Izabel was sending quite the mix of signals on the beach. The hat and glasses made her look like she was a private detective trying to stay incognito on a case, while the string bikini could do nothing but draw attention. Stack on top of that the way she nails the classic cheerleader pose and I am as lost as that hat on a windy day.
Give me two minutes on a beach and I will be looking like a long lost castaway with sand in every orifice. Have this gal on the beach for eight hours and she will still look as fresh as the moment she arrived. Those brown locks of hers will not retain the faintest stench of ocean water, but instead continue to maintain the same scent of the tropical fruit bouquet that, I imagine, always follows her around.
The way she wields that paddle is enough to put every man in a mile radius in need of a boner shield. I cannot think of a worse place to need one than on a beach. Something tells me a lot of men felt the sudden inclination to tan on their stomachs. I hope they dug a hole before rolling over.