Here a bit of background about situation with me.I met my husband in a college in Toronto when I’d met him he flunked a semester and was forced to repeat. So second time around he didn’t fare so well either. Not that i blame anyone we were taking computer programming which was a very challenging course. so at the end of semester he was supposed to move to Vancouver with parents if he failed again. However he met and fell in love with me. So he told them he wanted to stay in Toronto and get a job. They threatened to disown him for dating me. They were initially from Tobago and were going to move to Vancouver. So they told him to come back to Tobago and they were going to discuss it. They brought him in front of all his family members called him a disgrace. Threatened to leave him on the island with no money and no place to live.They had sold their house and were leaving he could come with or swim back to me. He didn’t even know if he was going to live on the street on last day they gave him ticket to Toronto. They gave hive $50 and told him that was all he was worth and left. He came back job job and we eventually married and love each other very much. However i wish i could leave story at that.
1 year later they called my cell to ask for my husband. They asked his if he was destitute and he said no. They move back from Vancouver since they were bored of city. Then proceeded to pick up where they left of. They came to my mothers house were he was living and met with my mom and I for first time. They proceeded to tell us that my husband was worth nothing with no direction. Why would we want him around. All he ever did was spend their money and was useless. To give him back because they were only ones would could shape him up and make anything of him. My husband stated he was staying were he was and he was going to get job and that was it. In which his dad tried to hit him infront of my mom and I. His own mother pulled his dad back so he wasn’t hit. Anyhow my husband found good paying job and we finally could affort to marry.
They reacted to new of upcoming marriage by offering to pay for college if he broke up with me. They told him i was holding him back. I was reason he failed (even though he’d failed previous semester and we’d never met at that point.) Despite their meddling we decided to get married and as mean spirited and awful in laws were my husband is polar opposite loves me a lot and very supportive.He went through great odd to marry me. When we said we were getting married. They said our pastor would never support us since we were living together before we were married. Which turn out to be lie when i talked to pastor. The pastor was actually pretty cool about he gave my husband hug. The proceeded to talk to my in laws about tolerance and support. It was pretty awesome to see. I was so glad i pushed my husband to talk to pastor. my in laws said since we lived together before marriage pastor would refuse and we were going to hell anyway. Anyhow same day they invited us back after church that day. They then pulled him another room and told him he should dump me play the field. he could do better prettier more christian. Oh did i mention they said all this while i was visiting with his family downstairs. During course of relationship I had late period with terrible pains as well as excessive bleeding and we believed i had signs of miscarriage. During visit with in law I overheard them talk and my father in law said he never believed me to be pregnant. While my mother in stated she fully believed she lost grandchild to stupidity. I had lied to hold onto my husband. This had no bearing on marriage by the way the incident was months before we decided to tie not. Just i was there at Christmas and they felt like bashing me.
We married anyway and i tried to ignore and get along with them. I am now 6 month pregnant with twins. The nastiness continues. My husband however has clearly stated he doesn’t want to hear anymore set downs about me. As i have talked with him before that i don’t like to visit he’s move than welcome to go one his own but i feel uncomfortable. It one thing to feel like your in a room with people judging you it’s entirely another to know it for a fact.
But after while i tried to play nice and give second chance. But still they typically during visit pull him another room and set list of all my flaws and my husband finally had enough. visits with his family make me really unhappy and paranoid. It’s like every time i get up to go to bathroom i hear them in another room saying terrible demeaning things about me.
Since my husband doesn’t want to hear anymore negative stuff about me. What does she do starts complaining about me to his sibling in another room. As usual i have to pass kitchen to get to side bathroom to hear list of my flaws. At one point i though there was some hope of us getting along she pretended to be nice and ask about family. Only to dish it to everybody. It was a typical visit I am sitting with rest of sibling and i get up to use bathroom. Only to overhear mother in law saying that “i wish someone else were carrying my grandchild. She is trash i am embarrassed to be seen around my friends with her. I hope my grandchildren aren’t like her. But down worry when i babysit I’ll straighten them out.” My sister in law came to my defense stating ” that she doesn’t dress bad or treat my brother badly. she’s honor student. i don’t think she’ trash at all.’ in which my mother in law replied “oh you don’t know her family and were she comes from.” I honestly don’t think i am that bad a person. I am going to graduate college before babies are born with honors surprising i know because my grammar sucks. But my in laws still tell my husband when she can I am holding him back. That he would have been better of without me. We are all fed up. who tells there son that their pregnant wife is holding them back? i mean really who says that? I think worst thing about it is that she never says it to me directly so i can defend myself. Always in another room with someone else. Now with her side discussions to his brother and sisters. I feel awkward it hard to confront it. When she’s in front of me she give me hugs and smiles. then she behave like this every time my back is turned. I end up feeling frustrated. Since if I tell my husband to explain why i don’t want to go.He’s more than welcome to go on his own. She can denies it or tells him i must of misunderstood what she said. It’s hard to misconstrue “i wish someone else were carrying my grandchild” i mean that fairly definitive. When i even hint i am unhappy at what going on she tells me I am just being difficult. I am just like his uncle just trying to start fights for no reason. That I am just trying to get attention and why can’t i just get along. As if i am the problem.
My husband has been trying so hard to get along and i just get pulled in middle. I tried for sake of our kids to get along but it ended terribly. Any advice on how to treat this. We have tried not visiting. We tried setting boundaries but she still behaves baldy. She cant even wait for me to leave to bad mouth me. my husband want to have relationship with her but ends up fighting with them to get them off my back and has miserable time of it. we’re at point neither of us want to visit it put my blood pressure through the roof after i visit and not good for the babies. I hoped with the her grandchild on the way it would get better instead she’s as fierce as ever. It was the “I’ll straighten them out” attitude toward my unborn children that startled me. It’s like she thinks they are going to be born screwed up since i am there mom. I mean their not even born and i am worried she will treat them badly since I am there mom.
Thanks bro bluecloudz for your stories and here’s one for you -
The Resort
My life has always been different than most. My mom was a prostitute. I never knew my dad and never had any siblings. Other than knowing my mother, I could almost be an orphan.
My name is John Taylor but my friends always called me Zeke. One day someone called me Zeke and I thought it was cool so I’ve been Zeke ever since.
I am forty-six years old and manage a resort on some ocean front property. Before getting into that part of my life, I think I should go back and tell you about my early years.
I was born in a somewhat slum area in any Large Town USA. At my earliest recollections, mom and I lived in an old mobile home near her place of business. She worked in a brothel or on the streets. We had two other prostitutes who lived with us. They helped pay the bills and took care of me when my mom was working.
I grew up fast and became a real bad ass. I was a bully and I was one of those who took other kids’ lunch money and was in trouble all the time. Mom must have come to the school at least five times every year. I didn’t have many friends. I spent most of my time fending for myself.
The funny thing is I had brains. I mean it; I was really smart. If I wouldn’t have skipped school so much I would have been an all A student. Looking back, I had to wonder if I had a guardian angel watching over me. Mom and her roommates were all on crack. The money they whored went to buy their fixes. I was still able to survive.
We went though a number of boarders who also were whores and crack addicts. Life growing up sure sucked. I guess it’s why I always got into trouble. I’ll tell you about my sex life after turning eighteen. I was a junior in high school. They held me back one year for missing so much school. For dinner I would usually stop at McDonalds and get myself a Big Mac and fries, come home and whichever one of the boarders was home, I’d have sex with. I was a strapping lad and they liked the change from the men who bought their services. I could be rough with them; it’s what they were used to.
I swear that the only one I never put my dick in was my mother. I thought about it but could never get myself to do it. Of course, I’ve seen her naked plenty of times passed out drunk.
Until I graduated that was pretty much my life. I got my money by stealing it from the whores when they laid passed out. I never took much, maybe ten or twenty bucks at a time and never enough for them to notice.
Thinking back, I’ve probably fucked more passed out women than most men have fucked their own wife. It’s something to look back over my life and wonder how I ever made it through. Of course, it left me with little respect for most women. I mean in a marrying way. I could never picture myself tied down to one woman.
I wanted to stay away from the house as much as possible so I went to bodybuilding at school. I didn’t want to be a big muscled guy but I liked the looks of six pack abs and a defined body. In my senior year, we had all these military people asking us to join up.
I really wanted to get out on my own and I knew college was out of the question. My grades were good but my high school records were marked troublemaker. Besides, I had no one to help me with other expenses even if I got a scholarship, so I enlisted in the Army.
I will admit that on my first day of basic training I figured I made the wrong decision. I wasn’t good at taking orders from anyone. For about a good month, I got my ass kicked by my Drill Sergeant. He would give me orders and I wouldn’t follow them. He’d make fun of my mom or me and I would start the fight. Within seconds, it was over with me down on my ass.
It’s funny looking back but I really respected my Drill Sergeant. I guess he was the first man I looked up to in my life. One day he called me into his office and told me he might have to let me go with a dishonorable discharge. I just wasn’t able to follow orders. He told me I had the brains and the brawn to become a good soldier but I wasn’t trying and he couldn’t waste his time on a loser.
Something woke up in me. If they released me from the service, what would I do? I had nobody and I sure didn’t want to return to whore town. I think the Sergeant saw the scared look in my eyes.
I asked him to give me one more chance. I promised him I would do whatever it took to be a soldier. I’d stop the complaining and obey all the commands. “Please, Sergeant, give me one more chance,” I begged.
“Zeke, you can make a great soldier. You need to control that temper and put that brain to good use. Give yourself a chance to succeed. I’ll give you one more chance. You fuck up again and you’re out.”
To make a long story short, I tried like hell. I ended up being one of the top recruits in our squad. I also found out that I now had friends, real friends. They were my Band of Brothers. They sent me for more training after boot camp. I started out as a pretty generic soldier. There really wasn’t much I couldn’t do if I set my mind to it.
I was going overseas but I did get a two-week leave before going out of the country. I went home and said goodbye to my mother. I know she was a whore and a crack addict but she was still my mother. Unlike most of the other women, she chose to keep me instead of getting an abortion. I only stayed home a few days. I decided to go with a couple of my new buddies and see their hometowns.
I guess I didn’t realize that not everyone had my kind of upbringing. I felt slighted when my new friends said goodbye to their families. We might all be born equal but we sure weren’t raised equal. I never really had that real family balance.
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Our squad headed overseas where we were to be near some war zones but we were more like backups and replacements. It was a good three months before we saw any action.
The Army ended up being my life. I spent the next twenty-five years overseas.
I received a letter that my mom had died of an overdose two years after I had left. I had nothing to return to then. I went to my bunk and cried. She was my mother and gave me a chance at life. When I called home they told me they had enough money to cremate her and that was it. I never returned home again. I let her so called friends have her belongings.
My sex life was a wild one. I fucked women from just about every ethnic group. I do have to say that I didn’t find a lot of difference among them. Sure, some were a hell of a lot better in bed than others but it had nothing to do with race. There never was any love so it was always just sex.
I’ve been to swingers parties, threesomes and moresomes. It was all about sex. I never married; in fact, I hardly dated. In most of these countries, I would pick up a prostitute and fuck her. There were many times I would just go to a bar and pick up a woman who looked like she wanted sex. I’d get a room and we would fuck.
I do have to say that there was something different about fucking married women. Not the ones who did it for money because I always figured they were doing it to earn a living or to support their habits. I’m talking about the ones who took trips overseas and fucked around.
I could never understand how a man could let his wife fuck another man and just sit there and watch. It was above my comprehension. I have been with a number of married women and their husbands either watched or joined in.
Then there were the cheating wives. They go out there and fuck other men. When I asked them why they would do it, I got answers like these:
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“My husband doesn’t pay attention to me.”
“I like the danger in not getting caught.”
“What my husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
Their excuses are endless. Probably the most used one is, “I love my husband but I need more excitement in my life.”
I guess that’s why I never have been serious about any woman. My history around women is that everyone seems to cheat. I just didn’t want to come home someday and see someone boffing my wife.
While in the service, I constantly upgraded my education. I took courses learning languages and business etiquettes. I needed to build some kind of future upon retirement. I saved most of my money since I really didn’t have a lot to spend it on. The Army supplied most all my needs and I had no one to send it home to so I just let it accumulate.
I was a master sergeant as I neared the end of my twenty-five years. A businessman I knew asked about my plans for the future. He owned a small resort on the ocean. He told me he was getting too old and wanted to retire. He then asked me if I would be interesting in buying it from him after retiring.
I should let you know that I had known him for many years and have spent many nights at his resort. He was one of my true friends who wasn’t in the military. I had told him about my life over the years and he told me about his.
His wife had passed away about three years ago and he just wasn’t the same anymore. He had built his resort from scratch and didn’t want to see it fall apart or some big franchise coming in and tearing it down.
I explained to him that I didn’t have near enough money to buy the place. We talked it over for a few months and decided that I would buy an interest in it. We would keep on the existing employees so no one would lose their job. Of course, the profits were from the bottom line but we’d split them fifty-fifty. We had an account for upkeep and repairs.
As soon as I retired from the army, I headed over to our resort.
We were joint owners but I was in charge in the day-to-day operations. Ralph came in a couple of days a week mainly to see some of his friends. He kept an apartment here but moved in with his only daughter about twenty miles away. She and her kids were all the family he had left. He wanted to spend what few good years he had left near them.
One of the special events that we held one weekend out of the year was the National Nude Day Celebration. Our lodge had two pools. One was an Olympic size pool for the everyday swimmers who didn’t want to swim in the ocean. Our other pool was for nude swimmers only.
On National Nude Day, we switched and let the nude swimmers use the Olympic size pool. For some reason this was a very popular event. Ralph started celebrating this even about four years ago and it grew a larger crowd each year.
Personally, I didn’t understand it. People could come to our resort any day of the year and swim nude. We did have quite a few sun worshipers who came regularly but on Nude Day, it was people from every walk of life and occupation as well.
Hundreds of people would come and think nothing of stripping in front of complete strangers. This was my second year for the Nude Day party. We really loosened up the rules for it. One major change was that we didn’t allowed anyone under eighteen to attend. This wasn’t a family event.
We had the pool and spa area open as well as closing off a section of the beach in front of our resort for the nude parties. We opened a special wing for participants to enter into the nude party areas. We still wanted our other guests to feel welcome without being exposed to the nudity if they so chose not to.
We didn’t allow anyone to wear clothing in these areas. The only exception was women who might be on their time of the month were allowed bikini bottoms if they chose. Some were so crazy they didn’t care.
All men must be nude. We knew we would have nothing but voyeurs otherwise. On the beach area, we did allow sunglasses and hats. The only exception to the wearing of clothes was our employees. They needed to wear bathing suits seeing they were serving food and drinks. It also let the guests know they were employees. If they were off duty then they would have to follow the rules of the guests.
In the daylight hours, it was more of a large beach party with naked people all doing their thing. There was some sex going on but we usually discouraged it until evening. It then pretty much turned into an orgy.
There was a lot of swapping going on. I should tell you that the sex had to be totally voluntary by the participants. No meant NO! At anytime someone said no we would honor their request. We threw anyone out of the private area trying to force another person against their will. If they persisted, they would have to leave the premises.
Anyone having a room had automatic access to the party. Others had to pay a hundred dollars a head to attend. Our rooms went for three hundred dollars a night the weekend of the Nude Day celebration. We did have a nice buffet set up for the guests but they had to buy their own drinks.
Now let me tell you a little about the guests. They came from every walk of life. We had every race and ethic group at the party. Those women who wanted to compare the white men against the black, Chinese, or any other group had their chance.
It was surprising to most women when they found out black men weren’t always hung the longest. Yes, some were but so were the other races. In the same realm men discovered the skinny women weren’t always the best lay. Some of the full-sized women gave them all they could handle.
As I said in the beginning of this story, I’ve had my share of most all type of women. A cute body and a little flirting didn’t turn me on anymore. Sure, I could still get worked up but it took awhile.
I guess deep down I would like to find the right woman. One I could trust and spend eternity with. Someone I could spend time with and enjoy each others company. I didn’t figure it was ever to be; especially with the women I’ve been seeing nowadays. It seemed that my life was full of wimp and voyeur husbands and women who went along with them. No wonder the marriage rate sucked.
I do have to say from a voyeur’s point of view that it was fun to watch all the people. I know I shouldn’t say this but ninety-nine point nine percent of these people looked better in clothes. The other thing I had some trouble with was married couples coming here and fucking other people with abandonment. I guess it takes me back to my childhood and remembering my mother.
Early during the party, it was all the young women from eighteen to maybe twenty-five getting the attention. They probably told their parents they were going to Virginia Beach or somewhere but ended up here. Most were college girls. Later in the day after you’ve seen hundreds of women walking around naked, you start thinking about who you might have a chance of pairing up with later.
These older men with the big bellies hanging down to their cocks are even able to score. I’ve never heard of anyone not getting laid that wanted too. It was hilarious watching two obese people going at it. What I did find out was that usually the real skinny men went after the heavy women in the same manner the fat men went after the extra skinny women.
We did have our bouncers make sure there wasn’t any S & M. If anyone chose that route they had to do it in their private rooms. In the wee hours of the morning, the party still went on and our bouncers had to be the most watchful. It was when drunk guys would try to take advantage of women who said no to them earlier. If two people were going to have sex, they both had to be awake.
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I would actually walk around greeting people. I can say that there were women who spread their legs even if she was with another man. I saw more pussies in one night than most men see in a lifetime. I guess I prefer women in clothes since it leaves a little to the imagination.
I would walk around the premises and greeted people. I would get many offers to get laid but refused them on the grounds that I was the manager. Of course, I really could have sex with anyone I chose. I thought it was a nice way of saying no thank you and not offending the guests.
I need to tell you about one woman I came across. Of course, during the nude beach event our regular lounge would be near empty. After walking around for a while, I decided to go sit in the lounge for a little rest and have a drink. There were a few couples in there enjoying the somewhat quiet and cozy mood of the lounge. There was soft music playing in the background.
A woman was sitting at the bar alone. She was fully dressed in a nice summer dress.
“Hello,” I said as I approached her.
She looked at me and smiled. She must have been in her late thirties and not heavy but not skinny either. “I’m here with friends. They should be back anytime,” she replied.
“I’m John Taylor but my friends call me Zeke. I manage this humble abode that we are sitting in. Mind if I sit with you till your friends return?” I asked.
“It’s your abode. You’re welcome to sit just about anywhere you want,” she said with a light laugh.
“So, whoever you are, what brings you to our resort?” I said with a smile of my own.
“I’m sorry. I’m Marie, Marie Martin. I came with friends for the weekend.”
“You know you chose a bad weekend unless you’re into nudity,” I said.
“Well, to be honest with you, John … I mean Zeke … my friends didn’t tell me what kind of weekend this was. This type of party just isn’t for me. My two friends are running around nude somewhere around here. They thought I would go along with it when we got here but I’m not about to show this body to just anyone,” she said with a laugh.
I found that I enjoyed taking with Marie. I asked her, “Marie, have you eaten dinner yet. I know your friends probably won’t return for quite awhile, if at all.”
“No, I haven’t eaten yet. I do believe you’re right about my friends. I’m glad I got my own room. It’s on the other side of this building since I wasn’t participating in the so-called festivities.”
“Let’s sit in a booth. They are much more comfortable,” I suggested.
I looked up at Joe the bartender and told him to bring us a couple of menus. We got up and moved to a booth and Joe was there in a flash. “Marie, dinner is on me tonight. We have a great porterhouse steak here and our shrimp is excellent.”
“Zeke, you don’t have to buy my dinner…”
“I insist. I really don’t like eating alone and I would love the pleasure of your company.”
Marie ordered the shrimp and I had the steak. I found myself really enjoying being with Marie. I felt as if I’d known her for a long time and she was so easy to talk to. She even laughed at my attempt at humor.
When we finished eating, we had an after dinner drink. I ordered a bottle of after dinner wine. “Are you trying to get me drunk?” laughed Marie as she sipped her wine.
“I would never do that. Would you like to dance? I love that song that’s playing,” I asked.
“Are we allowed to dance in here?” asked Marie. “Oh, I forgot who you are.”
As we got up and danced, I noticed a few other couples joined us on the floor. I liked holding Marie in my arms; she felt so good. We talked as we danced.
“So why did your friends bring you here anyway, Marie? You sure don’t seem like the type that would be an exhibitionist or a swinger.”
“Thank you, I’ll take that as a compliment. I caught my husband, or should I say ex-husband, cheating on me last year. I filed for divorce and it was final last month. My two girlfriends thought I needed a vacation but why they chose to come here is beyond me. We argued when we got here.
“Don’t get me wrong, this is a beautiful place but I’m just not into the party scene. It’s funny because I thought about the pool and hot tub. I was really looking forward to just relaxing.”
By this time, it was after eleven and the outside party was well underway. I couldn’t believe that I had been with Marie for over three hours.
“Did you bring your bathing suit?” I asked.
“Why, yes, but the other pool closes at ten. I forgot, you have special privileges,” Marie said with a smile.
“Go get your suit on and I’ll get mine and meet you at the pool. I’ll be there shortly. I need to check on some of the guests.”
Marie looked a bit unsure but agreed to meet me. I told Joe to tell the bouncers to keep an eye out since it was getting late. If they needed me, I would be in the other pool. I got there about a minute before Marie.
“I almost feel like I’m doing something naughty,” said Marie.
“You are. You’re breaking into the pool after hours,” I said with a smile.
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All we had on were the emergency lights. Marie said it looked so nice and calm. She took off her robe and I saw she had on a one-piece bathing suit. She was a full-figured woman but looked really nice and I told her so. We got into the heated pool and swam a few laps. She began to float on her back and I actually pulled her around the pool.
She laughed and laughed. She told me ever since she was a little girl she had big boobs and was able to just float for the longest time. We spent half an hour in the pool and then went into the hot tub. I had it set for a hundred degrees and turned the jets on full.
Marie told me she was having the time of her life. I felt so good being around her. I didn’t realize it but we were sitting next to each other when I turned my head and kissed her. I backed away and apologized.
“I’m so sorry, Marie. It just happened. Please forgive me.”
“I liked it too, Zeke. It’s been a year since I even kissed a man.”
I leaned forward and kissed her again; she kissed me back very passionately. I knew I wanted her. Maybe it was because she wasn’t one of those out there trying to get her kicks. Maybe I felt something stirring in myself. I felt passion for her; it wasn’t something I felt very often. I actually wanted to show Marie a great time. I didn’t just want to have sex with her, I wanted to make love to her.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. Zeke, I’m not this kind of woman but I want you. I have no idea why I feel this way.”
I slid my hand between her legs and she spread them. I rubbed her pussy through her bathing suit. I know I just met her and I knew very little about her but I wanted her.
“Zeke, I don’t want to do it in the hot tub. Please take me to my room and make love to me. I just hope I don’t regret it in the morning.”
We went to her room and we removed our swimwear. She did have large breasts, which I squeezed together very gently. She sat on the bed and I pushed her back lightly until she was lying down. I kneeled beside the bed, spread her legs, and buried my face in her pussy. She had a light brown muff. I kissed it and brought my face back down to her pussy. I spread her lips with my fingers and tongue fucked her until I could hear her making sounds. She was oh so wet as I climbed up on the bed. She centered herself and I pushed my cock deep into her.
“Oh, God, you feel so good; it’s been so long. Fuck me, Zeke, fuck me.”
I pumped in and out of her. She was pushing her hips up to me trying to get all she could. I heard her scream out and her pussy was pulsating. It was squeezing my cock with every beat of her heart. “Come in me, Zeke. Let me feel your hot cum.”
I did explode. I pushed my pelvis hard against her pussy until my cock was empty and her spasms stopped. “I loved it, Zeke. Thank you so much for such a wonderful evening.”
“It’s not over yet, “I said. I got off the bed, turned off the light, and joined her back in her bed. With the little bit of moonlight shining in the room I kissed her and held her in my arms. There was something very special about Marie. I never stayed with women after being with them. Marie felt very special to me.
We woke up in the morning and made love one more time. I said make love because that’s how it felt. I was doing everything I could to see that she climaxed. I was doing this for her, not just for myself. After our last love session I told her I had to make my rounds that I didn’t do the night before. I thanked her for one of the best nights I had in a long time.
After making the rounds and getting all the reports for the night before, I went into restaurant area. It was full of partygoers all eating breakfast. We served a nice breakfast buffet. Most of the people were hung over. Some would be leaving today and others would be staying one more night.
Of course, we would be getting another group of nude partygoers today. It would be the same thing, just different people. All looking to fill that fantasy or find what they perceive that is missing in their lives.
I glanced over and saw Marie with her two girlfriends. They were telling her that she missed the time of her life. They said they had a lot to drink and had sex with a couple of guys each.
I heard Marie say she was happy for them but that just wasn’t what she was looking for. “If I’m going to have sex with a man, it’s because I really care for him.” I watched her look over at me. I think she wanted me to know she had feelings for me.
I have to admit they did look a bit hung over but were good-looking women. I heard them mention that they had reservations for two nights but they would go home if Marie wanted to. They apologized to her for leaving her alone.
“No, we can stay another night. I enjoyed myself and the peace and quiet.” I heard Marie say.
“Are you sure you don’t want to party tonight? It’s so different running around nude and not caring,” said one her friends.
I walked by and heard one of her friends say, “That’s the manager. He sure is a hunk. I’d like to get in his pants. I have heard that he doesn’t sleep with the guests. Some type of rule or something. I guess it’s because he’s half owner of this resort. I’d do him in a second,” laughed her girlfriend.
I sat at a table within hearing distance of the women looking over my reports. Marie and I could see each other. As her friends were talking about me, I would smile at Marie. She had a hard time not smiling herself.
Her other friend said, “He walked by us yesterday and he had on a polo shirt and a pair of shorts that showed a firm ass. I wouldn’t mind doing him either.”
“You girls should be ashamed of yourself talking about him. He does look like a hunk though,” replied Marie smiling.
“So, it’s alright with you if we spend one more night here Marie?” asked her friends.
Marie was looking over at me. “Sure, you girls go and have your fun. Besides, I heard they have a porterhouse steak I might like to try tonight. Then maybe I’ll have a nice quite time like I did last nice. I noticed that the other pool had a spa and hot tub I would love to go in tonight.
“Afterwards, I’ll go up to my room and relax, without a care in the world. I know you girls don’t understand, but it was one of the nicest evenings I’ve had in a very long time.”
I looked over at Marie and nodded my head. It looked like I would be having a dinner guest again tonight. I was thinking about our hot sweaty bodies in the spa. I wanted to give her another night that she would never forget.
The End
Blaze
Traffic inched forward in a snarl of overwhelmed intersections. Somewhere on the other side of the interstate, a fire engine’s siren screamed through the hot air. The light turned green and Holly started to go, but the big Silverado in front of her didn’t budge. She swore under her breath. Just then the fire engine turned in front of them followed by an ambulance and then a red SUV. The light turned red again and, groaning, Holly flopped back in her seat. She was wet with perspiration in the oppressive central Texas heat in a car with no air conditioning.
She looked down at the seat beside her, at the mail that had come from her post office box. There were the ubiquitous bills, a birthday card from her sister, and a letter from a regional publisher. It was the last piece of mail she most wanted to open, but she knew not to open it in rush hour traffic. Since it was thin she was fairly certain it was a rejection letter. That being the case, she would be in a foul mood the rest of the way home and very likely get into a wreck. No, she would wait until she was home, sitting at her drawing table, before she opened it.
The light finally turned green and Holly followed the Silverado across the intersection. She watched the big pickup truck’s brake lights, reminding herself not to tailgate. She was really bad about that. For an instant she took her eyes off the road, noticing something black rising from just beyond those trees. Her eyes widened at the sight of flames licking the sky. A moment later she glanced back at the truck, seeing nothing but glowing red brake lights. Bracing herself against her steering wheel, she jammed both her feet on the brake pedal. The front of her car stopped inches away from the Silverado’s back bumper. The next moment, her car slammed forward and she gasped as her car rammed into the pickup. For what seemed a long while she merely sat looking at the lettering on the truck in front of her. Then someone opened her door.
“Are you okay?” the man from the pickup truck asked.
Holly shook herself. “Yeah, yeah,” she said. She unbuckled her seat belt and got out.
People were already honking as they had to change lanes to avoid the accident. The air was stifling, car exhaust and smoke from the burning building making it difficult to breath.
The airbag had gone off in the Cadillac behind her. The man from the pickup ran back to check on the white-haired lady in the Cadillac. Holly stood where she was, looking from her car wrinkled like an accordion to the burning building. It was four stories high and the second floor was on fire.
“I can’t believe your airbag didn’t go off,” the man said when he walked back to her. He dialed emergency with his cell phone.
Holly let out a sigh. “My car’s too old to have an airbag.”
She knew her car was totaled. The book value couldn’t be more than two thousand dollars. Where would she get even a used car for two thousand dollars?
Wrapping her arms around herself, she moved away from the accident towards the parking lot of the building partially in flames. She watched from sixty yards away as three fire engines worked to put out the blaze, a row of hulky firefighters holding hoses that arched water into the air before disappearing into the smoke billows. She couldn’t really hear anything over the din of truck motors and water, but it seemed people were shouting.
A man with short, dark hair and dressed in blue slacks and a matching shirt emerged from the tangle of trucks and hoses and walked quickly to the red SUV designated FIRE CHIEF. As he walked he began unbuttoning his short-sleeve shirt and yanked it over his head to reveal a light blue t-shirt underneath. Holly’s eyebrows went up. Quickly she glanced over her shoulder just to make sure the police hadn’t arrived at the accident scene before glancing back at the much more interesting sight before her.
He unbuckled his belt and lowered his pants. Holly took out her cell phone. He was wearing skin-tight trunks that possibly doubled as workout shorts. Anyway, she had to have a picture of it. He turned away from her to open the SUV’s back doors just as she was about to take the picture.
As he turned back around with something in his arms, Holly took the picture. She looked down at it and made a face. He was really too far away. When she glanced up he was already in the yellow bibbed pants and sliding his arms through the suspenders.
A news crew arrived from the television station, stopping their van within fifteen feet of where Holly stood. They were, unfortunately, right in her line of vision, and rather irritated by their lack of consideration, she stepped around the van just in time to see the man dragging on his jacket. The name SCOTT was stenciled along the bottom of the jacket.
He glanced one time behind him at the news van, his eyes a dark and smoldering color in his tanned face. Then, for the slightest moment, his gaze fell on Holly. It stilled there long enough for her to feel the shock of connection. And then he was off, slapping a helmet onto his head as he hurried towards the burning building.
David Scott. She had heard he was back in town, but that was twelve years ago and she had let his memory slip out of her mind in much the same way one hopes to get over a splinter. He was hard to forget. She had known him in their shared youth, in another place, when talent and beauty first blossomed and innocence was something easy to let go of.
The place had been New York and for Holly Alexander, it had meant a scholarship to a prestigious art school. Plucked from a small Hill Country high school, she had fallen quickly into the rhythm of the city not so much out of a desire to fit in but as a means of survival. For four years life moved at a frantic, dizzying pace. She went places, met people, and did things, which now seemed so far removed from her current everyday life that she could believe them fantasies of her own mind.
But they had happened. Really, all she needed to do was hook up with an old high school friend with a yearbook and turn to the page of Most Handsome to verify at least the beginning. David Scott had had the look of a beautiful, sensual savage. He hadn’t been like the other kids: goofy, clumsy, always saying the wrong thing. Instead he’d been blessed with the most effortless charm and wit, appealing to everyone around him. Old, young, male, female: they all loved him. It seemed natural that he should go to New York to become a model. Why not? He was something beyond the rest of them.
It was in New York that she first saw David again, at an art show. He’d lost a lot of weight, as models will do, and his face was just one chiseled mass of bone with haunted eyes and pouting lips. He barely remembered her from high school, but he was happy to talk to someone from home, someone who knew all the people he knew in this sea of strangers.
He’d been there with a man, and at the time Holly’s naiveté was so severe that she’d simply not made the connection. She remembered the way the man’s hand had touched the small of David’s back, shepherding him in the wanted direction. Looking back now, she didn’t think David had really cared for the man. But it hadn’t mattered, because not long after that, there had been more important men who came into his life.
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Holly knew artists, but David knew power. The men he moved with owned the city. They speculated with billions and flew in private jets and financed blockbuster movies. He had his place as the amusement of the day, and he enjoyed the prestige along with the Lamborghinis and silk shirts and diamond watches.
The last time she saw him in New York, she’d been on the verge of graduation. She’d honed her craft to a degree that received not only recognition but financial reward. A client requested that she make a series of sketches for him. He’d tried himself to capture the young man’s brutal beauty but failed, and he wanted a lasting memento to remind him of these halcyon days of romance.
She’d agreed, never suspecting that the subject of the sketches would be David Scott. The client had led her to the patio and presented her with a new sketch pad, then left, too anxious over the finished product to remain.
Holly could vividly recall David’s body inclined on the lounge chair, naked except for a towel over his groin. She’d sketched him thus the first page, but after that the towel left him and the images had become more erotic with each succeeding page.
Standing in the scorching heat of a late afternoon in summer, Holly found it difficult to reconcile such memories with the man she had just seen rushing into a burning building. But it was him; yes, she’d heard twelve years ago that he’d come back home and gotten a job with the fire department. But hearing of a thing and seeing it are worlds apart.
The police arrived within a reasonable time and, having given her report, she was free to leave.
The tow truck driver dropped her by her house before rolling away with her little mangled car. Holly walked slowly up the walkway of the small frame house. It wasn’t hers, of course. She only rented it. She’d been living there for four years and it looked almost the same as when she’d moved in. It had the look and feel of a rental: unloved and ill-used. Not that Holly wouldn’t have liked to plant flowers and hang curtains in the windows; she would have. But those kinds of niceties required money, and money was in short supply these days.
Inside the very small living room, she sank down on the sofa and opened the letter from the publisher. A deep sigh escaped from her. They’d liked her pictures but not the story. The month before, another publisher had liked her story but not her pictures. And no one liked anything she did separately well enough to give her money for it. She would be spending yet another year teaching art classes at the community college.
She picked up her sketch pad and started drawing out a figure. It was halfway done before she realized who it was. She wanted to quit. But her hand kept making those long lines, each stroke of her pencil making her heart race as David Scott’s naked form stretched out in front of her. She could see his hand on his cock as he’d slowly stroked it into a hard shaft and how he’d stared at her with that come-hither look that turned his lovers into slaves. She could have easily fallen for him, and would have, if only he’d beckoned.
She tore out the sketch and set it aside and began another, this one of the man she had seen today. She chose the very moment, one now emblazoned on her mind, when his gaze had moved from the news van to her face. He held his helmet between his hands and wore his full bunker gear with his surname stenciled across the bottom of the jacket. Painstakingly she captured the eyes, dark and yet clear, looking out at her, full of fire and mystery and desire.
It was a good sketch. Probably the best she’d done in years. She tore it out of her sketch pad and carried it to her studio and pinned it to the wall. The man in the fire gear stared at her. She felt strangely at ease with him there, and yet unnerved. It was a though he could read her thoughts.
Next day, she opened up the newspaper during a break to find David Scott posing in front of the doused building.
“‘Fire Chief David Scott was on the scene at the Haygood Building on Jefferson Street Tuesday’,” she read the photo caption out loud, “‘after an electrical fire on the second floor caused significant damage to the building’s structure’.”
“Isn’t he a hunk?” her friend Ellen asked, leaning across the table in the faculty lounge to take in the picture. “God, what a body.”
Ellen taught anatomy classes to the pre-med students. For her everything was about the body.
“I actually met him once last year when he was teaching a class here,” Ellen went on.
Holly almost choked on her soda. “He taught here last year? What did he teach?”
“I don’t know. Something about fighting fires, I guess. Anyway, we happened to be at the soda machine at the same time and it wouldn’t take his dollar so I gave him four quarters.”
“That hardly qualifies as meeting someone, Ellen.”
“Well, yeah, but then I saw his badge with his name on it and I was like, ‘So are you single, Chief Scott?’ And he looked at me very coolly and said, ‘Are you?’ And of course, he had me there, because I’m wearing this big hunker wedding ring. And I said, ‘A girl can pretend, can’t she?‘And again he looked at me with those dark eyes and said, ‘You can pretend all you want, but that doesn’t mean I’m gonna play your game. ’ And I gotta tell you, he just had me totally wrapped around his little finger.”
“You’re insane,” Holly said into her soda can.
“You should try to get him to model for your class,” Ellen said.
Again Holly choked on her Dr Pepper. “Are you trying to kill me, Ellen?” she demanded. “The fire chief isn’t going to pose for my class.”
“Oh, you never know. I heard he did some modeling in his younger days…the kind of modeling you wouldn’t put on your resume if you’re Fire Chief.”
Holly said nothing. She’d never told anyone about that experience with David.
“Apparently he went to New York for several years and did quite a few things up there, including swinging both ways, if you know what I mean.”
“Ellen, we work in Austin. We don’t have to use code. You can come out and say he’s bisexual and the world won’t come to an end.”
“I’m not saying he’s bisexual now. I’m just saying he tasted some forbidden fruit in his youth.”
Holly sighed in exasperation. “You’re talking in code again. And if he is bisexual, or gay, or whatever, so what? It just means he’ll most likely have a date Friday night while I stay at home and sharpen my colored pencils.”
Ellen laughed. “Well you could have a date if you let yourself get over You-Know-Who,” she said, like a friend who knows too much and doesn’t mind reminding you of the fact.
Holly stood up and cleared away her mess. “Yes, I know who, Ellen. His name is Sam. He broke my heart two weeks before our wedding and four years later I’m still getting over it. Sorry I don’t heal fast enough to keep you comfortable.”
She walked away from her friend, knowing she had sounded sarcastic and peevish. She didn’t care. She was feeling bothered but by what she didn’t know. She wanted something she couldn’t have and it was grating her. She just didn’t know what it was she wanted.
As she settled down to her desk in the art room, she saw voice messages waiting for her. Pressing play, she listened to a creditor harass her for money; her sister called to wish her a happy birthday; and David Scott wanted to speak to her.
Holly couldn’t believe her ears. Replaying the message, she listened to that dark and sultry voice sounding oh-so-official.
“This is David Scott. I’d like to speak to you for a moment if I could. Please give me a callback at the following number….”
She scribbled down the number and immediately picked up the phone and dialed. She knew better than to put it off. If she did, she would never be able to carry it out and then he would only call her again and she’d feel like a fool.
“David Scott.”
She gripped the phone. “Hi, this is Holly Alexander. You had called?”
“Hi, Holly. I was wondering if I might come over and speak with you.”
“Now? I have a class and—”
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“When it is convenient?”
“My last class is over this evening at eight.”
“May I come to your home?”
“Yes,” she sputtered. “Yes, of course.”
She gave him the address and he hung up. It never occurred to her to ask him what it was he wanted.
Having picked up a rental car earlier in the day, she made it home just as he was pulling up in his personal vehicle. He stood out and waited for her on the curb, looking ravishingly handsome in a t-shirt and baggy khaki shorts. Holly steeled herself against his extraordinary good looks and walked up to him with a smile.
“Hello, David. It’s good to see you again after so long.”
He followed her up the walkway. “You, too. I recognized you yesterday on Jefferson. I understand you were involved in an accident. Did you know that was the mayor’s wife who hit you?”
Holly laughed. “No, I didn’t know that. All I know is that her insurance is paying for my rental car until they send me a check for my totaled one.”
She unlocked the front door and led him inside, turning on lights as she went. There wasn’t far to go, just the living room and then a place to eat and the kitchen. She gestured to the sofa and he moved around the coffee table to sit down. For the first time she noticed the envelope in his hands.
“Would you like something to drink? I don’t have any alcohol but I have some sodas. Or water.”
“No, I’m fine.” He watched her finally settle in. “I actually wanted to talk to you about possibly illustrating a story for me. It’s a children’s story. I have a publisher lined up but I’m not crazy about their ideas for the illustrations.”
Holly smiled, envying his position. Rarely did an author get to choose their illustrator unless they were their own, and sometimes not even then. But then, David Scott wasn’t like everyone else.
He opened the envelope and drew out a stack of about ten sheets of typed paper and passed them to her.
Holly sat back in her chair and read the story. It was about a widowed fireman whose little boy was afraid his father would die. The story was sweet and poignant and stirring. The camaraderie and emotional support of the fire station was captured for a moving resolution. It left her feeling emotionally satisfied and wishing she could be a firefighter.
“That’s very good,” she said, holding the story between her hands. “Have you written before?”
“Well, I took a creative writing class,” he admitted.
“It’s very good, David. Superior. I would love to illustrate your book.”
For the first time his handsome face relaxed and he smiled. “I’m so glad. I wanted someone local who could come into the fire station and really capture the feel of the guys in action, and I knew you would be perfect for it.”
“I appreciate that.” She didn’t add that it would be an amazing opportunity for herself since she had yet to break into the market.
He stood up. “Well, that’s it. Keep that copy for yourself. Give me a call when you have time to come by the station and make some preliminary sketches.”
“I’ll be calling you soon,” Holly said. Very soon. Like, tomorrow morning.
He stopped at the door and turned around and faced her. He was a good foot taller than her, and just being so close to him in the narrow hallway was a bit overwhelming for her.
“Holly, there’s one more thing,” he said in a low voice, not making eye contact. “I appreciate you keeping what happened in New York all those years ago to yourself. You could have done a lot of damage to my reputation but you didn’t. That means a lot.”
“It was nobody else’s business,” she said simply.
Then his gaze met hers, warm and thankful and caring, and she barely kept herself from giving him a hug.
When he was gone, she sat down and read the story again. Making a cup of chamomile tea, she took the story with her back to her studio and started drawing. The sketches came easily, as though they had been saved up in her fingers just waiting to come out. At times she stretched or went to the bathroom, but for the most part she worked with an energy and focus she couldn’t remember having ever possessed. Then the alarm on her cell phone went off and she looked up. It was six o’clock in the morning. She had worked all night.
She couldn’t sleep. She lay down on top of her bed to try to get a few hours before leaving for the college but it was impossible. Thankfully today was her light load, and she showered and dressed and drove to school, thinking all the while about the story and the sketches and David Scott.
With a great deal of coffee she made it through the day. Driving home, she deliberately passed the fire station because she knew she would not sleep if she didn’t. She pulled into a side street and stepped out of her car and took in the lines and colors of the engines inside the garage. The doors were open as they usually were and bunker gear was placed on the floor of the garage at the ready. The structure itself was fairly new. She thought it lacked the warmth the story called for and made a mental note to ask David if there was an older fire station she could visit.
And then she went to bed. She was drained, and yet sleep evaded her for several hours more. It was as though her body had entered some other cycle of existence that had taken her out of her sluggish lifestyle. She tried to remember if she’d eaten that day and realized she hadn’t. What was wrong with her?
The next morning she called in sick. She’d slept for two hours at the most, and even that had been troubled.
Instead, she called David Scott and asked him if she could visit the fire station where his office was located.
The fire station was very different from the one she’d visited as a Girl Scout twenty-something years earlier. The front of the building had carpeted offices for the chief and captain, and there was a small conference room for community meetings. The kitchen and weight room were downstairs, and the bunks, showers, and rec room up. There really were poles in the floor leading down to an equipment room off the garage. She smiled at this. Some things never changed.
David’s office was utilitarian, with not even a personal picture. He sat a little ways back from his desk with his long legs crossed at the ankle in front of him. His office faced the south, and wonderful natural light poured into the office through the blinds, carving his face into shadow and substance. The palms of her hands itched to draw him. She’d brought her sketch pad but used her camera instead to catch the myriad details of the fire station, and she thought it would be rather obvious if she just suddenly began to sketch when she hadn’t before.
They discussed the book again and reviewed her ideas for illustrations. David explained the different trucks and engines as well as the equipment. They brainstormed a timeline and even made a conference call to the publisher. In all she spent three hours at the station, even being treated to lunch with the crew. She enjoyed the camaraderie and humor shared by all, noticing how at ease David was with the room full of strong, hulky firefighters. She didn’t sense he was involved with any of them; she only noticed he was among his own, at home with all those hard bodies with deep voices and hairy limbs.
He walked her to her rental car and hung on her open door while she started the engine and let the air conditioner run to disperse the heat.
“I don’t want to mess this up,” David said, watching her as she got on her seat belt, put on her sunglasses, adjusted her rear view mirror. “But there’s something else I’ve been wanting to ask you to do for me. For me, not for anyone else. I’m willing to pay whatever you ask. But I have to know two things: that it won’t screw up the book deal; and that you’ll keep it to yourself like you did before.”
Holly peered up at him. “What is it that you want?”
“I want you to sketch me.”
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A warmth washed over her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. She looked quickly away from him, stunned. She hadn’t seen this coming. She’d always assumed that when he’d posed for her before, it had been something against his will, or at least not his idea. That he wanted to lie before her naked, touching himself the way he had then, overwhelmed her. She was simultaneously aroused and afraid.
“Was I wrong to ask you?”
Holly shook her head. “No.”
“Do you not draw nudes?”
Of course she drew nudes. She even taught a class with nude models. But it wasn’t the same.
He stood up straight. “I shouldn’t have asked.”
“It’s not that,” Holly said quickly. “I just want to make sure that, as you said, nothing else gets compromised. Of course I would love to sketch you; you have a beautiful line and it would be very erotic. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page as to the purpose.”
He knew what she was asking. “I won’t deny there’s a certain element of exhibitionism at play here,” he admitted.
“As long as I understand that,” Holly said, sounding very professional and objective. Behind her sunglasses, however, her eyes were wide with astonishment. Her heart was beating wildly in her chest. God, he was admitting to her that he found sexual fulfillment in being sketched in the nude…and not just in the nude, but while fondling himself.
“Are you alright with it then?” he asked. He was trying not to sound eager but she knew he was.
“Yes.”
“Can we start tonight?”
That soon. Yes, he was eager.
“Alright.”
“I’ll be home around seven. I’ll give you a call before then with directions. It isn’t hard to find from your house, maybe just a five minute drive.”
“Alright.”
He shut her door for her and she pulled away, driving like a normal person, while behind her cool façade she was exploding in long-dormant sensations. She drove a few blocks down the busy road, then pulled into a side street and stopped. Her vagina was constricting and she couldn’t breath. She felt a rush of something between her legs and realized she’d orgasmed and fluid was running out of her. Oh God, he’d done this to her. She’d never experienced a spontaneous orgasm, never even known it was possible. She lay her head back on the head rest and waited for the smoldering fire between her legs to dissipate, yet it remained, like hot coals in a brazier.
She drove quickly home, ran into the house, and threw herself onto the sofa, masturbating through her jeans. A second orgasm shortly followed, hard and agonizing and long. She lay there soaked with perspiration, her mouth dry, her body spent. She didn’t try to find the reason for this sudden eruption of desire. It was self-evident.
She took a long shower and put on clean clothes, moving in a way she hadn’t in a long time. Being jilted had not only hurt her self-esteem; she hadn’t orgasmed in four years. She hadn’t felt the need to. All passion and desire in her life had flown away along with her fiancé. Now she couldn’t remember what he looked like. What was his name? Oh yeah. Sam. She walked into her studio, her ass shaking a little for the first time in years. Her fingers brushed over the features of the man who had ignited the fire again in her.
“Thank you, David,” she whispered.
He was waiting for her when she arrived at the attractive house at the end of a cul-de-sac. Walking up the brick walkway, her gaze took in the nicely landscaped yard, handsome brick and stone façade, and ornamental light fixtures flanking the very solid carved front door. But from the moment David opened that door to invite her in, she could not have recalled a detail of his home if her life depended on it. She knew there were walls and a ceiling, but otherwise she was captivated by the moving art form before her.
He wore a pair of red Speedos and his skin glistened with oil. His broad back rippled with muscles as he moved in front of her. Long, sinewy arms swung from broad shoulders. His thighs were lean and his butt narrow and rounded. He had the graceful walk of a natural athlete.
He led her through the house to a covered patio. A pitcher of Sangria sat on a table next to a pair of lounge chairs. He poured her one and passed it to her. A ceiling fan whirled over their heads, diffusing the heat from the setting sun. She barely noticed the swimming pool ten feet away from them.
“Is the lighting here okay?” he asked.
“Wonderful,” Holly said. She sipped the Sangria.
“Tell me where you want this,” he said as he dragged a padded iron chair from a patio set over to the lounge chair.
“That’s good.” She sat down, making minor adjustments to the chair.
He laid back on the lounge. He assumed the most natural and effortless position, looking as though he’d been there all along. She marveled at the command he had over his body. She opened her sketch pad and began to outline the form of a man on a lounge chair drawn from a slight angle. Her hand flew over the paper. God, he was so easy to draw. Her head moved slightly back and forth like an orchestral conductor. Her face was very still, but her hands and eyes moved with lightning speed. Very quickly his muscles took shape and she began to give identity to his face. His eyes stared unflinchingly at her. The only movement to him was his hair where the ceiling fan caused a small disturbance above him.
Her eyes fell to his chest and she drew his nipples, taking in the shapes of the areolas and how his black hair grew in little swirls over his chest. Her gaze lowered, and her hand created his defined abs and the subtle outline of his rib cage. She sketched his belly button and the fine hairs that tapered downwards across his flat belly to disappear into the waistband of his Speedos. Her eyes fell to his groin, taking in the long, thick shape of his erect penis as it strained against the stretchy fabric of his swim suit. She kept her gaze steady, not allowing her expression to betray her. This was all part of the process, she told herself. And she wanted to do it.
She finished his thighs and feet, then glanced back at his face. The eyes were always the last, for it was in the eyes she caught the essence of the subject. His face was intense now, his eyes staring into her like twin laser beams. She felt the color rise in her cheeks and refused to acknowledge it. Instead, she redoubled her objectivity and added the last few strokes to the sketch. Then she stopped and looked at it for a long moment and stood to pass it to him.
He didn’t rise from the lounge chair. He relaxed into the cushions and studied the sketch with an appreciative gaze.
“You’re amazing,” he said after a long while. “You give life to me where I don’t see it in myself.”
She thought of that without answering. It was an enigmatic statement, one she could spend a lifetime trying to unravel without coming up with an answer.
“Do you mind if we do another?” he asked.
“No.”
“Do you mind if I take off my swim suit?”
“No. Do you want me to change the angle?”
“No, I like that angle.”
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