The Loft Game: Hula Girl

Her eyes widened in surprise. I shook my head. "I never have, and I don't know if I want to. Maybe not."

I saw the hint of uncertainty and indecision.

So, maybe she wasn't planning a real threesome with lesbian stuff, I surmised. Maybe it was just that Owen got to fuck two different women, each watching while he did the other. I didn't yield though, caught up in the moment.

"Only what we're both comfortable with, and you can quit at any time." The first time I'd said it in the Loft Game. I had a mental giggle. Hah, a real veteran!

The group's mantra brought a glint of humor and decision even though the apprehension didn't disappear. She nodded. We both peered down together.

I stood and walked across the room, leaned down, and whispered into an ear.

"Carter, will you come back to my room with me?"

He met my gaze. A little spark broke through his disinterest, whether at breasts hanging inches from his lips or what he saw on my face. Maybe both. Maybe he pictured who would be the beneficiary of all that lust oozing from my pores. "Dorm walls are pretty thin. Come by me instead."

That lust and wickedness and my newly accepted realizations were driving me, and I gave into it all. I didn't even try to be quiet when Carter made me come, and again. Let Owen and Hannah anticipate somewhen.

"What the hell?" I said laughing.

"My good luck charm," Anthony replied. "I've been stopped three times for speeding and not a single ticket." He patted the figure on his dashboard, setting it bouncing.

I leaned over Julia's shoulder to peer at the hula girl. "She topless," I said, my voice neutral.

"My roomie did that. He said it's the way they danced originally, and we should be historically accurate." Everything about Anthony's tone said he knew that was a bullshit reason but found it funny. "We couldn't find one on the internet that way, so he painted over the coconut bra."

We pulled up outside a somewhat-ramshackle place that screamed "student shore house" to my eyes.

"My palatial abode," Anthony said a few minutes later. "Come up to the second floor." He snagged Julia's quarter-ton suitcase while I hiked my backpack onto my shoulders, and we followed him up. The stairs split. He gestured left. "Two of the rooms are that way." He led us right.

"My room," he said as we passed the first open doorway. "Bathroom." It didn't look too gross. "Aaand"—he pushed open a door across from his bedroom—"the guest room."

"Guest room" was a misnomer. It was actually the bedroom of the fourth housemate. He hadn't come back from spring break. "Mono," Anthony had told us. "Dunno how long he's out for. But you don't have to use the couches."

I'd take a double bed, even shared with Julia, over sleeping in the living room of a house full of guys any day, and Julia and I had crashed together tons of times over the years.

Embry-Riddle's break had been the previous week, but Anthony had been cool with Julia and I coming down for ours. Daytona was a month-long, twenty-mile beach party, and the two of us had thrown shorts, tees, bathing suits, and fake IDs into bags and caught a plane.

He held out a key ring to Julia. "If you wanna go check out the scene. Or, umm, if you're gonna drink, there's a free shuttle that runs the beach. Just look for a red double-decker. I gotta knock out something for Monday class that I totally blew off over break, but once it's done, I'll find some time, okay?"

She took the keys, leaned in, and gave him a kiss that landed somewhere on the corner of cheek and lips. "Thanks for letting us stay." I smiled at him.

"Sooo," I said.

I reached over and gave the hula girl a little poke to set her dancing. She didn't seem able to keep time with the radio for shit.

"Anything up again with you and Anthony?"

"What? No!"

It was a touch too forceful. "It's just, well, you weren't the kiss-on-the-cheek type, or is Syracuse turning you all European?" I waited for a response, but she didn't say anything. "Are we not telling each other stuff now?"

I think she heard the real hurt in my voice. She'd been my best friend since forever.

Her head whipped around. "Oh, Chips! Don't say that." She looked back at the road, Route 1 not being a place to let your attention go, and was silent for a block.

"Okay, I thought about it. All right? I mean, we didn't end badly. We just didn't want to be, like, a couple. He hit on me a little at Christmas—I didn't do anything!" She got that out before I could tease. "But I didn't go out too much at Syracuse, and I kinda thought it's spring break and you're supposed to do crazy shit, and ... fuck! Do I sound desperate?" There was definitely color in her face, and not from the sun.

I grinned at her, hurt feelings flying out the window. "We always talked out our asses about how wild we'd be when we did this. Well, mostly you talked."

She reached over and punched me in the shoulder. "It doesn't have to be out our asses." She grinned, then sobered. "Would it be weird for you if I did?" she asked. "I mean, I'm not certain. It was just a thou—"

"Go for it, babe."

She smiled. "I haven't made up my mind, but thanks." She put on the turn signal. "Let's go back and drop off the car, then shuttle for something to eat and Mar-gar-rrritas." She sang the last word.

We found a tiki bar that looked cute with a bartender who did also. We sat enjoying the frozen drinks while trying to figure out whether we wanted burgers or fish tacos.

"Speaking of not telling each other stuff," she said, "don't think I've forgotten 'sandbagged in strip poker.'"

She was talking about Em's tease at Christmas. She'd probably have ambushed me about it in Vermont—our norm was "You'll never guess what happened!" or "Give!"—but our heart-to-hearts had gotten short-circuited that weekend.

A decade ago, she'd whispered that she'd kissed Joey DiGiuseppe out on the playground—a fourth-grade peck that lasted maybe a millisecond, but a big deal back then—and we'd been closer-than-sisters ever since. It hadn't changed a lot when boys became more than just one kiss on a playground.

Now, I felt the jaws of the trap, unintentional though it was, close.

A promise versus my best friend? What the fuck do I do?

"I, umm, okay. Yeah, there was some craziness."

Her eyes lit, and she leaned in more closely.

"Look, before I say anything, there are a couple of things I promised never to talk about, and a promise is a promise, you know that." Before she could react, I hurried on. "But if I leave out some names and some details ..." Quite a few details!

"K." It was a hair reluctant, and I knew she wanted to demand everything, but she was like me, and our word meant something.

"So, umm, yeah, I played in a strip poker game."

"I played in a game of strip pong at the Crow house."

"I'm totally surprised." My voice dripped with complete and utter not-surprise. "Did you get naked?"

"Boobs out. How 'bout you?"

"Well, one game I ended up starkers."

"One game? You played more than once?"

"A couple times." That felt a little like lying by misdirection, but telling her there was a weekly club was over the line. "But—"

"Did you get laid after?" she whispered so it didn't get broadcast around the bar. Her eyes were dancing. This was my friend, Jules, in a nutshell.

"Well ..." As she started to demand I spit it out, I cut in, "Who's telling this, you or me?" She stuck out her tongue. "I mean, if you want just a yes–no answer instead of juicy, I can—"

"Juicy!" We shared a grin.

"One night someone suggested a strip poker game, and I was kinda 'Why not?' That time, I ended up in my underwear."

"Which ones? Come on, deets!"

"The purple set."

"Excellent! Go on."

"I had a blast watching a guy bare all and take a hike outside—"

"Oooh! You had to streak?"

"Mm-hmm." Close enough to the truth. "So, when another game got suggested later, I was down. That time, I wasn't so lucky. I ended up topless. I had four horny guys staring while all the other girls teased."

"Get to the juicy part!"

"If you keep interrupting, I'll skip the juicy part which is next." I dodged the maraschino flicked at me. "That's all that time, but ... sometime later ..."

"You played again and lost."

I didn't really mind the interruptions. I was enjoying how much vicarious fun she was having. "Yep."

"And you had to streak outside."

"Yep."

"Did anyone see you?"

"Yep."

"And then you got laid."

"Nope." I waited for the disappointment to begin. "Then I bet a guy on a coin flip ..." I drew out the pause. "... a blowjob against him going down."

"Fuck, Chips!" She didn't keep her voice down. In fact, it was a shriek. She glanced around in embarrassment and dropped her voice again. "And ...?"

"He lost."

"Oh my God! Then what?"

"I collected and then made him leave."

"You bitch!" But she was laughing as she said it.

She leaned back as the harried server came for our order. The bar was filling up quickly with spring breakers, mostly stupid guys, and the noise level was beginning to climb through the roof. "Order now, ladies, or I have no idea when I'll be able to get back to you." We ordered fish tacos and another pair of drinks.

"I can't believe how much you've changed," Julia said.

"No. I think I'm just a little more confident now. I never balked at any of that shit you wanted to do."

She thought about that. "True. That's some wicked stuff, Chips."

"Who says I'm done?" I laughed as her eyes went wide. "I bet the same guy two more times." I ignored the soft exclamation. "I won the second time, and yes, I sent him on his merry little way after like the bitch I am." Shared grins, then a shrug. "I lost the third time."

"You hate that."

"No, I don't like it, but I don't hate it. It's not the end of the world, and betting was exciting as fuck."

Something occurred to me as she asked, "Will you again?"

I shook my head. "He's history." I debated. Honesty won.

"But speaking of BJs and ... umm ... what we were talking about earlier, you and Anthony. I kinda owe him one. But if that's a problem with you then let's talk." That last came out in a hurried rush. It had never occurred to me that Julia would have plans with him.

"What the—" Her face cleared. "In the camper, the Seven Minutes in Heaven."

I nodded, uncertain of my ground.

"Why?"

"He'd had too much to drink to ... you know ... but he, umm, helped me out."

"And so, you promised him?"

I nodded again. "I don't think he remembers, but it was a promise."

"So fucking keep your promise." The grin was wicked, friendly but wicked. "Babe, he's not Mr. Right. I just thought he might be Mr. Right Now for my first spring break."

"He still can be. Oh!" I'm sure I blushed. "I don't mean us at the same time. I could— We could—"

She didn't burst into laughter. "We can figure it out. But about you"—she veered the conversation back—"maybe we gotta find you a Mr. Right Now since you didn't get laid."

The DJ had bumped the volume, and the noise level was making talking difficult. Shouting about the two guys I'd slept with in the last four months was just not gonna happen.

Some other time. Well, at least about Carter. Her brother's Ethan's age. Would she judge? Probably not. But Carter's juicy enough.

I'd spent the night with him three times: that first time before Christmas, again after Owen lost, and then when I just couldn't bear it anymore after Ben lost. I had managed to make do by myself over the weeks after Owen's show, but the pressure came to head that night.

My studying the game had paid off. I didn't win, so I got naked every week, but I didn't lose either. I watched the week Brey rose and took a deep breath at a crook of Luis's finger, and then as Logan flamed bright red again, followed by Zach taking a turn under the soft spotlight. That had been horny-inducing, and I'd taken a long time to get to sleep because images of that boyish face puckered up as he came refused to fade, but I persevered in going home alone. I'd only been half-manipulating Josh when I said, "routine would be boyfriend–girlfriend," and that wasn't where I was right now.

Carrie had "cheated" me the next week when Carter lost. "In the back, big boy," she'd told him to good-natured complaints from every girl. That had been another night of frustration, wondering how she had him to do it. I might have asked for a demo, but she followed him out the door after.

The next week it boiled over. Nick got down to underwear in the green game, and he still wasn't over his self-consciousness. And Hannah, in a rare green-game topless at that point, had been on fire with the teasing and gotten a definite semi out of her red-faced victim.

Then she'd had some simple bad luck, and I'd heard her sigh, "The hat doesn't always work." She stood, stripped her panties, and made her way slowly around the guys, drawing each of them in for a languorous kiss. She hadn't lied to Josh all those months ago: she did grind a little and press her breasts, and more than one pair of boxers tented just a mite. I went into the main game already buzzing.

And Ben lost. Someone I'd seen naked, but now saw erect and oiled. I followed each slow stroke of his hand, inch by inch. By the soft groan and that first spurt arcing up to land high on his chest, buzz had turned to heat and wet. It was all I could do not to touch myself, but I was terrified of leaving a spot.

Probably not the first one to do it if you did, Charl.

But that was too embarrassing. Instead, I reached back behind me to where I knew Carter was sitting. I grabbed a knee, then slid my hand up a naked thigh what small distance I could reach. "Hmm?" I said quietly.

"Yeah."

I was practically drooling by the time I arrived at his apartment and didn't even strip. I shoved two hundred twenty pounds of guy flat onto his back, pulled my panties to the side, and climbed onto his face. After, oblivious of noise and whether anyone could see in, I'd let him lift me effortlessly so my outstretched hands thudded against the windowsill at the head of the bed and my knees spread to accommodate him behind me. I barely registered my skirt flying up and my sodden panties down before he'd shoved himself inside me. I'd squirmed and bucked and cried out in the second of several orgasms that night before he groaned and shot deep inside me.

Now, not wanting to share that with the drunkards at the next table, I shouted at Julia, "But I did." I held up two fingers.

"Woohoo!" Then her expression sobered a little. She held up one finger. Then two. Then shook her head and bent a knuckle to show one and a half.

"What?"

"Later."

A half an hour later, we pushed back our plates and drained the last of our third drinks. She pushed a couple guys aside and scooted her chair around until it was on my side of the table. "I like the wild side of you."

"You would."

She giggled. "And I dare you to enter." At my confusion, she pointed at the banner.

WET T-SHIRT CONTEST 7:30

"Fuck no!"

"It's a dare."

"No!"

She arched an eyebrow. Chicken? it screamed.

"Do it!" That from the guy standing right next to our table who was obviously checking out the two chicks because it was too noisy for him to hear otherwise. I didn't need the peanut-gallery loser sharing his opinion and ignored him.

"Do it," Julia echoed.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN ..." The DJ's voice boomed over the suddenly lower music. "It's time." Cheers erupted, mostly male voices, and I saw a couple of coeds being pushed toward the front by their friends.

"Get up there, Chips."

"Yeah, go for it!" Mr. Loser chimed in, still ignored by both of us.

"Why, Jules?"

"Because I wanna see the wild side." As I hesitated more, "I'm daring you." The look was pure challenge. "Have you ever regretted one of my dares? I mean, the bungee jump was fuckin' epic. Just think, if you do, then you can say you did it." That made a certain Jules-type of sense.

"You go up too." I waved toward the front.

"Nope. This is me daring you."

I squirmed. "I'm wearing a black T-shirt."

"Hey, you!" Julia poked the guy who'd offered his unsolicited opinion. "Give her your T-shirt."

"Whaa? It's mine."

"I know that, idiot. Hers is black. It'll stay black."

Two brain cells had obviously survived the beer binge and his eyes widened. He stripped the white shirt with garnet "FSU" over his head.

Reluctantly, I pulled mine off, glad I had a bikini underneath instead of a bra, and pulled his on. Julia held out her hand. "Top."

I slapped away the hand from behind that wanted to "help" with the tie at the neck. I undid the two bows and pulled the top out from underneath. I felt my breasts drop and the nipples immediately start to harden. Standing, I stripped off the jean shorts to reveal the bikini bottoms.

"ONE MORE HERE!" Julia screamed at the DJ, and I felt myself pushed toward the low stage with the large kiddie pool on it.

The volume skyrocketed, and the bass turned up to eleven. The other girls jumped into motion. Fuck it! If you're gonna be up here ... I started dancing, hips punching out the beat:

And I know she'll be the death of me
At least we'll both be numb
And she'll always get the best of me

I closed my eyes and let the cheers and catcalls flow, knowing I was bouncing all over the place.

The ice-cold pitcher of water hit my face and upper chest without warning. I gasped and brushed drops from my eyes. I looked down. A dark circle was plainly visible through the giant wet spot on my right front. The noise intensified and more pitchers were flung toward us, targeting us one at a time.

We fended off against each other in the cramped space, forearms pressing back against shoulders or boobs at random. Again I felt water, a stream this time and only slightly warmer than the icy pitchers, hit me. The T-shirt got heavy, and another glance downward showed me the staff member wielding the hose had great aim: my entire front was sodden, and the now-transparent cotton molded itself over every curve of my breasts and outlined the apex of my legs.

"SHAKE IT, CHIPS!" I heard in a girl-pitched shriek from the floor.

I shook it. My hand encountered naked flesh as a girl who had cropped her shirt enough to show underboob gyrated up against me. I doubted I would win this one in my oversized tee.

I didn't. The song ended and the DJ went to each girl in turn, pulling her hand aloft to listen to the cheers from the audience. In a couple of cases, the law got bent just short of breaking—we'd been told "town ordinance, NO flashing" and "seriously, the cops hang outside and check"—but he was an old hand at this and knew just how high he could lift an arm before something fell out. I got my share of cheering, my breasts are pretty good, but the victory went to someone with a good pair, a ripped crop-top showing both under- and sideboob, and a butt she'd twerked the hell out of.

I stepped back offstage to Julia's screaming "Oh my God" and giant hug. It made me aware of the fact that I was soaking wet. "Umm." I gestured for my shirt and bikini top. Five seconds later, I realized how almost impossible it was to put on a bikini under a dripping-wet T-shirt that came to my thighs and clung like a second skin.

"Fuck it!" No cop was going to spot me now that I was down off the stage surrounded by people and the goddamn thing was transparent anyway. I whipped the sodden garment off, well aware that the struggle to pull it up over my head put the girls on total display. The boys around me went nuts. I snatched up my dry tee, turned my shoulder to knock away a hand that came out of the crowd with a sharp "NO!" and pulled it over my head. I pulled on my jean shorts and stuffed my bikini top into a pocket for later donning. Loser boy reached for his shirt.