They left the bar, and then stopped. Neither of them knew where to go, or what to do now.
"You want to go swimming?" he asked, thinking that maybe he could do
some laps and work off some of the sexual energy she had injected into
him by telling him she was thinking about his penis. He
couldn't believe she'd said that. He thought of her as being
completely out of his class. She was beautiful, and oozed sex
appeal. He couldn't believe, for that matter, that any man had
refused to go with her, wherever she wanted to go. That dip she'd
been going with had to be a complete loser to let her get away.
Still, she had to have been teasing when she made him promise to show
her his dick. There was no way she'd show him her breasts.
He knew that as well as he knew his own name.
"You want to look at my body already?" came her voice.
"No," he said. "I want to do some laps."
"We're supposed to be talking," she said. "You have to promise to talk to me if we go swimming."
"OK," he said, giving in again.
"OK, then," she said. "Meet you at the pool in ten minutes."
"I'll be there," he said.
He was, in fact there, and already swimming strongly from one end of
the pool to the other, when she arrived. He saw her standing on
the side of the pool, watching him, as he turned his face to breathe.
He swam two more laps, sprinting, and then stood up in the shallow end,
staring back at her. She looked fabulous in her bikini, and she
knew it. She moved, and held herself in that way that beautiful
women cultivate, that shows off their body without making it obvious
that that's what they're doing.
Tiffany looked at the man in the water. His chest muscles were
corded up from the stress of propelling himself through the
water. He'd looked half fish as he swam, with not a motion
wasted, cutting through the water like there was a motor attached to
him somewhere. The sun glinted off his upper
body. She had to admit he was a handsome man.
Handsome and interesting. She felt his eyes rake over her body,
and suddenly felt naked. She walked to the steps and
stepped daintily down into the water. It felt good.
"You're a very good swimmer," she said, wading over to him.
"I'm a member at the YMCA, he said, stretching his arms backwards, to
stretch those bulging muscles on his chest. "Swimming is one of
the best aerobic exercises you can do. It works every muscle in
your body if you do it right."
"I used to be in shape," she said. "You had to be in shape to cheer. You got hurt if you weren't."
"There's nothing wrong with the shape you're in," he said.
"Aren't you sweet," she said, sinking down into the water to her neck. "Tell me the craziest thing you ever did."
"What?" he blinked.
"The craziest thing you ever did," she repeated. "I want to hear about it."
"Seriously," he said, as if he didn't quite believe her.
"Seriously."
"I guess that would have to be joining the Peace Corps," he said.
She looked at him in amazement. He was a VERY interesting man.
"Really? I had no idea you'd done that."
"Yeah," he said, sinking down until he was neck deep like her. "I
did it right out of High School. Got sent to the Sahara, of all
places. Well, the fringes of it, anyway. We worked with Tuaregs,
who had to give up their nomadic life because a drouth killed most of
their animals. We were teaching them to be farmers."
He stopped, like he'd told the whole story.
"How in the world did you do that and still get a teaching degree?" she asked.
"I did a three year tour, and then went to school. I'm twenty-eight," he said.
"You're kidding," said Tiffany, who was twenty-four. "I thought you were much younger than that."
"Clean living," he said, as if looking four years younger than he was was no big deal.
"I'm impressed," she said. "I want to hear all about it."
She did hear all about it, but not in the usual way. She
had learned a long time ago that men loved to talk about
themselves. All she usually had to do was ask a few questions,
acting like a ditzy blond, and off they went, to happily boast about
things for an hour or more.
But it wasn't that way with Chuck. He answered her questions, but
didn't go farther than that. She had to practically interrogate
him to find out what life had been like in the Peace Corps.
He didn't seem to mind talking about it ... he just never volunteered
anything.
Eventually they got out of the water and lay on towels, side by side,
as they continued to talk. Eventually he started asking her
questions too. She found out he had a wicked sense of humor,
something she'd never have guessed about him. He could do stand
up routines from memory that he'd seen years ago, and he did them so
well that she laughed.
She soaked in the sun, slathering on sun block, sometimes sitting
Indian style, sometimes flat on her back, and sometimes on her side,
her head propped up while they talked. She threw him the
bottle, demanding that he protect his skin too, and he rubbed some on
the places he could reach.
"Turn around," she ordered. "Your back will burn if you don't get some there."
She squirted a line of sun block across his back and smoothed her hands
over the hard muscles, enjoying the feel of them under her slippery
fingers.
"There," she said, wiping the excess lotion on the part of her breasts
that were exposed to the sun. He watched her do that, but didn't
leer.
"You're not quite the man I thought you were," she said.
"Sorry," he replied. "I'm just me."
"That's not what I meant," she chided him. "You're much deeper
than you look at first glance. I misjudged you, and I'm
sorry about that."
"I'm just a guy, like any other," he said, uncomfortably.
"I wish there were more guys out there just like you," she said. "Life would be a lot more interesting if there were."
It was quiet for a moment.
"I'm also sorry for teasing you ... back in the bar," she said. "That was uncalled for."
"Oh," he said, almost sadly.
What Chuck was thinking of was that she wasn't really interested in his
penis after all. He'd been wondering about that whole part
of the conversation. Why a woman like Tiffany would give a
hoot about anything he had was a mystery to him. She could have
any man she wanted.
"You look like you lost your last friend," she said, looking at him with a frown on her face.
"It's just that I'm not used to being around a woman like you, I guess," he said.
"A woman like me," she said, the frown still on her face.
"You know, beautiful, and popular and all that."
"I thought we got past all that cheerleader bullshit," she said, her voice terse.
"Just look at you," he said. "It has nothing to do with
cheerleading. You talk about being out of shape, but you
could be a model if you wanted to."
"No I couldn't," she said. "I have fat all over me. Look at this!"
She pinched the skin just above the waist band of her bikini. She could pinch maybe three quarters of an inch.
"And this," she went on, squeezing the skin on the back of her thigh. She could get a whole inch there.
"That's not fat, Tiffany," he said. "That's skin. You look great, and you know it."
She felt a thrill, associated with being given a real compliment.
She felt the urge to touch him. Instead, she got up and got back
in the water. He followed. Again, they floated, neck deep
in the water. She couldn't understand it, but she felt better
when his eyes weren't caressing her body ... like she was more in
control. She faced him.
"You look great, too, she said, as if that proved anything. "You
have muscles on your muscles. You can't see them when you
wear a shirt, but in that swim suit you look delicious."
"You're teasing me again," he said.
"No I'm not!" she barked. "You are a handsome man. If you weren't so shy you'd admit it."
"And I suppose you're attracted to me ... like Bob was talking about." Chuck's voice was full of skepticism.
"Before we came here, I might have said no," said Tiffany. "But,
in the short time we've been here, and even though your and my time
together has been even shorter, I've learned enough to be able to say
you DO appeal to me. So there!" She splashed water at him.
"That's not possible," he said. "Women like you don't get interested in a guy like me."
"What is WRONG with you?" she said loudly. "Do I have to throw
myself at you to get you to believe me? I'm not going to do that,
buster."
"Of course not," he said, his calm voice making her frustration level
climb. "That's because you're not really attracted to me.
I'm just your partner to play with while we're here. After that
you'll forget all about me."
Tiffany was stunned. In the past, the normal roles had put her as
the pursued, having to manage the pursuer. Now, somehow, she felt
like the roles had been reversed, and she didn't understand that.
All men panted after her. Why didn't this one? He was
obviously attracted to her. She could see it in his eyes.
But he was holding back, even after she HAD all but thrown herself at
him. Surely he didn't really believe she was out of his
class. That had been bullshit in High School, even if a lot
of kids had bought into it. And he wasn't in High School any more.
She wondered about that too. Why HAD she taken things so
fast? Sure, it had been a long time since she'd had sex.
But she wasn't some hormone-filled sixteen year old
cheerleader. She looked at him, floating in the water,
three feet away, looking back at her. That was it! He
was three feet away! He wasn't nudging up against her, crowding
her, acting like she had no personal space. She thought back to
the hot tub, but couldn't remember if he'd touched her then. Was
he just shy ... or was he treating her like a lady? She
tried to think back to the last time a man had treated her like a lady
... a man who was interested in her sexually. She couldn't
remember, and it frustrated her. She realized she now WANTED to
feel his eyes on her body.
"I'm starting to wrinkle," she said suddenly. "I need to get out."
"Oh," he said. There was obvious disappointment in his eyes, and she marveled again at his restraint.
"Come on," she said. "We can keep talking while I dry off and change."
"Oh ... OK," he said, standing up.
He followed her like a puppy to her room.
"Come on in," she said.
"You sure?" he asked.
"I can obviously trust you," she said, an acid tinge to her voice.
"True," he agreed, making her want to scream.
She closed the door and almost immediately, completely on impulse,
unlatched the front of her bikini top. It sprang apart, freeing
her breasts. For the first time in her life she wondered if
they sagged too much. She kept herself from looking down at them.
"What are you doing?" came his hushed voice.
"I promised to show them to you," she said, trying to sound calm and
unruffled. "Besides, I have to take it off to dry and
change.
She started to ask him if he liked them, but suddenly thought that
would sound patently stupid. He was staring right at them.
She tossed him her bikini top.
"Hang that up somewhere for me."
He blinked and caught it.
She went to the sink and got a towel, and began drying her hair.
She looked in the mirror, her eyes darting to see if he was still
looking at her. He was. She felt her belly warm up inside.
"You're teasing me again ... aren't you?" he asked.
Her eyes went to his, in the mirror. She couldn't stop hers from
bounding to the front of his trunks, and she felt an almost palpable
sense of relief when she saw the bulge there. He was obviously
erect.
"Maybe a little," she said, picking up a brush. "But I did promise."
"What do you want, Tiffany?" he asked.
She pulled at the brush, untangling her hair. She saw her breasts
wobble and shake in the mirror. She tried to come up with
something to say.
"I don't know," she finally said. "I think I'm a little confused right now."
"Why?" he asked.
"Most guys would be crawling all over me by now," she said, looking at him in the mirror. "You're not."
"Is that what you want?" he asked. "You want some guy to crawl all over you?"
"Of course not," she said instantly.
"Then why would you do something like that ... show me ... like this?"
She turned to face him. She felt incredibly naked suddenly.
"Look, you seem to think that there's some social barrier between
us. Maybe there is something in the way, but I don't think it's
anything except what's in your mind. Do you like me?"
"Like you," he repeated.
"You know ... want to be around me ... like talking to me ... all that?"
"Yes," he said softly.
"I don't know what I want," she said, frustration creeping into her voice.
She turned around and started combing her hair.
"I like the way you look at me," she said, to her image.
"You didn't like it last night," he pointed out.
"I didn't really mind it all that much. We're supposed to pretend to be angry when a man ogles us," she said.
"Why do you have to pretend anything?" he asked.
"It's complicated," she said. "Some guys ... you don't want them
to look at you. They're not the right guys. But it's
OK for some of them to look. I can't explain it."
"What you're talking about is Bob's theory," he said. "About how
we check each other out, and some of us make the cut, and some of us
don't."
"I guess so," said Tiffany, realizing he'd hit the nail right on the
head. If she found a man attractive, he could look all he
wanted. It was the ones she wasn't interested in that she
objected to. She turned to face him again.
"I think you're right," she said. "I never thought about it like that before."
"So you didn't mind Jeff and Woody and me looking at you ... because we're all acceptable as potential mates?" he asked.
She felt herself blushing. She was standing in front of a man,
almost naked, which was fine, but somehow, when he put it that way, it
seemed so much more intimate.
"I guess so," she said.
"Do you like me?" he asked. His meaning was obvious. He meant it in the same way she'd meant it.
"Yes, I do," she said suddenly.
"Well, that's a start," he said.
"What do you call this?!" she said, holding her arms out, her breasts jutting at him.
"I call that the head cheerleader, shaking her tits at the audience," he said calmly.
"Don't you like it?" she asked, exasperated.
"Of course I do," he said. "But it's not the way to start a relationship."
"Is that what you want?" she asked. "A relationship?"
"Yes," he said softly.
"I thought you wanted to boff the cheerleader!" she said, folding her arms under her magnificent breasts.
"I do," he said. "In the worst way. But that's
different. I haven't met any women like you. You're not a
cheerleader to me." He smiled. "Well, sometimes you
are ... like now. But I can't help but feel like if I tried to do
anything about it ... it wouldn't turn out well."
"Do you want to have sex with me ... or not?" she asked suddenly.
"I desperately want to have sex with you," he admitted. "But
later, maybe ... not now. It's complicated for me too."
"You still think I'm teasing you." she said.
He got a funny look on his face. "Maybe not," he said.
"It's really hard for me to believe, but maybe not. I don't want
to believe you'd do that on purpose ... be cruel, I mean."
"I didn't show you my breasts to be cruel to you," she said, unfolding
her arms. "I said I would, and I did. No, that's not
true. OK, it's partly true. Really, though, I wanted
to see what you'd do if I did it."
"Did I pass some kind of test?" he asked.
"I don't know," she said, turning back to the mirror and brushing her
hair again. "I don't know anything right now. I don't
usually do this. I haven't shown a man my breasts like this for a
long time."
"So it's really OK for me to look?" he asked.
Her eyes went to his in the mirror. "Yes ... it is."
"Good," he sighed. "I like looking."
Tiffany felt more tingles spread from her belly, up to her
breasts. She looked at her nipples, and was surprised to see them
not so flat, like they usually were. They weren't erect, but they
weren't flat either.
"You have to show me your penis, now," she said, amazed that her voice didn't tremble. She felt like it should tremble.
"I don't know," he said.
"You agreed," she reminded him.
"Under duress, as I recall," he said.
"I showed you my breasts," she said grumpily.
"And I thank you from the bottom of my heart," he said, smiling.
"It's not your heart I want to see right now," she mumbled.
"This is just to look ... right?" he asked cautiously.
She turned back to him again. "You didn't attack me, did you?"
"Of course not," he said, sounding injured.
She turned back to the mirror. "If you don't show me your penis,
I'm going to take off my bottoms and come after you," she said, trying
to make a joke.
He moved, and she turned quickly, afraid he was just going to
leave. but he was bent over, his trunks at his ankles, and he
stepped out of them. When he stood, her breath caught in her
throat. It had been a long time since she'd seen a naked,
rigid penis. It wasn't that he was particularly long, or
thick, or anything like that. He was just obviously erect.
And, it was only the second one she'd ever seen in person.
She felt her pussy clench, and felt like she WAS seventeen again.
"Oh," she said, feeling foolish.
"I have to go," he said, somewhat breathlessly.
He scrambled back into his trunks, reaching inside them to pull his
boner up. He came toward her and, to her immense surprise,
she backed up a step, suddenly worried by the tone in his voice.
But all he did was pluck the towel from her hands. He bunched it
in front of his groin and went to the door.
"We're eating supper together ... right?" she blurted, almost in a
panic. Now, feeling foolish for being afraid of him, she was
afraid she might never see him again ... that she'd pushed him too far.
"Yes," he said, not facing her. "Give me half an hour."
"OK," she said, as he opened the door. Her hands
automatically came to cover her breasts as the outside light flooded
through the door.
Then he was gone.
Tiffany looked in the mirror, wondering what had just
happened. It was completely different than she'd thought it
would go, back in the bar. He was completely
different. She realized she was horny. She took off
her bottoms, and went to lie on the bed. Her fingers traced
across her flat belly, pausing to tease her pussy hair She needed
to get this out of her system, before she met him at dinner.
Then, maybe, she could think straight.
Chuck went straight to his room. He dropped his swimming trunks
and masturbated, standing up. It took him less than a
minute, with his eyes closed, remembering what she looked like, to
spurt into her towel. His heart was racing. She
hadn't called him stupid. She hadn't laughed scornfully.
She'd actually shown him her body voluntarily, and had wanted to see
his cock. She wasn't like the others, even if she
tried to act like it. For the first time in a long
time, he thought there might be a chance for him to find something,
with a woman like her. He milked his prick, getting
the last few drops out of it. He wadded up the towel, to
cover his semen, and smelled it. It smelled like her hair.
