Three Little Words

“Seriously?”

She nodded.

“You’re such a tease!”

“Sorry,” she said, her mouth still full of cock, “can’t talk now. Need to suck.”

I blinked in disbelief. “Oh my God,” I said at last, “I’ve created a monster.”

She stopped sucking long enough to grin up at me. “A penis monster!

Now… do you mind? I’m trying to concentrate here.”

“Then by all means,” I laughed.

“Thank you. Now, where was I? Oh, yes… penis!”

Chapter 15

Trip called us the next morning. The doctors at Vanderbilt had given his father an otherwise clean bill of health and told him to get more exercise and eat less red meat. Trip and Wren were going to make sure he was doing okay and then fly out to Reno the following day.

“How’s the cabin?” he asked.

“Nice. Cozy. A-frame built in the fifties.”

“Wren wants to know if you and Christy tried out the hot tub.”

“Not yet. It’s still covered with a tarp under a foot of snow. But I’ll check it out this afternoon and get it ready for when you all get here.”

“Awesome. Thanks. It’ll probably be after dinner. We have to pick up the rental car, and then it’s about an hour’s drive.”

“Stock up on alcohol in Reno. We’re walking everywhere here,” I explained. “It isn’t bad, but I’m not hauling cases of wine up the mountain.”

“We’ll take care of it.”

“In the meantime,” I said, “we’re glad your dad’s doing well. Hope your stepmom and brothers are too. Take care of everyone there and we’ll see you tomorrow night.”

“Yep. Oh, wait a sec. Wren wants to talk to Christy.”

“Sure.” I held the phone out to her.

“Hello? Oh, hey!” she said to Wren. Then she glanced at me. “What? No!

I most certainly did not.” Her eyebrows shot up. “No, not tonight either.” She went pink as Wren offered a few more lurid suggestions. “Wren!” she said at last. “I can’t talk to you when you’re like this. Have a safe trip. See you tomorrow… Okay, you too. Bye.” She hung up. “Oh my gosh, she was in

rare form.”

“Sounds like she needs to get laid. You interested?”

“Not you too!”

“’Fraid so. It’s a conspiracy.”

“No kidding,” she muttered.

“You poor thing,” I chuckled as I turned her toward the entryway. “So many people wanna have sex with you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

“I’ll protect you, don’t worry. In the meantime, let’s get a move on. The slopes await.”

Christy donned her coat and gloves and picked up her boot bag. I balanced the ones with our skis and poles over my shoulder and then grabbed my own boots. Down at the resort itself, we rented four lockers together, bought lift tickets, and headed toward the slopes.

I wanted to start with some intermediate runs, but Christy pointed us toward a lift that led to mostly difficult trails. Her idea of a warm-up had nothing to do with mine, and she practically dared me to keep up when she schussed away without a backward glance. She didn’t ski rings around me, but only because she was waiting for me at the bottom of the run.

The rest of the morning was a completely new experience for me. I was a better skier than Gina and Leah, so I’d always had to wait for them or tailor my fun to theirs. I had to push myself to keep up with Christy. She was the most athletic girl I’d ever dated, which I mentioned when we took a break for lunch.

“We all had to play sports growing up,” she explained. She took one look at her Cobb salad and immediately scrunched her nose. “Ugh! I asked for no bacon.”

“Here, put it on mine.”

She did and then assiduously searched for any she’d missed. When she was certain it was all gone, she shuddered in revulsion at how close she’d come to eating it.

“I used to think you were doing that just to be different,” I said with a chuckle.

“Oh my gosh, no! I can’t stand the thought of eating something that has—

had feelings.”

“But seafood and poultry are okay?”

“Well… yes. Don’t ask me to explain.”

“You aren’t a very good Buddhist,” I teased.

“I’m not a very good Catholic either,” she shot back. “You wanna pick on me for that too, Mr. It’s Gonna Happen?”

“Ha! Okay, you win.”

“Thank you.”

“Anyway, we were talking about sports.”

She looked suspicious for a moment but picked up where she’d left off.

“Right. So we all had to play sports growing up. We had to do something musical or artistic too. Our parents wanted us to be well-rounded.”

“What did you all do?”

“Harry played football and basketball, and he’s a pretty good dancer.

You’ve heard James play piano. He’s a really good artist too, mostly cartoons and political satire. He played football and basketball but never like Harry.”

“Yeah, I can see that. What about Danny and Rich?”

“Danny couldn’t convince Mom that surfing was a sport, so he played football. He took up the ukulele, but mostly to annoy the rest of us. Rich was a wrestler, and you’ve heard him sing. He’s also a really good cook. Mom made him take Home Economics one year, and he made an A just to prove he could.”

I chuckled. “That sounds like Rich.”