Swinging for the Fences

Chapter 33

Christy sank to the air mattress and dried her hair with a towel. I propped my head on my hand and studied her from behind. She didn’t have an ounce of extra fat, and she tanned as easily as Erin or my mom.

It wasn’t fair. I had to eat right and exercise if I wanted to keep my weight down, and I turned pink at the thought of the sun. I had a decent tan, but it had taken weeks, and I still had to use sunscreen if I spent more than a couple of hours in the sun.

Christy finished with the towel and hummed quietly to herself as she ran a brush through her damp hair. Then she began plaiting it into a loose French braid. I watched the play of well-toned muscles in her shoulders and arms.

“It isn’t fair,” I repeated aloud.

She glanced over her shoulder. “What isn’t?”

“You.”

“What about me?”

“That you’re so thin and small and lovely.”

“Skinny and scrawny, you mean? And kind of ordinary.”

I chuckled. “No.”

“I am, especially compared to Wren.”

“You’re prettier than she is. And I like your body better.”

“Thank you. But please don’t compare me to Brooke or Leah.”

“Who?”

“Brooke and Le— Oh. Funny, ha ha.”

“What can I say? I’m not in bed with Brooke and Leah. I’d rather be in bed with you.”

Christy gave an experimental bounce on the air mattress. It creaked softly, even under her slight weight.

“Next week,” I said to her unspoken question. “Trip said it was supposed to be here yesterday, but it’s still at the factory. Evidently, the Fourth of July is a whole week in North Carolina.”

“I don’t mind,” Christy said. “The bed, I mean. Besides, it’s kinda fun. It feels like we’re camping.”

“Yeah, but I can’t tie you to the air mattress and have my way with you.”

“You can’t tie me to anything right now.” She finished plaiting and tied the braid with a blue silk ribbon, similar to the red one we used for the handcuff keys. “I know this sounds horrible,” she continued, “but I’m looking forward to being alone for a couple of days. Don’t get me wrong,” she added quickly, “I love Wren, and Trip’s been much better, but we can’t do… um… certain things when they’re around. You know what I mean.”

“Bo and Luke things,” I said.

“Hmm. I suppose you and Trip could do Bo and Luke things. Hold on, shouldn’t it be the other way around? Bo’s the blond one, isn’t he?”

“I think so. Why?”

“Well, Trip isn’t really blond, but his hair’s lighter than yours. Besides, isn’t Bo the one who always gets them in trouble? And Luke’s the one who gets them out of it?”

“Trouble has a way of finding them,” I chuckled. “But yeah, Bo’s the cute one and Luke’s the smart one.”

“Well, I think you’re the smart and cute one. So you’re definitely Luke. Trip can be Bo. Then you and Trip can do Luke and Bo things.” She frowned in consternation. “No, that isn’t right either. Trip and you can do Bo and Luke things. Ugh! That sounds weird too.”

“What’s it look like?” I teased gently.

“Paul, dear, I know you think you’re being funny, but please stop. Things are supposed to sound a certain way. They have a rhythm. The wiring in my brain has nothing to do with it. Dissonance is just… wrong.”

My eyebrows rose at the big word.

“Consonance and harmony are much better. Besides, I can’t explain why ‘Trip and you’ doesn’t sound right with ‘Bo and Luke,’ but it doesn’t. One’s backward, but they have to match. First things first, last things last.”

I actually understood the Christy-logic, which surprised me. If Trip was Bo and I was Luke, they needed to come in that order. “You and Trip” was the natural way to say it, along with “Bo and Luke.” But the comparisons didn’t agree when she said them naturally and put them together in the same sentence.

“Besides,” she continued, “you started this whole thing. You should’ve said ‘tie you up and fuck you’ things.” She paused for a moment and considered it. “Mmm, that sounds better.”

She rose and carried her towel around the end of the bed, and I lay back to watch her. She’d traded her bikini bottoms for soft cotton panties—she was still on her period—but she was nude otherwise. Her sun-bronzed skin was flawless, and it shone with moisture from her lotion. Her small, firm breasts were as tan as the rest of her, and even her nipples had darkened to the color of chocolate. She realized I was watching her.

“What?” she asked self-consciously.

“Nothing. Just reminding myself how lucky I am.”

She smiled. “Thank you. But that’s my job.”

I kicked off the sheet and exposed my penis. It began to swell with arousal. “Oh, don’t worry,” I said, “I have a job for you.”

“Mmm, my favorite.”

“Speaking of jobs,” I said, “are you okay with this afternoon? You and Trip…?”

She disappeared into the bathroom, hung her towel, and turned off the light. She returned to the bedroom and bent to turn off the bedside light as well. Then she climbed onto the mattress. It creaked as she scooted to my side.

Her skin was warm and smooth, and her hair smelled of jasmine and honey. She kissed my chest, sighed in contentment, and reached for my penis. She stroked it for a moment before she returned to the conversation.

“Of course I’m okay with it. You knew I would be. It’s my favorite thing.”

“Wren was a little worried,” I said.

“Wren? Or you?”

“Okay, you got me. Yeah, I was a little worried.”

“Don’t be. You know me. I love a penis in my mouth. Sure, I’m glad Trip enjoyed it—”

“Three times!” I laughed.

“So sue me. I like sucking dick. Oh, and for the record, I’ve decided to call it that from now on.”

I had an inkling of where she was going with that bit of Christy-logic, too. Either I needed to have my head examined or I was starting to think like her.

“I know how you are with words,” she added. “Penis, dick, and cock. I like penises. And I don’t really care what they look like. Like you are with breasts, the only thing I care is, ‘Can I see it?’ I used to think, ‘Can I touch it?’ but not anymore.”

“Makes sense,” I agreed.

“Some are more attractive than others, but they’re all fun to look at. I don’t want to suck all of ’em, though. I only wanna suck certain ones. Yours, especially, but Trip’s too. Mark’s. I wouldn’t mind sucking Freddie’s, but I don’t think he’s like that. Besides, Rosemary definitely isn’t.”

“No.”

“I’d like to suck the guy in the main camp,” she continued. “You know, the one who noticed we were shaved. The one with the pretty wife and little boy, I mean. Not the old one who scowled at us. Ugh, no.” She shivered with revulsion, although she immediately returned to the young couple. “I noticed how you looked at them, though. You were making a list, weren’t you? People who might want to try swinging.”

“I was,” I chuckled.

“Well, they should definitely be on the list. His wife was interested. In you more than me, but I’m okay with that. Anyway, where was I? Oh, right. Penises. So, I like them all. But some are nice and suckable. They’re the dicks. Then there’s the last kind, The Cock—”

I grinned when I heard the capital letters. I liked being inside her head.

“—and there’s only one of those,” she finished. She answered my unspoken question with a gentle squeeze. “Of course it’s yours. I love everything about him. He’s my favorite penis in the whole world. But he’s a ‘dick’ when I think about him and someone else. He’s a ‘cock’ when you use him on me. Mmm, cock.” She paused to fondle the cock in question, although she turned serious again. “So, that’s what I mean. If I say ‘dick,’ you know I’m talking about someone else. ‘Cock’ means you and you alone. Well, you and him, but you know what I mean.”

“That… actually makes sense.”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I know you think I’m silly and illogical, but I’m not. I’m not like you or Brooke, but I’m still logical.”

“You are,” I agreed.

“I knew you’d see it my way.” She skipped back to an even earlier part of the conversation. “So, yes, I’d be fine if you and Trip do Luke and Bo things to me. That still doesn’t sound right, but you know what I mean.”

I nodded.

“Maybe we should find a better word. Or phrase. Or whatever. How about ‘double-dick things’? No, we can’t say that in public. ‘Double-team’? Obvious. Hmm, maybe… ‘submarine things’?”

I frowned for a moment but then laughed when it hit me. “Because they’re long and hard and full of seamen? Ha!”

“I told you, I’ve heard just about every dick joke there is.”

“Evidently.”

She sighed. “I suppose we need to shorten it anyway. Maybe we can just say ‘sub sandwich.’ That fits with my metabolism. And it’s pretty innocuous, isn’t it?”

“Wow, you’re full of big words tonight.”

“The injections you give me. You have big words in your semen.”

“That must be it,” I agreed dryly.

“Okay, so we’ll call it a sub sandwich. A couple of long, hard dicks, all for me. Mmm, I love the thought of you fucking me while I suck Trip’s dick. Only, I wish you could tie me up too. Not with Trip, though, and especially not with Wren. Oh my gosh, no! But… maybe with another guy?”

She paused to imagine it.

“Mmm, you could take turns using my mouth,” she went on. “Blindfold me and invite your friends. Then you’d make me suck their dicks while you fuck me. Maybe we could put an ad in the back of one of those magazines. You know, something like, ‘Eager young lady seeks dicks to suck. Men eighteen to twenty-five only, please.’ Hold on, do you think we should make it older? Probably,” she said before I could answer.

“The man in camp was older, and he was still cute,” she added. “Don’t get me wrong, I think your dad’s cute too, and he has a really nice penis, but I don’t want to suck it. Sorry. But… um… where was I? The ad, right! So, ‘Eager young lady seeks dicks to suck. Men eighteen to thirty, please. Send application and pictures to Box 69—’ Darn it, I forgot our zip code again. What is it? Never mind, you’ll help me write the ad, won’t you?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“I know you think this is funny,” she said primly, “but I’m serious. Okay, maybe not about the ad, but I like sucking dick. And I need a steady supply. Of semen, I mean. It’s good for my hair. And nails, which need all the help they can get. Besides, it has protein. I need lots and lots of protein. My metabolism, you know. Mmm, and my libido. Sorry, can’t talk now. Need to suck. Cock, I mean. That’s him, in case you weren’t paying attention.”

“Oh, I was,” I assured her. I guided her head to my erection. “Less talking, more sucking.”

“Yeth, thir.”

* * *

Trip and I dressed in work clothes and went to check the road progress on Monday morning. The crew was busy clearing the undergrowth and cutting down trees. They were stacking the larger ones for a logging company to collect, but the saplings, branches, and everything else went into a big wood chipper.

The foreman was happy to see us, which was a welcome change from the man in Knoxville. The road crew wouldn’t have been working without our contract, and they treated Trip like a proper boss. The job site was loud enough that we were standing forty feet from anyone who might overhear us, so the foreman dropped a couple of hints about the camp itself. He was a local and had heard rumors.

“Thought I might check it out,” he added.

Trip deferred to me.

The foreman was in his fifties and seemed genuine. I felt the need to be cautious anyway, since predators and perverts don’t wear signs.

“I’m a good Christian,” the foreman felt the need to explain. He was salt of the earth and spoke with an Appalachian twang. “Church every Sunday. But I don’t pay no attention to what they say about this place. God made us naked in the Garden. If it was good enough for Adam an’ Eve, it’s good enough for me an’ the missus.”

I relaxed slightly when he said the magic word and mentioned his wife. Still, I decided to pass him up the chain of command, to someone with far more experience at separating the curious from the creeps. I pulled out my little spiral notepad, wrote down Susan’s phone number, and tore out the page.

“Call and talk to her,” I said. “She’ll give you the information.”

“Much obliged.” He stuffed the note into a leather wallet that was already crammed full of business cards, pictures, and other scraps of paper. “A’ight, back to business,” he said to Trip. “We’re makin’ good progress here, and we’ll be ready for the trencher…”

* * *

We returned to camp and toured the cabins next. The smaller ones were all occupied, but only two of the larger ones had families in them. The others were probably safe for guests, but Susan had removed them from the rental list, just to be sure.

“I talked to her last week,” Trip said, “and we’re cleared for demo on these four. Oh, I forgot to mention, we’re going to rent a dump truck. The pickup doesn’t carry enough, and we’d spend as much time hauling loads to the dump as we do working. So it just makes sense to get something larger.”

“That’s fine,” I agreed.

“I figured. But I just thought I’d let you know. It’s your company too.”

“Thanks, but… You don’t have to tell me about every expense. Besides, you’re way more frugal than I am.”

He chuckled and didn’t deny it. “Still,” he added, “I like to clear the big expenses with you. Renting is cheaper than buying, but it still costs. We’ll need to rent a backhoe too, with a grapple and maybe shears as well.”

“Are you sure?” I asked. “We’ll need someone to operate it.”

“Nah, I can do it. It’s been a few years, but I learned back when I was working for my uncle. It’s like riding a bike.”

“If you say so.”

“Trust me. Besides, this kind of demo doesn’t need precision. Knock it down, load it in the truck. And a backhoe’ll be a lot quicker than doing it by hand. Speaking of hands, how’s yours?”

“Better. Still weaker than I’d like—”

“It’ll take a while.”

“—but I can work.”

“Uh-uh. Stick to design until you’re a hundred percent.”

“Dude,” I insisted, “I can work.”

“Probably, but no sense risking a permanent injury.”

“You sound like Christy,” I grumbled under my breath.

He laughed. “She’s right. Listen, don’t worry about the demo and other things. The schedule was never set in stone. That’s why Susan’s paying us, to deal with contingencies and other problems. Not that your hand’s a problem,” he added quickly. “It’s just something we have to deal with. So chill out, dude. I’ve rearranged everything to give you time to recover. Spend the next few weeks finalizing all the designs.”

“Roger that,” I said, although I still felt guilty about it. “And thanks.”

“No problem. I lined up a local guy for you to work with. He’ll be the architect of record for our permits. He even knows Joska. Well, by reputation.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. He said he used to work in Charlotte and had an intern who graduated from MIT when Joska was there. He said he talked about him like he was ‘the cat’s meow.’” Trip shook his head in disbelief. “That’s what he said, ‘cat’s meow.’ He’s a character, but his registration’s current, so he can do what we need.”

“Cool.”

“One more thing. You’re officially going to work for him. At least on paper.”

I frowned. “Why?”

“Have to.” He quoted, “Architects may not seal drawings that are not prepared under their direct supervision.” He paused to let it sink in. “The guy made a point to emphasize the ‘direct supervision’ bit. Which means you work for him. And you’ll need to meet with him at least twice a week.”

“Seriously?”

“Yep. I told you, you’ll still be working. Just not manual labor. Anyway, he’ll review your plans. But you need to have them ready in the first place. Can you draw on that little board we gave you? Or do you need a real table and drafting machine?”

I thought about it and came to a difficult decision. “I’ll need a real table if I want to do real drawings. Sorry. I guess that means we buy one here?”

“Are you kidding? No! You’re as bad as Wren.”

“Then… what?”

“We’ll swing by Knoxville and bring yours here. On the way back from Atlanta. Have to take the pickup instead of the Rabbit,” he mused. “Won’t be as comfortable…” He thought of something else and made a sour face. “Won’t be as fast, either. But it’s a whole lot cheaper than the alternative.”

“If you say so.”

He rolled his eyes and pretend-glared. “You balk at a new computer but want to spend a fortune on a new drafting setup?”

“For the record,” I said, a bit stiffly, “I wasn’t ‘balking’ at a new computer. I was defending mine. Besides, you’ve bought new things.”

“Yeah, things we don’t have elsewhere, unless you have a pickup truck and an IBM computer at home. Maybe somewhere else I don’t know about? Your pockets?”

“You know I don’t.”

“But you have a perfectly good table, chair, and machine at home. So we’ll bring ’em here.”

“That’s fine.”

“Make a list of anything else you want me to bring. Pens, triangles, stencils, whatever.”

I nodded.

“Anyway, let’s head down to the houses and take a look there. I need you to start producing drawings. Time is money.”

I climbed into the pickup truck and scowled.

Trip started the engine. “What’s the matter?”

“Now I know how Wren feels when I say, ‘Your wish is my command.’”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. If you tell me ‘time is money’ one more time…”

He laughed, lighthearted and completely unrepentant. “Time is money. So hustle up.”

* * *

We spent the next hour poking around the empty houses down in the main part of the camp. Trip used spray paint to mark an X on things we needed to demolish, while I sketched ideas for turning the houses into modern single- or multi-family rentals. I also had an idea to turn one into a rec center, with a fitness room, sports equipment, and maybe even a small arcade.

“Sweet. I like it,” Trip said when I told him. “Insurance might be an issue, though.” He answered my uncertain frown, “Susan has to carry liability insurance. It costs a fortune. And it goes up with more guests and more risks. Like that commercial kitchen you mentioned for the new clubhouse. She has to be covered if some moron burns himself. The same with fitness equipment.”

“You’re kidding.”

“People sue these days.” He shrugged. “Insurance is part of doing business.”

Susan herself arrived at that point, although she had a new couple with her.

The man was well-built and handsome, probably in his late twenties. He was taller than me, with sandy blond hair, blue eyes, and a dimple on his chin. He looked like he tried to keep in shape but spent too many hours behind a desk. I silently wondered if I’d look like that when I was his age.

His wife was younger by several years and even more attractive. She was average height and a blonde as well, although hers probably came from a salon. Her roots were blonde, but her eyebrows and bush were both dark.

She was one of those women who took great pains to look her best. She’d done her hair and makeup, and her finger- and toenails were painted (red). She wore gold earrings, a gold watch, and gold rings on each hand. None of it was gaudy, though. She reminded me of a younger Caroline Bramwell, the West Virginia inn owner, although perhaps without as many zeroes in her family bank account.

My eyes flicked over the rest of her. Her breasts were full and round, although slightly flat. They sagged a bit, but her stomach was improbably firm—her belly button was almost an outie—and she clearly did aerobics or something else to stay in shape.

To my surprise, her eyes grabbed my attention more than her body did, and I found that I couldn’t look away. They were a pale blue, not quite as pure as Christy’s, but close enough. Her complexion was fairer than Christy’s, and she blushed when she noticed the intensity of my gaze. I wanted to kick myself for breaking the cardinal rule of nudists, but at least I’d been staring at her eyes instead of something else.

Susan saved me from further embarrassment.

“I’ve been looking for you,” she said.

“Well, you found us,” Trip said cheerfully. “What’s up?”

She glanced at the new couple and changed her mind about what she wanted to say. “Do you have time for a quick status report?”

I had to bite my tongue when his expression changed to one that had nothing to do with business.

Susan herself struggled not to laugh. “No, not that kind of report.” She shot a glance at the couple and decided to explain, sort of. “Trip and Paul are normally guests, but they’re doing some work around camp. Sorry, let me rephrase, they’re supervising a major renovation and expansion project.” She gestured at our jeans and work shirts. “That’s why they’re dressed like that.”

The man nodded.

Susan thought of something and suppressed a smirk. Then she said to Trip, “Maybe you and Wren can come by after dinner?”

He shot a nervous glance at me, and Susan decided to add a fig leaf, in case the new couple understood the innuendo for what it was.

“You’re leaving tomorrow, aren’t you?” she said to Trip. “I want to talk about the computer you mentioned. But where are my manners? Trip, Paul, I’d like you to meet Carter and Kim.”

We shook hands and made introductions all around.

“On second thought,” Susan said to the new couple, “do you mind if I borrow Trip for a minute? Well, more like ten?”

“Sure,” Carter said, “no problem.”

Susan smiled her thanks and led Trip toward the house we’d just left.

“So, you’re normally a guest?” Carter said to me.

“Yeah. But she has a pretty big project going on. Trip and I are managing it for her.”

“She was telling us. And… don’t take this the wrong way,” he asked politely, “but aren’t you a bit young for something like this?”

“Yes and no.”

Sandy eyebrows invited me to explain.

“We’re twenty-one, but Trip’s been doing this since he was sixteen. He has a flair for business.”

“And you, what do you do?”

“I do all the design.”

“They’re the college students Susan was telling us about,” Kim said. “You know, the architects.”

“Ah, right!” Carter laughed. “Sorry,” he added to me, “I’m a professional skeptic.”

My eyebrows invited him to explain.

“I’m an attorney.”

“Ah, okay. That makes sense. And it explains your accent.”

“Oh?”

“Southern but polished. You’ve clearly been to college. And you don’t sound quite like the locals, but you’re definitely from somewhere in this part of the country.”

“That’s pretty impressive,” he said. “Can you tell where?”

I winced for show and thought about it for real. I didn’t have Christy’s ear, but I compared him to other people I’d talked to. I kept coming back to when my family had lived in Savannah. And he sounded like Sabrina, Danny’s fiancée. She was from the coast too, although she was cosmopolitan enough that she’d lost most of her accent.

“No clue,” I said at last. “Somewhere on the coast. Not Georgia or Florida. I know those accents. And not quite South Carolina either. So… maybe… North Carolina?”

He surprised me with a laugh. “That’s pretty good. I was born in Wilmington.” He glanced at Kim. “You can take the boy out of the low country, but you can’t take the low country out of the boy.”

She smiled and nodded.

“We moved to Charlotte when I was twelve,” he added.

“So you kept the accent,” I said, “but law school knocked the edge off.”

“You might say that,” he agreed. “How can you tell? Is it just my accent?”

I shrugged. “You haven’t said ‘y’all’ or ‘ain’t’ or anything like that, and you don’t shorten words or drop the G’s.”

“I do sometimes,” he admitted, “but only when I’ve had a drink or two.” He affected a slight drawl, “Or when I want to sound like a fine southern gentleman.”

“Ah, there it is,” I said with a grin. “Your real accent.”

“Yeah. You’re the first person to notice it, though.”

I shrugged again. “I pay attention to words and language. I’m weird, I guess.”

“Not at all. I make a living doing it.” He paused and changed the subject. “Susan said you and your girlfriend are here…?”

“Christy, yeah,” I agreed. Then I decided to explain why I’d been staring at Kim earlier. “Your eyes are like hers.”

Kim blinked in surprise, and her cheeks turned pink again.

“Hers are more blue,” I added, “where yours have flecks of green and gold.”

“Wow, you really are perceptive,” Carter said.

“I’m also weird about colors,” I demurred. “And eyes, obviously.”

“They are beautiful,” Carter agreed. He smiled fondly at his wife. “They were the first thing I noticed about her. Well, her eyes and… you know.”

She turned pinker still, and he smirked for my benefit.

I decided to risk annoying him. “This is your first time at a nudist camp?”

He frowned when he realized he’d made a faux pas, although he seemed genuinely embarrassed instead of upset that I’d called him on it. “How can you tell?”

I hesitated.

“Tell me,” he insisted. “Honestly.”

“We don’t really joke about body parts. Not other people’s, at least.”

“Right,” he said soberly. “Now I know. Low-brow humor. Sorry about that. Thanks for telling me.”

“No problem.”

He considered me for a moment and then said, “We’ll have to get together sometime. Where’re you staying?”

“Not here. Well, not here-here, in the main camp.”

He raised a sandy eyebrow.

“We’re staying in the new part, the Retreat.”

“Susan was telling us,” Kim prompted him. “Remember?”

“Ah, right!” Carter said, although I had the impression that he’d known the name and was simply too polite to correct her when she “reminded” him. Then he frowned and asked her, “Why aren’t we staying there? I thought you booked the nicest room.”

She winced. “I wanted to, but…”

“They aren’t ready yet,” I said smoothly. “We just finished trimming them out last week. They don’t even have furniture yet.”

Carter turned to me. “You said you’re staying there.”

“We are. But we’re sleeping on air mattresses and storing our things in apple crates.”

He laughed. “Ah, right. Got it.”

“So Kim really did book the nicest room available.”

She looked relieved.

“That makes sense,” he said. Then he added, “Sorry if I came across like a prosecutor. I didn’t mean to cross-examine you.”

“It’s okay. You’re a professional skeptic.”

“Yeah, but I try not to do it to people I just met, especially ones I like.”

Susan and Trip returned at that point, and the conversation turned to general pleasantries about camp and the weather.

“Well, we’d better get back to work,” Trip said after a few minutes. “It was nice to meet you,” he said to the new couple. He added to Susan, “We’ll stop by after dinner and go over those figures.”

He didn’t mean to make a pun, but I hid a smile nonetheless. The only “figures” he’d be going over were Wren’s and Susan’s.

We said goodbye and climbed into the truck.

“Damn,” Trip said as we pulled away.

“What?”

He shook his head and snorted in disbelief.

“What?” I repeated.

“You’re one lucky dude.”

“Why?”

“Kim.”

I thought back to the blonde and tried to figure out what he was talking about. “What about her?”

“Susan said that Carter asked about…” He pursed his lips and thought back. “How did she put it? ‘Couples activities.’” He glanced over to make sure I heard the quotes.

“Hold on. You mean… swinging?”

He mimicked a baseball announcer, “A long fly ball to center field… going… going… gone! Home run!”

“Are you serious?”

“Hell yeah, dude! And now I’m mad that we’re leaving. She’s totally hot. And I can’t believe you get to fuck her.”

“Maybe. Besides, it isn’t a competition.”

“Yeah, well, I’d be winning if it were.” He glanced over again. “No offense, but you’ve been totally weird about women lately. I thought it was Christy’s doing, but then Wren reminded me about all the ones you brushed off last year. I thought you might be getting back into the game with Terri or Lily, but… nothing. So, if you don’t mind me asking, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I said with a shrug. “Maybe I’m just ready to settle down.”

He snorted derisively.

“Not like that. I don’t mean monogamy. I just mean I’m done sowing my wild oats.”

“Whatever.”

“Dude, I’m happy with Christy.”

“Yeah, but you still want to be a swinger, right?”

“Of course! But ‘being a swinger’ is different for everyone. Christy and I are figuring out what works for us.”

“Whatever,” he said again, with mild disbelief. “Anyway, you know what Susan was talking about, right? Tonight?”

“Yeah, I kinda figured.”

He nodded. “She wanted me to make sure you’re okay. She said you’re more than welcome to join us, but she wasn’t sure about Christy. Wait, lemme try that again. She wasn’t sure if Christy would want to. She likes Christy just fine.”

“I know,” I chuckled. “I understood what you meant.”

“Whew! Okay. I was worried that I might’ve offended you… or her… or someone.”

“Dude, chill out. Christy doesn’t like being taken for granted. That’s all.”

“No kidding. I mean, who does?”

“Right. So relax. You don’t have to walk on eggshells around her. Just don’t treat her like sex is a foregone conclusion.”

“No chance of that,” he said. “Besides, I’ll be too busy. I thought Susan was kidding about her ‘regular reports,’ but… um…”

“I know about last week too,” I said with a laugh. “I mean, it was pretty obvious when you and Wren came home. You’d had an orgy.”

“You don’t know the half of it, dude.”

“I can imagine.”

“I doubt it,” he said, although he didn’t elaborate. “Anyway, Wren’s keeping me pretty busy now that she’s recovered from school. We… um… also have plans while we’re in Atlanta.” He glanced at me to make sure I was okay with that too. I was. “And now Susan tonight,” he finished. “Sorry if that messes up your plans.”

“It doesn’t,” I said. “Christy and I’ll have a quiet night by the pool. We’ll be fine.”

He nodded in relief. “Thanks. I figured that’s what you’d do, but I didn’t want you to think we were sneaking around or anything.”

“Not at all.”

“I didn’t want you to think I was upset about Christy, either. I’m totally cool with it. Like you said, whatever works for you all. And… um… no offense, but I dunno how much energy I’ll have with all my other, ahem, commitments. But hey, at least you’ll have Kim as a consolation.”

I didn’t point out that he was taking her for granted now.

“That body,” he mused. “I bet she’s amazing in bed. Even if she isn’t, who cares? Right?”

I shrugged and kept my opinion to myself. I wasn’t entirely sure that Carter and Kim were looking for extramarital fun. They seemed like the right type, but nothing in our short conversation had given me the impression that they were swingers. Still, Susan had introduced us for a reason.

Trip changed the subject and put my speculation on hold.

“Back to business,” he said. “I have a list of things you need to do while I’m gone. Start with…”

* * *

Trip and Wren said goodbye and headed to the main camp after dinner. Christy and I sat by the pool for a while and then decided to go for a swim. I walked down the steps like a normal person, while she scampered around to the deep end like a manic water pixie. She dived in and swam underwater to the shallow end. She touched the wall, flipped around, and swam back, still underwater. I knew she could hold her breath longer than I could, but I was still impressed.

She broke the surface almost silently. Then she wiped her eyes and slicked back her hair. After a moment she swam toward me. I was standing in chest-deep water, and I caught her as she drew near. She crossed her arms behind my neck, wrapped her legs around my hips, and grinned impishly.

I was in one of my quiet moods—not a bad one, just thoughtful.

“I like when you’re like this,” she said. “I can read your mind and do all the talking for both of us.”

I arched an eyebrow.

“Your mom said you used to do it when you were little. You wouldn’t talk. You would, she said, but you wouldn’t. I knew exactly what she meant.”

I pretended to think back before I shrugged agreement.

“That’s okay. I know how you are. And I’m in a good mood, so I feel like chattering.”

The sun had sunk below the trees, and it filled the sky to the west with pinks and oranges and purples. The colors seemed to mirror my mood, and I decided that letting Christy chatter was exactly what I needed.

She followed my gaze and sighed happily. “What do they say? Red sky at night, sailor’s delight? We should have good weather for the fireworks. I hope you don’t mind that I want to stay here.”

I shook my head.

“I knew you’d see it my way. Hey, don’t roll your eyes when I say that. I want the same thing you do. Besides, I’m serious, I’m looking forward to a few days without Wren. Don’t get me wrong, I love her, but she’s been so happy lately that it’s driving me crazy.

“I’m really excited for her,” she continued, “but sometimes she’s a little much. Although… I think she’s disappointed that we don’t want to go to Atlanta with them. She has plans. With one of her friends, I mean.” It was her turn to roll her eyes. “One of the ones she tried to set you up with. I don’t know which one, so don’t ask. Besides, there are too many to remember. Ugh. Anyway, she has a new boyfriend. The friend, I mean. Duh, of course.

“Well, the new boyfriend wants to try swinging, although he didn’t call it that. At least, I don’t think he did. Wren didn’t say, but she laughed when she told me about it. Girlfriend exchange or something like that. The friend knew Wren was into that, so…” Christy faded off and turned thoughtful.

“Do you ever feel that sometimes we’re moving away from people?” she said at last. “Not physically, like moving to a new place, but you know what I mean. The closer you and I become, the further we move away from our friends.”

I thought about it and shrugged.

“Maybe you’re right. Not Brooke. I’m closer than ever to her. And Erin. She’s like my new sister. Oh my gosh, I hope she and Leah are having fun. Has your mother had a postcard? Never mind, I’ll ask her next time I see her. Anyway, where were we? Oh, right, moving away. So… yeah. Sometimes I feel like Wren and I are moving apart. Not for real, and not in a big way, but she and Trip have their lives, you and I have ours. Like tonight.”

I nodded.

“We should do this more often,” she said with a smile. “I like doing all the talking. I don’t think I wanna do it all the time, though. Like, when your finger was first broken, and I had to be on top when we made love. That was really fun, but not all the time. I need you to hold me down and fuck me sometimes. Mmm, that sounds fun.

“Unh! What do you mean, ‘Maybe’? Paul Dean Hughes, I don’t think you understand how horny I am. Like, all the time. Especially since we couldn’t do much while I was on my period. You know how I get. I love our morning blowjobs, but I need more.

“Speaking of which,” she continued, “I think you should start going for a run in the morning again. I like when you come home and ‘catch’ me playing with myself. I get so worked up while you’re gone. You probably think I’m crazy, but it’s some of the best sex we have. I know it’s plain vanilla, but I love feeling you come inside me.” She thought of something else and sighed.

“I should probably thank my mother,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t be on the pill if she hadn’t told me to. I can be very stubborn sometimes. Oh, don’t act so surprised. Of course I know how I am. So you’d better be glad my mother’s more liberal than I ever realized. Never in a million years…” She fell silent but then shook herself.

“Anyway, you should thank her. If it weren’t for her, we’d still have danger week. Then where would we be? Exactly. You’d have to pull out and come somewhere safe. And I’d have to worry about my stupid calendar and whether I did the math right. Ugh! No, thank you.

“So, that’s why you should start going for a run again. I want to feel you inside me. It isn’t the same when I suck you off. Don’t get me wrong, I like that too, but it’s better when we make love. Better for me, I mean. Is that okay?”

I nodded earnestly.

“Oh, thank you, thank you. I knew you’d see it my way. Yes, I know,” she said, “you work hard to make me happy too. And I am. Happy, I mean. Mmm, speaking of which, when were you going to tell me about the new couple? Wren mentioned them. Trip told her. Duh. Of course he did. You never said anything, Mr. Talkative. Well? Do you have anything to say for yourself?

“No? I didn’t think so,” she answered for me. “He said the guy’s really handsome. Carter, right? And Kim, his wife. Trip said she’s absolutely amazing. Like, a ten. She’s a blonde, right? With blue eyes, like me?”

I wobbled my head in a close-enough gesture.

“And she has big breasts. Are they big like Lily’s?”

I shook my head immediately.

“Like Terri’s? Brooke’s?”

No, twice.

“Hmm… Who else do we know with big ones? Not like Susan or your mom? No? Okay, then who? Um… Caroline Bramwell? No. Oh, I know! How about Marianne’s? About her size? Right. A little smaller? And not quite as full? Flatter? Right, more like Nikki’s. Oh, please, don’t look at me like that. I know you checked her out. She’s really pretty. Only, it took you a while to notice, didn’t it?”

I blinked in mild amazement that Christy could extract so much information from my expressions, but she read that as well.

“Of course I understand you, Paul, dear,” she said. “I told you, I’m always paying attention. So, what about Carter? What’s his penis like? You aren’t going to make me guess, are you? Of course you are. And yes, I know all about how they change. They look one way when they’re soft and completely different when they’re hard. Some are growers and some are showers. So it probably doesn’t matter what his looks like when it’s soft. Besides, I’ll see it eventually. So, where were we? Oh, right! You’re going to tell me about them.”

She waited.

“I’m serious,” she said after ten seconds of silence. “Tell me about them.”

I did my level best not to grin, but it wasn’t good enough.

“Unh,” she whined. “Tell me, tell me. Please!”

I swallowed to moisten my mouth, and Christy somehow found a reserve of patience.

“Sorry, I was having fun,” I said at last. My voice sounded rusty from disuse. “And you really can read my mind. That should probably scare me—”

“—but it doesn’t,” she finished. “I know. You do the same to me. Like, when I was talking about Bo and Luke, and you knew what I meant.”

I nodded.

“But now you need to talk,” she continued. “For real. About Kim and Carter. I sort of know what they look like, but I want to hear more. Trip just told Wren that they want to be swingers. Did they come right out and ask? Wait, hold on. Let’s go back. Do you want to? Swing with them, I mean.”

I thought about it.

“I’m sure you do, especially if Kim’s as pretty as Trip says she is, but… I’m not so sure anymore. I used to think you weren’t picky, that you’d sleep with just about anyone, but I was wrong. You’re very picky, aren’t you? Well, you are now, with me.” She thought of something and frowned.

“You’ve changed,” she said. “Since we first met, I mean. And especially since we started sleeping together. Is it because of me? Oh my gosh, listen to me! I’m still chattering. I’m sorry. You were saying…?”

I grinned and moistened my mouth again. “Yes, I’ve changed,” I said slowly, deliberately. “But for the better. I’m more relaxed, now that we’re together. I don’t worry as much. I mean, when’s the last time I actually brooded?”

She thought back. “You do sometimes, but you’re right, not as much.” She rolled her eyes and blurted, “Oh my gosh, last year! After you found out Wren and Trip were sleeping together. Remember? You disappeared for, like, a month! And we didn’t know where you were?”

“It was more like a week,” I chuckled, “but… yeah. I remember.”

“I thought you were going to brood forever. And then you started dating her.” Christy scowled at the thought of Gracie, although she brightened immediately. “But that’s all in the past. You’re mine now, thank you very much. Anyway, where were we? Oh, right, you’ve changed…?”

“I have,” I agreed. “And for the better. All because of you.”

She smiled and kissed me impulsively. Then she faux-glared. “Don’t think you can avoid the question. Do you want to? Swing with the new people? And what about me? I… still don’t want to have sex with another man. Do you think Carter’ll be okay with that? Trip sort of is, but not really. He says one thing to you and another to Wren. She says I just need to give him time, but I’m not so sure. Oh my gosh, I’m doing it again! Sorry. You were saying…?”

I chuckled and kissed her. “I love you. Very much. And I can’t imagine life without you.”

“Thank you,” she said, part surprised, part pleased. “I love you too. And I can’t imagine life without you. But you’re stalling.”

“Not really,” I said. “I’m… thinking. The answer isn’t so simple. And… I guess I don’t know. Carter and Kim… They seem like they might be the type, but we won’t know unless we talk to them. And, I’ll be honest, we shouldn’t get our hopes up. Susan said they’re looking for ‘couples activities,’ but we don’t know what that means. Not exactly.”

Christy considered it and then nodded, albeit reluctantly. “I know. You’re right. But… I can’t explain it. I’m… excited. I don’t know why, but I am. Do you want to swing with them?”

“I do,” I said after a moment. “I can’t explain it either, but I like Carter. He isn’t like Will. He’s older, for one, but he also seems to care about Kim. She annoyed him once, while we were talking, but he just smiled and moved on. It was kinda cool.”

“Do you think he’ll be okay that I won’t go all the way?”

“Who knows? We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it—”

“Ugh! You and your words. I don’t think you understand how weird it looks when you say things like that. ‘We’ll cross that bridge…’ That’s what you’re supposed to say. That looks normal. ‘Burn that bridge…’ adds this weird green to your voice.” She stopped and sort of shuddered, a whole-body frisson of rejection. “I can’t believe I’m even talking like this. I never talk about colors and sounds. Not even with my family. But… I’m glad you know. I don’t have to hide anything from you, do I?”

“No.”

She tested it out, “We’ll ‘burn’ that bridge when we get to it.” She wrinkled her nose. “Still weird, even when I say it.”

“Sorry,” I chuckled. “I’ll try to be more considerate.”

“Thank you. But… you were saying…?”

“Yeah. Carter and Kim. I don’t know. I’d like to, but we’ll have to see.” I let my words hang there. Then I glanced up. The sun had finally set, and twilight had spread her skirts over the world. “In the meantime, all this talk of swinging…”

“Mmm, me too. But I want you to make love to me first. Right here, in the water. Then you can fuck me and do whatever you want.”

I kissed her, and she tightened her arms around my neck.

“It’s like you read my mind.”

* * *

Trip and Wren loaded the pickup truck the next morning and left for Atlanta. Christy and I followed in the Rabbit. Trip had offered to let me drive it instead of my Land Cruiser. According to him, it was because the GTI got better gas mileage, but it was a bit of bragging as well. That was how guys kept score, after all. He had a sexy fiancée and a sporty car, and that meant he was ahead. I was happy for him, of course, but I glanced at Christy and decided I’d already won, game, set, and match.

She must have sensed my thoughts, because she smiled at me. An errant strand of flaxen hair blew across her face, and she tucked it behind her ear. She studied me from behind her sunglasses. I tried to look dignified but couldn’t stop grinning. She laughed, so I stuck out my tongue.

Trip interrupted our little game when we reached the main road. He honked the horn, and they waved goodbye. We waved back, and he turned the pickup toward the interstate. I turned the other direction and headed toward the architect’s house.

The man lived at the end of a tree-lined drive, in a white Plantation style mansion. I guessed family money, and probably a transplant from the coast, since that style of house hadn’t been as popular in the piedmont. The locals built their textile mills from red brick, and the wealthy owners tended to follow suit.

“Nice place,” I said as we pulled to a stop in the circle driveway.

“Very southern,” Christy agreed. “Do you think he designed it?”

“No. It’s at least a hundred years old. Not antebellum, though.”

“How can you tell?”

“Lots of little things. Second Empire elements, some early Queen Anne, that sort of thing.”

We climbed the steps to the front porch and rang the doorbell. The housekeeper answered. We introduced ourselves, and she invited us inside. Then she showed us to the parlor and went to fetch her employer.

Granville J. Blair, III, appeared after a suitable interval. He was a distinguished gentleman in his sixties, with thick white hair, an alcoholic’s florid complexion, and close-set eyes. He was a bit of a dandy, too, and wore a light blue monogrammed shirt, a paisley bow tie, and linen trousers, held up by suspenders instead of a belt. When he spoke, he lingered over his vowels and polished them like the family silver.

We sat and chatted about the weather for a few minutes, until his housekeeper returned with a tray bearing a pitcher of iced tea and three glasses. Neither Christy nor I particularly liked tea, but we smiled and sipped politely.

I asked about the house, and Granville gave us the family history instead. His great-several-times-removed grandfather had made a fortune in shipping in Charleston. The sons had been blockade runners during the Civil War, although one of them had been killed during the siege. The other had fled to Barbados and only returned after “Sherman and the Yankees ceased hostilities.”

I didn’t point out that South Carolina had started the war in the first place, and “Sherman and the Yankees” had only finished it. I rolled my eyes instead, which earned a warning glare from Christy. She agreed with me, but that wasn’t the point. Granville was our host, and I should be polite. So I pasted on a smile, sipped my too-sweet tea, and returned my attention to the Fable of the Blairs, Proud Sons of the Old South.

The family had eventually moved upstate, where they’d tried to resurrect plantation life. Granville described it in more genteel terms, but plantations couldn’t function without slaves, and the family had descended into rural obscurity instead.

He never mentioned a wife or children, and I guessed he was a lifelong bachelor. The Blair line would end with him. I couldn’t bring myself to feel sorry. He was a nice man, but a relic of the past. He paused to reflect on it, so I gave him a polite moment and then leapt into the gap.

“The house is beautiful,” I said. “When was it built?”

“What? Oh, 1874. It’s been added to over the years, but it hasn’t changed much since I was a boy. Why, I remember…”

He talked about growing up in the deep south and life before desegregation and the Civil Rights movement. The unspoken message: things were better in the old days, when people respected “social order.” Once again, I kept my opinions to myself.

I turned the conversation to architecture instead. Predictably, Granville talked about himself. He waxed nostalgic about his time in Las Vegas in the fifties, Miami in the sixties, and Charlotte during the banking boom of the seventies. He’d certainly led an interesting life. Still, I had a job to do, so I brought up the reason for our visit, Susan’s project.

Granville had heard of the camp but never been there, although he didn’t seem bothered that a nudist camp existed less than twenty miles from his not-so-humble abode. He looked at my preliminary plans and asked intelligent questions. He wasn’t Joska, but he could’ve been a lot worse.

We eventually decided on regular visits, every Monday and Thursday. He agreed to review my drawings, correct anything he didn’t like, and then sign them for us when we were ready for permits. I suspected he wanted the audience more than anything, since he steadfastly refused when I repeated Trip’s offer to pay for his time.

He launched into another story before I could wrap things up, so we listened as he spoke about politics, religion, and what was wrong with America. In the process, he perfectly illustrated the very best and the very worst of the Old South.

Granville J. Blair, III, was an inveterate racist, and not the garden-variety George Wallace kind. Oh, no, he was the insidious kind. He didn’t wear a white hood or attend Klan rallies, but he talked about “negroes” as if they were children and needed someone to care for them.

He was the least racist person he knew, of course. Why, he didn’t have a racist bone in his body. He employed a Black housekeeper and a Black gardener, didn’t he? He’d worked with Black people for years, hadn’t he? He even boasted about the one time he’d hired a Black man instead of a more-qualified white man. And he hadn’t tried to lynch any of them, bless his heart.

He was a sexist, too. Big surprise. He was automatically polite to Christy because she was a woman. But he didn’t believe that her talent as an artist compared to mine as an architect, or that her career might eclipse mine one day. As far as he was concerned, women needed to be nurtured and protected. It was our duty as men, after all.

On the other hand, he was urbane, cultured, and unfailingly polite. He was also intelligent, well-educated, and open to new ideas in other areas, like the one where the local Jezebel expanded her nudist empire. He talked about “gays” as actual people instead of moral degenerates, and I suspected that he and the liquor store owner were good friends.

He didn’t seem concerned that prayer wasn’t allowed in schools. He didn’t believe that a woman’s right to an abortion might bring about the destruction of the American family. And he didn’t think that life-as-we-know-it would cease to exist if Jews and Muslims practiced a religion besides Christianity. As a matter of fact, he didn’t spout any of the usual Moral Majority nonsense.

In many ways, he was an enlightened man, a civic leader and pillar of the community. But he had ridiculously outdated ideas about race and gender. And I flat-out rejected his belief in the paternal duty of men. Correction: the paternal duty of white men.

He finally wound down around noon. Christy and I bid him a polite farewell and made our escape.

“Wow,” she said as we left the driveway and drove down the tree-shaded lane.

“No kidding.”

“Just… wow.”

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Neither do I,” she said.

“He’s an old-school racist—”

“—and a sexist.”

“But he’s polite—”

“—and intelligent,” she finished.

“Funny—”

“—and really sweet. But a racist.”

“And a sexist,” I repeated.

“Wow,” she said again. “Just… wow.”

We drove in silence for several minutes, and I turned toward town when we reached the main road. Then Christy shivered and tried to shake off the memory of Granville J. Blair, III.

“I need a drink,” she said.

“Amen to that.”

* * *

Unfortunately, we had to run other errands before we could have that drink. Trip wanted me to check on the new patio furniture, which had arrived at the lawn and garden store. The owner was happy to see us, and she scheduled the delivery for later that afternoon.

Then we ate lunch at the corner drugstore, where Christy charmed the woman behind the counter. She recommended the vegetable soup and couldn’t believe it when Christy ate two bowls and two biscuits. Then the woman tried to feed her an entire peach pie. Christy polished off three pieces before she finally said she was full.

“Never in my life…,” the woman said. “And you aren’t as big as a minute.”

“Mmm, I’m as big as a pie now,” Christy said. “Yum!”

“Well, you just come back any time you need more, y’hear?”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.”

The woman shook her head in disbelief and went to pick up another customer’s order.

We stopped at the grocery store next, and Christy helped load the cart.

“I’m still trying to be more domestic,” she announced. Then she gave me a suggestive look.

“Do we need to have a little housewarming party when we get back?”

“Yes, please. I’m feeling peachy, and I need some cream.”

“Ha! Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

We stopped at the liquor store on the way out of town. The owner had our order ready, and we loaded it in the back of the Rabbit. On a whim, I asked if he knew Granville.

“G.B.? Yes, I know him. We grew up together. Why?”

I explained why I was working with him, in very general terms.

“Ah, you’re working for Mrs. MacLean,” the man said.

“Yes. You know her?”

“It’s a small town. Everyone does.”

“But… you don’t approve.”

“I didn’t say that,” he said immediately.

I had a sudden insight and guessed, “You just wish she’d keep a lower profile.”

He gave me a piercing look, which I returned calmly.

“No, of course not,” he said at last. “She can do as she likes.” Then he turned businesslike and smiled. “Anything else?”

I toyed with the idea of telling him that Christy and I were more open-minded than the local yokels, but his sex life was his business, not mine. Besides, how would I like it if someone told me, completely out of the blue, that they were open-minded and didn’t care that I was a swinger?

Instead, I gestured at the two cases we’d just loaded. “Is there a bottle of Jameson in there? The good stuff?”

“No. It wasn’t on the list.”

“Do you have any in stock?”

“Yes.” He sensed it was for Christy and glanced at her. “If you like the Jameson, I think I have something else you might like.” He gestured for us to follow him inside, where he took a bottle from a shelf behind the counter. “The Jameson is matured in first-fill bourbon casks, so you only get hints of the flavor. This is the real thing.”

The stuff had a ludicrous name, Old Rip Van Winkle bourbon, but Christy wanted to try it.

“Well, I guess we’ll take it,” I told the man.

“And the Jameson? So you can compare the two.” He was a good salesman, all right.

“Sure.”

“Put it on your bill? Or pay for it now?”

“How much is it?”

He told me, and I felt the color drain from my face.

“Please, Paul,” Christy said. “I’ll make it worth your while. I promise.”

The man gave me a sympathetic but completely unapologetic look. Score one for the gay man who didn’t need my approval. I chuckled wryly, and he seemed to understand.

“I’ll pay for it now.” I took out my wallet for my credit card and said to Christy, “Trip’d kill me if he saw that on the bill.”

“What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.” Besides, she added with a look, bourbon and penis should go well together.

I snorted a laugh. “Let’s hope you’re right.”

* * *

We returned to the Retreat to find that we had visitors, Carter and Kim. They looked relieved when we pulled up and parked beside the clubhouse. I let my eyes linger on Kim, while Christy studied them both.

“Wow, she’s really pretty,” she said. “Not quite a ten, but her body’s nice. I wish my chest looked like hers,” she sighed.

“I like yours better,” I said. “And not just ’cause I can touch ’em.”

“Thank you.”

“What about him?”

“He’s handsome. They look good together.”

“C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

“We weren’t sure we were in the right place,” Carter said as we climbed out of the car.

“Yeah, sorry,” I replied. “We had to run to town. Groceries and other errands.”

“Want us to help you unload?”

“Sure, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all.”

Christy cleared her throat very softly.

“Sorry,” I said, “sometimes I forget my manners. Carter, Kim, this is my girlfriend, Christy.”

They exchanged greetings. Then Kim offered to help Christy with the groceries. Carter caught my eye and nodded appreciatively. At first I thought it was Trip’s score-keeping, but then I realized it was genuine approval. He was telling me that Christy and I made a nice couple.

“Let me help you with the wine,” he said aloud.

We carried the cases into the clubhouse, and his eyes widened when he saw our bar area.

“This is quite a collection,” he laughed. Then he frowned and glanced at Kim. “Doesn’t the camp have a no-alcohol policy?”

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “I might’ve been mistaken.”

“It isn’t really a policy,” I explained. “Some people frown upon it, but the only rule is to be discreet.”

“Ah, right. That explains why we haven’t seen any alcohol, beer or otherwise.”

“Not out in the open,” I said. “I mean, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a cooler of beer by the lake. Well,” I amended, “you probably will tomorrow night, but that’s because of the fireworks. It’s a special occasion.”

“Makes sense,” he agreed.

“The Retreat is different.”

“How?”

“It’s for adults only. Couples, actually.”

He caught the gist and nodded. “Right.”

“Besides, it’s just us at the moment. Well, us and Trip and Wren, but they’re—”

“Headed to Atlanta? Susan mentioned it yesterday.”

“That’s right,” I recalled.

“You go to school in Tennessee, right? So… why Atlanta?” He opened his box and began unloading bottles, which he stacked in our makeshift apple-crate wine racks.

“Wren’s from there,” I said. “Me too.”

“Really? By the way, this is some nice wine. You have excellent taste.”

“Wish I could take credit for it,” I said, “but it’s all Wren. Well, her and the guy at the liquor store.”

“So,” Carter prompted, “Wren’s from Atlanta…?”

I nodded and told him about the reason for their trip.

“And what about you?” he asked. “Did you grow up there too?”

“Sort of. My family moved there… wow… seven years ago. Doesn’t seem like that long, but… yeah.”

“What about before?”

“Are you cross-examining me again?” I teased.

“Deposing you,” he laughed. “Close enough. Sorry about that. No, I ask because I’m curious. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you don’t act like a guy who’s twenty-one. I thought it might be something in your background. Like maybe you’re a politician’s kid or something like that.”

“No,” I chuckled. “I’m just a regular kid. Well, a regular twenty-one-year-old, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah. Still, you don’t act like I did when I was your age. I was all about parties, getting drunk…” He glanced at Kim and added in an undertone, “Getting laid.” He straightened and continued in a normal voice, “Even in law school, I partied more than I should’ve.” He looked at Kim again, fondly this time. “I didn’t really settle down till we were married.”

“How long ago was that?” I asked.

“Three years. Right after I passed the bar.”

“So you’re… what? Twenty-eight?”

“That’s pretty impressive,” he said. “I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m surprised you figured it out.”

I shrugged. “Simple math. You probably graduated college at twenty-one, law school at twenty-four. Then six months to a year to pass the bar. That was three years ago, so… twenty-eight.”

“Right, it’s simple when you think about it, but most people don’t. Think, I mean.” He considered me for a moment and then nodded. “You’d make a good attorney.”

“Thanks. But I’ll probably stick to architecture.”

“Yeah! It’s a great field. I was just saying, you have what it takes to be good at…” He thought about it and laughed. “Well, anything.” Then he snorted softly, a laugh at himself. “I wish I’d been half as mature at your age.”

“Oh, I’m pretty immature sometimes. Just ask Christy.”

“Kim says the same about me. What’s next?” He closed the empty box and then laughed at my quizzical expression. “Sorry, we’re a little bored down at the main camp. I can’t really blame Kim, because we didn’t know what to expect when we made the reservations, but… How should I put this? The people down there are… older than we were hoping. Or they’re our age, but they have kids.” He shrugged and gestured helplessly. “That’s not what we’re looking for.”

“I get it.” I seriously thought about asking him the real reason they’d come to camp. I had a better sense of him as a person, and I could easily see him and Kim as swingers. But we were still in the getting acquainted stage, so I decided not to rush things. I glanced at my watch instead.

“Have we worn out our welcome?” Carter joked.

“No! Not at all. But I’m supposed to meet a delivery at the gate in about fifteen minutes.”

“Can I help?”

“Not like that,” I laughed.

“Oh, jeez! You’re right.”

“You forget, don’t you?” I said. “That you’re nude.”

“Yeah, you do. Want me to run back to the room? I have shorts and a shirt there. Hey, hon,” he called to Kim, “I need to run to the room for some clothes.”

Kim frowned. She and Christy seemed to be getting along well too, and she clearly didn’t want to leave.

“Why?” she asked.

“Whoa, hold on,” I said before he could answer. “You don’t have to run back to camp. I’ll give you a ride—”

“Why can’t he borrow something of yours?” Christy suggested.

“That’s even better.” I sized him up. “We’re about the same size. Close enough, at least.”

“You don’t mind?” he asked.

“Not at all. As long as you don’t mind.”

“Of course not.”

“Then let’s go,” I said. “Hold on a sec. Hey, girls…? We need to have some delivery guys here. Do you want us to drop you at the main camp? Or stay here and stay out of sight till they’re gone.”

“You have air conditioning here,” Kim said immediately.

“Ha! We do. I’d forgotten about that.”

“Yeah,” Carter agreed. “I never thought I’d miss it as much as I do, but…” He shrugged.

“Oh, I get it. South Carolina in July. Okay,” I said to the ladies, “we should be back in twenty minutes or so. Maybe thirty, if they’re late.”

“We’ll watch for you,” Christy said to me. Then she glanced at Kim, and her eyes flashed playfully. “We can hide out till they’re gone.”

“It’ll be fun,” Kim agreed.

* * *

Carter and I spent the next hour cooling our heels at the gate. I told him more about my own background, and he shared details of his. He’d been born in Wilmington, as he’d said, and his family had moved to Charlotte when he was twelve.

His father was a banker who’d climbed the corporate ladder to become the president of the company. Carter had had an extremely comfortable upbringing, although he’d clearly learned the value of hard work. Case in point, he’d gone to college at Duke on a tennis scholarship.

“I wanted to go pro,” he added, “but I tore a ligament in my knee when I was a junior. Probably the best thing that ever happened to me,” he admitted. “I’d’ve been a good player, but never great. I’m no Marc Flur.”

“Whoever he is,” I laughed.

“All-American last year, just turned pro. He was a few years behind me at Duke.”

“Gotcha,” I said. “And I know what you mean about good versus great. I had wrestling scholarships after high school, but I knew I’d never be in the Olympics.”

“Right,” Carter agreed. “Same here. So, I finished my degree—”

“In what?”

He laughed. “Would you believe… Philosophy? With a minor in French?”

“Actually,” I chuckled, “I would. You seem like the type.”

“It was good prep for law school. Oh, hey! We have another connection. I went to Emory.”

“In Atlanta?”

“Yeah! You and I moved there at the same time. In ’77, right? Too bad we didn’t meet back then. We could’ve hung out and partied.”

“Um, dude…? I was fourteen.”

“Ah, right! It’s easy to forget. You aren’t my age.”

“No.”

“So, when did you first start coming to the Pines?”

“A couple of years before that,” I said. “My family lived in Savannah at the time, and we…”

We talked for another half-hour before the delivery truck arrived.

“About time,” I grumbled.

“Nah,” Carter said. “It’s been fun. We have a lot in common.”

“Yeah, it has,” I said. “And we do.” How much was another question entirely.

“I’ll get the gate.” He hopped out of the car, waved to the delivery guys, and opened the combination lock. Then he dropped the chain and motioned them through. I started to remind him to raise it again, but he was already doing it. He returned to the car and jumped into the passenger seat.

“Did I mention we’ve been bored?” he added with a grin.

The delivery van followed us to the Retreat, and I cautiously edged to a stop by the clubhouse. I didn’t see the girls, but I wanted to give them plenty of time to get out of sight.

“There they are,” Carter said. He pointed at the window in our bungalow, the one Christy and I shared. “I just saw the curtain move.”

We helped the delivery guys unload everything first. Then we unwrapped the padded blankets from four round tables, sixteen matching chairs, and four benches, plus a dozen sturdy lounge chairs and a half-dozen side tables. Carter and I unpacked the boxes of cushions while the delivery guys folded their blankets.

“This is teak,” he said as we placed cushions on chairs. “It’s expensive. When does the Retreat open? Soon?”

“Probably not till next season. Sorry.”

The delivery guys closed their truck.

“Do you need to let us out?” the driver asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “I’ll follow you to the gate.”

“We,” Carter corrected. “I’m coming with you. If you don’t mind.”

“Sure. Let’s go.”

We chatted about Susan’s plans for the Retreat as we followed the truck. I kept my answers as vague as I could, but Carter could tell that I was holding back. He probably knew what, too, but he didn’t come right out and say it. He dropped a couple of hints, though, about how the Retreat was exactly what he and Kim were looking for.

“And you and Christy are the type of people we hoped to meet,” he added. “We’ve only known each other for a day, but we have so much in common…”

“We do,” I agreed. “Would you like to join us for dinner? Nothing fancy, but—”

“We’d love to.” He laughed. “I should probably clear it with Kim first, but… yeah. I think she’d like it too.” He studied me for a moment and then decided to say what he was thinking. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m dying to see what you and Christy look like. Naked, I mean. Or nude. Or… whatever you call it.”

I chuckled. “You’re in for a surprise.”

“Oh?”

“You’ll see.”

* * *

I parked behind the clubhouse and we climbed out of the car. I felt sticky from the heat and dusty from waiting with the windows down. Part of me couldn’t wait to strip off my clothes and jump into the pool, but another part was slightly nervous.

I almost laughed when I figured out why—I wanted Carter to like me. I was pretty sure he’d be okay that Christy and I were both shaved, but stranger things had turned me off. Laughter and shrieks from the pool put my worries on hold.

“What’s going on?” Carter wondered aloud.

“I think I know.”

“It sounds fun, whatever it is.”

We rounded the corner of the clubhouse and pulled up short. Christy and Kim were frolicking in the pool, laughing and splashing each other like kids.

“I think they’ve been drinking,” Carter said. He pointed at the empty wine bottle and two Solo cups on one of the little side tables.

“They’re probably on their second bottle.” I glanced at my watch and counted back. “It’s been almost three hours.”

“You’re probably right. Kim doesn’t get silly until her third or fourth drink. Sorry,” he added, although he followed it with a grin. “Did I mention…? We’ve been a bit bored.”

“Yeah. But Christy doesn’t need encouragement to drink.”

“Ah, right,” he said. “Irish Catholic.”

The girls saw us and stopped splashing each other. They swam to the shallow end of the pool and grinned over the coping like a couple of blonde Kilroys.

“We’re a little drunk,” Kim said. “Just a little. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Carter chuckled.

“You can’t blame us,” Christy said. “You were gone forever. Never mind. Who cares. Come join us.” She kicked away from the side and swam on her back toward the deep end.

Carter’s eyes followed her. Her small, tan breasts broke the surface and glistened in the late afternoon sun, but the water swirled between her legs and made it impossible to tell that she was shaved. Kim must have been thinking the same thing.

“Oh my God, Carter,” she said, “wait till you see her cookie.”

He shot me a nervous glance, but I didn’t react.

“It’s completely shaved.” Kim swallowed hard when she realized what she’d just said, and her cheeks turned pink through her tan. “Whoops. Did I mention… we’re a little drunk?”

“I think we got it,” Carter laughed. Then he glanced at me. “Sorry. I hope you don’t mind…” He gestured helplessly.

“No problem. Besides, she’s right.”

“About what?”

“Christy.” I grinned. “Her cookie.”

“The surprise you mentioned?”

“Yeah. But… um… she isn’t the only one.”

His blue eyes widened but then sharpened into understanding. “Ah, right. You are too?”

“Are you cool with that?”

“That depends,” he said. “Are you hung like a horse?”

“Ha! No, not even close.”

“Okay. Then we’re good. Sorry,” he added. “I know you said not to joke about body parts, but…” He shrugged.

“It’s okay. We’re friends. Besides, I think we’re past that point.”

“We’re talking about dicks,” he cracked. “I dunno what point you’re talking about, but we passed it a while ago!”

“No kidding.”

“Should we join them?” He glanced at me and grinned. “Unless you’re ashamed of your horse-cock.”

“My shaved horse-cock,” I corrected.

“Ah, right. Noted. We don’t have to compare, do we?”

“No,” I chuckled. Then I eyed him sideways. “We’ll let the girls do that.”

“Right! Good idea.”

* * *

Carter did his best not to stare when I removed my boxers and added them to the pile.

“I have to say something,” he said at last. “And I hope you don’t take it the wrong way, but… that’s a lot cooler than I thought it’d be.”

My eyebrows ticked up with surprise.

“Yeah, I know,” he added, “most guys don’t talk about another guy’s dick, but… come on! We’re at a nudist camp, right? Besides, we’re the only ones here. Who’s going to object if I comment on another guy?”

“Not me,” I said laconically.

“Right. Hey, hon,” he called to Kim, “have you seen this? Oh, jeez! Sorry,” he said to me. “I didn’t even ask. I’m still learning the etiquette.”

“It’s all right.”

“I just wanted Kim to see. Sorry if that seems a little weird.”

“Not really,” I said. “Besides, I’m the same. I checked you out when we first met.” I shrugged. “We’re guys. It’s what we do.”

“Right! I’m glad you’re cool with it.”

“Yeah, definitely.”

“Are you guys coming in?” Christy called from the pool.

“’Cause if you aren’t,” Kim added, “would you get us more wine?”

“Oh, and… um… Paul?” Christy said. “I know I should’ve asked you first, but I invited them to dinner. What’s so funny?”

“He invited us too,” Carter said before I could answer. Then he turned to me. “We don’t want to intrude. We can eat back at the main camp if it’s too much trouble.”

“Nonsense.” “No, stay!”

He chuckled. “Wow, it’s unanimous. Is that okay with you, hon?”

“Only if you come swimming first,” Kim said.

“And you have to bring more wine,” Christy added, although she thought about it and frowned. “Only, I’d better stop. Drinking, I mean.”

“Why?” Carter asked.

“I can’t make dinner if I’m tipsy. I probably could, but no one would want to eat it.”

“I can do it,” Carter said. “As a way to say thanks for letting us intrude.”

“He’s a really good cook,” Kim said to Christy.

“You don’t have to do that,” I told him.

“Ah, but I want to,” he said. “The girls’re having fun. Why make ’em stop? You and I can handle dinner, can’t we?”

“Sure.”

“Besides,” he added, “it’ll give us a chance to talk.”

About what? I wondered, although I didn’t let it show on my face. “Sounds good,” I said aloud.

He flashed perfect white teeth. “Awesome! Come on, let’s see what we want to cook.”

“Unh,” Kim whined convincingly. “You said you’d come swimming.”

“And bring more wine,” Christy added.

Carter and I exchanged a grin.

I glanced at my watch and said, “It’s a little early for dinner anyway.”

“Right. I’ll get the wine,” he said. “You have a preference? Red or white?”

“Not really.”

“Probably red,” he said. “It should pair well with whatever we decide for dinner.”

“Oh, I should warn you, Christy doesn’t eat beef or pork.”

He adjusted quickly. “Ah, right. Vegetarian? That’s a challenge, but I think I can manage it.”

“Not vegetarian, but close enough. She eats chicken and fish. It’s a Buddhist thing.”

“But… you said she’s Catholic.”

“It’s complicated. She’s complicated.”

“Clearly. But worth it.”

“Yeah, she is. In more ways than one.”

“I’ll grab the wine,” he said with a confident grin. “You join the girls.”

* * *

We spent the next hour relaxing and getting to know each other.

“Both my grandfathers were lawyers,” Christy told Carter. “Well, sort of. One was a judge and the other was a politician, but they started as lawyers.”

“So you grew up around the law.”

“Not really. They both died before I was born.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said. “What about your father? He didn’t study law?”

“Oh my gosh, no. He’s in the Navy.”

Carter’s eyebrows rose in mild surprise. He obviously thought she meant a sailor.

“He’s an admiral,” I said.

“Right! Of course! I should’ve known. And your brothers? Paul never said how many, but it sounded like several.”

“Five,” she said.

“Wow, seriously? Cool. What do they do?”

“They’re in the military too.”

“Mostly the Navy,” I chimed in, “but one’s a Marine.”

“Two,” Christy said immediately.

Carter noticed my surprise but didn’t pry. “What about you?” he asked instead. “Why aren’t you in the Navy? It seems like the family business, on both sides.”

“I thought about it, but… I— we want something different.”

Christy smiled and laid her hand atop mine, supportive and possessive at the same time.

“What about you?” I asked Carter. “Any brothers or sisters?”

“One…”

His younger brother was an even brighter star, and Carter was understandably proud of him. He’d gone to Columbia instead of Duke and had just finished his MBA at Wharton. He was planning to go into finance, probably back in New York City.

“Very cool,” I said. “And it’s another thing we have in common. One of our friends is going to Columbia. In the fall.”

“I think he’ll like it,” Carter said.

“She,” I corrected, and Christy nodded.

“My apologies. I just assumed…” He glanced at Kim and winced theatrically. “You’re always telling me, aren’t you?”

“You didn’t know,” she said.

I let him off the hook by changing the subject. “What about you?” I asked Kim. “Any brothers or sisters?”

She was an only child, and she’d grown up in a suburb of Charlotte. Her father was old money, very traditional, she said. He was the general manager of a country club that his grandfather had founded.

She and Carter had met while she was still in college. They’d been set up on a blind date by mutual friends, and the rest was history. She’d worked at the country club for a while but had recently taken a job in a bank, as a lending agent for a Savings and Loan.

“What do you do for fun?” Carter asked. “I mean, I know you’re in school, but you obviously work out.”

“Yeah. I used to do judo, but I don’t have time since we started ballroom dancing.”

“Wow! That’s cool. We should do that. What d’you think, hon?”

“I’d love it!” Kim said in surprise.

“What about you?” I asked him.

“I still play tennis when I can. I need to join a gym or something. I just don’t have time. Not with work.”

“Do you play too?” I said to Kim. “You must do something to look like you do.”

“She does aerobics every day before work,” Carter answered.

“I’d go on the weekends too,” she added, “but Carter likes me home.”

“When else do I get to enjoy your body?” he said. “Besides, I don’t want you to look like an East German swimmer.”

“Oh my gosh, no,” Christy agreed. “Some of those women are scary.”

“Some of those women are men,” he joked. Then he glanced at me and tossed his chin toward the clubhouse. “Ready to start dinner?”

“Sure.”

We opened another bottle of wine for the girls and one for ourselves in the kitchen. Carter looked through the fridge, checked the cupboard, and then went looking for spices. In a matter of forty-five minutes, he whipped up an amazing dinner of chicken and mushrooms in a white wine and cream sauce. He served it on a bed of linguine with a tasty spinach salad. I helped make the salad, but he did all the rest.

“I’m sorry it wasn’t fancier,” he said afterward. “I’ll do better next time.”

“It was delicious!” Christy said. “Is there any more?”

“Have I mentioned her metabolism?” I chuckled.

“Now I’m jealous,” Kim said. “You ate more than the guys, but you’re so tiny.”

“I suppose,” Christy said. “But I have to eat six or seven times a day.”

“She ate a decent lunch, but she usually has an afternoon snack,” I added. “That’s why she’s eating everything in sight now.”

“I am not ‘eating everything in sight,’” she grumped. “Besides, Mr. Meanie, it’s really good. Is there any more?” she repeated hopefully.

“Absolutely,” Carter chuckled. He extended his hand for her plate, disappeared into the clubhouse, and returned with the last of the linguine and chicken.

“Yum,” Christy said as he set it in front of her.

“I can throw together something else if you’re still hungry,” he said.

“Can we keep him?” Christy asked me. “Please, please? He can live in my studio. I swear I’ll take care of him.”

Carter laughed and accepted the compliment. “That’s very flattering. Bon appétit.”

“Mmm, merci beaucoup.” She dug in.

“You speak French too?” he said in surprise.

She shrugged. “Only a little,” she added after she finished chewing. “I spoke it for a few months with one of my friends.”

“When?” I asked in surprise.

“When we lived in Georgetown. I thought I told you.”

I shook my head.

“Oh. Well, my father worked with the French Naval Attaché. I went to school with his daughter, and we used to play together. So I learned French.”

“Hold on, you just learned French?” All of a sudden I recalled when she’d lived in Georgetown. “Wait, how old were you? That must’ve been first grade, right?”

She nodded but then silently pleaded with me to change the subject. I tried to figure out why, until it hit me, her chromesthesia. In addition to everything else, it probably made learning languages easier, which also explained why she spoke Japanese so well. Carter followed the entire exchange, although he was polite enough to let it go.

“I can probably make dessert,” he said instead. “You have everything for Bananas Foster.”

“Oh, please, please, Paul. Can we keep him? Can we?”

“Now you see why I have to do aerobics every day,” Kim said. “I’d gain a hundred pounds if I didn’t.”

“Can’t have that,” Carter agreed. Then he leaned over and kissed her. “I’d still love you, mon petit chou.”

“Aww.” Christy smiled as she watched them, and her hand found mine.

“Right,” Carter said to me. “Are you ready to learn how to make Bananas Foster?”

I blinked.

“Come on, it’s easy.”

“Oh my gosh, Paul, please! I’ll love you forever. I promise.”

* * *

We lingered over dessert, and then Carter asked me to help him clean the kitchen. He even seemed to enjoy it, which was a nice departure from Trip’s usual attitude about “women’s work.”

“Are you a bourbon man?” he asked when we finished.

My forehead creased. “No, why?”

“I noticed the bottle earlier.” He nodded toward the liquor crate. “Old Rip Van Winkle. It’s really good stuff. Pretty uncommon, so I thought you might be an aficionado.”

“No, that’s for Christy.”

“I thought the Jameson was hers. I mean, it’s Irish.”

“Oh, it’s hers too,” I chuckled. “She likes to try new things. New flavors, especially.”

His sandy eyebrows ticked upward, but he didn’t say anything.

“Do you want to try it?” I asked, another hint.

“The bourbon? Sure. I think Kim would like it. Let’s get some glasses for them too.”

Kim did indeed like it, and Christy absolutely loved it.

“Oh my gosh, remind me to thank the man at the liquor store.” She moistened her lips and glanced at me, and I had to bite my tongue not to laugh. She was wondering how the bourbon would taste with her favorite swizzle stick.

Carter caught the exchange and shot me a grin. I half-expected him to say something suggestive.

“That was excellent,” he said instead. “Thank you very much. But we shouldn’t drink all your liquor. Switch back to wine? Maybe we can run into town on Thursday,” he added. “I need to restock your supply after tonight.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” he said. “That’s what friends do.”

“Then I’ll say thank you.”

We spent the rest of the evening drinking and talking and occasionally swimming. Kim got a little drunk for real, which made her giggly and affectionate. She was horny as well, and she started dropping hints about swinging. It was a good opening to talk about it, but Carter grew annoyed, although he was sober enough to keep it in check.

I thought he might snap at Kim, but he handled her well too. He leaned over and said something in her ear. His expression was pleasant enough, but she reacted like she’d been slapped. Her cheeks turned pink. I thought she was embarrassed, but her chest flushed too, with unmistakable arousal. She gave him a look that I’d seen from Christy too many times to miss—Yes, sir.

“Are you about ready to go back to the room?” he asked, although his real question was clear. Was she ready to get fucked?

She inhaled sharply and nodded with another “yes, sir” expression.

“I’ll give you a ride,” I suggested.

“Thanks, but I’m sure you’re tired too. We can walk.” He stood and pulled out Kim’s chair. She rose and swayed unsteadily.

“It’s almost a mile,” I said. “In the dark. And you’re both wearing flip-flops.”

He considered it and then said, “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all.” I glanced at Christy. “Come with us?”

“I’d love to.”

“I’ll get the keys.” I grabbed the ones for the Land Cruiser, since its back seat was bigger. “The Volkswagen is Trip’s,” I explained a little lamely. (Okay, so maybe I wasn’t immune to the lure of a cool car after all.)

“No, it’s all right,” Carter assured me. “This is much easier.” He helped Kim into the back and then climbed in after her. She sat beside him instead of sliding to the other side. He arranged his towel to cover his lap.

I suppressed a grin and spread mine across the driver’s seat and into the middle. I helped Christy up and then playfully swatted her bottom. Carter’s eyebrows rose with interest, although he didn’t say anything.

We drove to the main camp in a silence that swelled with sexual tension. I imagined having sex with Kim if they really wanted to try swinging. Did she enjoy giving head? Spit or swallow? Did she like it rough? Was she quiet or a moaner? Did she come easily or would I have to work for it?

My dick twitched at all the images running through my head. Christy looked at me, and I glanced down. She moved her hand and began teasing my cock with her fingertips. It filled with blood, and she began stroking it.

Kim giggled and whispered something to Carter. I watched in the rearview mirror as discreetly as I could. She said something else, and he kissed her. Then she shifted in her seat. Her arm moved, and I could easily imagine what her hand was doing under his towel. He pushed her away, gently but firmly. She reacted with a sigh of arousal and another “yes, sir” look.

We coasted down the hill into the main camp. I rolled past the clubhouse, turned around, and drove back to the first motel building. The engine slowed to an idle as I held my foot on the brake. Christy pulled her hand away from my erection, but I stopped her with a slight headshake. She put it back. Then the dome light came on as Carter opened the rear passenger door.

“Thanks for the lift,” he said.

I caught a brief glimpse of his erection as he hopped to the ground. It wasn’t enough to see how big he was or anything else, except that he was hard. He moved his towel to hide it and then helped Kim out. Some part of me hoped he’d glance through the open passenger window and see that I had an erection too, but he looked at me over the seat instead.

“You wanna hang out tomorrow?” I asked.

“I was hoping you’d ask. We like the pool more than the lake. And the company, of course.”

“Same here,” I agreed.

“Then we’ll see you tomorrow. What time?”

I glanced at Christy and grinned. “I usually go for a run in the morning—”

She closed her eyes and imagined my return.

“—but any time after that,” I finished.

“After breakfast?” he said.

“Ten o’clock?”

“Perfect,” he agreed. “We had fun tonight. Thanks again.”

“Us too.”

We said goodnight, and they went inside. Coincidentally, they had the same room that Christy and I had shared when we’d come for Gunny’s funeral. She must have been thinking the same thing.

“That was the first time we slept together,” she said. “Not for real, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah. I still didn’t get a blowjob, though.”

“I wanted to, but…” She sighed. “I was still trying to be a good girl.”

“What about now?”

“I’m definitely naughty.”

“So… about that blowjob?”

“You read my mind.”

I chuckled and guided her head to my lap. I thought I saw a movement out of the corner of my eye. And when I looked, I realized it had been the curtains in Carter and Kim’s window. So they’d seen Christy’s head disappear into my lap. I chuckled again and took my foot off the brake.

Christy sucked my cock during the short drive back to the Retreat. I parked behind the clubhouse and slapped her ass, harder than before.

“Out,” I said. “I wanna fuck you.”

“Yes, sir.”

My erection bobbed gently as we walked across the patio. My first thought had been our bedroom, but then I had a better idea. Christy squeaked in surprise as I grabbed her and roughly bent her over one of the tables. I set my cock between her thighs and slid it through her damp channel. Then I pulled back and angled my hips, and the head slipped inside.

I held her narrow waist and slammed into her. She gasped, and I had to close my eyes at the sudden onslaught of heat and moisture. I began fucking her when I could think again. She stretched out her hands and tried to brace herself as I pounded her from behind.

I slowed down after a couple of minutes. Then I grabbed a handful of hair and pulled. She cried out and arched toward me. The temperature in her pussy shot up. On a whim, I grabbed her throat and squeezed. A flood of moisture met my next thrust, and she stiffened with a mini-orgasm.

I kept right on fucking her, and she rewarded me with a real orgasm, the kind that made her pussy clamp down in a futile attempt to hold my cock in place. I continued thrusting, although the heat and tightness quickly pushed me toward the edge.

I tried to hold back as long as I could, but her pussy felt too good. I slammed into her so hard that the table slid several inches across the concrete. I arched my own back and cried out as I emptied my balls deep inside her.

I eventually came to my senses and realized I was still holding her hair and squeezing her throat. She could breathe, barely, but her face had turned red. I released her, and she gasped and shuddered and collapsed onto the table. Then I felt another wave of heat and moisture in her pussy. Her orgasm hadn’t subsided at all!

My cock was still hard, so I grabbed her shoulders for leverage and forced it deeper. Her skin was hot to the touch, and she cried out as another wave of ecstasy swept over her. The intensity surprised me, but then I realized that I’d hit that secret spot, deep inside her.

She stopped moving altogether. She didn’t even breathe. I knew what to expect but still had to resist the urge to panic. A minor eternity passed before she gasped and began breathing again. She swallowed to moisten her mouth.

“Are you okay?”

She lay there in a semiconscious stupor.

I started to pull out but stopped when she moaned.

“M’okay,” she said at last. “Jus’—” She shuddered with an aftershock. “Very tingly.” She laughed weakly. “And very— oh my gosh— very sensitive.” She waited a moment longer to catch her breath. Then she closed her eyes and moistened her lips. “You can— pull out— now.”

I did it as slowly as I could, but she tensed up and gripped the edge of the table like her life depended on it. She was panting from exertion when I finally stepped back. My cock glistened in the sodium glow from the lamp over the clubhouse. After a moment Christy struggled to push herself up.

“Want some help?”

“No, I can— Um… yes, please.”

I gently helped her stand, but she threatened to collapse, so I swept her into my arms. She wrapped hers around my neck and closed her eyes as another aftershock rippled through her.

“Oh my— gosh,” she whispered. “It’s still— going.” Her nostrils flared as she tried to get her breathing under control. Then she thought of something and frowned.

“What’s the matter?”

“Blowjob. You said—” She swallowed again and waited until she could speak normally. “You said you wanted one.”

“I did. But that was before. I changed my mind.” I grinned smugly. “Maybe you noticed?”

“Unh, no fair. I wanna taste you.”

My eyebrows twitched in surprise and amusement. She thought of the damnedest things sometimes.

“As soon as my pussy stops tingling.” She scowled again, playful this time. “Then you owe me. Only, can I have a snack first? I’m feeling a little dizzy.”

“Absolutely!” I turned toward the clubhouse instead of our bungalow.

“And then the semen you promised me.”

* * *

I fed her raisins to get her blood sugar back to normal. Then I sliced an apple, cored it, and covered it with peanut butter. She chewed in grateful silence and began to look more human. And when she finished, I moved to pick her up to carry her to bed.

“I’m not an invalid,” she protested. “It was only an orgasm.”

“‘Only’ isn’t the word I’d use to describe it.”

“Fine. It was a super-orgasm, a big kahuna, the best. But I can still walk.”

“Okay,” I agreed.

She moved slowly but under her own power back to the bungalow.

“Do you mind if we shower before bed?” she said. “And then I have a date with Mr. Big.”

“Shower first. We’ll see about the rest.”

I turned the water on full hot. I preferred my showers a little cooler, but Christy liked them scalding. I helped her into the tub and then prepared to be parboiled.

“Thank you,” she said as I closed the curtain behind me. “You always take good care of me.”

I lathered her hair and washed away the chlorine and sweat. Then I did the same to her body. Once again, I marveled at how lean and muscular she was. She still had curves and a little extra padding in the right places, but not much.

“How much do you weigh?” I asked suspiciously.

“A hundred pounds?”

“Liar,” I chuckled. “How much? Really?”

“Ninety-seven. But I did weigh a hundred.” She looked hopeful before her expression fell. “Only, I lost a couple of pounds while I was working on my project. Someone didn’t feed me enough.”

“I’ll have a talk with this someone,” I said gravely.

“It was Nikki’s fault.”

“Mmm.”

“It was.” She took the soap and began lathering my chest.

I let her wash me in silence.

“Do you ever wish I was normal?” she said eventually.

“Nope.”

“Never?”

“Never.” I slid past her and stepped under the scalding spray. I rinsed as quickly as I could and then gasped, “How do you stand that?”

She shrugged. “I just do. I get cold at night.” She smiled up at me. “But you keep me warm, inside and out. Mmm, speaking of warm…”

“Hold that thought,” I chuckled. “I know how you are after a hot shower. You’ve also had a long day and a major orgasm.”

“So? I still wanna suck you. You promised!”

“In the morning.”

She pretend-glared, but I didn’t relent.

“Trust me. You won’t last five minutes once you finish your hair.”

She didn’t even last that long. She started yawning almost as soon as we toweled dry and released a cloud of steam into the air-conditioned bedroom. She did manage to put lotion on her skin, but she didn’t do her face or her hair. Instead, she crawled onto the air mattress and mumbled something about finishing later.

I reached over her and turned off the bedside light. Then I pulled the sheet over us. She sighed happily and snuggled into my arms when I wrapped them around her. Her breathing settled into a deep, slow rhythm. I lasted a bit longer, but then Hypnos cast his spell over me as well.

* * *

I woke up some time in the middle of the night.

Christy kissed my chest and sighed. “I told you,” she said after a moment. She stroked my hard-on, in case I didn’t know what she was talking about.

“You were serious?” I said groggily.

“I’m always serious about fellatio. Sorry. Only, I’m not. I couldn’t sleep. And it didn’t seem fair that you could, so… I took matters into my own hands. At least I waited for you to wake up. Before I started, I mean.”

“Very considerate.”

“And now that you are…” She tugged the sheet aside and planted a line of kisses down my stomach. Then she licked a drop of pre-come. “Mmm, leakage. Only, you have to promise not to go back to sleep when I finish. I’m serious, I want to talk.”

“Will do,” I said with more conviction than I actually felt.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

She planted a wet kiss on my glans. Then she swirled her tongue around the ridge. “I’m going to hold you to it.” She didn’t wait for my answer before she started sucking.

I came a lot quicker than I thought I would, especially considering I was half-asleep. Christy didn’t seem to mind. She swallowed and then kept sucking until my eyelids started to droop.

“I’m fadin’ fast up here,” I said.

“Uh-oh. I have to go, Mr. Penis,” she told him.

I chuckled and caressed her hair.

“Don’t go anywhere,” she added. “I’ll be back.” Then she scooted up and settled by my side.

I yawned and hoped the extra oxygen would help. “Okay,” I said at last, “what d’you wanna talk about?”

“Are you sure you’re awake?”

“Awake enough.” I took another deep breath and forced myself to focus.

“Better,” she said. “And… thank you. I know you’re tired, but I woke up and couldn’t go back to sleep.”

“Why not?”

“I was thinking. About Kim.”

“Oh, her.”

“Oh, her,” Christy mocked. “I’m serious, Paul. I never got a chance to tell you what we talked about. By the way, it’s a good thing the delivery men were late. It gave us time to talk. She’s really nice. I like her.”

“Me too.”

“I’m sure you do.”

I chuckled.

“Sometimes I wish I looked more like her.”

“I don’t.”

“I know. You tell me all the time.”

“Because it’s true.”

“Thank you.” She kissed my chest and sighed.

Part of me still wanted to go back to sleep, but I knew better than to try. Christy was stubborn and persistent enough that she’d wake me again. So I stifled a yawn, rubbed her back, and bided my time.

“Thank you,” she repeated. “I don’t know what you just said to yourself, but I’m sure it was about me.”

“It was.”

“Good, I hope.”

“Mmm hmm. I know how you are.”

“You do. And that’s what I love best about us. Yeah, the sex is amazing, and I love when we create things together—art, I mean—but the best part is that you understand me. Better than anyone. Better than Brooke and Laurie. Combined.” She trailed her fingers over my balls and then fondled my cock. “Much better.”

“I know. And I’m glad.”

“Me too.”

“Sorry, Mr. Penis,” she said after a moment. “The grown-ups need to talk. Go play with the twins.”

I snorted a laugh.

“Now, where were we?” she continued. “Right, Kim. She likes you too. But she’s nervous.”

“Makes sense. Anything specific?”

“Well, they want to try swinging, but it’s more than that. She doesn’t have much experience. With men, I mean.”

My forehead wrinkled. “But… she’s married.”

“Oh, sorry! She has plenty of experience with Carter, but she’d only been with one guy before him. Her parents were really strict. She didn’t lose her virginity till she was twenty.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said.

“I was eighteen, thank you very much. Besides, I did a lot before that. She didn’t.”

“Okay,” I said slowly.

“She wants to make him happy. Carter, I mean. That’s why she wants to try swinging.”

“This won’t work if she’s only doing it for him,” I cautioned.

“Oh, no! She wants to do it too. She thinks you’re sexy. And she wants to see what she missed by not sleeping with more guys. I told her you’re only the second guy I slept with, but she isn’t like me. Well, she is, but she isn’t, if that makes sense.”

“It does,” I chuckled.

“She’s like me in one way,” Christy said, soft and tempting. “She likes giving head. We talked about it. She’d never done it before Carter. He taught her everything. He’s a lot like you, by the way. It’s his favorite thing. Even more than sex, she said.”

“I’m not surprised. He seems like the type,” I added. “He likes to be in control.”

Christy snorted affectionately. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black.”

“Yeah, I know. But… I think he gets off on it, if that makes sense.”

“It does. And it makes even more sense from what Kim told me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. He likes to tell her what to do. And he likes watching. Sometimes he’ll tell her to get dressed up so he can take her to a bar. Only, he won’t sit with her. He’ll watch her flirt with other guys, the ones who buy her drinks. Then he’ll come and hit on her like any of the other guys, only he’s the one who picks her up. They have wild sex afterward. Only, now he wants to watch her have sex for real. He’s really picky about the guy, though.”

“Who wouldn’t be?”

“You don’t understand, it’s more than that. He wants a guy with a big dick. No, a big cock.”

My eyebrows rose, and it was my turn to snort. “He’s going to be disappointed.”

“I don’t think so. You’re pretty big, but I know you’re self-conscious about it. You shouldn’t be,” she assured me. “Like me and my chest,” she added with a soft laugh. “I’m totally self-conscious, but only ’cause I know how much guys care about that sort of thing. Me? Personally? I like my breasts. I think they’re cute and perky. But sometimes I still wish they were bigger, more like Kim’s. Or maybe Brooke’s. No, like Terri’s! Oh my gosh, hers are perfect.

“Anyway, where was I?” she continued. “Oh, right. Kim. And your penis. She asked a bunch of questions. How long? How thick? Straight or curved? Stuff like that.” All of a sudden she laughed. “She was really surprised when I took out my sketchbook and just showed her.”

“What’d she think?”

“Oh, Paul, guys care more about penises than we do. I’m sort of the exception, and Kim isn’t like me that way. She’s more normal. She doesn’t care about size or shape or any of that. She was asking for Carter. And she said you’re exactly what he wants, big but not a ‘horse-cock.’ I swear, that’s what she said.”

“Seriously?”

“He doesn’t want to hurt her. He just wants a guy who’s bigger than he is. Oh, and for the record, she says he has a nice penis. It isn’t super-long or anything, but it’s really thick. And he keeps her very happy with it.”

I nodded and then asked, “What about her? What does she want?”

“She just wants to make him happy. But she was definitely excited when I told her you’re good in bed. I think they’re a lot more like us than we realized.”

“Sounds like it,” I agreed.

“Oh, she also said he wants to take pictures. Of her and me. Doing normal things, not sex,” she added hastily. “Like glamour shots.”

“Only… nude.”

“Of course.” She felt my reaction. “Yeah, that’s what I thought too. What happens if someone else sees them? Or someone takes the negatives? Or he makes copies and gives them to his buddies?”

“I… don’t think he’d do that,” I said after a moment.

“I don’t either. And… I’ve been thinking. I wanted Polaroids for us, but we were doing naughty things when we took them, things we really don’t want other people to know about.”

“Exactly.”

“But nudes are different,” she said. “I’d still be embarrassed if they got out, especially if my family ever saw, but…” She thought about it and shrugged. “Most of our close friends are nudists anyway. And… I don’t really care if other people see me. I sort of do, but not really. I’m not beautiful like Brooke or sexy like Kim, but I think I have a nice body. Small, and maybe a little scrawny, but still nice.”

“It’s very nice,” I told her. “And you’re prettier than Brooke. Sexier than Kim, too.”

“Thank you, but—”

“You are to me, and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you,” she said again. Then she paused to work up her courage. “So… you wouldn’t mind if Carter takes nude photos?”

“What do you think?”

“I… think I’d kinda like it. I like Kim. She’s really pretty. And… I can’t explain it, but I trust Carter. Something about him…” She trailed off and thought about it. “He reminds me of you. Not physically or anything, but the way he treats people. He’s respectful. I think he respects women too. Yeah, he likes to be in control, but he asked Kim if she wanted to do this. Swinging, I mean. She said they talked about it a lot before they agreed to try. That’s when they found the Pines.”

“Speaking of which,” I said, “how did they learn about camp? The swinging part, at least. Susan doesn’t advertise. Well, not that part of it. She has normal ads in nudist magazines. But the swinging is strictly word-of-mouth.”

“That’s how they heard about it,” Christy said. “Kim didn’t say who, but it was someone Carter knew from work.”

“I’ll have to ask him.”

“Does it matter? Right now, I mean?”

“No.”

“Exactly. They’re here, and they want to try swinging. I… think they want to try other things too.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“Well, Kim didn’t say so, but I think Carter wants her to try being with a woman. My radar kept going off with her, but it was weird. She’d seem really interested one moment, but nervous and unsure the next. She wasn’t like that at all when we were talking about you. She was a hundred percent interested, the whole time. But with me…? I can’t explain, but it was different.”

“I told you,” I said gently, “bi women aren’t that common.”

“Last time you said they were rare. And I said they’re more common than you think.” She sighed and lapsed into thought. “I don’t think Kim’s bi. I think she wants to be, for Carter, but she isn’t sure for herself. Only, there’s something else. I don’t know what it is, though.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

She nodded and fell silent again.

“Did you talk to her about what Carter wants?”

“With me? No, not really. I just know he isn’t like Trip. He actually respects me, respects women. Yeah, he made that stupid comment about Leah being a guy, just ’cause she’s going to Columbia, but he didn’t know. And he apologized for real when you corrected him. It wasn’t like Trip’s fake apologies. You know he does that, right? He apologizes to get what he wants, but he doesn’t believe he’s done anything wrong.”

“I dunno,” I said. “He seems pretty genuine to me.”

Christy snorted but decided not to argue.

“Hold on, I thought you and Trip were getting along better.”

“We are,” she said. “But I still don’t think his apologies are real. Yeah, he thinks it’s cool that I sing and have perfect pitch, but he still doesn’t respect women. He isn’t Granville—”

“God, no!” I agreed.

“—but he’s isn’t you, either. And he isn’t Carter. I told you, Carter actually respects women. Yeah, he likes to give Kim orders and tell her what to do, but only ’cause she likes it too.”

“She does. Did you notice before they left? She was horny and dropping hints, but he said something to her?”

“That made her even hornier? I saw that. And she looked at him the way I look at you when I call you ‘sir.’”

“Did Kim say anything at all about being submissive?” I asked.

“She didn’t have to,” Christy laughed. “That’s why I said they’re more like us than we realized. She’s definitely a sub.”

“And he’s a Dom,” I agreed.

“Oh my gosh, yes. And for the record,” she added, “I like you being dominant when we make these arrangements. I hated flying blind with Lily and Will. Look how that turned out. Ugh! But I feel a lot better this time, and not just because Kim and Carter are older. It’s ’cause I trust you, and I know you’d never put me in a situation where I might get hurt.”

“No.”

“Carter’s the same. With Kim, I mean. He loves her. And everything he does is to protect her. I think that’s why he didn’t say anything about swinging tonight, even when he had the chance.”

“Probably. He was still getting to know us, still making sure we’re the right couple.”

We both fell silent, and I could feel her start to relax. Unfortunately, now I was wide awake, and I couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen if things worked out like we hoped they would.

Carter was the biggest wildcard. If he insisted on having sex with Christy, then we were all going to be disappointed. But if he didn’t mind a blowjob only— and it sounded like he didn’t—then we might get what we wanted. I couldn’t do anything about it at the moment, so I decided to relax and focus on what I could do.

Christy must have felt my attitude shift. “I really like talking to you in the middle of the night,” she said. “I know you get annoyed sometimes, especially when I wake you up—”

“Not really,” I laughed. “Okay, maybe at first, but you usually do it because you want to have sex.”

“Paul, dear, I need to have sex. I don’t think you understand. Sometimes I just wake up in the middle of the night. I’ve done it for as long as I can remember. At least since I started masturbating. I can’t go back to sleep until I do. It’s the same in the morning, when I wake up. If I don’t have the chance to play with myself, I feel sort of itchy all day. I can’t explain it— What’s so funny?”

“I know exactly what you mean,” I said with another chuckle. “I’m the same. I feel like I have this pressure under my skin. Not in my balls,” I stressed. “It’s like I’m a balloon that’s been overinflated or something—”

“That’s it!”

“—and it only goes away when I jerk off.”

“Exactly! So now you know how I feel when I wake up in the middle of the night. Yeah, I could probably play with myself and have a quiet little orgasm while you sleep, but… why? Especially since you’re right there, and you get hard as soon as I start playing with you. Sometimes it takes you longer to wake up than Mr. Big, but you always do.”

“And I always enjoy it.”

“Mmm, me too. But now you know what I mean. I don’t ‘want’ to have sex. I need it, need you.”

“Well, speaking of sex,” I said, “I have good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”

“Um… the bad news.”

“I’m probably not going for a run in the morning, which means we won’t have sex when I get back.”

“Oh. Then… what’s the good news?”

“We’re going to have sex now.”

“Oh, goody! I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Mmm hmm. First, my cock has a date with the back of your throat. Then I’m going to lick your pussy until you beg me to fuck you.”

“Oh my gosh, yes, please.”

To be continued…

* * *

Read the next book in the series,

Tying Up Loose Ends.

Coming Soon