Wicked Cold

"Wait," I said. "Rooms? Plural?" I was imaginin' my uncle springin' for a luxury suite for me and Amy.

"You didn't think you were staying in the same room, did you?" she said with a frown. "Amy's mother would kill me if I let you do that. No, dear. You'll stay with daddy and me. Amy will stay with your cousin Susan."

Great. My second cousin Susan, the thirty-five-year-old lesbian. Amy'd love that. I decided to keep that nugget of information under my hat so Amy wouldn't worry about Susan puttin' the moves on her in her sleep. And I loved the way my mother blamed Amy's mom, as if she'd be cool with lettin' us share a room, if only Amy's mother wasn't such a prude.

"No," I said, embarrassed. "I don't know what I was thinkin'." My face felt hot, and I knew I was blushin'. I hoped nobody noticed. I was just grateful I didn't have a hard-on to go with my red face. Before the blush even faded, I was tryin' to think how I'd get Amy alone.

* *

I figured that we could find a few minutes in the afternoon, since everybody else would be busy with the weddin', but I was wrong. The rehearsal wasn't till five o'clock, so I called Amy in her room as soon as my parents went back to help my uncle.

"Hey," I said. "You alone?"

"No," she whispered. "Your cousin is in the bathroom. Are you?"

"Yeah, but there's a lot of weddin' shit up here in my parents' and my room, so I think they'll be in and out."

Amy sighed into the phone. That was a good sign; she sounded frustrated too.

"How 'bout we go for a swim?" I said. "The adults won't have time for that. Maybe we can make out in the pool."

"Yeah, I guess," she said. "Pick me up on your way down."

Ten minutes later, I got my first view of Amy's new suit. It wasn't a bikini, which would have been sweet, but it was cut pretty low in the front and pretty high around the legs. We were the only ones in the pool area, so as soon as she took her t-shirt off, I put my arms around her and kissed her neck. She giggled and hugged me back.

"C'mon." I grabbed her hand. "Let's go in the hot tub."

The water was too hot at first, but it didn't take long to get used to it, and it felt good on my skin. I slid right in until it was over my head. I tried to pull Amy under with me, but she fought me. When I popped to the surface again, she said, "Don't. I don't want to get my hair wet."

"All right. Fine," I said with my sad eyes. "I'll just get somethin' else wet instead." My sad face turned into an evil grin, and I turned to face her, my body bobbin' in the water between her open legs.

"Oh, really?" she said, grinnin' back at me. She grabbed my hands and pulled me closer until our mouths were inches from each other. "I am so fucking horny," she murmured. I closed the gap between us and put my lips against hers. She slipped her tongue between my lips, makin' my cock swell. I took her hand and placed it on my hard-on to show her what effect she was havin' on me.

"Mmm," she moaned into my mouth. I took that as my cue to let my hands wander. When I put my hands on her tits, she moaned again, and sat lower in the water, gettin' her hair wet up to her ears. I kept kissin' her, hopin' that she didn't suddenly freak out about her hair.

I let my hand run down her front until it settled between her legs. I caressed her thighs and rubbed her pussy through the fabric of her bathin' suit. When she didn't clamp her legs together and push me away, my fingers snuck under the elastic leg band and slipped into her warm pussy. I could feel the thick, slippery wetness between her lips, even in the water. I slid my finger all the way inside of her and wiggled it, makin' her giggle again.

"You are so fuckin' wet," I said. I kissed her on the nose and then moved to the seat next to her. As I moved my body, my finger brushed her clit. She took a sharp breath and spread her legs even wider. I started to rub her clit in a tight circle. Her hips bucked and her bottom floated off the seat. She braced herself against the concrete bench as best as she could and moaned. She was gettin' close already.

"Oh, god." Her tone was low, like the slow purr of a contented cat. "It's been a long time."

I put a little more pressure against her silky flesh and swirled my fingers a little faster. Her breathin' came faster and faster until her whole body stiffened and she held her breath. Her body started to float to the surface again, and when I went to catch her, she clamped her legs together on my hand and said with her teeth clenched, "Don't fucking stop." I continued rubbin' the best I could with my fingers practically crushed. Finally, she relaxed and her breathin' slowed. As she bobbed in the bubbly water, she sighed and said, "Thank you."

She kind of floated on her back for a couple of minutes, just relaxin' in the hot water. Her hair was completely drenched. Her eyes were closed and she had a contented smile on her face. I kissed her gently on the cheek and said, "What happened when you fell on Andrea in the van? You looked all freaked out."

She dropped her head and shook it. "Nothin'. No. I'm not talking about it."

I put my fingers under her chin and lifted her face to look at me. "What the hell happened that you're so upset about?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and whispered, "She grabbed my...my breast."

I tried not to smile. "Aim, I'm sure it was just an accident, babe. I'm sure she wouldn't grab you on purpose."

"I'm serious. It wasn't like her hand just brushed me. She rubbed my nipple with her fingers." She shook her head harder. "And just when I tried to stand up, she pinched it!" She shivered as if she was cold.

I couldn't help it. I laughed a low, stuttered, Beavis-and-Butthead laugh.

"Hey!" she said, pullin' away from me. "That really freaked me out. What if she's, like, a lesbian or something? God, I can still feel her fingers on my nipple! It's making my skin crawl."

"Are you afraid of catching it or somethin'?" I asked, still tryin' to stifle my grin.

She made a noise that sounded like a growl and turned to get out of the tub. I grabbed her arm and pulled her toward me. I wrapped my arms around her and kissed her head. "C'mon. Forget about what happened in the van. My shoulders are cold out of the nice, warm water." Her face softened, and she let me ease her back into the tub. "My turn? Please?"

"I guess so." She pulled herself back to the wall and crouched in front of me. "I hope you don't think you're getting a blowjob in here," she said with a little smile.

"Nah. Even I'm not that ballsy," I said. "I'll settle for a nice handjob to tide me over."

She kissed me again, and put her hand over my cock. She gave it a couple of pumps before stoppin' to tell me to pull down my trunks. Just as my hands went to my waistband, the door to the pool area squeaked open. Amy's eyes went wide, and she pushed away from me, just in time to hear my grandmother yell, "Kevin! There you are!"

Fuck.

* *

At five o'clock, the weddin' party and all the guests met in the party room on the first floor of the hotel. Me and Amy walked down together wearing our Bruins' jerseys, just like my mother told us to. Mine was number seventy-seven, Ray Borque. Amy wore number eight, Cam Neely. I figured that the rehearsal was a hockey theme or somethin', since we were in Montreal, where the Bruins' biggest rivals were from. The Canadiens, you know?

I was wrong again.

Just before we turned the corner into the party room, Amy said, "I hope we'll be able to sneak out during the actual rehearsal, since neither of us is in the wedding or anything."

"Yeah," I said. "You and me both. I've been semi-hard since we got outta the friggin' hot tub."

Those hopes, along with any hopes I had of sneakin' into the bachelor party died the second we walked into the rehearsal room and saw two more Bruins' jerseys. Bobby Orr, number four. That would be my dad. The other jersey said O'Reilly, number 24. I couldn't tell who it was from the back, but he had short hair and was obviously a fan of Terry O'Reilly, Bruins' legendary enforcer.

Everyone else in the room was dressed up all fancy and shit. Everyone.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Amy whispered.

"I have no idear," I said. Then I saw my mother wavin' at me. My father turned around and put his hands up in the air, like to Pats had just scored a touchdown. He was holdin' an envelope.

"Kevin!" my father said. "The Bruins are in town tonight, and we're going to the game. It's gonna be wicked good. They're playing the Habs.

Bruins and Canadiens. In Montreal. Holy shit. I hoped I didn't look disappointed. I mean, I was thrilled to be going to the game, but I really thought me and Amy would get some time alone. I wished I could tell my dad, but I obviously couldn't do that. Givin' up sex for a hockey game just added another layer of horny to the cake. Dad'd get that for sure.

"Great," I said, squeezin' Amy's hand a little tighter. "It'll be awesome. But, who's that in the O'Reilly jersey?"

"Cousin Susan!" my dad said. "C'mon, Susan. The kids are here."

Dad and Susan sat in the front seat of the car, makin' small talk about bein' glad that they didn't have to sit through the rehearsal and the boring dinner.

"What about the bachelor party, Dad?" I asked. "Weren't you invited?"

He chuckled. "Why do you think your mother bought these tickets?"

I guessed that Cousin Susan was probably invited to the bachelorette party, but that she'd have a much better time at the guys' "lesbian show." My cock jumped again at the thought of watchin' two beautiful women going down on each other, right in front of everyone, and I tried to push the thought out of my mind for good. A hockey game was a good compromise for all of us. Maybe a coupla good fights would help me get rid of some of this pressure. But then again, maybe the adrenalin rush would make it worse.

Fuck.

* * * *

~Amy~

As I lay there on the massage table with my face through the headrest, feeling warm and relaxed, I realized that all of my worry had been for nothing. This was freaking amazing.

I'd never been to a spa before, so when Kevin's mother called me in my dorm room last week, out of the blue, to tell me that all the women that were going to the wedding were having a spa party on the morning of the big event, I was freaking terrified. I didn't know what to wear or how to act in a hoity-toity spa. My roommate told me that she had a massage once, and that she was completely naked for it. Naked! I was more worried about that than I was about freezing to death in a bed made of ice.

I was completely wrong. The spa was beautiful and warm and relaxing, and it smelled so nice, with a scent I couldn't quite place permeating the whole place. My therapist used aromatherapy oil called "Relaxing Blend" which smelled like lavender and vanilla. Other than the few brief moments when the massage therapist first pulled back the sheet, I completely forgot that I was naked with another woman in the room, touching my body. Her hands slid from the base of my neck, down to the top of my ass, and I sighed. Her hands lingered for a moment, and then she bent down next to my ear and whispered, "I will lift duh cover, and you go on duh back, OK? I don't look."

My heart started to pound, and I started breathing faster. I felt the cool air hit my oiled skin as she lifted the sheet, and I fought to control my panic. I bit the bullet and sat up before the therapist could worry that something was wrong. When I lay on my back, my nipples were hard. I told myself it was the coolness of the air compared to the warmth of the heated massage table and closed my eyes.

"Ready?" she asked, and she placed the sheet over my body, tucking it in to keep me warm.

"Yep," I said. I sounded chipper, which broke the relaxing vibe in the room for a moment.

"OK. You relax," she whispered, and she placed her warm hands on my face.

I took a deep breath, and suddenly, the image of the Spanish woman in the van popped into my head. I shuddered, once again feeling the phantom fingers caressing my nipple.

"You OK?" Margot asked as her fingers slid along my forehead.

"Fine. I'm fine. Go ahead." I forced myself to relax.

The Spanish woman. Dammit. I ended up sitting next to her in the waiting area of the locker room. She sipped the champagne they'd offered when we got here. I knew the drinking age was eighteen, and since I'm nineteen I could have had some, but I was too nervous about the naked thing. I was afraid I'd get sick or something.

I sat in the plush chair, clutching a glass of water with a slice of lemon floating in it, wearing nothing except the heavy, white, terry cloth robe. I didn't even have the security of my underwear to protect me from her hands if they decided to roam. With the invisible imprint of her fingers on my nipple lingering, reminding me that she...she touched me inappropriately yesterday, I felt my skin crawling again. I was freaking out.

She drained her glass of champagne and looked around for another one. "What are you getting? A pedicure? A fah-see-ahl?"

"Excuse me?" I asked. "A fah-see-al?"

"You know, for duh face," she said.

"Oh. Facial. No," I said. Her accent was beautiful, but hard to understand. "I'm getting a massage. Mrs. Connors thought that's what I'd enjoy the most."

"Who is Mrs. Connors?"

"Kevin's mother. He's my boyfriend. You know, from the van."

"Oh, yes." She nodded. "You eber hab one? A massage?"

I shook my head. "I've never been to a spa before."

"I love duh spa. I go all duh time in Pennsylvania." I loved the way she said that. "I neber been to a spa parrrty dough." She rolled her "R" when she said it. "You say it," she said.

"What?" I was confused.

"Spa parrrty," she said.

I said it, trying to roll my "R," but failed miserably.

"No. No. Say it like you say it."

"Spa party?" This time I said it the normal Boston way. Spa pahty. I raised my eyebrows to see if that was what she was looking for.

She laughed and clapped her hands together while she rocked in her seat. "Yes! That's it! You say dem both duh same!" She was grinning from ear to ear. "Yust like on duh TB. Yust like on Cheers!"

Oh brother.

Just then, two women in black pants and t-shirts came into the waiting room, speaking French. At least I thought it was French. It didn't sound like the French I learned in high school with Madame LeClair. This language was harsh, like French that had been frozen under layers of snow, ice, and tundra for a couple hundred years.

When the women reached us, the blonde spoke to me quietly in English. "Amy? I'm Margot. I do duh massage." She said the "TH" like a "D," just like Celine Dion. I smiled a goodbye to Andrea and followed Margot to the treatment room. "You put duh robe here, on duh hook. Den you lay on duh table on your front side and cover yourself." Her "Rs" were funny too. Like a gargle in the back of her mouth or something.

I nodded, but I was screaming in my head. "I'M FREAKING NAKED HERE!" I took a deep breath and did what she told me.

Now, as Margot worked her way down my arms, I thought about Kevin. I felt a little bit badly about how grumpy I was in the car yesterday. I was so stressed out about this massage thing, that I couldn't even be nice to him. He was as freaking horny as I was, and every time we thought we'd get a minute to ourselves, somebody else had plans for us. Last night it was the hockey game; this morning was the spa. I was beginning to think that we'd be all horned up until we got back to Boston at this rate.

We didn't even get to be alone after the game. Kevin's father took us all out to eat, and by the time we got back, his mother was announcing that we all had to get up early, so we'd better get to bed because we all a big day tomorrow. So much for round two in the hot tub. I sighed as Margot worked the palm of my right hand.

And then, when Susan and I got back to our room, she started to talk. Just what I was hoping for. A nice little chat with Kevin's weird cousin. Ugh.

As we settled into our beds, she kept talking. And talking. The next thing I knew, she was telling me about the day she came out to her parents. Came out! She's a freaking lesbian! And Kevin didn't tell me. He knows that I'm not comfortable with...with gays, and especially lesbians. It grosses me out. I can't help it, but it does.

And after what happened in the van with An-DRAY-uh. God. I can't believe he didn't tell his mother that I couldn't stay with a lesbian. This was totally unfair. His freaking uncle is loaded. He couldn't have gotten me my own room?

Kevin probably thought it was funny. He was probably in his bed in his parents' room laughing his ass off at me. He thought I was a prude. A freaking prude! I'm not a prude. Just because I don't like gay people and I don't want his hands all over me in public, doesn't mean I'm a total prude!

He probably thinks that because I hate porn. Lots of women hate watching porn, right? I love sex. I love fucking him. We'd fuck every day, if we could. Nothing would make me happier. I just don't want to watch it, especially since guys seem to think that every movie they watch should have some girl on girl action. I don't understand it.

I'm no prude, but that doesn't mean that I want to have sex with another...woman. The thought of it sent a chill down my spine. Not being a prude doesn't make me want to lick a freaking pussy. God. That's so gross. I can't stand kissing Kevin after he goes down on me. I can't stand the smell of me on his face afterward. I can't imagine having to taste it from the source.

I shuddered, like there was a draft in the room. I realized that I had goose bumps, and I pulled the blanket tighter around me. I tried to let my mind be still, and I finally dozed off.

Then something woke me up. I heard a sound. It was like a click or a swish, over and over. I couldn't tell what it was. For a minute, I thought maybe Kevin's cousin had gotten up to go to the bathroom and she was washing her hands with Soft Soap. I opened my eyes, just a little bit. The red numbers on the clock radio said it was after one. The room was dark, but there was one slim beam of light coming through a gap in the drapes. It fell right on the foot of Susan's bed.

Another sound whispered through the room, like a sigh or a soft moan or something. My eyes focused, and I realized that Susan was moving. The blanket was shifting in time with the swishing sound. She moaned again and moved her arm, pulling the blanket down. In the dim light, I could see that she had pulled up her shirt, and that I could see her...her naked tits. She was fucking masturbating!

My skin crawled anew, and I squeezed my eyes shut. Fucking masturbating. I was gonna kill Kevin. A lesbian masturbating, five feet from me. I felt the goose bumps once again. It was wicked cold in here. Jesus. My nipples were getting hard from the cold.

A bead of sweat rolled across my brow, toward the pillow. How could I be sweating when I was freezing? My nipples were as hard as a rock! When did it get warm in here?

Susan was moaning louder now. I forced myself to stay still and to keep my eyes closed, but I was starting to sweat all over now. Why were my nipples still hard? My skin was crawling, and I could have sworn that Andrea was pinching my nipple all over again. My eyes popped open without my permission, and my eyes were assaulted by the image of Susan, naked from the knees to the shoulders with her pajama bottoms pulled down and her shirt pulled up. Her tits were huge and her nipples seemed to stick out half an inch. Her hand moved in a blur between her legs. I tried to close my eyes, but I couldn't do it. It was like I had to watch this...this freak show.

I suddenly realized that I was moving my hips, slowly at first. WHAT THE FUCK? I squeezed my legs together and felt wetness. Please tell me I'm getting my period. Please tell me that's what this wetness is. Wait. What the hell am I saying? I just had my period last week. Oh my god. What is happening to me? Susan moaned loudly this time.