closet door.
'What're you doing?'
He turned to Connie. She stood in the doorway, frowning slightly.
'Just snooping.'
'You're looking for Dal. You think he's hiding somewhere, just waiting for you to leave so he can jump out and cut my throat.'
'It happens.'
'You worry me, Pete, you know that?'
'Can't be too careful.'
'I think you can be too careful. If you have to spend your life looking over your shoulder, always afraid there might be some terrible villain back there just waiting for you to let your guard down so he can jump you… Yeah, I think you can be too careful. Where's the fun, if you're always on your toes for disaster to strike?'
'Oh, I have my share.'
'Shall I show you the bedroom, or have you already checked it out?'
'Not yet.'
He followed her into the bedroom, and grinned as she rushed to the bed, dropped to her knees, and peered under the draping coverlet. 'What on earth?' She reached into the space beneath the bed. 'I wonder what that… aaah!' Her body lurched forward. Belly down, she twisted and kicked. She clutched the bedframe as if to keep herself from being pulled under.
Pete ran to her side. He reached down for the bedframe, ready to fling it aside, when Connie grabbed his hand.
He saw her smile.
'That wasn't funny,' he said.
'Yes it was.'
She pulled him down to her, and kissed him.
When his hand slid under her blouse, he was surprised to feel the smooth, bare skin of her breast. She must've taken her bikini off while he was in the bathroom. He pulled the blouse up. The nipple was rigid in his mouth, and had a slightly salty taste.
He moved a hand under her skirt. Up her thigh. Her bikini pants were also gone.
'You're a darling,' he said.
She didn't answer. Of course not. His mouth was on her breast.
He raised his head. Connie's eyes lowered to his lips.
'You're a darling,' he repeated.
With a smile, she reached both hands inside his shorts, and held him.
'Would you like your beer now?' Connie asked.
'It's probably warm.'
'We'll make believe we're in Ireland, drinking lukewarm Guinness in a pub.'
'I'd rather be here,' Pete said.
'Back in a jiffy.' As she climbed off the bed, Pete patted her bare rump. She walked to the bedroom door and looked back at him. He lay on the sheets, hands folded under his head, his limp penis lying against his thigh. 'Have you no modesty?' she asked.
'A little late for that.'
'True,' she said.
***
There'd been plenty of modesty, that afternoon, when he took her into his house near Venice beach. A lot of drinking on the couch, a lot of talking until the right moment came and he took her into his arms. They wore only their swimsuits. Hands stroked exposed skin, moved hesitantly over the fabric, and finally explored beneath the swimsuits. At last, they were naked against each other, slick from suntan oil and sweat, gritty with sand, and they made love on the couch.
They showered together.
They ate hamburgers.
They made love again, this time on the fresh sheets of Pete's bed.
After all that, Connie realized, she still felt modest in front of him. To go for the drinks, stark naked, seemed slightly daring, slightly naughty, as if she were flaunting her nudity to arouse him.
Still in the doorway, she stared at his penis. She lowered her hands, and caressed her thighs.
Pete shook his head, grinning. 'What're you up to?' he asked.
'Oh, nothing.'
Her thumbs slid against her groin, and she watched his penis rise.
'Forget the beer,' he said.
'Can't. We've got to replenish our vital fluids.'
She turned from him. She felt sexy and silly and bold-and happier than she'd been since… No, don't
'What're you doing?'
He turned to Connie. She stood in the doorway, frowning slightly.
'Just snooping.'
'You're looking for Dal. You think he's hiding somewhere, just waiting for you to leave so he can jump out and cut my throat.'
'It happens.'
'You worry me, Pete, you know that?'
'Can't be too careful.'
'I think you can be too careful. If you have to spend your life looking over your shoulder, always afraid there might be some terrible villain back there just waiting for you to let your guard down so he can jump you… Yeah, I think you can be too careful. Where's the fun, if you're always on your toes for disaster to strike?'
'Oh, I have my share.'
'Shall I show you the bedroom, or have you already checked it out?'
'Not yet.'
He followed her into the bedroom, and grinned as she rushed to the bed, dropped to her knees, and peered under the draping coverlet. 'What on earth?' She reached into the space beneath the bed. 'I wonder what that… aaah!' Her body lurched forward. Belly down, she twisted and kicked. She clutched the bedframe as if to keep herself from being pulled under.
Pete ran to her side. He reached down for the bedframe, ready to fling it aside, when Connie grabbed his hand.
He saw her smile.
'That wasn't funny,' he said.
'Yes it was.'
She pulled him down to her, and kissed him.
When his hand slid under her blouse, he was surprised to feel the smooth, bare skin of her breast. She must've taken her bikini off while he was in the bathroom. He pulled the blouse up. The nipple was rigid in his mouth, and had a slightly salty taste.
He moved a hand under her skirt. Up her thigh. Her bikini pants were also gone.
'You're a darling,' he said.
She didn't answer. Of course not. His mouth was on her breast.
He raised his head. Connie's eyes lowered to his lips.
'You're a darling,' he repeated.
With a smile, she reached both hands inside his shorts, and held him.
'Would you like your beer now?' Connie asked.
'It's probably warm.'
'We'll make believe we're in Ireland, drinking lukewarm Guinness in a pub.'
'I'd rather be here,' Pete said.
'Back in a jiffy.' As she climbed off the bed, Pete patted her bare rump. She walked to the bedroom door and looked back at him. He lay on the sheets, hands folded under his head, his limp penis lying against his thigh. 'Have you no modesty?' she asked.
'A little late for that.'
'True,' she said.
***
There'd been plenty of modesty, that afternoon, when he took her into his house near Venice beach. A lot of drinking on the couch, a lot of talking until the right moment came and he took her into his arms. They wore only their swimsuits. Hands stroked exposed skin, moved hesitantly over the fabric, and finally explored beneath the swimsuits. At last, they were naked against each other, slick from suntan oil and sweat, gritty with sand, and they made love on the couch.
They showered together.
They ate hamburgers.
They made love again, this time on the fresh sheets of Pete's bed.
After all that, Connie realized, she still felt modest in front of him. To go for the drinks, stark naked, seemed slightly daring, slightly naughty, as if she were flaunting her nudity to arouse him.
Still in the doorway, she stared at his penis. She lowered her hands, and caressed her thighs.
Pete shook his head, grinning. 'What're you up to?' he asked.
'Oh, nothing.'
Her thumbs slid against her groin, and she watched his penis rise.
'Forget the beer,' he said.
'Can't. We've got to replenish our vital fluids.'
She turned from him. She felt sexy and silly and bold-and happier than she'd been since… No, don't
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