by Iris Morland
And I touched the pool wall just a second before she did.
“Fuck yeah!” I burst through the water and slapped the pool ledge.
Mari wrinkled her nose and swiped the water from her face. She then lifted herself out of the water.
It was like something out of a magazine: the water streaming from her body, her swimsuit clinging to every curve, every dip. Her bikini bottom had ridden up, exposing the curves of her ass cheeks.
Hello, cockstand, nice to see you, but this was the worst fucking timing.
Mari took off her goggles and then her cap. Her red hair spilled free of its ponytail. Jesus fucking Christ, I wanted to wrap that hair around my fingers and pull it as I pumped into her from behind. Would she blush all over when she had sex?
I saw her shiver—it got cold at night in the desert—and I said, “Go get in the hot tub before you freeze.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but then she considered my suggestion. I had a feeling she was the type to question everything. If I said the sky was blue, she’d probably ask me to prove it.
“Are you always so bossy with people you don’t know?” she said.
“We know each other. I met you a few hours ago.”
She rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t—never mind.”
She gave in and went to the hot tub, thank God. I didn’t want her to leave yet. I climbed out of the pool to get into the hot tub with her.
Not next to her—that would spook her. If I pushed her too hard, she’d get her back up and scamper to her room and lock her door for all eternity.
“I didn’t get in because you told me to,” she said when I slid into the water across from her.
“I bet you’re the one who bosses people around usually.”
A smile tinged her lips. “You could say that. I also have two younger sisters, so I grew up bossing them around.”
“Ah. I knew it. You have oldest sister written all over you.”
“Really? What about you? Do you have siblings?”
“Just a younger sister.”
“The worst kind.” But her smile belied that statement. “So we’re both bossy oldest siblings. No wonder I can’t stand you.”
I laughed. “Yet you haven’t left.”
“No,” she said softly, “I haven’t.”
The steam had made the ends of her hair curl, especially around her forehead. I wished I had my camera right then. In the one art class I managed to take in college before I dropped out, we studied the Romantics, including Rossetti’s obsession with his titian-haired muse.
Mari looked like she could be one of Rossetti’s paintings. It was such a romantic thought that I cringed inwardly. She’s not going to be your muse. Just a one-night stand, unless you totally fuck this up.
“How did you meet Sam?” said Mari suddenly. “You guys don’t seem like you’d have much in common.”
“And you’ve figured that out from knowing me for—what?—four hours?”
“I’m very astute. I usually figure people out quickly.”
I swam toward her until we sat next to each other. I could touch her if I reached for her, but I didn’t. There was something to be said about anticipation. Her eyes widened slightly, her nostrils flared.
She was like a pretty filly that would bolt if I moved too quickly. In Ireland, we’d lived next to a farm that’d had horses, and I’d helped the owner with mucking the stables and feeding the horses when I was a kid.
I had a feeling Mari wouldn’t appreciate me comparing her to a horse, though.
“So you’re saying you’re a mind reader?” I said.
“No. But most people operate based on their own kind of logic. Once you know their mode of operation, you can anticipate what they’ll say and do. Generally speaking.”
“People aren’t machines.”
“No, but they are predictable.”
“What a boring outlook you have of humanity.”
She wrinkled her pert little nose. Although the lights were dim, I could make out freckles on her cheeks.
“I find it comforting,” she asserted. “That people can be figured out easily. Then you can avoid the ones who’ll hurt you.”
“If people are so simple,” I said, my voice low as I moved closer to her, “then tell me what I’m going to do right now. What is my standard mode of operation?”
She took a deep breath. Her breasts rose and fell, and I could see that her nipples were hard. It would be so easy to untie those few strings holding the scrap of fabric on her.
“You’re going to touch me,” she whispered.
I shook my head. “Believe me, I’d like to. But you’re not ready. You’d enjoy it in the moment, but then you’d remember why it was a bad idea. Because you don’t like to do bad things, do you? You’re a good girl, Mari.”
“You think you have me all figured out.”
I shrugged. “Like you said: people are easy to understand.”
“I do bad things all the time,” she countered.
“I doubt it.”
She tipped her pointed chin up. “I’m not a coward.”
“Maybe not, but you do prefer to stay where it’s safe. Tell me I’m wrong.”
Her cheeks, already flushed from the steam, then got even redder at my words. Mari was right, in a way: people were simple to figure out. She hated being proven wrong, I could already tell.
“You’re wrong,” she hissed, and I laughed.
Then she launched herself at me. My laughter died in my throat when her hot body wrapped around me right before her mouth descended onto mine.
She kissed artlessly, like she hadn’t much experience. Or she’d only kissed a man bad at kissing. I let her control the kiss for three seconds, letting her believe she’d won.
Then I turned the tables on her.
I slid my hands down her back and squeezed her arse as I thrust my tongue into her mouth. She gasped, her hands fluttering on my shoulders. I fucked her mouth—that was the only way to describe it. And she was fire in my arms. She trembled and dug her nails into my skin. She arched toward me when I slid my finger under the string of her bikini tie around her neck.
I was close to untying this entire bikini from her body and feasting on her when I heard footsteps.
I didn’t know who reacted first, me or Mari. One second she was in my arms. The next, water was splashing over the side of the hot tub as Mari jumped away from me. Unfortunately for her, I was still gripping the end of her string bikini top. The string un-knotted in slow motion, and then the bikini folded over to reveal her breasts.
Mari screeched. I tried to help her, but she scrambled out of the hot tub before I could reach her.
“Well, damn. I should’ve come down here earlier,” our visitor said.
“Mari, wait.” I went after her as fast as I could, considering the slick pavement. She grabbed her stuff, holding her bikini top up with one hand.
“You’ve done more than enough. Leave me alone,” she said, obviously pissed.
And then she left in a huff, scampering back to her room, just like I’d predicted.
At least I’d got to see her amazing tits. I should’ve felt guilty thinking about them—flushed from the steam, berry-pink nipples—but I was a man with a working cock.
Shame I’d probably never get a chance to see them again.
Chapter Four
Mari
When the exotic dancer Laura had hired began to give me a lap dance, I almost fell backward out of my seat. My fellow bridesmaids hooted and hollered like a bunch of men at a cheap strip joint. I’d neglected to bring any dollar bills, but Jenna had handed me a stack with a wide grin before the party had started.
“Yeah, get up on her!” yelled Reagan. She was the youngest of the bridesmaids, and she always seemed to have a flask of booze on hand at every occasion. Breakfast: vodka in her coffee; lunch, gin in her Coke; dinner, straight rum. Yet she always seemed perfectly sober. I didn’t know whether to be concerned or impressed.
>
“Shake it!” Jenna screamed as the exotic dancer shimmied and turned to give me a view of his bare ass covered only by a gold G-string. It was so perfectly smooth I was tempted to ask him how he’d done it. Wax? Sugaring? Laser? It was like he’d never had a single hair on his butt ever.
The dancer turned around, smiling widely, his crotch dangerously close to my face. If he moved in the wrong direction, his penis would be slapping me in the face. How awkward would that be? Woman receives black eye after she’s slapped in the face with dancer’s penis, the headline would read.
I grabbed a few dollars and put them in the dancer’s waistband that was barely a band at all. I was half-afraid it’d snap and reveal the guy’s pretty substantial package right then and there.
“Thanks, babe.” He winked and moved on to Reagan. I let out a breath of relief and fanned myself.
“Are you having fun?” Jenna yelled the words into my ear.
We’d been at her bachelorette party for two hours now, and everyone was pretty wasted already. I’d been nursing my cocktail; I didn’t want to go to bed drunk and wake up hungover for Jenna’s wedding. I didn’t know how Jenna would survive tomorrow if she kept drinking, but that was her choice, not mine.
I was a good girl. Except for that whole kissing a strange man in a hot tub thing last night. And then accidentally flashing my boobs at him and another man.
I’d decided to forget that had even happened. It had been a moment of insanity and nothing more. It would just be one of those “what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas” moments that I’d remember briefly when I was in a nursing home, sighing over my misbegotten youth.
Thank God the guys had been together for the bachelor party: I hadn’t seen Liam at all. The last thing I needed was him goading me into kissing him again. Or reminding me that he’d seen my breasts. God, that had been so humiliating!
“Loads of fun!” I lied to Jenna. “That guy is something.”
“Isn’t he? I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed.” Jenna sighed happily. “Sam gave me a lap dance once, but it was so awkward. He tripped over my feet and ended up face planting into my lap.”
“Oh my God, Jenna.”
“He got a bloody nose and everything. Had to lie to his buddies at work that he’d gotten into a fight when his nose was all purple.” Jenna giggled. “Don’t tell anyone I told you that! He’d kill me.”
I checked my phone, wondering if I could bounce early, when I very stupidly looked on Facebook. I’d unfriended David months ago, but we had a bunch of mutual friends, so I still saw his public posts all the time. The blood drained from my face when I saw that he was now officially in a relationship with the woman I’d caught him screwing in our bed.
I wasn’t surprised, but the fact that so many people were commenting positively, congratulating them both, made me want to vomit up my cocktail. He could at least be discreet, for God’s sake.
I couldn’t help myself when I clicked on his updated profile photo of him and his new girlfriend, Samantha. They looked so happy. He had his arm around her, and she was kissing his cheek. Like neither of them had done anything wrong. Rage burned through me.
“You want another drink?” said the waitress.
My plans not to drink flew right out the window within two seconds. I wanted to forget, and I wanted to have some fun for once. I was tired of being responsible when it didn’t seem to make a difference anyway. What did it matter if I just ended up showing my breasts to strange men anyway?
“Yes. A round of shots for everyone, actually,” I said.
The first shot made my blood hum pleasantly. The second, the same. By the third, the exotic dancer gave me another lap dance, and I was hooting and hollering with everyone else. He was so hot.
I swallowed a fourth shot after I’d tipped him generously, very tempted to stuff those dollar bills in the pouch covering his package.
“It’s time for the party favors!” Laura brought out the box of pink bags and began handing them out. “Jenna, we wanted you to have lots of fun on your honeymoon.” Laura winked.
Jenna began throwing tissue paper out of her bag and then screeched when she pulled out a huge pink dildo. “You bitch!” she said as she laughed. “Oh my God, what else is in here?”
In quick succession, we all discovered that we’d received dildos, butt plugs, bullet vibes, and a strip of condoms. Oh, and cherry-flavored lube, of course.
Reagan squeezed a dollop of the lube onto her tongue and then promptly spit it out. “It tastes like cough syrup!”
“Still probably tastes better than dick,” said Nina, Jenna’s cousin.
“What kind of dick you sucking on? I’m concerned.” This from Reagan.
Nina had recently gotten divorced and hated men more than me. She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t act like sucking on a dick is enjoyable.”
Laura shrugged. “It’s fun when they’re super into it.”
“Do you guys swallow or spit?” said Reagan.
Everyone’s answers varied. I drank my latest cocktail, hoping no one would notice I wasn’t answering.
“Mari, what about you? Spit or swallow?” said Jenna.
The alcohol made my tongue loose and lying didn’t even come into my brain. “I don’t know. I’ve never given a blowjob.”
The entire group stared at me like I’d admitted to enjoying having sex with furries.
Finally Reagan sputtered, “Are you serious? Weren’t you engaged?”
Jenna elbowed Reagan, but I was too drunk to care about someone mentioning David. I shrugged. “David never wanted one, and he was my only real boyfriend.”
“Did he go down on you?” This from Laura.
“No. We didn’t do oral, period.”
Everyone went crazy when I admitted that, and it only made me want to drink further. Questions were volleyed like balls, back and forth, and eventually I was forgotten in the rousing discussion.
So what if my sex life had always been vanilla? I was fine with that. I didn’t need some guy to spank me and make me wear a butt plug to feel fulfilled.
Of course, my mind drifted to last night at the pool. Considering I’d launched myself at Liam, mauled him, and had kissed him like I was dying, I was obviously not just into vanilla sex. Or at least vanilla kissing.
Maybe I needed Liam to spank me while I wore a butt plug. I’d get it out of my system and return to missionary sex during commercial breaks like I’d had with David.
Could I ask him if he’d want to? I was so drunk it didn’t seem like a terrible idea. Besides, Liam seemed like he’d be into anything that related to sex. He’d probably grin and pull out his own butt plug he’d had specially made for just those moments.
“No wonder you broke up with him,” said Reagan as she slung an arm across my shoulders. “The shitty sex should’ve been a red flag.”
I bristled. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t get defensive. We’ve all been there.”
Suddenly, the room felt too close, too hot. I slid out from Reagan’s arm and staggered outside into the cool night air. I expected someone to follow me, but they were probably too wasted right now to notice my departure.
I inhaled deep breaths. Panic spiraled in my gut for some strange reason. I felt dizzy. I’d obviously drunk way too much. Geez, I was an idiot.
The lights of the Vegas strip lit up the town, making it seem like it was almost midday even though the sun had set hours ago. People walked up and down the sidewalk, some clearly drunk, others laughing and yelling. A cop took one man aside when he tried to pee in a trashcan nearby; another woman proceeded to lie down on a bench and take a nap, her friend pulling on her arm and whining about needing to get back to their hotel.
“You okay?”
I blinked to see Liam standing over me. And if I wasn’t mistaken he seemed…concerned. Maybe I was hallucinating now.
“I’m fine.” I tried to step away from him, but I only proceeded to almost fall flat on
my face.
“Whoa there. How much have you had to drink?” He caught my elbow and propped me against the wall, searching my face. “Where’s everyone else?”
I yawned. “Inside. I’m fine.”
“You’re rat-arsed.”
“I don’t even know what that means.”
“It means you’re shit-faced.”
“Well, your face is shit.” I snort-laughed at that insult.
“Yes, very rat-arsed. Come on, I’m taking you back to the hotel.”
The thought of sitting in my room, alone, thinking about David and his stupid new girlfriend, made me panic. It would be unbearable, and since I was drunk I’d end up doing something stupid, like call him. Or cry. Or sit up watching infomercials and crying because David had been obsessed with his ShamWow.
“I don’t want to. Let’s go somewhere. I’ve barely seen Vegas at all.” I widened my eyes. “Oh my God, wait!”
“Wait? Why?”
“You saw my boobs!”
Liam chuckled, a sound like warm whiskey through my veins. “Yeah, I did.”
“I can’t hang out with you now.”
“If it makes you feel better, your tits are gorgeous.”
I was drunk enough to preen under the compliment. “Okay. You’re forgiven. Now, let’s go somewhere.”
Liam frowned down at me, though. “You can hardly walk.”
“Then you can carry me.”
He smiled, brushed some stray strands of hair from my forehead, and took my arm. “Stay here,” he said as he left me inside the entrance of the club.
He returned a few minutes later. I’d gotten bored and had begun to count the number of diamonds in the carpet.
“There are ten on this side, but eleven over here. Isn’t that weird?” I pointed at the hostess. “Have you noticed that?”
“I have not,” she said seriously. “We appreciate the feedback, though.”
“I’m going to file a complaint online. Your carpet is totally weird!”
Liam hauled me outside. “Behave yourself.”
“Or what?” I grinned up at him. “You’ll spank me?”
