leather skirt.
She licked her sticky fingers with a smile.
"This," she said lightly, "is what it means to live here. You'll get wet, you'll get messy, but you'll never regret a second of it."
Claire and Matt looked at each other--and burst out laughing.
"I think we're ready to make an offer," Matt said, shaking his head. "If the house is half as fun as you make it look, we'll be happy forever."
Marissa, sticky with ice cream and dripping lake water, leaned back against the railing, utterly radiant in her ruin of satin and leather. She had once again sold not just a house, but the lifestyle of jumping in with both feet.