It was Fliss who noticed them. The pair stood more or less in the middle of the pond, both bare at least above the waist. “Brazen of them,” I whispered. “Speak for yourself,” Fliss whispered back. I was about to say something else, but Fliss hushed me with a look.

They took two or three more steps toward us, but their eyes were on each other.

The guy’s sexual snout poked through the pond’s still surface. “Quite a periscope he’s got,” Fliss commented. I would have liked to scoff, but it was true. We watched them stride toward the shore, his periscope leading the way.

Concealed behind a rhododendron, we observed them step up to the picnic pavilion. Bare below the waist, I couldn’t help but notice. I thought to comment on the woman’s well-trimmed bush, her smoothly curved breasts tipped by berry-red nipples, her supple ass, her twinkling eyes, but the insouciance of her smile made me hold my tongue. As if knowing my thoughts, Fliss poked me.