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2017-07-22
"Tell me one more time why are we traveling by bus?" Adrianne asks me, putting her bag on the top shelf.
"Because we’re truly trying to experience the summer," I answer, taking out my notepad and a pencil.
"Experience the summer? On a shitty bus!?"
"Yeah. The road, people, heat. C'mon, don't be a snob. Or at least don’t show it so much. "
"Couldn’t you really persuade your dad to lend you the car?"
"Nope. I. . . couldn’t. " I say, not looking at her at all, just trying to draw. Anything. She sits in her place.
"I really dreamed of riding in your parents’ convertible along the ocean road. That’s the summer experience!" she says, and I feel a bit awful: the truth is I’m not feeling very confident behind the wheel of that car yet.
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I haven’t had my license long enough to be comfortable driving it. I only got my license at all because my parents wanted me to have it. I don’t want to drive any car on such a long trip. I didn’t really ask my father about the car. I feared he might have agreed. I didn’t want to give this idea any chance to happen…and now I had to lie about it to Adrianne. Good she didn't inquire why I didn't want to go by plane (I don't like flying either. yeah, I’m a chicken. ). Good thing her parents didn’t give her one of their cars.
"It cannot go bad. It just can’t! It has to be the best vacation there can be, really!"
"Easy Adrianne. You pin too much hope on this. Just… calm down. Embrace it.
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" I say, drawing (yet I’m myself pretty afraid of going without any supervision for the first time. It’s very serious for me, yet I don’t want to look like a big geeky chicken who missed all the fun. Which is actually true).
"Too much? Emma! Everything depends on it. You're whole life's gonna look like your first experiences. "
"What!?" I snort, "It depends on… what? How your vacation will go? What’s the problem here?"
"Yeah! That’s actually the worst, to be bad at things that are sooo easy and fun for everyone. It’s our last call. "
"It's our first call. " I try to calm her down Yet, sadly, I get what she's talking about.
"Last call to get good at it. You know quite well, everybody is way ahead of us when it comes to stupid partying. " she says with a pitiful expression.
"And that’s what’s troubling you so much?"
"Yeah! You know who doesn’t party?"
"We still have time," I respond. Although I get her, I'm a bit concerned about her latest need for partying like no tomorrow and going wild. It clashes with my tendency to avoid standing out and hanging out with the most popular people because it feels as if they always have some ulterior motive toward me, whatever they do.
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Hope we'll find some middle ground.
"I hate buses. " She looks around, trying to set the seat right, "I’m just saying… people are lucky. Party people are. Why learn anything if you're not lucky at all? You have to be a bit lucky in your life. Then you can even be stupid! Otherwise, meh. And that’s not even such a problem to be lucky; a lot of people are lucky. Being unlucky is more like winning some kind of …anti-lottery. A really shitty ticket. And I'm scared all this hard work is worthless if I cannot… you know? Live. If you cannot get crazy, what’s the point of anything? I worked hard in school. Now I wanna get crazy. With no consequences. Like most of the cool people. Sorry, but everybody needs this.
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How can you walk through life with not one crazy thing done successfully?" She’s still trying to adjust the seat. "After all, most people do a lot of stupid shit and get away with it. You have to be a bit of a loser to have bad luck. Even people who, I think, are losers do crazy things and go with it, just like that. " She snaps her fingers.
"That's absurd. You think you have no luck? Look at your life! Or mine! We have everything. "
"Yeah, yeah. But, you know, it's not about the money or. . . it's just this. . . if you’re unlucky, you just are.
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Nothing will help you. "
"Not if you're not helping your luck. "
"Besides, they gave me everything, so what can I know? Even children of rich parents sometimes can be, you know. . . . " She crinkles her nose and waves her hand flat; she doesn't want to say it: geeky, nerdy; doesn't want to say the magic words that maybe describe us so well.
"Like we need to prove ourselves?"
"Yeah. "
"Don't you think proving ourselves. . . on a vacation, at partying…" I wave my hands, "Isn't this a definition of being a spoiled teenager?"
"But it's not only that. It's more about. . .
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spending our time without parents, alone, away from our homes. I’m pissed at myself for being such a, you know, a freakin' coward!"
"Really??" I feel a bit of relief she said it straightforward, "Actually, I have the same problem. This was driving me crazy. "
She points at me, big blue eyes, "You see!"
"Yeah. Good to know I’m not alone" I giggle, "Okay, so… no fear?"
"No fear. " She stretches in her seat.
"Or maybe moderate fear?"
"Shut up. " Now she giggles.
That fear of not having enough luck in life—Adrianne has been a bit obsessed with it lately. You prove to yourself who you are, your first experiences define you, or better said, tell you who you really are, what you are made of; and if they indicate you're a loser. It's hard to change course. You try and fail, getting only deeper into the determined tracks. And then it’s over. Beginnings are important; first memories stay with you forever. Somehow this theory speaks to me, while at the same time giving me some kind of a terror.
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So what now-unlucky people will be great at what they do in their later lives? There will always be this stingy feeling in them that they were losers: once a loser always a loser. They are ‘marked’. And when they were doing whatever they were, other dudes had the time of their lives.
This is the philosophy of a girl who was raised to be perfect, in everything: smart, ambitious, well mannered, beautiful. That's how rich and sophisticated parents raise their daughters. Turns out it’s also pretty crazy. She likes to know everything before she starts doing it. The idea of being a rookie in the midst of veterans is her personal nightmare. And I know all of this because… we’re not that different. In fact, I was raised exactly the same way. First I thought this view on life was simply awful, but it stuck in my head too and has been bothering me ever since.
“What's that?" She asks me, looking at my notepad.
"Nothing. " I hide the drawing—I don’t like to show my sketches—instead I show my tongue to her. She, in response, shows hers—that's our little thing, that has been going on for a few days; and that’s because before our trip Adrianne convinced me to pierce my tongue.
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That was three weeks earlier. It’s OK now, but for some time I was scared we would end up with swollen tongues all summer. It was just after my eighteenth birthday, so I told my parents it was kind of a present for myself; they gave up giving me lessons this time. And Adrianne had had her birthday a month earlier.
Just before our trip, my parents' friends saw the piercing when we were talking. They were a bit baffled, tried to act cool, which amused me in return. "Well, uh. . . I see you have a. . . new look. . .
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definitely very. . . modern. " They knew me as a kid who had never rebelled, rather a very promising offspring; so this little thing in my tongue freaked them a bit, but youth has its rights, no?
Adrianne also convinced me to do other things.
***
A month ago she came to my house.
"I’ve got pills for us," she said happily.
"What? Why?"
"For our trip. Just in case. " A happy, naughty expression; my concerns were rising.
"But. . . "
"My doctor also gave me a prescription for you, and she just said to me 'have a nice vacation', smiling, heh. " She winked at me.
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She was talking about our mutual gynecologist.
"You told her about it!? That we’re going on a vacation. And we need. . . birth-control pills? You did it!? Jeez, Adrianne…" I shook my head.
"Yeeesss. Kind of. " She was so happy because of her naughty deed. She was doing these little jumps, standing in one place, tits jiggling a bit. It made me smile.
"This trip's making me crazy happy. I can pull off anything," she added.
"I see;" I stifled my laughter. "And how do you imagine this? Pills? no connnd.
. . ?"
"I hate them. " she said, ("Me too", went through my mind), "if something’s gonna happen, I want to have fuuun. I think. . . just screw it! What the hell! You have to be really unlucky. You know. " She threw up her hands and puckered her lips.
"Probably. " I was staring at the box. "But I don’t think I’m gonna need them. " (In my opinion having a summer fling is just another fad. And young girls like us are prone to hang out with dickheads, so better avoid it, but I wasn’t going to persuade her into or out of anything.
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"Oh, c'mon. Maybe they’ll come in handy? Don't you miss sex? It's been. . . what? Half a year? After you two… split up? And no sex since. "
"There wasn't much sex then either. " I smiled, blushing, and she cocked her eyebrow suspiciously. "Maybe it's just not for me?"
"Don't you even say that! That would be horrible. Me and Mike,uh, didn't have such a great sex life either. But, after a month without it, I miss it already. I mean sex. Him, not so much. "
(Somehow I couldn’t just admit in front of her that I fell in love with sex from the day I had done it for the first time, even though it had been far from good. Since then I thought about it almost every day. The relationships we were talking about that time, hadn’t been very serious.
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It’s just this fashion to have a boy, pressure, more than anything else. So we had gotten ours. That is probably what makes her even more frightened. No love before twenty? No spectacular parties? No spectacular sex? And again, to be frank, there’s this fear in me too, and she’s enhancing it with those statements. )
"So you take them" I suggest, "I'm only in for some malignant summer romance. You know, kissy-kissy at best. This is my plan. At best!"
"Oh, take the pills, Emma. " She was smiling foxily.
"Petting is max. "
"Take the pills. "
"But probably nothing will happen. "
"Your periods will get smoother. "
"Oh? Really? They do? Hmm… Okay. "
***
.
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. . and just before I entered the bus, mom sent me a text message, "Be safe. " "Okay. I will, Mom. " I felt some guilt because of these pills at that moment. . .
***
We get out of the bus, tired and a bit sweaty. The evening sun is bouncing off our sunglasses. Dirt in the air, and the smells of asphalt, fumes, and rubber—not yet the summer atmosphere. Adrianne is probably secretly hating me right now. She’ll get over it. Some guys look at us passing us by, lowering their sunglasses, or turning around; I hear a few whistles, and a few "damn!". We’re both wearing jeans shorts, white boxer shirts, Air Max shoes, and we've treated each other earlier with a few micro braids.
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We’re both dirty blondes; tall, slim. Sometimes people think we’re sisters; we’re not, obviously; we’re just the same type—as people sometimes say —"the good type, the best type. Listening to that can get really boring.
We reach our hotel after eight p. m. Adrianne hits the shower; she goes first since the bus was my fault. I wait for my turn watching some crap on TV; I have no energy for anything else. We’re finally done; it's 9:30; she's still a bit mad. It’s too late for anything. And indeed we have only some time for a quick spin around the city, and the beach. I feel nervous being only with her here: two young chicks, alone. Did I pack everything? Don’t lose anything. Don’t lose yourself. How can older people even relax with kids on their minds?
Although there’s girls everywhere in skimpy outfits, or in bikinis—some of them beyond slutty—almost all of the guys around stare at us pretty intensely, again; nevertheless, somehow we don’t do anything with the attention, exploit it in any way, even as a joke. That's kind of standard for us.
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It makes me feel I’m a bit shy but generally I get used to it.
As always some dudes try to pick us up with cheesy lines. And one even offers us money, first 2k each for the night, and after we say nothing he raises it to 5k each and we say good night to him politely. That has happened to me before, and that’s why I try to stay low profile; no showing off, no Instagram account and such. Just to avoid this constant bombardment with creepy propositions. Still, somehow I rarely feel left in peace.
***
Adrianne is eager to start next day at warp speed. After waking up she’s all smiley and incredibly nice (for me these hyped-up behaviors of hers are quite entertaining). Her vigor is still unbelievable; just to squeeze everything from this summer, get the best vacation, act all grown up, be a new person. Ha! Okay, Let'sss. . . try that.
I put on my bikini, Adrianne asks me about hers. She wears a quite skimpy one, rose color; mine is white, covering a bit more than hers, but just a bit.
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"You go, girl," I say, more ironically than sincerely: but I actually like the view, even though it’s on the verge of good taste… or just my taste.
"What enthusiasm" she throws in.
"I'm sorry. You're really taking it seriously, you know? having fun?" I giggle, "looking at you, I think you really wanna get lucky. " Now I start to laugh.
"I think I have a body for it. Right?"
"Oh, definitely. There’s no doubt. It really looks great! Don't mind me, I have to adjust to the sight, that’s it. Just, don’t leave me alone for some guy after fifteen minutes. "
"We need to buy you a skimpy one, too," she says, as we start to cover ourselves in sunscreen.
"Mine is sufficiently skimpy, skimpier than ever before. I'm glad you didn’t convince me to buy this model," I point at hers and turn to the mirror, "I feel barely comfortable in the one I got. "
"I had my doubts too, but now I feel great in it. " She inspects hers one more time in the mirror, and sighs happily, "like …empowered.
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"
"Of course, it looks great. But it's pretty skimpy for my taste. "
She tilts her head sideways, pursing lips, "hell, you live only once, right?" And she crinkles her nose, searching for appreciation in my eyes.
"C'mon, hottie! Let's get you out there to shine before men's eyes!"
"Oh, we're shining together," she points her finger in the air, "remember that!"
And we’re out. I've never felt so exposed and so much watched, in the skimpiest bikini I’ve ever worn, and with her at my side in one even skimpier. Aren’t we too courageous suddenly? I won’t say this to her; just sit tight! It’s just my cowardice, break it; everything’s normal, have fun!
And after a while, I actually adjust to the feeling of being as if on a catwalk. Men are into us, good! One more checked box on the summer-check-list.
***
We swim in turns and fry ourselves on the sunbeds at the beach. We're all beautifully wet from swimming and the sunblock. The bikinis and the aviators—nice combo. And again some dudes pass us by and stare at our stretched and covered-in-the-sun-lotion bodies. A couple of them say ‘hello,’ but it’s even hard to tell if it’s toward us or just between themselves. Some of them are talking definitely only between themselves: "Damn! Have you seen those hotties?" But most of it just sounds like mumbling from my perspective. I just smile at the whole situation; Adrianne does too (if you ignore them they usually go away). I’m drawing again, just for fun.
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Adrianne is gone for something to drink, and I start to read my book. After I’ve read maybe ten pages, Adrianne comes back with two gigantic pina coladas in her hands.
"How did you get those?!" I ask, seeing excitement in her eyes; the sweet princess is getting really naughty here.
"He offered them to me himself. " She points in the direction of a booth.
Wow, she’s really trying to be… not herself here. I could say again "You go, girl," but actually, I'm afraid of drinking it. It's eleven a. m. It's illegal. And I don't like the taste of alcohol; generally, neither of us hardly drinks at all.
"Isn't this too big? There has to be a pint of vodka in this. "
"It’s rum. And there’s almost no alcohol in it. Well, there is some but you can barely taste it.
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It's really good!"
I try.
"Oh my God! It’s sooo gooood!" I try again. "Oooh, yummy. Still, I'm stressed. " I look around.
"Stop looking around! You look like a freak. Nothing bad will happen. Nobody cares here. Try to relax. "
"I am trying. " Another sip.
"Don’t you wish we could sunbathe our tits?" Adrianne asks me at some point, smearing more sun lotion on her arms.
"Like . . .
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topless? Here? Now!? You’re drunk already. " I smile, waving my finger, take another sip.
"Yeah" she giggles, "Not here. Somewhere else. "
"Yeah maybe. Without people. And--"
"But I would be around!"
"You are not people. You are Adrianne. That I can handle. "
***
After maybe 40 minutes I am totally relaxed, I’ve drunk about half of this gigantic glass, yet I feel the buzz already. The sun is loving me; I stretch my glistening body a little bit more. And more guys are passing us, now between their mumbling I hear, "maaaan" and "WOW!" and one time: "Jesus! D'ya see these foxes!?" and such; now it makes me smile even more. It’s all good for my vanity, even the sentence "gooood sluts!"—someone has shouted—doesn't bother me. I don’t care; it’s sooo good not to care. Everything is getting into its place, the sunbeams heating up my moistened skin, the hot air, the gentle breeze, not a care in the world.
Oh my God, yes! This is it!
And then I feel a shadow casting over me, growing bigger. There were no clouds…
"Hello. " I hear a man’s voice, "I think, you two shouldn't be drinkin' here. " The voice says, "and it’s before twelve. Naughty, naughty. " Panic! ("Oh, shit!" I think immediately "And we are out of luck. " Adrianne must be fuming inside. ) I squint my eyes and hear Adrianne’s stuttering, "he-he-hey, uhm…", she’s mulling over what to say. The man’s silhouette is emerging before my eyes. I put my sunglasses on, so does Adrianne. That’s some young dude, ripped and tanned; and smiling. I see the guy has a tattoo covering part of his arm and shoulder. He’s handsome, looks like a lifeguard. Yep, he's a lifeguard. Maybe it’s nothing; I feel this dude—looking pretty cool—shouldn't have any problem with this.
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It's just a pretext.
"You won't rat us out, right?" I say, with maybe a bit of a trembling voice, trying to act like a foxy girl—but I think I have no guts for it.
"Of course not. " He smiles more, showing teeth—straight and white. "I'm Dominic. And you girls are…?"
"I'm Adrianne, and this is Emma," Adrianne says. She has put herself together.
The guy takes off his shades. His eyes are dark, I cannot say for sure brown or black at this point, but they’re definitely intense. He is very handsome, but at the same time there’s something relentless in his look. He asks about our hotel; he asks where we are from; we have a little chit-chat.
"Dominic? You look familiar. " Adrianne inquires, obviously pondering something.
"Yeah. That’s possible.
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Everybody says that", he chuckles. "Listen girls, you like to have fun, don't ya?"
"That's why we're here!" Adrianne stretches her arms, a lot calmer now, seeing an opportunity.
"So, you're really lucky I found you!" He seems enormously confident.
"Oh yeah?" Adrianne responds with a smile, showing these pearly teeth of hers. Oh, she's good here, an awakening of a fox.
He continues, "you don't wanna miss the best times here, right? There are better places than this beach, with no crew. Trust me, I know this place like my own pocket. I know where you can go rrrreally crazy. With nooo troubles. "
"And you can show us where?" I interrupt, suspiciously cocking my eyebrow.
"Or maybe you can take us there?" Adrianne flutters her eyebrows at me, and I think she’s into him already. Maybe she has found her fling. I’m scared now she’s gonna leave me alone here, too fast! "Stay together! Please!" I try to communicate with her telepathically.
"Well, let’s saaay…", he stops and grins—the type of grin that informs you that you don’t know something everybody knows—"see that house?" He points at one far away, last in the row, remote from the others, a massive, modern house on the dune. "That’s a place where you can party.
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That's mine. "
"You mean, that. . . big mansion on the dune?" Adrianne asks, surprised as I am.
"Exactly. "
"Are you…throwing a party?" I inquire.
"Every day’s a party day here. "
I'm surprised: a young lifeguard with such a house? Adrianne looks suspiciously at him for a second, and then she smiles at him again.
"Dominic, right?" she says, "we'll dddefinitely think about it. "
I want to stop her—I don’t know if she’s just being polite or is actually considering this—but I can’t say anything around him.
"So you're a lifeguard here, huh? And you have that house?" I ask, wanting to investigate this more.
"This? This is a volunteer job. I like to help. " He grins and winks at us.
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"Oh, okay. "
Someone is shouting in the distance, looks like after Dominic. He looks around.
"You can find me here if you’re interested. Or I’ll just find you again. " He makes a pistol out of his hand and pretend-shoots us, "don’t move. Finish your drinks! If someone asks, say I allowed it. I’ll keep my eyes on you two. " He winks one more time. Then he runs toward some guy near the water and greets him with a vigorous clap on the shoulder.
***
I’m still sipping the pina colada, only now looking again around suspiciously, when Adrianne says to me, "Look!" On her iPad she shows me some article and points at the photo; I have to squint my eyes from the glare of the sun.
"I knew I recognized him from somewhere!" she hollers enthusiastically.
There he is, a local sportsman, a star, with a shitload of money. Together with his father they donated some of this shitload of money to some local sport organization; on the photo, they hold this ridiculously gigantic check. The whole article is one big puff piece.
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His father is a quite big and bald, a type of aging muscleman, not exactly like a millionaire, well not exactly like my or Adrianne’s parents and their usual companionship (if balding they would bag a toupee and not shave their heads, enhancing this mobster-look as Dominic’s father did. )
"You've even checked the news here? You really did your homework," I say.
"So?" she throws up her hands, "How good is this? Young, talented and successful. And yet so generous. You see?" she gives me these big eyes again, and then she points at a part of the article and quotes: ‘…family known for its generosity to the city. . . ’ Huh! A philanthropist! And he hits on us. Ha-ha! Luuuckyyy!" She cocks her eyebrow mockingly.
"Yeah. Daddy's money. A sportsman, pff. " I snigger.
"Don't be cynical. "
"I don't understand why it's making such an impression on you.
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Our dads happen to be in newspapers too. It’s boooriiing. "
"Yeah, yeah. They are boring. But this is completely different company!" She says while I murmur grumpily under my breath, "And he is sssexy! It’s our summer, Emma! Here's our chance! Sportsman? Good! Wealthy? Well, good!" She shrugs. "He does his chores for a local community. Isn't this enough? What do you want, more? I’m going after him!"
"And do what?"
"Summer stuff? I’mmm gonna do it! You just… stay here. I’ll be back. "
"I don't know. . . Eh. " I feel I’m querulous, so I take another sip of my lovely pina colada (I can’t keep avoiding guys like that all the time. What could happen? Nothing! Easy!), so I say, "Okay, you're right. I need to get rid of this negativity.
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From now on, I support you. Sooo, you go girl! Get that hunky stud! Just get back here. Fast. "
"Okay!" She stands up and walks in the sand—the bikini looks really good on her from behind, too, I think—then she turns on her heel and grabs my hand, "Oh,but you must come with me!" she giggles.
"And our stuff?"
"Oh, take the purse, screw the rest, nobody is gonna take it. "
We find him near the lifeguard tower, now all wet, he was swimming just a moment ago. For some reason, I cannot stop smiling stupidly. . .
Adrianne shows the article on her iPad to Dominic and says, nodding and smiling, “Like to help, huh? MmmHmm, and modest, too, I see. ”
"Too much? Well, I don't want to brag how much of a star I am here. " He smiles wide again, and winks, too. For a quarter of a second I feel he's giving me intense body-check, I see the fire in these dark wild eyes of his—a dash of insanity combined with confidence in them, the wrongful combination girls often like so much—"So, have you two decided you wanna have a really incredible summer? Hmm? Talk to me. I'm yours. And I know everyone, and every body here.
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"
"Of course, we do. Sooo…?" Adrianne responds—I know she is terrified of what she’s saying… I still think he isn’t the right companion for us, but I just stay there with arms crossed looking around, and the smile on me seems now kind of childish. Let her do her thing.
"Tiger! My man!" Behind us, someone's shouting. I turn around. Two happy and airy looking guys come close to us and greet Dominic.
"What's up! What's up, my men!" He says. They give each other guys’ handshakes.
"I see you're picking the best. As usual," the one guy says, lowering his shades and checking me out insolently; then he looks at Adrianne. The other one is nodding. "We're not gonna bother you then! See ya my friend!" The first says and turns toward us, "Have fun with The Legend. " And a wink. So much winking here.
I observe them for a moment with a puzzled expression,and turn to Dominic.
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"The legend? And first of all. . . Tiger? Ti-ger!?" I twist my mouth, trying not to laugh out loud.
"Yeah, Emma. Em-ma? That's what they call me here. " He says absolutely peacefully.
"Okay. . . Tiger. " Now I wink. We talk for a while. He suggests we can visit his house later. In about an hour, just to check out the place.
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Adrianne is, of course, willing, and I don’t want to be a drag, so we agree.
When we get back to our towels and other stuff, everything is intact. I just say to her, snickering, "he's quite a dickhead. "
And she responds, laughing, "I-huh-I know! But it's summer. He won’t be the love of my life. This is um… It's a. . . Oh, c’mon! It’s a golden opportunity. Time to stop worrying. "
"Sure. " Actually, I think the same, I finish the last drop of my pina colada. Warm, but still tastes nice. I embrace the moment. The sounds of breaking waves.
The sounds of the beach crowd. And with this last gulp a little hiccup.
***
…It's around two p. m. and, we're on our trip to Dominic’s house. I wear a see-through beach skirt on the bottom part of the bikini; Adrianne wears jean shorts on her bikini, but with a zipper fully open and stretched: the rose color is beaming from the triangle of open and stretched zipper. It’s on purpose, of course; I just smile to myself thinking of how much she’s trying to be wild. It’s cute in its own way. The place is even farther away than it seemed earlier, from the beach. It’s the end of the city; behind it: wilderness. The building looks even more sinister, like something ‘The Empire’ would have built.
He comes to the gateway with open arms as we show up and yells happily, "You came!"
I still feel pretty light-headed, not a care in the world now.
"Just to see your place," I say, truly being sincerely interested in this oddly and futuristic-looking house, how it looks inside and how are the views; on the other hand I think it could be considered an environmental crime.
We are in the driveway. "That’s my car and my bike.
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" He waves his hand flippantly. There's a black Porsche 911—a new model—and a sport bike, black-and-orange; I have no idea what it is—not my element, and I don't see any name written on it. I spot some unfinished little wooden building in the side yard, something like a tea house maybe, but bigger. We go inside the house. A spacious, bright hall combined with salon, there's a bar counter here and big glass wall with door leading onto a terrace with a view of the ocean. All this seems incredible; definitely expensive, although some things are too tacky for my taste… He makes drinks for us; this time small ones. Oh, these are tasty too, although not as good as the giant pina coladas.
"Is that a big hot tub or a small pool?" Adrianne asks, There’s a very spacious hot -tub-like thing built in the terrace.
"Hot tub, it has the system and all. Nice, huh?" Dominic says.
"Yeah, it's great. We've got an indoor pool in our home, but I'd rather have this, with that view. You don't need a pool when you have the ocean. "
"'Our home'? You two are. .
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. ?" Dominic asks, changing his glance from me to Adrianne to me again.
"I mean my family home, but Emma's got a pool, too. With a cool bar!"
"Yeah. And that's great for parties, too. ," I say, getting the uneasy feeling we're bragging too much. And I haven't ever thrown my own party in my house.
Dominic tells us more about the house and himself and asks us a few things about ourselves as well. The dude seems even more cocky to me than before, but I don’t mind it at this moment. He explains why he’s doing the lifeguard bit: it’s a great opportunity to catch ‘fresh girls’. I don’t even inquire what ‘fresh girls’ means. He explains the house is a property belonging to his family, it’s his parents’ summer house, and they come here from time to time with his sisters, but he’s living here alone most of the time. He’s also pretty amused by the fact that we don’t know anybody in the city, as if a list of contacts is some kind of necessity.
"And you can go topless here. " he says at some point.
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I have no idea if it’s a joke or not.
"Oh, maybe. " Adrianne responds fast, before I could’ve given any sarcastic answer, and looks at me, tilting her head to one side—that's the signal: "Just go with it. ", or "Follow my lead. ", or whatever. Not that she knows what she's doing whatsoever; and she knows she doesn't really know, and I know that she. . . you know. . . It's even funny to watch these spontaneous attempts of hers, always: try, try-try-try, learn, always get up if you fail, and be good at everything. (Oh, those parents of ours, sooo successful, so much that their children have to be of course successful too; more, and more, and more). And here we are at the final exam: having a good time. “Jesus, I'm a bit drunk” I think.
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He shows us the rest of the house. "So? Are we gonna have a reeeaallly goood time here, or what?" He grins widely again. Mr. Joker.
"You know," I interrupt him while inspecting shelves with DVDs (most of it is a collection of Steven Seagal movies, plus a few brain-dead comedies) "we're not such party girls. Maybe you should know that. "
"Oh, shut up, Emma. " Adrianne shushes me up and smiles to him—a bit too naively in my opinion.
"Oooh, aren’t ya?" He again gets really interested for some reason in what I've just said, giving me a very enquiring—and maybe a bit frightening—look.
"Yeah, well, we’re here to start our party life. " I say, peeking knowingly at Adrianne and she gives me a little nod. But his expression reveals he was counting on exactly such information. Both of them: nice girls on a path to become wild.
We go farther, and some porn DVD’s catch my eye on another shelf. Huh, it’s a family house, and there are porn movies on the shelf in the main living room? Perhaps they were mislaid.
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Maybe we’ll watch it with him. No, that could get out of hand. I giggle under my breath, oh, I love pina coladas.
In the end, he tells us there are some spare rooms here. Two, with one shared bathroom. He shows us. They’re nice, the bathroom is great, it all looks like it was designed for a couple of young girls. He tells us we can move in if we want to. “It’s better than a hotel, and you will save some money. And there are no limits here. " I feel sudden shock and fear, and I only hope that Adrianne will say: “We’ll think about it”, and not: “Sure! Definitely! Count us in!” But then I think about how much better it would be to spend time here, big mansion, away from all that hubbub.
And she just looks at me, searching for confirmation My face is saying “Why not?”
After we get out of there, Adrianne says to me, all excited, "He's awesome! I'd screw him! Really! And we can live there; it's way better than the hotel! And we’ll have more money to spend. Shit! Emma! Doesn’t this sound awesome?" she asks but doesn’t let me answer, "I'm not gonna do this without you. " She’s all hot and keyed up.
I think about it for a second, about these views again, about this great spot without sweaty crowds.
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And the parties that could be thrown there. And I feel the buzzzz! Okay, she’s going to screw him? Fine! And I’ll have the time of my life here. That’s so not me. Yeah, that’s why it’s probably worth overcoming. Yeah! She's right! And I tell her, "Uhm; that's. . . why not! Y-yeah-yeah! Why not! Hell yeah! Let's do this!" A big smile appears on my face.
"Really?" She looks at me, hope sparkling in her eyes. We're getting wild!
"Yeah!" I say, and she jumps happily. I continue "And maybe. . . the cash we're gonna get back from the hotel. .
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. We can buy that skimpier bikini for me? And when we get back here. Do you think he has the ingredients to make another one of those pina coladas?"
"Maybe you should lay off that stuff for now. " She pats my shoulder.
I think about Dominic getting lucky with Adrianne, and I feel something: maybe the unfairness of a situation when a guy like that gets a girl like this? Or maybe it's jealousy? Maybe the two are somehow combined; still, I feel—with sunbeams on my back now—just great.
It’s almost four p. m. , and we check ourselves out of the hotel, after jumping fast into new outfits, more casual than bikinis,. (The refund appears to be pretty decent; nonetheless we both always had this little problem with appreciating the value of money…) We’re going out exactly at the moment when Dominic parks his 911 next to the curb in front of the hotel.
"Excellent timing!" He says, pulling on the handbrake. Smile has evidently never left this sunny boy for a second. He asks about the hotel, and if we terminated our reservation.
"Yes. "
"Good. " His smile turns more sly.
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We barely can fit our stuff into the tiny trunk of this car. Adrianne calls shotgun, of course, and I barely can place myself in the back seat, I have to look like a squashed sardine. This beast has such acceleration that it makes me a bit seasick. Adrianne is again trying to find herself in this element: elbow sticking out, she makes few jokes with our new colleague.
We're driving down the main boulevard, high palm trees around, ocean to the right. At a red light, two girls in bikini tops and shorts come to the car.
"Heeey, Tiger. " They both say. Then one of them continues, "Sooo, when we can drop by your place?"
"Sorry girls, I'm a busy man" he responds and shrugs. One of the girls gives me a short, cold glance. Dominic goes on, "Now I'm showing my good friends here the city, got a few more things to do; we'll talk later. " The girls make sad faces for some desired effect. Green light; and we're off, fast.
"You don't want to invite them to the party?" I ask, a bit surprised; they seemed hot.
"Not this time.
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These chicks. . . they don't match your level, girls. I would like to have a bit more cozy time with you two. " He looks at Adrianne and at me in the rear view mirror, cheekily. "They'd be a distraction for us. "
Adrianne gives me a glance of satisfaction.
Next red light. Two young guys are walking. They slow down and look at us, or perhaps at the car, jaws a bit dropped. Dominic is tapping his fingers on the outside of the car door, looking at them.
"Seen enough?" He says to the guys and at the same time accelerates suddenly with tires itching to break traction.
***
We get to his place. There’s another car parked outside, a big black four-seat Mercedes Cabrio.
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I’m getting suspicious. My buzz is almost gone. We get inside. The sun is shining at a different angle; everything is more apricot-orange now, the atmosphere changed It saturates the air with…emptiness.
At some point, I spot a girl’s underwear—a black g-string—on one of the sofas in the main room. Now a startling thought pops into my mind: this looks like—why didn’t I think of it earlier? (Ah, the pina colada!)—some kind of a. . . I'm afraid of the thought: a fuck house. Now I have sobered up completely.
"Do you have a girlfriend?" I ask, almost but not quite casually.
"What?" Hah! No? Oh, that’s a… that belongs to a chick that stays here. Stayed, actually. Hah, myyy, let’s say, girlfriend. " He is chuckling, staring in my eyes, "Don’t worry; she’s out of here today! She’s umm, blehhh, fucked up.
Totally. "
"Why?" I ask and at the same time hear a snort behind us, " ‘Cause she cannot suck for shit!" The voice behind shouts. I turn around and see a guy: in a slouch hat, folded on both sides; shades, no shirt, desert camouflage pants; he’s ripped and tall, but he has slightly narrower shoulders than Dominic (still he’s a big dude); and he’s less tanned; a side-to-side tattoo on the abdomen, something like an eagle: almost nazi-looking. He’s chugging a beer.
"And that’s Tyyyyyler!" Dominic shouts his name like at a boxing match, pointing a finger at him. "And these are the girls. " Dominic stands between us, hands on our waists, we’re like sheep, "Say hello to the girls, muthafucka. "
"Hello, muthafuckas," the guy responds. I shyly wave my hand. Apparently now this guy is in the mix; well, what did we expect? He stares at us for a moment. His expression, although happy-looking at first sight, has something scary about it.
"You, you are the fuckin’ king!" The guy shouts, pointing each index finger—the can of beer still in one hand—at Dominic. He takes another sip "Now, which one is mine? I mean, at first. " He winks at Dominic, and I hope this is just a big joke. I think about what we have done with our hotel room… and I come slowly to a realization—and I feel it with all my body—what we’ve done: we're screwed, figuratively and maybe even literally.
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Adrianne seems even more confused and more scared than I am, even though she mentioned banging Dominic. And that scares me even more—without her taking care of him we're both screwed anyway.
Suddenly, and to my enormous surprise, Adrianne tries to get a grip on herself, and says quietly, out of the side of her mouth to me, "Uh, I'm guessing. . . he's yours?"
"Are you insane?!" I want to say. She looks at me, eyes begging; now I know she’s improvising, ("Just say yes, just say yes! You'll take care of him!"). Sure, I’ve put myself into this. So, apparently, I must take . . . Tyler? Somehow. How? Oh. My. God.
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By talking with him for two weeks? Reading him some poetry? Drawing a portrait of him? Scampering at the beach holding hands? Yeah, right. I'm screwed. I try to say something, desperately, make a joke, act casual, "Umm…", nothing. Just a confused expression, that’s all I’ve got.
And Dominic says, "Hey, let’s take your shit and leave it in your rooms, and then we can start a part-ay, yeah? Tyler!? Move, muthafucka!" He points his eyes at our bags, and Tyler takes two of our bags.
We get upstairs. Meanwhile, their talk gets more and more ambiguous. I try not to think of it, but the strangeness of this place and these two dudes is getting under my skin. We’re trying to shoot the breeze, ask them some follow-up questions, like nothing is shady at all. We get to know they’re both twenty-one years old, and Tyler has just arrived and will be staying here, too. I feel they’re making a bit of fun of our questions, but they don’t give anything away up front. I want to ask if there will be more people coming, but I am afraid of the answer, which seems to me almost obvious now. They could rape us here just like that. I feel their horniness in the air. I gulp.
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They put our bags into our rooms and we stand before the door when Tyler speaks: "These are big titties for eighteen-year-olds!" frightening the shit out of me, out of us, again. The guy lacks the appearances Dominic can keep up;close, but just barely. Tyler’s all grinning, and cocky too; even worse. Well, maybe that’s even better: just rip this bandage off.
"They're not that big. We both have C cups. " I say, just to say anything, keep talking, like we are all equals, nothing’s happening. (Oh my God I’ve got myself locked in a fortress with two hardcore bullies, probably lighting cigars with their parents' hundred dollar bills. I feel like I’m dreaming. )
"So, let’s maybe start this topless thing we were talking about," Dominic says; they grin at each other, knowingly. And now I’m sure where this is going . That’s it. Now run or deal with it Think! Fuck!!
"Oh. . .
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um. . . " Adrianne doesn’t know what to say (or what to do). They talk to us both, but now I treat it like it only concerns her. She wanted this, not me; I am not letting the reality in! I see with the corner of my eye that Adrianne is also questioning herself as to what we have gotten ourselves into. I see her pulse rising, I see her consternation. It’s getting very rough very fast. It feels like we’re obligated to do what they want. Shiiiit. The stories about hitchhiking turning into a nightmare pop up in my mind. Fear creeps up my spine, and imaginary cold drops of sweat run down. Breathe.
And I say to her, calmly, "You wanted to go topless anyway…" I look at her trying to communicate telepathically again. She puffs, partially outraged, partially shocked.
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Those big sweet eyes. ("Show your tits to them! Faster the better!" I want to tell her). That’s my new plan: let Adrianne bang her young Christian Grey And maybe his pal too? And I just hide behind her. Or I tell her to tell Dominic to get rid of this Tyler dude. and then she's his. Yep, let’s kill and eat Bambi. That clearly isn’t going to work. Or we can just escape. Not escape, just politely say we’re leaving now… and that means the end of our vacation. Oh, great! What am I going to say at home? It’s all useless anyway, and I feel immediately shitty for my inclination to throw her under the bus.
However, to my astonishment and horror, she’s grabbing her blouse now. She even smiles, but I see her nerves are almost fried. She pulls her blouse up and bites her bottom lip—ever so shy, she looks very sexy—the bra is for us to see. She pulls it down a bit. Her tits pop out, round and perky—a thrill goes through my body—her brows are up, in anticipation of a good review.
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And the guys cheer loud, very loud. She covers her tits with her hands, looking at me with pursed lips now—what the hell is that supposed to mean? Is my awful plan working? Somehow I feel even worse: she's in, I'm not.
"Oh, yeah! These are fuckin' great titties," Tyler says, "really great titties. Big! And so fuckin' round! WOW!" ("Yeah, try to be like us and not have everything good" I ponder.
)
"No disappointment here, huh?" Dominic adds, giving Tyler a jab in the arm. Adrianne looks still nervous, but a distinct shade of pride crosses her face now; well, she’s nailing this vacation so far…
And Tyler comments, "Fuckin' A. Man’s got the gift. Right girls? I’m gonna try them Spanish style. Titty fuck ‘em! Definitely!" Laughter. ("Whaaat!?" runs through my head), and he says, looking at me, quite imperiously, "And you? What are you waitin’ for?"
Before I can answer—with nothing—Adrianne says to them, still trying to smile casually, but her voice audibly fluttering, "Umm, can you… give us a moment? Alone?"
"Sure girls. Take your time. We have lots of it. " Dominic snickers. I close the door and hear laughter outside.
"Okay, what the hell is going on here!?" Adrianne shouts at me.
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She’s one big mess, now it comes out. "Are they going to fuck us here? Are they!?"
"You wanted to screw him, so…" I’m still trying to push her, but I don’t feel good about it at all.
"No, no, no. Not like this. It’s a, it’s a, it’s a…" she’s panicking, and this triggers all of my alarms, "This is too real!" She hollers out. "What have we done? Oh my God…" Her voice turns into a lament; she touches her temples, "I'm gonna. I'm gonna have a panic attack!"
"Are you kidding me?! You cannot have a panic attack! No! No! No! You need to get out there and chit-chat and make it smooth. "
"They don't want to chit-chat! This is some kind of a fuck-house!" She's on the verge of crying. That melts my heart a bit, and the words "fuck house" ring in my head. And then I think: "So I'll get fucked here too? It's decided, apparently? This is why alcohol is fuckin' bad! At 18 a. m. ! Now I finally get it!"
"And what did you expect? Fifty fuckin’ shades?! Roses every morning and a helicopter!? That’s how it works?" I yell, unleashing some of my growing anger.
"Why didn’t you tell me this!?" She shouts. I am silent. I could have; I just didn’t think there was any need to.
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"Oh my God! I cannot do this! With him. Like that. " She throws her arms up.
"What!? It was your idea! C’mon, don’t make it any harder, I’ve probably got that other prick on my head now. And I don’t have any strategy! So, go get him, tiger?!" I’m only worsening the situation; she’s breaking down, eyes bigger and bigger every second; if they turn into balloons she may float away and escape on them. She asks about our hotel; it pisses me off more.
"We can't go back! We booked our hotel three months ago!"
But she’s nagging me, so I call the hotel, giving her sardonic smile while on hold. She looks like she’s praying, hoping. I don’t have any hope. The reception answers, I say what I have to say and hear what I've expected. And I tell her, falsely calmly, "Yep. It's gone. " Again sardonic smile, "and I’ve ashamed myself additionally. The guy on the other end was sniggering under his breath. He was obviously! fuckin’! sniggering!"
"Oh my God! Oh my God! What about other hotels?"
"What other hotels?! It’s the middle of the season!"
She sighs, looking around.
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"So what are we gonna do!?"
"Ummm…" Nothing.
"Bail!?"
"What!?” Now my fear is turning to fury. "Yeah! I've been hearing for weeks about being a loser from you and now, ‘hey, let’s escape! And get back!’, what are you going to say at home after this?" Her face gets even more frightened. "Hey," I say more calmly, "they didn’t rape us. Yet. Right? Kudos to them, right?" No, that's no use; it’s just so obvious what’s going to happen. It’s not working, she’s a mess, so I ponder out loud, "Okay, I’ve screwed up too. Uhm… It’s still fixable somehow. Hmm …maybe …nooo. Hmm… no. "
And finally I realize it: we screwed ourselves in less than three hours. We’ve shown a total lack of responsibility and reason …second day of our vacation. It cannot be so easy, can it? Somebody should've put a warning somewhere! Suddenly I know my only option. Exactly. Yep.
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"Okay, Adrianne. I’m gonna …heh, shag your boy. " I smile widely.
"What?" She shakes her head in despair.
"If I’m getting banged here anyway, I’m after the king, not his… Sancho Panza or whatever this Tyler guy is. You were right, I’m not going to screw up my vacation. I'm gonna fuck his brains out if you don't! Don’t know how, but I’m gonna!" She’s stunned.
I ponder. It isn’t going to be romantic or smooth, it’s going to be rough; really rough, and real. Brace yourself Emma. I take a deep breath, look at ,Adrianne, and say in my head, "You’d better fuckin’ brace yourself too!". I go out, giving her a knowing glimpse "Yeah! That’s right! I’m doing this! What-fucking-ever!". She’s just standing there, probably she feels a kind of redemption, because of my act of sacrifice or whatever this is, but I know she’s doomed to the same fate as I am, it’s just a postponement. Maybe, maybe it will get smooth somehow.
***
Outside the room is quiet; the guys are gone.
I’m pretty much terrified, but at the same time, I feel so much anger that I don’t care any more about what I'm doing. I want, I need, I demand a great vacation!
Walking through the corridor, I find another little living room on the floor. The roller blinds are shut, so I hit the lights: wood paneling, wood furniture; oak, I think. Like a study. A lot of framed photographs on the wall. There's a fancy-looking carafe of what looks like whiskey on the top of a counter. Instinctively I grab the handle of the cupboard below, and there’s a fridge built in. Bingo! Nice. Next to the carafe is also a box of cigars, I take one and smell it, and it smells definitely better that cigarettes, but I doubt it would be still the same after lighting it. The drink I pour myself from the carafe doesn't taste nearly as good as a pina colada. It tastes like …old wood. This is how a… liquidized wooden ship would taste. There's ginger ale in the fridge. I throw some into the glass. It makes it slightly better.
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A sip. And a deep breath. Okay… I’m not going to be depressed here! I’m not! Another sip.
I go downstairs, to meet my destiny. My trembling inner voice turns into a nonsense melody, "Fate, fate, fate. . . is on my side. Fuckin’ fate. Don’t swear so much! God, I’m so nervous. Fate, fate, fate. " Every girl has at least one shameful story about screwing a totally wrong guy, right? The check-list? It’s actually weirdly convincing. Then I hear their voices. . .
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"It's fine, fine, fine. Trust me. I've got a hunch. D’ya know my hunch? D’ya know me one day?" Sounds like Dominic.
"Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! Heh. Easy. It’s gonna be fuckin’ great. " And that’s Tyler; I hear hands clapping. "They’re fuckin’ flawless man!" Now he is giggling stupidly. I sneak like a cat.
"Yeah, yeah. And don't worry. They’re gonna liven up. I’ve got this. " Again Dominic.
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"Can you make it fuckin' fast? Cause I feel my balls ’re gettin’ blue already from lookin’ at those fuckin’ cuties. So which one is mine?"
Dominic sniggers, "Neither. Both are mine, you jerk off muthafucka. "
"Fuck you. "
I enter the room, walking silently; they don’t see me yet. "Oh, god", I gulp, "shit, shit, shit. " I look at them, Tyler doesn’t have his shades on any more. Dominic is sitting, outstretched lazily, in the armchair. His t-shirt is gone; he has only his cargo shorts and sport shoes. Tyler is standing in front of him. Dominic sees me; Tyler turns around, and they both grin simultaneously.
"I’m guessing you’re staying?" Dominic chuckles.
"Of course," I say. Another distinct gulp.
"Great.
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Great, great, great. "
"Yep, great. We can’t go back to our hotel cause it’s—I’m guessing you know —it’s the middle of the season, so…"
"Bummer. " Dominic responds.
"Yeah. Lucky for you, right?"
"I’m always lucky. " They look at each other knowingly, "so you can take some of it for yourself. " Adrianne’s speeches about luck pop into my head.
"Like. . . suck it up? Okay. I will. " I shrug my shoulders, but inside I feel my heart pumping like crazy; they glance at each other one more time, "I’m actually here to …seal the deal. You want to …liven us up, yeah? So, basically—let’s set the record straight here—there’s gonna be fucking, right?" His grin is good for an answer, "well, okay, let’s do this.
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" My heart goes even faster. I take my top off and present my lacy black bra. It’s an odd feeling. I just want to start doing it already, before I change my mind.
Tyler claps again and rubs his palms together, cheering, "Oh, yeah! Oooh, yeah!"
"Uhm. . . " I raise my finger, "No. Not you. I was talking to him. And only to him. " I point at Dominic, "I have business with him; not you, Blueballs. "
And Dominic shouts, "Boom! She fuckin' cut you off! You’re going down bitch!"
I know I’m just messing with Tyler—I have no good cards here; bluffs, nothing—and it’s going to end with some punishment aimed …at my ass. Sooner or later. But the guy is getting on my nerves, (even more than Dominic is), and I’ve started it already so I decide I’m going to maintain this attitude toward him.
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Tyler is sniggering, "Oh, oh, oh. Go ahead, whatever. The host is first. But I'm next!" He walks slowly backward, "that's my deal. "
"Deal, you say? I have no deal with you, okay? Let's get things straight. I'll fuck you," pointing at Dominic again, then at Tyler, "but you . . . don't fuck me. Ever. And we're even, and we can live here for a while. Okay?"
"Sure thing. Hey, you don't have to do anything. " Dominic says. I just don’t believe him.
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"Riiight. . . "
"Right, right. Only. . . you will do everything here anyway. " sly smile, "that's guaranteed. Trust me. "
"Of course. "
"Wanna bet?" Tyler interrupts.
"Bet? Sure. About what?"
"Maybe this," Dominic proposes, "if you don't wanna fuck more after this, fine! Fuckin', live here for a month even! Whatever. I don't care.
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And if you do wanna fuck, then no worries, huh? Everythin’ checks out. " He smiles to me, then, more knowingly, to Tyler. ("What’s this?" I wonder, "A hunch? About… what?")
I puff resentfully, and I pause: "Fine. " And I start to take off my shorts, stop, turn around to Tyler and say to him, "Could you…?"
He sniggers, points at me again and says, "I will be back, princess. " Then he winks. My shorts are on the floor already. And I slowly unhook my bra, trying to do it in a tempting manner; I keep it in place, looking at Tyler slowly walking backward, just to piss him off more.
Tyler is finally gone, and I turn around to Dominic, covering my tits with my hands now The bra is on the floor. He’s going to fuck me. It’s happening. Breathe.
And Dominic, standing up, says, "You’re solid?"
"Wha…?" I’m confused. I open my eyes wide, giving him the green of them at their loveliest.
"After or before? That’s two only options with me. " He says all smiles and winks—the goddamn winks!—while unzipping his pants.
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I feel he’s making fun of me again. I’m getting more nervous.
"Umm… Uh, you know…" I stall for a second and finally catch his drift. He’s asking me about contraception! Oh! Yeah! Af-- Uh, I mean before! Before. "
"Good girl. What’s up with the hands, huh? Uncover those beauties. "
At first, I make a serious expression—a bit bitter, a bit snobby, I guess. Then I uncover my tits slowly and raise my arms aloft. And my tits are completely out. Inside I panic—three deep breaths—but seeing his nodding expression and hypnotizing burning eyes. I get my confidence together fast, stick them out more, tilt my head to one side, wait… smile. That part is even fun. And I bite my lip, grab my boobs, push them up together. Next: stick them out more; at the end, I gently flip my hair. And I wonder if it is really going to be a one-time thing.
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He is only in boxer shorts. I see this big bulge, really big ("Oh, shit! It cannot be that big!?"). He puts some music on, some aggressive techno, but it’s rather quiet. I move to it, quite shyly at first, and I start to giggle. Now I feel all of this is absolutely insane, and for some reason, it gives me a kick, my moves get better. I turn around and start to do a little striptease—thumbs holding the panties—asking myself what I am doing here, why I didn’t run away. I answer myself only with giggling.
"Talent. " He says—I feel it’s still sarcastic—and gets closer to me. Meanwhile, I take off my panties and now I’m holding them on my finger, smiling at him cheekily. Between my legs, I feel a chilling breeze. It’s nice. My clit is on display. He grabs me, and we kiss. French, and I’m getting into it He’s a good kisser, at least something's good.
He falls onto the armchair holding my ass tight, I fall onto him, still kissing him; for a moment I think we’re gonna fall onto the ground, and I scream –not much more than a squeak-- in fear, then a giggle—but he looks very serious now, menacing; I forgot we probably don’t like each other— but now we’re back to kissing.
I sit on him and feel his dick rubbing on my naked buttocks and pussy through his shorts. He’s contemplating my tits—first holding my arms pinned to my hips—then he starts to fondle them; I hop lightly—my body guides me—rubbing myself on his cock more; Oh, it’s big. I feel immensely growing panic again: he’s gonna rip me in half with that thing, I’m not used to big dicks; I’m not even used to regular ones! I can’t let him know my experience is so limited.
"Wanna suck it?" He says, sounds more like an order than a question.
I sigh and giggle almost at the same time—the nerves—and immediately think this is a good moment to check out and adjust to his size, maybe stall before getting this thing into my pussy, which—oh, my—is pretty wet already.
"Uh, yeah. . . " I say and lower myself a bit. Now my face is near his chest; I stare into his eyes. Then I go lower. When I am at the waistband of his shorts, I grab them and pull them down as I go. This model-big cock pops out; it makes me fling my head back, and my eyes feel like they’re about to burst out of my head.
"I know this is risky…" I say and finish the sentence in my head, "but I want to taste it anyhow!".
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"Who risks nothing has nothing, babe. Try it. You won’t be disappointed. " This smug expression on his face, like he knows something about me. Proud cock. I repay him with a cold glance …and I kiss the head; something pierces through me, a very masculine taste, it’s like… and just like this—a finger snap—I get into it, completely, speeding like a locomotive, feeling like I almost need it. Apparently, I do. I’ve never sucked penis so greedily, although it’s just the fourth time in my life I am doing it, and only the second guy. It fills my mouth completely, exactly as it should do. And the taste assures me this is very real.
"Come here. " I hear. It’s like a wake-up call. I've lost track of time, bobbing on this thing.
I stand up and lower myself onto him.
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A pause: ass hovering over his dick for a moment, and he rubs my clit with his fingers; he speeds up to a very fast pace. I feel my cunt’s getting dangerously wet. For a moment I fear it’s something other than my juice, but it isn't, it's all a product of this enormous excitement. I'm doing something really bad here. He licks his fingers fast, and puts them on my button again, rubs it fast, and licks again, and again. He puts one of his fingers into me, my pussy turns into pudding. I collapse and slide onto his cock, just a little resistance, and he’s in—Oh God I have this monster in me, the whole thing! A few slow thrusts and it starts, we bang. He caresses my tits again, sucks my nipple into his mouth. I feel his muscular chest. My mind flies away…
And then another wake-up call: doggy-style. He just flips me, no questions. It’s fast and hard. My pussy is stretched and filled, but ready to go all the way. He spanks me; Sss-oh, my God! Yes! More, please! He rams me like the dog he is for what seems like forever. I love it and back up onto his dick with every stroke.
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Suddenly he orders me to lie on my back, and when I do, he starts screwing me while standing and holding my right leg in the air, high, straight up. Jesus, it’s so intense!
After a bit, he pulls my hair and forces me to kneel—it's a bit degrading, makes me a bit mad, but I’m only sighing loudly—and puts his big wet cock into my mouth—it’s so fast it takes me by surprise. And I go crazy. I just suck and lick and swallow all this whipped cream… Fuck me. . .
After maybe two minutes he pulls me up and orders me to sit on him. I ponder for a second. . . Too long! He slaps me again, shouting "Fast!" and pulls me onto him. I pierce myself onto his cock again. Oh, yes! Three deep breaths. I bend my back backward and support my arms on the armchair near his shoulders. Now it’s reverse cowgirl.
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He’s all the way in me already and holds me by my hips, tight. He speeds up; I adjust fast to this drilling. Okay, okay! Oh, it’s good. Ooohhh! Fuck, it's good!
…and then I hear Tyler’s voice. And his laughter. He’s coming back !! I instantly try to jump off but this meets with a tightening grip of Dominic’s hands on my loins, and he’s just fucking me steadily, panting almost diabolically. I cannot move, except to bounce on this huge dick. Tyler’s coming here!
Dominic fucks me as he pleases and Tyler comes in, just like that, stands before me, ("Jesus Christ!! What the fuck!! No way!!") eating an ice-cream on a stick. I look at him with big eyes and open mouth, as if he’s not really there. Panic, pleasure, shame. Ooh, fu-u-uck! Jesus, what they are doing to me! I’m just a girl!
"I’m back!" Tyler says melodically, the asshole. He smiles. I can only wriggle, and Dominic is speeding up more; my breath matches his thrusts, and my mind goes insane. Oooh, God!! Tyler comes closer and tilts his head, looking at Dominic’s cock working its way in my bare wet cunt. I’m burning! I’m red! Now I’m purple! I feel more juice is coming.
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"Fuckin' juicy man. She seems tight as fuck, " Tyler comments while eating his ice cream. I want to smash it into his smug face, but I’m too…occupied.
"Oh yeah! She's fuckin' tiiight. Tight! Tight! Tight!" Dominic’s voice and moans are just sinister.
I manage to cover my tits with one hand; my mouth’s still open, shocked expression. I’m at their mercy. I try to say—stuttering because Dominic is stil banging me, hard, and my nerves are fried—"huh-I-I to-o-oh!-old you. It’s, it's him a-an’ me, o-oh!-o-on-ly. "
"Yeah, but nothin’ about watching. " He winks and stares some more. "Oooh yeah! And the fuckin’ titties! Jiggle them some more. "
"Fuck off!" I yell and my yelling turns into fast panting. Dominic bursts into this hyena laughter, he takes my panties from the armrest of the armchair and sticks it into my mouth like a gag, shushing me quietly "Shshsh. " I just let him do this; somehow it’s calms me a notch.
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He moves his right hand from my hips to my neck, grabbing it hard, this puts him in a good position to screw me harder, a bit slower but even deeper—his whole shaft sliding in and out of me easily, despite my tightness. I stretch my naked body in front of Tyler looking in his smiling soulless eyes. The way he eats his ice cream… it seems like he’s giving me suggestions; although any suggestiveness is now redundant; I hate him for this, I hate Dominic… but the cock is sooo good, and this is all fuckin’ strange!
Tyler’s mumbling now some things, like, "Oh yeah, break the fuckin’ princess in. Uh, break her in. " I feel like I’m getting even more wet. And indifferent to everything else.
And then I hear Adrianne’s voice: "Hey, I just wanna check if is everything okay becau-o-oh. " She enters and freezes, immediately stops talking, her jaw drops; after three seconds, she throws in, "Oh, shit…"
It’s like a shot: my embarrassment rises even higher to the point of bursting me into flames, and it suddenly just …disappears; an empty space. I spit out my panties, wondering why didn’t I just do it right away… They drop onto my tits and hang there.
"Hurray!!! Adrianne! We-ooh-welcome to the party!" I holler out, feeling more drunk now than I was at the beach, "You've missed the best part of the show! M-M-Maybe some help?!"
"Ummm… sorry. I just…thought I…" She is completely shocked, looking around like she has dropped something ,slowly walking backward. I wouldn’t know what to do either, but I’m in a different place. Luckily?
"Maybe I’ll ho-hold your hand? Huh? Then they’ll be fuckin’ you too!" I release my anger on her, and for a moment I’m.
