She pecks them both on the lips and the three of them run, jumping high and then plunging into the pool with a loud splash. Just when I thought that was her attempt at beating her friend, she starts underwater kissing the two strangers, all while she’s in the nude.
"Did she win the bet?"
Amber watches with her mouth wide open as her friend kisses from one man to the other. But when one man latches his leg between hers, she pushes him off and rises to the top of the pool.
“He went too far,” Amber says, “but I think she beat Bree.”
“An underwater kiss beats a mile-high blow-job?” I inquire.
“Yeah, of course. Charlie jumped into the pool naked, and in public, and then she made out with two guys. I think that trumps Bree’s behind the door blow-job. One we only have her word for.”
Charlie swims to the opposite end of the pool and, surprise, surprise, Hunter is waiting with a towel. He holds his hand to her. She smiles before he pulls her out and wraps her in the towel.
There’s a moment between them, but I want to get back to Amber.
“Have you got anything planned to beat your friends?”
She laughs. “It’s been so long since I’ve had sex. I only have to sleep with someone, and apparently, I’ve won the bet.”
“I could help with that,” I say. I really could.
“I’m not sleeping with someone for a bet.”
“How long?” I ask, and she looks confused. “Since you slept with someone.”
“How long since you have?” she counters.
“Three weeks,” I reply.
“Ah, have you just split up with someone?” she asks.
“No, it was a hookup,” I say, wondering why I’m being so honest.
“That’s a great line if you want to put a girl off,” she says in a sarcastic tone, crunching her cute little nose.
“I’m allowing myself to be totally honest with you. How long for you?” I ask, curving one side of my mouth upward.
She lifts a delicate eyebrow, and I take it she’s not impressed with my question. But she still answers, “Nearly two years.” My cock jolts at the thought she hasn’t had a man inside her for so long. “I was a late bloomer, but the flower died pretty quickly.”
I narrow my eyes as I think about that.
“The one guy I thought I could trust turned out he was cheating...” She hesitates and sighs. “He had a wife.”
“Fuck!”
“I know. I felt so bad when I found out, and now serious relationships are off the cards until my student debts are paid off and my career is established.”
“What do you do?”
“A lawyer... late bloomer there, too. I was a mature student, saved up for a couple of years with a dead-end job, and when I was twenty-one, I started my degree. By the time I was twenty-five, I got my first job as a lawyer for a bank in London, met the guy, dated him for six months and found out he was married. Dumped him and the job soon after,” she sighs deeply. “He was my boss. Luckily, I found my current job, and now I’m staying single.”
“He hurt you?” I ask.
I’m surprised when she shakes her head.
“No, a man who lies to you is very easy to get over. And a man who cheats on his wife is not worth shedding tears for,” she says. “Anyway, what’s your story? Anything exciting?”
Should I tell her?
