The blonde

Izzy leans closer to the laptop screen, the white bikini still pressed against her chest. She watches as Marcus clicks through the folder — a blonde model on a rocky beach, arching her back in the same white set, the sun catching the fabric just right. Another shot, a brunette perched on a driftwood log, legs crossed, looking over her shoulder with a lazy smirk.

Izzy studies each one with focused eyes, tilting her head slightly. She bites her lower lip, considering.

"They're definitely steamier than what I sent Joe," she says softly, nodding. "The way she uses her hands, like she's just barely touching herself. That's smart. It's not about showing everything. It's about making him want to see more."