by Hunter, Kim
It's Hot In Here
by Kim Hunter
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Copyright Kim Hunter 2013
Cover designed by Lightview Media.
Editor: Ivars Osis
www.kimhunterwrites.com
twitter: @kimhunterwrites
Table of Contents
1. Day One
2.
3.
4.
5. Day Two
6. Day Three
7.
8.
9. Day Four
10.
11.
12. The Final Day
1. Day One
“It's hot,” I say to Dylan. I mean it too. It is hot.
My father sent us to pick up some drinks from the local supermarket half an hour ago. Sitting in our hotel room's air conditioning at the time of the request, we foolishly left still wearing jeans.
Big mistake.
We're on our way back now. I'm with little Dylan Morris. Well, he's not so little now. We're both sixteen and we've—how can I put it—'grown' quite a lot since we saw each other last year.
Our fathers are best friends. We live in different states but every summer our families meet in the middle for a five day vacation. Every year we stay in the same small resort by the sea. The place is a dump. Seriously, it's falling apart, but our parents love it for some unknown reason.
My mom once told me this is where my sister was conceived. Gross!
Every year we rent the largest of the resort apartments. The Blue Lagoon, as it's called. A four bedroom with a kitchen and lounge room that both families cram into each year.
Every year I have to put up with little Dylan Morris.
OK, it's true, this year I do think he's starting to look cute. But that's it. Nothing more. He's just not a boy anymore. He's not a man either. He's somewhere in the middle, I guess.
All right, all right, I admit it. When I saw him get out of the car earlier for a split second I did think he looked hot. But I've had time to think about it, and I've concluded I should definitely not let my thoughts drift in that direction. After all, we're talking about Dylan here.
We walk back onto the resort property and see my little sister and his little brother racing past us.
“Where're you guys going?” I call out.
“To daddy,” she calls back.
“Tell him we'll be right up.”
Between the walk to the shop and back, we've been under the sun for close to 30 minutes. That's a long time in the summer heat when you're wearing thick jeans. I'm already sweating pretty badly when Dylan grabs me and pulls me into some kind of maintenance room. He's always done things like this. Always playing the fool. I protest, but I still let him have his immature fun. He may have grown over the past year. Dare I say, he's even started to look a little sexy . . . but he's still a goof ball, that's for sure.
“Quit it,” I say.
“Make me,” he replies.
It's hot and I'm half delirious so I decide to do just that. He wasn't expecting me to spin out of his grip. He tried to grab me, but I'm too quick. I bounce behind him again, and this time I slam backwards into the door. It slams shut.
Something about the way it clicked worries me.
Dylan grabs the handle. He starts shaking it madly, but it's locked.
He turns and stares at me like this is my fault.
“You idiot!” I say to him. I push him out of the way and try the handle myself, but it's hopeless. To make matters worse the room has no windows, and the heating system for the entire hotel is humming away behind us. Thankfully the light works. As I stare at the giant heating system I realize for the first time just how hot it is in the room. I mean, it is uncontrollably hot. The temperature's not the problem, it's the humidity. It's out-of-control.
Dylan starts banging on the door. “We're trapped!” he says.
“Calm down.” I look around the room and find some newspaper and a felt tip marker lying there. I take the paper and write in large letters: 'WE'RE INSIDE – HELP!'
I show it to Dylan. He nods. “Good idea.”
I slip our SOS under the door.
“OK, listen,” I say, “we need to stay calm. It's so hot in here that we just might die of heat stroke!” I'm joking, it's not that bad. But don't be mistaken, it is bad. Already my entire body is covered in sweat and Dylan's is, too.
Ten minutes pass by and nobody comes to rescue us. I expected my father to already be here. I'm his little princess and when I'm in distress he's always there for me. I wonder what's taking him so long.
I exhale heavily.
Dylan shakes his head and literally a bucket of sweat goes flying out of his hair.
“We have to do something,” he says. “It's too hot in here! I can't take it!”
“Just stay calm,” I say. “My dad will be here any minute, I'm sure.”
He wipes his forehead and says, “Look, I really don't want you to take this the wrong way—”
Now I'm worried. Little Dylan Morris has that cheeky look on his face. But it's not his old goofy look. Now he has—it pains me to say— a sexy look about him. I don't know what he's suggesting, but I know I'm not going to like it.
“I think we should take all our clothes off.”
I burst out laughing. “Forget it!”
He huffs. “Tess, look at me. I'm literally soaked with sweat.”
“And just what do you suggest we say when we finally get rescued?” I ask. “I can just imagine my father opening the door,” I stand up and smack him on the top of his head, “and he finds me naked with little Dylan Morris! I'd die of embarrassment!”
I turn away from him and cross my arms.
“Well I'm taking my clothes off.”
I swing around, “No, you're not!”
He pulls his shirt off despite my protest. I swallow. Did he notice that? I spin back around and act angry, but all I can really think is: When did Dylan develop a body like that? I can't turn back around. If I do, he'll know.
I calm myself, but I also can't stare at the wall much longer, so I turn around. He's leaning against some boxes. His naked chest covered in sweat.
My mouth was already dry, but now I'm officially dying.
My eyes widen as he unbuttons his jeans.
“Hold it!” I cry out. He pulls them down to his ankles, then shoots back up and looks at me. Now he's just standing there with his pants around his ankles.
I try to maintain eye contact but it is so-very-hard. I've never felt the effects of gravity so strongly. It's literally pulling my eyes down, but somehow I resist.
Dylan is distracted momentarily. He rubs his eyes and complains about the heat. In that moment the gravitational pull wins out and my eyes shoot down to his groin. He's wearing white boxer shorts, and they are wet with sweat.
One questions races around my mind: What has happened to little Dylan Morris? I don't think I'll ever think of him as little again. In fact, I'm positive.
He leans down and pulls his jeans completely off. He looks relieved.
“Oh, that's better,” he says.
He looks over at me sweating like mad, and shakes his head.
“Come on, at least take your top off. You'll still have your bra on,” he says. “It's no different than seeing you in your bikini.”
He has a point. I pull my top over my head and stand there. Now I'm thinking of my jeans. If my bra just looks like a bikini, then my underpants do too, right? That's what I tell myself, anyway.
I
resist. Someone could open the door at any minute. I was certain my dad would be looking for me. He has a sixth sense when it comes to things like this.
No, my jeans have to stay on.
But I can't resist.
There is now some foreign Force, some horny Dictator in me, that won't give up until my jeans are off. I don't know what it is, but I give in to it and unbutton the first two buttons.
Dylan diverts his eyes. He swallows hard. I can see some movement going on in his boxer shorts, too. I now have all my buttons undone. I begin to pull my sweat soaked jeans down, but they are really hard to get off.
Dylan looks over and asks, “Need some help?”
Oh, don't you wish!
“Forget it. You just stay over there,” I say. But I have a problem. I seriously can't get my jeans off. They're stuck on me with sweat. I stand back up and rub my forehead.
“OK, come here,” I say. I sit on the ground and lift my legs up. "Grab my jeans and yank them off." He walks over and leans down to the waist of my jeans! I was expecting him to grab them by the ends, but he's leaning over and grabbing them around the waist line. Now he's wrestling with them. His head is really close to my naked stomach and I feel like I'm about to explode with hormones.
But, this is little Dylan Morris!
He gets my jeans down to my ankles and then I kick him away. I can't think of a single snappy thing to say, so I don't say a thing.
Now, finally, my jeans are off. Now we're both down to just our underwear.
It's hot. And it's getting hotter.
“Tess, please don't take this the wrong way,” he says, breaking into a smile, “but I have to take these boxer shorts off, too. Look at them, they're completely soaked. I'm going to get a rash if I don't take them off.”
I look down, and as I'm looking he pulls them off with lightning speed. I'm so shocked I don't even look away. I'm still staring.
Now everything goes into overdrive. Everything heats up. I feel my body going crazy with desire. That Force, whatever it is, the Mother of all Hormones perhaps, starts to give me orders.
Take your bra off! the Force orders, and I obey.
Dylan stares in shock.
Now, your panties! the Force demands of me. I do as I'm ordered. The Force, my inner hormonal Dictator, is rejoicing. I'm shaking. So is Dylan.
We're both completely naked and I'm pretty sure the same inner Force in me is hard at work in him, too. I'm breathing so hard. It's hot, getting hotter, and we both know things are about to explode.
He's standing in front of me, and his southern region has just grown by about 2,000 percent. I rub the sweat off my chest. I know that in the next five seconds I'll be in his naked arms. Four seconds later, just as we are inches away from embracing, my dad opens the door.
2.
I'm in mid-lunge, like a leopard about to leap on it's prey, when I hear the door click open. My instincts tell me to hide, but I can't stop my momentum. The door swings open and I heard my dad scream, “Princess!”
I panic, plowing into Dylan full throttle and losing my footing. My legs slide between Dylan's and I end up flat on my back, staring right up—someone please kill me right now—at his thing!
I have no idea what to do.
I'm flapping around on the floor like a fish out of water. I'm too sweaty to even get back on my feet. I see Dylan look up at my dad. He must be in severe shock because he just stares at him with his jaw hanging wide open.
I look up and try to give my dad the most innocent look I can muster, but he's just staring at me like I was some kind of alien.
He looks at Dylan, then down at me, then at Dylan's thing, and I can see his mind falling apart.
I finally get to my feet and immediately I throw my arms around him and begin to cry uncontrollably. I'm babbling something about how we thought we were going to die, and the humidity was choking us and we couldn't breath and we took off our clothes to try to help our circulation. My dad pulls me out of the room and now I'm standing there naked for the whole resort to see. Thankfully, there's no one around.
While I'm rambling he's trying to find something, anything, to cover his princess up with. He finds a towel and throws it around me. He seems calmer now. I think he bought it. He's asking if I'm all right.
“Should I call an ambulance?” he asks.
“No, I'll be fine. Oh, daddy, I was so scared!” I don't want to lie to him, but I'm sure not going to tell him the truth!
I tell him for the fifth time I'm fine. Behind me, Dylan is standing with his hands over his groin.
“Mr Rodgers, could you find me a towel, too, please?” he asks. My dad nods and races to get another towel and hands it to Dylan. “I have never experienced such heat before,” Dylan says. He looks at me and winks, before saying to my dad, “I was scared, too. All I could think about was getting out of there.”
He's even trying to push a few tears out, but he can't do it. When my father looks away he winks at me again. I see my dad, now distracted, looking for a staff member. I shoot Dylan a dirty look. He raises his eyebrows. He's going to torture me with that grin all week, I know it.
I really can't believe this.
Little Dylan Morris saw me naked! Horrible. Just ho-rri-ble!
What was I thinking?
3.
My dad is down with the resort manager now. I assume we'll get a pretty big discount off our stay after that screw up. We should get more than a discount. That maintenance room is a death trap.
Both Dylan and I are now fully clothed. Whatever that Force within me was, it has well and truly been driven out of me. If it comes back I'll call an exorcist. I promise you, I will never let little Dylan Morris see me naked again.
Oh, how painfully embarrassing!
He's sitting on the other end of the couch. We haven't spoken since my father . . . rescued us. I wonder what's going through Dylan's mind, and all I can see are my sweaty breasts. I cringe. Again, my breasts pop into my mind because I know they're in his at this very minute.
“Stop it,” I say without looking up.
“What?”
Now I look up, “You know what! Stop imagining me naked.”
He leans back and just smiles to himself. “Did I ever tell you I have a photographic memory?” he says. “Heck of a useful talent to have, I must say.”
He's lying, but it doesn't make things any easier.
As I'm sitting there feeling miserable for myself, he says, “I know what's in your mind. Right now, I know exactly what your picturing. I just have to give you permission. Imagine it as much as you want.”
I could kill him. I really could. Because now, just because he said it, I've got his thing right in my face. Like a hologram.
All at once, our parents walk into the room. They seem in better spirits then when we saw them last.
“Really?” Dylan's dad says. “50% off our bill, that's great.”
“He's lucky I didn't sue him.” My dad looks at me. “Feeling better, princess?”
“Yeah, dad. And before you ask, I don't want to discuss it. It was a horrible incident that will emotionally scar me for the rest of my life, and the last thing I need to do is talk about it.”
“Sweetie,” my mom says, “Do you really think you'll be scarred?”
I sigh really loud. “Mom! Leave me alone. It was just really embarrassing, OK?”
“All right, all right,” she replies. Now everyone is quiet. Even though my head is buried in my phone I can tell they're all looking at me. I stand up without looking around and storm out. Dylan's thing keeps popping into my mind and I feel like vomiting.
There it is again, the sausage monster tormenting me.
4.
I've had a few hours to myself at the beach and I must say, I've managed to settle my nerves quite a lot. In fact, I was even able to laugh at the whole situation. I mean, it is at least a little comical. I also thank my lucky stars things ended when they did. Really, just what exactly was I planning on doing? I
don't know. I'm serious, I really don't know. The most I've ever done was let Larry Sanders grope my butt when I made out with him last month. That was awkward, too. I've made out with a bunch of guys, but now I feel like my hormones have taken control of my body, desperate for more. But what is more? Of course I technically know what more is. I'm not living in a bubble. But there's a difference between knowing about what 'more' is, and actually doing 'more.'
Well, I tell myself, whatever 'more' is, I'm not going to experience it on this vacation.
But, I concede to myself, Dylan is sexy.
I cringe. I don't want to think that. No, no, no! Not little Dylan Morris!
I arrive back at the apartment and everyone's sitting in the lounge room. Our parents have already started with a bottle of wine and are in fine spirits. My dad walks over and puts his hand round my shoulder.
“Heck of a start to the vacation.”
I roll my eyes and pull his arm off me.
“We're going down to the bar tonight, and you guys,” my mom points to me and Dylan, “are on baby sitting duty.”
“Mom!” I scream. “This is supposed to be my vacation, too!”
“Oh, hush,” she says. “I just ordered pizza for you all. We'll be back in a few hours.”
I glance over at Dylan. I expect a proud look, but his smile isn't proud at all.
Oh no. I think to myself.
No, no, no!
Sexy Dylan, what did you do with goof ball Dylan from last year's vacation?
The pizza lasts about ten seconds with the four of us consuming it. Once we've polished off the last piece my sister requests we watch a Disney film. I don't have any better ideas, so I agree. The two little ones loved it. I thought it was all right, too. Dylan fell asleep half way through it. When the parents return they give me and Dylan an ear full for letting the kids stay up so late.
5. Day Two
It's mid afternoon and we're all around the pool. The two kids are in the pool with the moms, and the dads are sitting in the shade playing cards. I'm lying on a chaise lounge starting my strict sun-baking program that I've planned for this vacation. I want to be a chocolate diva when I get back to school, and that's going to require quite a bit of sun time.
