Poppy's enjoying her summer hols by getting in as much relaxation on the beach as she can stand. It's not that she doesn't enjoy the sun-drenched solitude—particularly as she's chosen a "clothing optional" location—but one can only drink so much Iguana punch before beginning to feel . . . naughty.
She's pleased, then, when she sees a tall, strapping lad come jogging up the sand towards her—until she recognises him as a student.
"Hi, there, pretty lady," he says. "What's your name?"
How typical of a seventeen-year-old, Poppy thinks, trying not to stare at Rabastan's cock because it's certainly not. Goodness!
"A bit shy, are you?" Rabastan asks, sitting down uninvited. "That's fine. I didn't come to talk."
"You're here to, er, come?" Poppy asks, shocked by her boldness.
"Yeah," he says, looking her over with obvious appreciation, "but you first. I'm a gentleman."
"Then I place myself in your capable, er, hands."