Poolside Pimpin'

🎯 Field Report

Rolled up solo to my rooftop pool and claimed a shaded lounge chair. Toes in the water, four women sat perched at the pool’s edge—young, sexy, already glowing under the late sun.

Didn’t hesitate.

After a warm-up soak, I made my move. Sat on the other side of the pool—close enough to clock dynamics, distant enough to stay unbothered. One blonde in a sky-blue bikini wore a lei. Easy in.

“Yo, what are y’all celebrating?”

She lit up. It was her roommate’s birthday, Hawaiian themed. Said her name was Julia—then told me she recognized me from the gym. Memory clicked. We’d crossed paths before. I gave her mine.

When she stepped away for a minute, I said: “I’ll see you at the gym or pool.”

Truth was, Julia wasn’t the one I wanted.

The real target? Petite brunette, black bikini, chic sunglasses, two thick silver rings. Gorgeous. Cool. Quiet. But something told me she was a guest—Julia gave off “resident” energy. I backed off for now. Let it breathe.

Next to me, my lounge chair neighbor got joined by her friend. They swapped stories about luxury weddings and Hilton Head weekends—rich girl escapism. Meanwhile, more of the birthday crowd trickled in. One guy started setting up a DJ booth, pumping EDM loud enough to announce party mode activated.

I was getting thirsty. Remembered I had a six-pack upstairs.

I turned to my neighbor: “Hey, can you watch my stuff? Running up to grab some beers.”

She smiled, said yes.

On the way out, the brunette looked up at me from the pool. Eye contact. Locked. That’s the greenlight.

Came back with beer in hand. Julia gave me a second glance, slid her shades down—until I saw her hulking boyfriend cuffing her ass. Case closed. Target confirmed: the brunette.

She stood to head toward a chair, but her towel and chips were still by the pool. I sat a few feet away, dipping my feet, soaking sun.

Fifteen minutes later, she walked over to clean up.

“You headed out?”

She paused behind me. “No, I think I’m gonna stay.”

Momentum. I asked how long this luau was going and whether she lived here. Before she could answer, Hulk returned.

“Hey—they’re calling for you.”

He broke the frame. Nothing I could do.

Back to my lounge chair.

The party was heating up. DJ spinning. Joint passing. Vibe shifting.

A black dude slides up near me: “There he is.”

He’s friendly. Name’s Isaac. Invites me to join his crew. I meet a bigger girl named Geneva and a curvy brunette named Melody—recognized her from the elevator. I told her I remembered her and her dog.

She seemed flattered. Labradoodle, apparently.

Isaac grinned: “Why you here by your lonesome?”

“I lost all my friends... I was married.”

Melody gasped. “Did you cheat?”

I smirked. Geneva chimed in: “It’s always with a worse-looking woman.”

“Yes,” I said flatly.

Melody’s jaw dropped. “Deadbeat Zaddy!!”

None of them knew I had a secret life with high-end escorts.

Isaac and some other guys peeled off to grab more snacks. Geneva and Melody snagged chairs next to mine.

My phone died. Time to dip.

I told them, “Hey, my phone’s dead but I’d grab your numbers to hit the pool again.”

Geneva: “Just come back after you charge it.”

Maybe I will.

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This field report slipped through the gates.
The next might vanish behind the 🔒.

The real Zaddy systems live underground —
Field-tested tactics for sovereign men rebuilding in the collapse.

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