Calypso Ch. 01: Salsa

"Well," Heather's smug smile fell away just enough to betray a hint of self doubt, "Well, no. She wasn't talking shit or anything, Doug."

"You're acting like she was," I sat up and moved to the edge of my chair so that I could look Heather square in the eye, "Maybe Maggie's got more of a problem than she let on to me. Or maybe you're the one with the problem, Heather. From what I hear you were fooling around with her while I was fooling around with her."

Heather looked as though she'd been slapped.

"I asked you over here to talk because I think you're attractive," I continued, confident in my words because if nothing else, Heather was indeed attractive, "You're right, we haven't talked all that much. I thought we might have more in common than just eating Maggie's pussy out. And this might come as shock to you, princess, but just because I shovel the shit out of your mare's stall out there at Doc Anderson's stables every week doesn't mean have to take any shit from you."

'This is going south fucking fast,' I thought wildly, uncertain of where this sudden burst of hostility was coming from, 'Really fucking fast.'

"You know," I said, "I thought there was more to you than the 'Leather Heather' nickname. Guess I was wrong."

I stood up to leave.

"Wait," Heather said suddenly. Her entire disposition transformed from snarky superiority into something completely benign and calm, all hints of the previous antagonism evaporating. She said, "Wait. I wasn't trying to be a bitch, okay? I'm just no good at this sort of thing."

"What?" I sat back down on the lawn chair directly across from her, "You're no good at what?"

"Flirting," she said, "I didn't mean to bust your chops. I just don't have that much experience when it comes to flirting with anyone. And you flirt with everyone and it just felt like you being disingenuous, okay? I'm Maggie's friend and you asking me out just felt kind of shitty."

I had her in my grasp and suddenly I felt like bug shit for it. I had started flirting with her under false pretenses to give Ella an in with Andrew, and after flipping the odds on Heather, I was acting as though she were the asshole here and not me. Lying was never something I was ever very good at, and maybe Heather saw right through me from the moment we started talking. She was right for giving me shit. I decided that I had given Ella more than enough time to make her move on Andrew.

"You're better at it than you think," I took a deep breath, exhaled and said, "You didn't do anything wrong, Heather. Nothing at all. I'm sorry I got bitchy."

Heather regarded me with another curious look.

"I should get going, let you get back to the party," I smiled at her and started to stand up, "Try the salsa. It's fantastic, I swear."

"Wait," Heather grabbed my hand, "Sit down."

I did as she asked.

"We both suck at this," Heather said after a moment, "I flirt with all the grace of a Mac truck with a bad gasket and you're fucking awful at running interference for people, okay? Fair enough?"

"Fair enough."

"Now," she said, "Do you really want to go see a movie with me or are you just wanting to get laid?"

"Both," I said automatically.

"Jesus, Doug," Heather laughed and turned away from me. It was then that she grabbed my hand, her face still looking into the crowd around the pool. She said, "Doug, I need a favor from you."

"You're not gonna ask me to run interference, are you?"

"Fuck," she hissed and then looked me right in the eyes, "Okay, look. I know Brett Long is your friend and all, but he's coming over here and I don't want to talk with him. At all. Nice guy, he just doesn't take a hint all that well."

A glance over her shoulder revealed that Brett was indeed on his way over to us, walking with that same confident stride he had when he was on his way to see Ella earlier. Aside from the fact that Ella was now sitting in Andrew's lap, both of them deeply involved in a conversation that I had no doubt would lead to Andrew getting the best of fuck of his life thus far, it was clear that Brett wasn't on his way to talk to me. When Brett was dealing with anyone he wasn't attracted to, his lanky posture was a bit hunched. When on the prowl for a girl he was crushing on, he was as tall and rigid as a demon's prick on Virgin Sacrifice Day.

"Brett's sweet on you?"

"He's been hitting on me since last April," Heather whispered, her eyebrows pulled into a frustrated furrow, "Ever since he gave me a ride home from school."

"So?"

"I hugged him," she said, "That's all I did. Now he's all weird and romantic on me."

"He's a nice guy," I shrugged, "You could do worse."

"He smells like a spittoon," Heather fired back, "Look, he'll leave me alone if he thinks I'm with you."

"But you're not," I almost laughed.

"You want better hours at the clinic?" Heather asked urgently, "I can make it happen. Dad listens to me."

The sound of Brett's boots clicking on the concrete were getting louder.

"Please?"

I felt bad for Brett in that moment. He was striking out left and right, and it seemed he was doomed for yet another disappointment. Heather was right, though. Brett was lovesick and he did, more often than not, smell like a spittoon. The thought of what it might taste like kissing him made my stomach jump for a moment. I said, "Sure, why n-"

Heather put her hands to either side of my face and pulled me into one of the deepest, fullest kisses I had ever experienced up until that point. At first, she was hard and rough, our teeth almost clicking together. But after a moment, she softened and our lips sealed together. The sensation of her tongue sliding against mine was strong and primal, prompting me to pull her into a full embrace. Heather didn't hesitate, her hands slowly sliding up and down my back, selling the idea that not only were we more than just friends, but well on our way to more than just a poolside kiss.

I opened my eyes enough to see Brett stop dead in his tracks, staring at Heather and then at me. A pang of guilt stabbed at me, and again I felt terrible for him.

"Is he still there?" Heather broke the kiss.

"Yes," I caught my breath, "Still there."

"Goddammit," Heather grunted. She effortlessly sat herself in my lap, wrapping her legs around my waist in a sensual clench. It was all happening so fast that I could only go along with her play. To be honest, any desire I might have had to stop her was long gone. Her fingers teased the back of my neck as she rested her weight on me and started kissing my neck.

"What about now?" she asked under her breath.

"No," I tilted my head back, letting her do her work, "No, he's still standing there watching."

"Grab my ass," Heather said.

"What?"

"Are you deaf?" Heather hissed against my neck, her teeth nipping at my skin, "I said grab my ass. Slide your goddamn hands down the back of my shorts and grab my fucking ass, Doug."

I did as she said.

Any feelings of guilt I might have had were burned away by the raw internal heat I felt upon slipping my hands down the back of Heather's shorts. Her ass was firm, rock hard and yet soft to the touch. As she necked on me, I massaged her cheeks and became painfully aware that my erection was pressing against Heather's crotch. She had to have noticed it, and if she was uncomfortable with it rubbing against her through the denim of her shorts, she never let on. Instead, she tightened her legs and turned her attention to the other side of my neck.

Another glance revealed Brett walking away, back towards the side gate of the yard.

'Sorry, man,' I thought to myself as I started kissing Heather's shoulder, 'But, the lady made her choice.'

"Okay" I whispered after a moment, "He's gone."

Heather sighed and rested her face in the corner of my neck, her body relaxing. To my surprise, she made no effort to return to her chair right away. Instead, she simply held the embrace and sat there like that for five minutes or so, both of us enjoying the unexpected closeness. After a short while of the unspoken but completely obvious arousal we were both experiencing, she sat back and looked at me. My cock was hard and full, prominently pressed against her as she straddled me.

"Thank you," she said, her face and chest flushed rosy red, "You have no idea how much I appreciate you doing that for me."

"No problem," I said, "I can think of worse ways to spend the evening than being your boyfriend for a night or two. Just be gentle when you dump me."

Heather laughed at this.

"I promise," she shifted her weight, and then, "If we keep this up, you won't be able to walk."

"Hunched backs and tented shorts on shorts are a little embarrassing," I agreed as I reluctantly pulled my hands from her ass and rested them on her thighs, "That kiss alone was worth it, though."

Heather cocked her head, her look quizzical and reserved. She said, "Really?"

"Really."

"Well," Heather said, "You're not so bad yourself."

***

3

After Heather had found safe harbor from Brett in a group of friends, we parted company. I took a swim and relaxed in the water for awhile before realizing just how crowded the Bishop's pool could actually be with more than five people in it. Fifteen people and an accidental kick to my thigh later, I got out and walked towards the lounge chairs where Heather and I had started 'dating.' The humidity was still sweltering, even this late in the evening, so any relief I had found in the water was quickly lost in the muggy summer air. The night was growing long, and my thoughts were still bouncing back and forth between Ana and Sara. I just couldn't shake the feeling that they weren't joking in their flirtation with me. Or maybe I was just obsessing on what I wished were true versus what wasn't.

Ella had already disappeared with Andrew Tate, so I imagined he was getting his brains fucked right out his skull somewhere nearby, probably in one of the empty houses still under construction. Ana was busy chatting up the guests and serving food, far too engaged in being a hostess for much else. Not that there would have been slick way to get her attention without coming off as totally obvious. So, with nothing better to do I wandered past the lounge chairs and across the grass of the large back lawn towards the gazebo at the far corner of the property.

The gazebo was comfortable and quiet, hidden in the shadows at the edge of the woods beyond. Crickets were chirping their evening lullabys to each other and I was starting to feel disappointed. Like Ella, I had been hoping to cap off the night in the company of the opposite sex, but the odds of that were quickly dwindling with each passing hour. As the evening drew closer to the end, I was flying solo with nothing more to show for it than sexual frustration and two empty hands.

I stepped into the gazebo and sat down on the padded bench, facing the party I had just stepped away from. Soft light from the full moon sporadically illuminated the darkness all across the backyard and the house, casting random patterns as it bled through the evergreens that towered around the perimeter of the property. The music was far enough away now that I could barely make out the beats of the latest song from Michael Jackson. I took a deep breath, settling back into the bench seat and wiped my brow.

"Christ, it's hot," I muttered, "Hell of a way to end the night."

"Parties not your thing?" a curious voice asked.

I turned, nearly jumping out of my seat, and saw Sara Cole leaning against one of the thick, white support posts of the gazebo, relaxed and looking beautiful.

"Honestly," I said, "Not really. Though I do appreciate everything you and Ana did for me tonight."

"Parties aren't my thing either," Sara shrugged sympathetically, "I'm more of a one-on-one kind of woman."

"I can respect that."

"No more than four," Sara said, "Keep it intimate. Personal. Plus, this party just makes me feel a little older than I actually am. I'm thirty-six, not eighty-six for Christ's sake. Hanging around these kids, well, I've never felt so outdated. And thirty kids in one place is too much."

"It's a bit thick in there for me," I confessed, nodding to the party, "Ana really over did it. I mean, don't get me wrong. It's awesome she did this, but I was expecting, well, like you said; no more than four."

"Looks like you and Doc Anderson's daughter were getting along just fine," Sara smiled at me, her brow cocked, "Just fine."

"Heather?" I laughed, "Nah, I was just helping her out. I was running interference for her and we had to sell it."

"Weren't you running interference for Ella?"

"Yeah," I said, "And that turned into running interference for Heather. Ella got Andrew and Heather escaped Brett. All's well that ends well."

"So you two aren't an item then?"

"No," I shook my head, "Just friends. Besides, Heather's the girl my ex-girlfriend was fooling around with behind my back. Not much room for true romance there."

"Then why help her?"

"She promised to talk with her dad about getting me better hours at the clinic," I said flatly, "It's a good deal."

"Not much of a party for you, though, is it?"

"I got to share some wine with you and Ana," I shrugged, "That was fun."

"Yes it was," Sara laughed and nodded, "Though I think Ana was drinking a little too much."

"You both were."

"Sweet heart," Sara informed me, "I had three glasses of wine and I am just fine. I have driving duties tonight so I can't get drunk, no matter how badly I want to. Now, Ana? She's going to need to sleep it off tomorrow."

"Fair enough," I said, allowing for what I thought was a discreet, gawking look at Sara. My eyes had fully adjusted to the dark at that point, and I could appreciate just how attractive Sara was. The sundress she wearing was stretched tight around her body, and the way she was leaning against the support post only accentuated the extreme curves and valleys of her anatomy. She was painfully beautiful, intriguingly exotic in both her looks and personality. Maybe it was the rows of tightly braided hair or the way her obsidian black eyes could cut right through you, but she had a presence about her that was exciting and somehow foreign.

"Can I ask you something?" Sara rested her head against the post, "You don't have to answer if you don't want to. I'm just curious about something you said earlier."

"Sure thing."

"You said you masturbate thinking about me and Ana," Sara looked directly at me, "Was that legit or were you talking out your ass?"

A hot rush of blood burned my face and after a moment I replied, "I have no reason to lie."

"That's not what I asked," Sara grinned, "I asked if you were being legitimate about that."

"It's the truth," I said, shifting my weight to comfortably allow for the beginnings of an erection without being too obvious, "I probably shouldn't have said that though. That probably crossed a line."

"Don't be sorry," Sara said, leaving the support post and moving to the railing of the gazebo in front of me. She rested her ass against the rail and placed both hands on top of it, offering a closer look at her figure. She added, "I'm flattered. I know Ana was too."

"That's good to know," I said, uncertain of what the right or wrong thing to say was,

"I was a little nervous after I said it."

"Why would you be nervous?"

"Well," I said, "I kind of got the impression that you and Ana were both flirting with me, and I think I was trying to flirt back. Might have gone overboard."

"We were flirting."

"You were?"

My heart started racing again.

"You're quick to catch a hint," Sara eyed me, leaning forward just enough to give me an incredible view of her abnormally large cleavage. I realized the sundress was pulled much further down over her bust line than it had been earlier, to the point where one tug would have left her topless. She added, "And I don't flirt with just anyone."

"Okay," I said, trying not to betray the nervous excitement that threatened to rattle my voice and make my hands shake, "But why? Ana is married and you're both way out of my league. I mean, I'm flattered, but why would two insanely hot women suddenly start flirting with someone like me?"

Sara smiled at me. In that smile were a thousand words that for whatever her reasons she chose not to say. These were words that would have described the complicated inner workings of relationships that I had no context for or understanding of. These were the words that would later be revealed to me, the unspoken explanations that I suspected but could not fully articulate for myself. These were the limitations of possessing small degree of maturity beyond what an eighteen year old should, but having no experience or seasoning to help decipher such things.

"You're thinking too much," Sara said, "If it helps, I've masturbated thinking about you a few times, too."

"Really?"

"Yes," Sara nodded, shifting her weight against the rail and lowering her head, eyes still looking into mine, "So has Ana. And I'd like to do more than just masturbate thinking about you tonight."

"What did you have in mind?" I heard myself ask with all the cool suave of a bent tack hammer.

"I have a lot of things in mind," Sara lowered her voice and glanced over her bare shoulder at the party thirty yards away. The yellow lights from the party framed her shape while the moonlight filtering through the skylights of the gazebo cast her in a blue hue. Once satisfied that we weren't going to be bothered for a while, she returned her attention to me. With both hands, Sara grasped the fabric of her sundress and started pulling down. I watched, completely mesmerized, as Sara exposed herself to me. First releasing her large breasts from the dress, allowing them to hang full and free, then her stomach before letting the fabric fall to the deck. She stood there, revealing that she hadn't been wearing anything other than that sundress all night. Sara tilted her head to one side and asked, "It all depends on whether you want to keep playing with girls or have a real woman, Doug."

I blinked, not fully able to accept that this was even happening.

"I have a few rules," Sara told me, "Can you follow a few rules, Doug?"

"Yes."

"Rule number one," Sara held one finger up, walking towards me in a sexy, swaggering sway that caused her hips to move from side to side in a fluid, hypnotic rhythm. I stared at the thick bush of jet black pubic hair covering her sex as she continued, "This is just sex. It's just sex and it is our little secret. It stays between us unless I say otherwise. I know you know how to keep a secret."

"I can keep a secret," I licked my lips.

"Rule number two," Sara was now standing directly in front of me, her muscular thighs straddling my right leg, her body at eye level. Sara's dark skin almost had taken on an iridescent purple undertone in the moonlight, her large nipples nearly perfect black in contrast. She continued, "You don't come inside me."

"Okay."

"You can come on my tits," Sara leaned forward, bringing her face within an inch of mine, her right hand firmly clutching my cock through my shorts as she spoke to me in no uncertain terms, "You can come in my ass. Doug, you can come in my mouth and I will swallow every last drop, but you don't come in my pussy. Understand?"

"I understand."

"Rule number three," Sara kissed me, her full lips like hot velvet against mine as she rubbed the bulge in my shorts up and down, "Don't start what you can't finish."

Sara pushed me back against the bench seat and straddled me, sitting down on my lap. Her fingernails pressed against the flesh of my chest. She teased me by slowly grinding her pussy against the fabric hiding my erection. The heat was already enough to make one short of breath, but the fire she was starting between our genitals was nothing short of the wettest, hardest inferno I'd ever experienced.