The Summer Wind

"You're such a jerk," she said smirking. "No, really, is it to much? I feel like I'm hanging out of this thing," she said, turned, and shook her ass.

I stood up and reached out, driven mad by the raw meat teased before me.

"Down boy," she laughed. "You'll get us kicked out."

"Just a taste?" I begged.

She looked past me and surveyed the store. "I don't know, I bet they frown upon people fooling around in their change rooms."

"That's only if they catch us," I said as I swooped in, wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her in close. Warmth radiated from her bare skin igniting a primal urge buried deep inside me. It howled, begging to be released.

She looked up at me and smiled, her pouty lips tied in a neat pink bow. She leaned in, and whispered into my ear. "Alright, I'll play along, but by my rules."

She pulled back, took me by the hand, led me into the change room and closed the curtain behind us. It was tiny. Her clothes and purse were in a pile on a small chair, behind it was a full length mirror.

"On your knees," she commanded.

I obeyed and fell before her.

"You're such an obedient little pet, aren't you? So eager to please," she said with a devilish grin.

"Put your hands behind your back and keep them there."

As I did, she started to untie her bikini top.

Her breasts, freed, bounced and settled. My jaw fell open and my eyes strayed to them, was I panting?

"Stay," she said and circled me like a vulture.

"You have no idea how much I've been looking forward to this vacation. I actually feel sorry for the hotel staff. After we're through with that room it's going to look like a hurricane hit it. I've been counting down the days, the hours, the minutes, and when I get you alone in that room, when I have you all to myself ... well."

She grabbed my hands and bound them with the string bikini. The knot burned into my skin as she pulled it tight.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

"A little," I whimpered.

"Good."

She stood up. I could hear her fumbling with something. A second later, her bikini bottom sailed through the air and landed on the small chair in front of me. She circled back, naked.

She stood before me, her bare skin bathing in the soft fluorescent light. I savored every curve, every line, her body a beacon I was drawn too like a moth.

"I have a confession to make. This isn't the only shopping I've done."

Not the only shopping she'd done? I thought. What else could there ...

Of course, the box, the cardboard box. I remembered seeing it tucked away in the back of our bedroom closet, buried under a pile of old coats. I knew better than to peek. If it was a gift, I didn't want to ruin the surprise. But, it had been nagging me for several days. What was in the box?

"I went a little overboard. Actually, I jumped ship. The credit card bill is going to be like a punch to the gut, but it was worth it. I couldn't resist, there were so many wonderful toys. Would you like to see one?" she asked.

I nodded, my imagination running wild. She spun around, her bare ass inches away from my face. She leaned over, teased me by wiggling it, and dug through her purse.

"No peeking," she said, peering over her shoulder.

I closed my eyes and obeyed. She stepped closer to me. I could smell her, a mix of lime and coconut.

"Tilt your head back," she said.

I obeyed. She wrapped something around my neck and tightened it.

"Open your eyes," she said softly.

When I did, I saw her towering above me, holding a thick metal chain.

"How do you like your new collar? It's not too tight is it?"

It pinched my skin, but wasn't constricting my airway. She lightly pulled on the chain. "Speak when spoken too," she barked, her mood deteriorating as if a dark shadow had fallen over it.

"It's lovely, thank you," I squeaked.

Her grin broadened. "I thought you might like it, and it's only the tip of the iceberg. I had no idea there was such a wide variety to choose from. I bought one of everything, in various sizes and colours. On this vacation, we're going to be taking a crash course into new sexual territory, fully loaded and heavily lubed."

She tightened her grip on the chain and started to wind it around her wrist, pulling me closer.

"I can't help myself, my appetite is insatiable. It keeps sneaking up on me while I'm at work. I've been in meetings, with absolutely no idea what's going on, my mind consumed by filthy thoughts."

She pulled me closer, her hand lowered, guiding me down ... down.

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep a straight face while they're reviewing the quarterly sales numbers when your pussy is soaking wet?"

Her hand was clenched in a fist, the chain wound tightly around her wrist. Her other hand gripped the back of my head, digging into my hair. She pulled me forward. I opened my mouth and found her with my tongue, slipping into her wet pussy.

Her body shuddered. "Yes ... just like that, good pet," she moaned.

I dove deeper, my tongue exploring the shadowy abyss. It was impossible to map, every turn revealing something new.

"Yes ... yes," she moaned, her grip tightening.

I pushed my tongue to the brink of exhaustion, then found the spot, the legendary spot and ravaged it like I was raiding an ancient tomb.

She screamed my name loud enough to ricochet off of every wall, shattering the memory.

"You awake?" Dean asked. "I think I'm done. Want to have a look?"

The broken memory started to slip away. The last thing I saw was me standing at the cash register while she was paying for the wrinkled swim suit, vaguely aware that I was still wearing the collar.

The fluorescent light crept back in as I opened my eyes. I blinked several times, felt the weight of the mascara on my eyelashes, looked into the mirror and saw ... I gasped.

"What do you think? Be brutally honest. I'm still trying to get the hang of blending colours.

I barely registered his words, my eyes were locked on the stranger staring back at me. It was like a game. Any move I made, they had to copy. I started off easy by turning my head to one side. They turned their head from side to side. I blinked twice. They blinked twice. I smiled and ...

"Well? Don't keep me in the dark. What do you think?"

Raw emotion bubbled up from the well of my soul. It was stunning, from the aqua teal eyeshadow, to the thick black mascara. My lips were the colour of ripe strawberries, my blush like a setting sun.

My features had been filed down, the rough patches receding. My skin as soft as a peach ... and the hair, I was amazed by what he'd done with my hair. He'd given me a light bob, every hair meticulously aligned. There was no way I could simply "shake it out."

"it's ..." the words failed me. "... less clownish than I was expecting, " I said, falling back on my go too defense when cornered: deflection.

"Hilarious. Anyway, you should change."

"Change?" I asked.

"Yea, I mean ... you can wander around in a bathrobe if you want too, but it might raise a few eyebrows at dinner."

"Right, of course," I said, my brain still mesmerized by my new reflection.

"Do you have any preference?" He asked. "Don't be deceived by my limited selection. I actually have a wide variety of options available for any occasion."

"I ... I have no idea," I said. "What ever you think is appropriate."

He grinned and I could see the gears starting to turn. "I have just the thing," he said, dug through the suitcase and pulled out several items. He set them down, one was a rectangular box.

"We're about the same shoe size, right? At least we were, back in high school, unless you've had a weird foot growth spurt."

"Not that I know of," I said nervously.

"Perfect. Well, I'll leave you too it, I still have to get changed. Give me a shout when you're ready."

I nodded, unable to speak.

When I was alone in the room, I turned my attention to the pile of clothing left on the bed. I walked over, and looked down at the odd collection before me. I hesitated, held back by the last refuge of a nagging doubt ... what if ... what if someone sneered at me, what if someone swore? Would I melt away, slink back to the room? There was something else nudging me forward, a curiosity that I couldn't quench. I reached down, dipping my hands in, drowning them in the soft fabric. I pulled an item out. It was a small tank top with bare shoulders and a plunging neck line. It was short, designed to expose the mid drift ... my mid drift.

I sucked in my gut. Thankfully I wasn't a heavy drinker and my job kept me on my toes, burning calories faster than I could consume them.

Next up was a skirt. The bleached white fabric was pleated, bell shaped. What if a gust of wind didn't favour me, would it still cover my ass? That's what the panties are for, silly, I thought.

From across the room I could see the unblinking eye of the digital clock staring at me. I was running out of time. I needed to act.

I dropped my robe and sat down on the edge of the bed. I reached over and grabbed the panties. The lycra was slippery like a fish. I slipped my foot through and pulled them up. They hugged every curve, covering me like a fresh coat of paint.

I then picked up what I assumed was a sports bra and examined it. Every stitch meticulously followed a blue print written by an engineer. The design was simple: support and lift. But lift what? I didn't have the raw materials. So, what was the point?

I wiggled into the odd contraption. It scrapped together what little it could and created two small ... breasts, really? I looked across the room into the mirror. My back was arched, my legs paired together, a tiny pair of perky breasts poking out. It was a miracle of science, there was no mistaking it, I looked like a ...

"Almost ready?" Dean asked from the bathroom.

"One minute" I said, and quickly slipped into the shirt and skirt. I stood up.

"Alright, I think I'm done," I said softly.

He appeared. I shifted back and forth uncomfortably, my hands fidgeting.

"No jokes," I said. "I already feel like a clown."

He stood there, eyes fixed on me.

"You look ..." he paused ... "Amazing."

"Really?" I asked. "Are you sure?"

"Promise," he said, and swallowed. He shook his head, as if to dislodge a thought he knew was best not spoken. "Anyway, are you ready? I don't want to waste another second."

I looked again at the door. "I guess."

"Great, throw on some socks and those sneakers and lets head out. I have a surprise in store for you."

"A what?" I asked.

"You'll see," he said with a devilish grin.

Chapter Eight

As we walked down the hallway I scanned every corner, half expecting Sarah and the Oily Wolf to leap out. Thankfully they didn't. We took several turns until we reached a set of double doors. We stepped outside. A stone path snaked down through a natural gouge in the rock.

I still had no idea where he was leading me. What else did the spa have to offer that we hadn't already sampled. A sauna? A yoga class?

We turned a corner and my eyes widened. The pleated skirt, the tight sports bra and sneakers. It all made sense now.

"You can't be serious," I gasped.

He turned. "Surprise," he said grinning like a ghoul.

The tall chain link fence, the acrylic green coating on the flat slab of concrete and of course, the pristine white net. It was a tennis court, plopped down, right in the middle of the forest.

"I did some light reading on this place, and apparently they didn't have to remove a single tree to set this up. It was like this when they found it. I'd like to think it's because it has some mystical powers, but it was probably something less dramatic like a thin layer of top soil that nothing could set roots in," he said as he opened the gate.

I followed him in. He walked over to a small nook, grabbed a tennis ball and tossed it to me. I caught it.

"You didn't think I was going to let you off the hook that easily, did you?" he asked. "We still have a game to finish."

I looked at him slyly. I couldn't believe he still remembered, it'd been years. I held the ball, raised it, the scent imprinted in my memory.

Tennis ...

Tennis was a common thread woven through out our friendship. It was actually how we had first met.

My first year of high school had been a complete disaster. I didn't fit in socially. Academically I was a failure and all the girls avoided me like the plague. Imprisoned with nothing but time on my hands, I found a secluded corner to plan my escape.

The tennis court was perfect. The school had dumped a small fortune into sports, throwing money at just about anything, and seeing what stuck. Tennis hadn't caught on, which left the courts open to just about anyone willing to request a pass.

It was unsupervised, secluded, perfect. It became part of my daily ritual, an oasis away from everything and everyone. I'd wander in, my discman cranked up to eleven, and whack tennis balls against the chain link fence with the shabby racket I'd dug out of my filthy garage. I didn't even bother to keep score, nor knew how.

I'd been in a foul mood that particular day, every word I grumbled under my breath laced with venom. With no where to direct my anger, I took it too the courts, ready to pulverize the thin metal fence. I threw the ball up, and swung at it with my strongest serve. Had I been a better shot, I might have severed Dean's head clean off his body.

The ball bounced back to me and I grabbed it. I pulled my headphones off and stared at him. He was pressed against the fence, curled up in a ball, head ducked down, arms crossed. He looked up at me, eyes raw, one swollen, a ring around it like a coffee stain. His cheeks were stained by tears.

I don't remember what we said, or how it turned into a conversation. I just remember feeling like I was staring at a doppelganger. He was like a carbon copy of me. He'd tripped over the same pitfalls I had, and had the scrapes to prove it.

Tennis, as stupid as it was, became part of our daily ritual. We started off slow, just trying to keep the volley continuing as we small talked. As we improved, we gradually became more competitive. He opened up and slowly started to crawl out of his shell. One specific conversation stood out.

"You're thinking of doing what?" I laughed.

He was holding the tennis ball, ready to serve, a broad grin painted across his face. "I don't know, I think it might be fun."

"But, of all things ... the school play. Really?" I asked.

He started to bounce the ball and I could tell his mind was already made up.

"What's wrong with the school play?"

"Nothing, I mean ... go for it. Hell, if you get the part, I'll be there opening night, front row."

"That's "if" I get it," he said softly.

"You'll get it," I replied.

He smiled, threw the ball up into the air and swung. It, like his ambition, never touched the ground.

"Ready?" he asked as he stood in almost the exact same position he had on that faithful day.

I took my stance and prepared for his serve. The years had not been kind to my joints, everything ached. The skirt was a new sensation. I could feel the air surrounding me. The top hugged my tiny frame, but I was still able to maneuver in the sports bra.

He threw the ball up into the air and swung. There was a loud crack and the ball rocketed towards me. I lunged forward and madly swung at it. To my surprise, I actually made contact and returned the serve. I planted my sneakers into the concrete and readied myself to counter attack.

The exchange continued, sometimes in my favor, sometimes in his.

"You're keeping score right?" I panted.

"You're leading by one. I think I'm good for one last game, you?"

"Sounds good," I said in complete agreement.

"Care to make it a bit more ... interesting?" he asked with a devilish grin.

He hasn't forgotten, I thought.

"Interesting?" I asked, knowing full well what he meant.

We'd often made small wagers when we played tennis in high school. They were never too serious; a chocolate glazed donut from the cafeteria, or a rare collectable from whatever money pit we were all tossing our meager savings into. And then there was "the bet."

If there was any single memory I could delete, "the bet" would be on the top of my list. It'd taken years to bury, and yet, under the shadow of an anxious moon, I'd drudge it back up.

It happened on a Saturday. I'd just turned nineteen, and to celebrate I decided to try out my new found super powers and buy booze at the local liquor store. Dean, who was a few months older than me, was savoring every second of my new found freedom.

"Just act natural," he tried to assure me as we sat in his car outside the store.

"Remember, you've got the golden ticket, you're good."

I stared out across the gravel parking lot at the windowless concrete bunker and gulped. My confidence was razor thin. I remember opening the door, dragging my feet like lead weights. After that, my entire body went on auto pilot. My next memory was me sitting back down in the passenger seat holding a large paper bag full of booze.

"Good lord, did you grab the first thing you saw?" he asked, laughing.

"Drive," I said, my head throbbing.

"Aye, aye captain," he said through bursts of laughter and we drove off.

We found a secluded parking lot and looked at my spoils. "You're not going to have any?" I asked.

"Nah, it's your birthday. Plus, I'm driving. The local cops have been looking for a reason to bust my chops, so I better not risk it. Go on. It's your birthday, lets celebrate!"

I still had no idea what I'd bought. Every bottle was strange, filled with odd coloured liquids. I picked the smallest one, assuming its size some how dictated how high the alcohol content was, and took a big gulp.

Big mistake, I thought as I almost spat it out.

Dean laughed hysterically. "Easy there tiger, it's not a race."

"Practice makes perfect," I mumbled through numb lips.

After I had polished off the first bottle, we sat on the hood of his car and stared out across the empty sea of black asphalt.

"It's going to be really hard giving up all this gorgeous scenery," he said quietly.

"Give it up?" I asked as my mouth and the bottle played a game of hide and seek.

"Yea, I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm going to chase the dream."

I slowly lowered the bottle and turned to look at him. "You're doing what now?" I asked, stunned.

"Don't get me wrong, I love community theatre. I love playing in front of a small audience, hearing their reactions, and seeing their faces. It's just ... it's the same faces every night, and it's the same reactions. It's more than I could have ever asked for ..."

"But ..." I said softly.

"But, there's so much more out there, and if I don't try now, I know I'll regret it."

I couldn't think of anything constructive to say, so I took another gulp.

"Look, it's not like it's the end of the world. And who knows, maybe it won't work out and I'll be right back where I started. Look, don't worry about it. I'm sorry I brought it up. Today's your special day. We can do anything you want, just name it."

I looked back at him, at his big goofy grin, his freckled cheeks, his eyes sparkling like distant stars.

"Tennis," I blurted out. "I want to play tennis."

He laughed and leapt off the hood of the car. "Amazing, I love it. Tennis it is. I think I got some rackets in my trunk. The usual haunt?" he asked.

I nodded. We didn't talk on the way to the courts. I couldn't bare to think about it, was he really leaving? I continued to drink, trying to drown the growing uneasiness in the pit of my stomach. We parked and crossed the field. The school was vacant, and thankfully, no one bothered locking up the courts on the weekend.

"So, where will you stay?" I asked as I clumsily bounced the tennis ball.