Page 21 of Falling

“Geneva,” I warn, stepping through the curtain. I love saying her name. It feels like a cool breeze on a warm summer night. I say it as often as I can. “Find something else.”

The next one she throws over the curtain looks a little larger, but it’s gray. Who wears a gray swimsuit? I pull it on anyway and step out. Holding my arms out to the side, I do a three-sixty. She has a wicked smile on her face. She’s up to something I’ve missed.

“What?” I ask. “Why would you choose gray?” Why would a store even carry this color? It’s going to look like I’m naked in the water. You can also see every inch of my cock.

Oh. I don’t even argue with her this time. I just return to the dressing room. “Try again.”

“Fine,” she says. I can hear the pout in her voice. It makes me smile. Maybe I’ll take the gray one for later. A new suit shoots over the curtain rail at me. It’s not bad. I pull it on and step back out. This suit is blue with red stripes down the legs. It has a retro-athletic feel to it that I like.

“Turn,” she snarls, like I did with her last suit. That thing made her luscious breasts look amazing. Laying by the pool next to them will be the death of me. I do a slow turn while she appraises my trunks. They’re still tight, but not uncomfortably so. “These are nice.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They hug everywhere they should but still look classic. I say yes.”

“Shall we check out then?” I ask.

“We shall.” She precedes me to the cashier. We pile our suits on the counter, and I notice out of the corner of my eye that she’s decided to buy the Brazilian anyway. Fine by me. Rand has a house in Austin with a private pool. I wouldn’t mind seeing it make an appearance there. While he and his wife are back in Dansboro Crossing, of course.

We stroll back through the shops and head up to our rooms. Geneva decides I need to pick her up at her room in fifteen minutes to head to the pool, so I hurry into my room.

Shedding my clothes, I pull on the new suit and throw a T-shirt on to walk to the pool area. I don’t have anything but tennis shoes in the room, so I pull them back on. I’m knocking on her door in exactly fifteen minutes.

“May I escort you somewhere wet?” I ask when she opens the door.

“You really can’t help yourself, can you?” She steps out in one of the hotel robes.

“I can’t. I might have to throw that rule out.”

“Good. Now I just have three to work on.” She smiles at me. I cock an eyebrow at her. You would think I’d be so over this trip already. Geneva taunts me at every turn.

Except I’m not. I love sparring with this woman. I hate to tell her she broke the nudity one also. As long as she doesn’t remember (she’s at least not mentioned it), then it’ll be my dirty little secret.

I have kissed her before, in case you’re wondering. Last night wasn’t our first one. The last time I was fifteen though. We were in the basement of my house playing truth or dare with a couple of friends over the holidays. I chose dare, and my older brother, Tim, dared me to kiss her. He knew I had a crush on Geneva already. I was so nervous my palms were sweating. It wasn’t very memorable.

Last night’s kiss, however, was one for the record books. Even inebriated, she kissed like a rock star. With her naked breasts pressed against my chest, it was all I could do not to throw her on the bed and strip her out of those barely-there panties.

Fortunately, common sense took over. I can’t strip off the barely-there panties of my best friend’s sister. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway. Over and over.

“Come on, the pools are heated,” I say when we step outside. She shivers in the cold air. The pools may be heated, but it’s still late fall. I lead her to the nearest deck chair, and she slides out of her robe and dives into the pool. I peel off my T-shirt and shoes to follow her. The water feels amazing.

“Do you remember the time you came with Rand to California for spring break? We kept getting paired up to chicken fight in the pool?” she asks.

How could I forget? I had to threaten half the neighborhood kids so I always got Geneva. She sat the entire week with her pussy pressed against the back of my neck. I was in heaven. I was also in hell knowing that was as close as I’d get to it.

“Yeah, I was what, sixteen?”

“That sounds right. I would have been fifteen. I’m surprised you didn’t drown.”

“If memory serves, we ruled the pool that week.”

“We did.” She floats closer to me. It’s cold enough outside that we hunker in the water up to our necks. Suddenly, she pushes out of the water and forces me underneath the surface. I come up sputtering.

“Here’s where you die, Randolph,” I say.

Diving under the water, I grab her good ankle and pull her under. When I resurface, she’s laughing. I don’t remember a time when I’ve seen Geneva this relaxed. She’s always had to wear a tough shell around her. First to survive her father. Then to keep the world from closing in on her. I like this carefree Geneva.

“I’ll race you to the end,” she says before diving. I grin before diving after her. We spend the rest of our time racing around the pool until we’re both spent.

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