breasts.
“Excellent,” Kara said, and wasted no time ridding herself of her own top.
Julie could only watch, openmouthed, as the others removed their bikini tops with remarkable speed.
“Come on, Julie,” Amy urged.
Julie shook her head. A drink in the morning she could do, but she definitely wasn’t up for baring her breasts to a bunch of strangers.
“I forgot my sunscreen back in my villa.” She took another sip of her drink.
Kara gave her a challenging look and tossed a bottle into Julie’s lap. Startled, Julie sloshed her drink onto her stomach. “It’s SPF 45.”
Something in Kara’s attitude rankled Julie, as though she could see through the breezy, fun-loving façade Julie was trying to put up, and knew that underneath she was so boring Kara would never bother speaking with her. Or maybe it was the way Kara had practically draped her boobs over Chris’s arm last night at the cocktail party.
Whatever it was, after another fortifying drink of her Long Island iced tea, Julie took a deep breath, and PrivateParty
untied the top of her bright coral bikini. The two small triangles covering her breasts immediately fell.
Julie resisted the urge to cover herself, and instead reached around her back and untied the other string.
Immediately she felt her nipples pucker as the warm breeze brushed her skin. She quickly applied a generous coating of sunscreen and looked around sheepishly.
Jen laughed. “No one’s looking,” she said as she took the tube of sunscreen from Julie and applied it to her own breasts. Julie looked around. Sure enough, the software CEO was engrossed in the Wall Street Journal , oblivious to the breast fest.
Julie picked up her book, a thick historical featuring a brawny Highlander. What would Chris look like in a kilt, she wondered with a smile.
Her composure slipped a notch when she saw the cocktail waiter heading their way again. Unlike the other women, she just didn’t have it in her to lie there on her back as though nothing was amiss. As casually as possible, Julie adjusted the back of her lounger so it lay flat, and flipped over onto her stomach.
“Jules, you want another?”
She knew she shouldn’t. But then neither should she be exposing the virgin skin of her breasts to sun damage. What the hell.
“I will, but this time make it a banana daiquiri.” True, it was the sort of sissy drink she’d been determined to avoid, but after two Long Island iced teas she was about to do a face plant in the sand.
She didn’t realize the error of her ways until a few sips into the daiquiri. Here in the Virgin Islands, as well as in most of the Caribbean, the rum in a drink was cheaper than the mixer. In order to save money, bartenders were often overly generous with the rum. She remembered that she forgot to ask for a mainland pour.
But where was the harm, she thought as the words of her paperback started to swim together. She was on vacation after all.
The beach café wasn’t crowded yet. Only a few tables were occupied, since most guests were either enjoying one of the many beaches, the pool, or on diving or snorkeling excursions.
While Carla waited for their lunch orders, Chris wandered out onto the front deck of the café, which overlooked the resort’s main beach. It, too, was fairly empty, as were most of the lounge chairs.
PrivateParty
What he wouldn’t give to have an hour to flop down and just stare out at the calming turquoise water.
But that was the blessing and the curse of running a place like this. Chris lived in one of the most beautiful places on earth, but he had less and less time to enjoy it.
Chris watched a waiter as he scurried across the sand with a tray full of drinks. His gaze wandered over to the group the waiter was serving, and his breath caught.
It was a group of women—Amy and her bachelorette party. And on the lounge chair closest to him lay Julie.
Even though she was on her stomach, he could tell it was her. He recognized her
“Excellent,” Kara said, and wasted no time ridding herself of her own top.
Julie could only watch, openmouthed, as the others removed their bikini tops with remarkable speed.
“Come on, Julie,” Amy urged.
Julie shook her head. A drink in the morning she could do, but she definitely wasn’t up for baring her breasts to a bunch of strangers.
“I forgot my sunscreen back in my villa.” She took another sip of her drink.
Kara gave her a challenging look and tossed a bottle into Julie’s lap. Startled, Julie sloshed her drink onto her stomach. “It’s SPF 45.”
Something in Kara’s attitude rankled Julie, as though she could see through the breezy, fun-loving façade Julie was trying to put up, and knew that underneath she was so boring Kara would never bother speaking with her. Or maybe it was the way Kara had practically draped her boobs over Chris’s arm last night at the cocktail party.
Whatever it was, after another fortifying drink of her Long Island iced tea, Julie took a deep breath, and PrivateParty
untied the top of her bright coral bikini. The two small triangles covering her breasts immediately fell.
Julie resisted the urge to cover herself, and instead reached around her back and untied the other string.
Immediately she felt her nipples pucker as the warm breeze brushed her skin. She quickly applied a generous coating of sunscreen and looked around sheepishly.
Jen laughed. “No one’s looking,” she said as she took the tube of sunscreen from Julie and applied it to her own breasts. Julie looked around. Sure enough, the software CEO was engrossed in the Wall Street Journal , oblivious to the breast fest.
Julie picked up her book, a thick historical featuring a brawny Highlander. What would Chris look like in a kilt, she wondered with a smile.
Her composure slipped a notch when she saw the cocktail waiter heading their way again. Unlike the other women, she just didn’t have it in her to lie there on her back as though nothing was amiss. As casually as possible, Julie adjusted the back of her lounger so it lay flat, and flipped over onto her stomach.
“Jules, you want another?”
She knew she shouldn’t. But then neither should she be exposing the virgin skin of her breasts to sun damage. What the hell.
“I will, but this time make it a banana daiquiri.” True, it was the sort of sissy drink she’d been determined to avoid, but after two Long Island iced teas she was about to do a face plant in the sand.
She didn’t realize the error of her ways until a few sips into the daiquiri. Here in the Virgin Islands, as well as in most of the Caribbean, the rum in a drink was cheaper than the mixer. In order to save money, bartenders were often overly generous with the rum. She remembered that she forgot to ask for a mainland pour.
But where was the harm, she thought as the words of her paperback started to swim together. She was on vacation after all.
The beach café wasn’t crowded yet. Only a few tables were occupied, since most guests were either enjoying one of the many beaches, the pool, or on diving or snorkeling excursions.
While Carla waited for their lunch orders, Chris wandered out onto the front deck of the café, which overlooked the resort’s main beach. It, too, was fairly empty, as were most of the lounge chairs.
PrivateParty
What he wouldn’t give to have an hour to flop down and just stare out at the calming turquoise water.
But that was the blessing and the curse of running a place like this. Chris lived in one of the most beautiful places on earth, but he had less and less time to enjoy it.
Chris watched a waiter as he scurried across the sand with a tray full of drinks. His gaze wandered over to the group the waiter was serving, and his breath caught.
It was a group of women—Amy and her bachelorette party. And on the lounge chair closest to him lay Julie.
Even though she was on her stomach, he could tell it was her. He recognized her
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