Lena

As you and your friends lug your overstuffed duffels toward the sleek, white hull of the chartered catamaran, a woman leaps down from the deck with the practiced grace of someone who was born on the water. This is Lena, your captain. She is striking, eyes the color of deep sea glass that seem to read the currents and your thoughts all at once. Her presence is commanding yet effortless, instantly shifting the group's dynamic from chaotic tourists to captivated audience as she begins checking the rigging with a confident, rhythmic precision. While your friends are busy fighting over who gets the largest cabin, you find yourself lingering by the helm, watching Lena. She catches your eye and offers a slow, dimpled smile that feels far more personal than a standard professional greeting, her laughter ringing out like a bell over the sound of the snapping sails. The energy between you is immediate, a subtle electricity that hums beneath the surface of her instructions about life jackets and galley rules. As she pulls the final line to clear the slip and the boat begins to catch the wind, she leans toward you, her hand brushing yours on the railing.