What's Left of Me Ch. 04

Previously on What's Left of Me: Dafydd Williams starts a new job and meets a new girl. Emily is vivacious and perceptive, and, like Dafydd, is trying to find her place in the world. They're drawn to each other immediately, and have an intimate night out ending in mutual oral. Unfortunately, after a long week of training, they're too tired to consummate the relationship fully, and make plans for Friday to finish what they'd started, and to decide what they want to be to each other. But they've got make it through their first week of work first.

I'm trying something new with formatting of text messages. Thanks very much to Penny Thompson for walking me through it, and to Lucky for their excellent How-To on special formatting.

In this chapter you can expect trading of nudes, oral, handstands, workplace chat and some light exhibitionism.

The rest of the day passed in a pleasant summery haze. It'd been a hell of a week. On Monday, I'd gotten in my car in the morning full of trepidation; now, on Saturday, I felt like I had a new lease on life – still bills to come due and payments to make, and the bank could take it away at any time, but it was something. It was the start of something, at any rate.

Of course, I hadn't technically begun work yet. Lots of things could still go wrong. But worrying about what could have gone wrong was what'd blown up my life the last time around, the last time I was contemplating a girl intertwined with a career, so I figured optimism was the order of the day. There's an old saying in Tennessee or Texas or someplace: fool me once, shame on you, but you can't get fooled again. That's the essence of it, anyway. My father used to say something like it, and snort like the bull contemplating the matador when he did.

Maybe that's why I went shopping, or maybe it was purely practicality. New job, new girl, new clothes; and if I could be comfortable on the water and in the heat, so much the better. Bye-bye, most of my first paycheck. I pretended it was an investment. At least I had a little nest egg. I'd made good money from the engineers and the consultants and hadn't spent much of it.

Emily and I had said our goodbyes that morning outside Lannigan's, sharing a gentle kiss before going our separate ways. I'd wanted to hang onto that moment of uncertainty for as long as I could; once we'd separated we'd begin the process of thinking about us, if there could even be an us, and what that would mean. I wasn't ready to go down that road, or to think about what might lie at the end.

So as I went through the day, I tried not to dwell on it. Not easy to do, unfortunately. I wondered how the conversation with Max and Jordi had gone, whether Serah'd been awake to join in the teasing. Wondered what Emily had said. Wondered what her plans were this weekend, the big weekend she'd said she had. And whenever I looked at a shirt or a pair of shorts I'd wondered: would she like this? I hoped so. The last thing I wanted was to pick her up for our first day of work looking like Doctor Granola the Yoga Clown.

By the time I'd driven down the dusty dirt road to the house, it was well into the afternoon, and too hot to do the chores I needed to finish before Monday, at least not pleasantly. Mowing the lawn and the other grassy spaces – drain field, around the garage and the shed where my father's tractor lived – could take hours. And that wasn't the only thing I needed to finish over the weekend, with a further list of things that had to be done by the end of the month, by the end of summer. And I had to do laundry, meal prep, take out the garbage – the endless and inevitable tasks that're the cost of being an adult, especially one living alone.

I made a sandwich and took a nap. I obviously couldn't be expected to work on an empty stomach. I'm not a Terminator. Then I got to work.

**

On Sunday morning, I was on the roof with a push-broom, sweeping the metal clean, clearing out the gutters as I went, when my phone dinged.

There's a perfect time for working on my roof, and it's that time of morning that's neither early or late but simply 'morning'. The morning dew has burned away and the paint's not slick with moisture, but the metal's not been heated by the baking sun of a summer afternoon. If I was lucky, there'd still be birds around, and sometimes one would light in a low branch where I could look it in the face and feel, absurdly, like a temporary peer. The property looked so green from up there. Walnut trees don't stay green long, but when they're thriving and lush there's nothing like them anywhere, outside the rain forests. The thing about walnuts, though, is that they drop leaves and twigs and branches at the drop of a hat; that those twigs clog gutters up something fierce; and that the leaves stain like anything if left alone. They've got a mild acidity to them, and as I'd already primed and painted this roof once I'd rather not fucking do it again, not if fifteen minutes or half an hour of maintenance every now and then could prevent it.

I'd have looked absurd up there if there were anyone to see, sweeping away with my broom, singing along to the sea shanties pumping through my earbuds courtesy of singers from Port Isaac and Padstow. I'd never gone to either place, and probably never would. They were both in Cornwall, I knew, that little spit of land in the southwest of England which under Roman dominion had been mostly left alone. Beyond that, they were responsible for quite a lot of shanties, if the recording I had was any indication.

My phone dinged again. And again. Once more for good measure.

Should probably check it. I thought. Shame I'd left it on the patio.

Fortunately, the house is only one story and the roof's not steep, so it wasn't much trouble to get down and fetch my phone, though it took a moment to navigate the edge of the roof and the fragile gutter, and to step down onto the top step of the ladder ("DANGER: Never step up or down onto the top of this ladder," the unheeded warning read) without it overturning.

It was Emily, of course.

hey

Then: buddy

Then: BUDDY!, accompanied by a picture of her pouting face; it looked like she was in her room.

Then: if u dont text im gonna have to send u ???? ????

Well. Thank God I got to the phone just in time. I texted back: Don't threaten me with a good time!, and barely had the text left when my phone was signaling an incoming video call.

"Finally!", she huffed in the most transparently fake way. "I thought you were dead! Looking good, by the way."

I had my hair held back with a headband, though I hadn't really dried it after showering that morning and, under the mounting heat and humidity and mechanics of drying, it was fuzzing out all over the place. I'd trimmed my beard again that morning – left too long it starts to look like a wasp's nest stuck there under my chin, the ugliest sort of neckbeard. My shirt was a cotton button-down in a godawful white-green-yellow tartan pattern with a few buttons undone, and my new sunglasses perched on my head.

"You're such a liar," I said. "I look like I've been working on the roof all morning." That was only a slight exaggeration. "What've you been up to? Lounging around? Taking selfies?"

"Maybe one or two. And no, I've been busy. I went shopping yesterday, needed some pants with pockets."

"Don't all pants have pockets?"

"It is a well-known fact, sir, that girl pants do not have appropriate pockets. Like, everyone knows this."

"Well," I said, "I did not. But as it happens I also bought clothes yesterday."

"What?! And you didn't tell me? How could you possibly not tell your buddy that you were going shopping?"

"You were busy," I said defensively. "I asked –"

"You asked if I wanted to have sex," she cut in. "Which I did. Do. Whatever. But shopping is something else entirely. Please at least tell me you didn't buy that shirt."

"I did," I said, talking over her pained groan, enjoying her expression of dismay. "But I got it at a thrift store in Colorado Springs last year for fifty cents or something."

"Well you got overcharged."

"I thought you said I looked good."

"You do. Your shirt doesn't. You should probably take it off."

I rolled my eyes. "You're impossible. What's up?"

"So, I'm trying to find a place to work out and stuff. You know anything about a place called Old Dominion Climbing Co-Op? It's out near me, on the other side of the highway." She shifted and glanced away. Maybe she was looking at her laptop. "Down... uh, looks like Greenspring Avenue."

I searched my brain, which didn't take long. "Never heard of it. Only thing I know down there is the rec center, but it's not called anything like that. Oak Grove or something."

"No," she said, "that's not it. I mean, it looks cool – have you ever been there? The pool looks awesome. But I want something with yoga classes."

"Sorry," I said. "Never heard of it. Oak Grove's pretty nice. My brother worked summers there. Fitness center is nice, and there's a park with whole bunch of green space that's pretty nice for running."

"Right, yeah, but it's pretty expensive if you don't live in the county."

"I didn't think about that," I said. "I guess. Sorry, I'm not really a weights person. I just run."

"So this Old Dominion place – it looks pretty nice. Little gym with, like, all the basic stuff, and then a ton of climbing space. And they have yoga twice a week, free for members. You ever done any climbing? You seemed pretty good at it last week."

"No, never," I said, flattered. It's not like what we'd done in training was particularly intense; it mostly seemed like climbing a funky ladder – literally, in the case of that wire ladder that twisted and spun when you moved. But it's always nice to be praised, and it had been fun.

"Well," she said, "you were. I've gone a couple times. It's fun. Really good workout. The only thing is... it looks like it's in some, like, weird industrial park or something. You wanna come check it out with me?"

I was tempted. Mowing in the heat of the afternoon was... not appealing. Nor was going back into the woods and clearing out the trail down to the creek; a tree had fallen in an April storm and I'd been detouring around it for the better part of two months on my runs. And I hadn't done laundry yet, and I hadn't done any meal prep. And I really needed rest before work on Monday; we'd been given a seven A. M. start time, which would mean being out the door before five-thirty, which would mean being up before five if I wanted to be awake for the drive.

On one hand, there was plenty of time to do some of that stuff and still meet her. But figure forty-five minutes to get to her place, forty-five minutes back, plus whatever time it took to check the gym out, see what it was like, plus the likelihood that we'd just fall into bed – wait, I thought, am I trying to talk myself into this or out of it? I didn't know.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," I said, "but I have to say no this time. I've just got a bunch to do here. Want to check it out Monday after work?"

"It's okay," she said. "I can go by myself, I don't mind."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Just..." There was a pause like an unwelcome guest.

"Just what?"

"It's not because we didn't have sex yesterday, right?" She looked serious, and a little worried.

"No! No. No! Definitely not. Sorry! I didn't mean to – I don't want to give you that impression. I had a really wonderful time, and I'm looking forward to Friday, and, and I'm looking forward to seeing you Monday morning, really. And I wish I could go with you today, but I gotta do the lawn and a bunch of laundry and –" I ran out of steam, feeling like a jerk, like I was in the process of blowing it.

"Good. I mean, I'm looking forward to Friday too, a lot, and to Monday. I just... I miss you? Is that weird? I saw you yesterday. That's weird. I'm being weird. Sorry."

Phew. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought.

"No! Not at all. I, uh, I miss you too. When you think about it, we met Monday morning, right, and since then we haven't been separated for longer than twelve hours or whatever. Fifteen. Whatever the number is. The point is, a day is as long as it's been."

"Yeah," she said, smiling a little into the camera.

"So," I said, feeling a bit awkward again, "maybe we need to just... I don't know. Pause a minute? Just for today? I mean I know we did yesterday after I left. But I was busy most of the day."

"Me too."

"And next week we're going to be with each other a bunch, yeah? At least commuting, right?"

"I guess, yeah. Right."

"So... if we're going to think about –" I gestured, flapping my hand back and forth at the camera, indicating her and I "—then today's the only day we'll have apart to do that."

She looked mollified. "That's a good point. I hadn't thought about that. Okay. I forgive you."

"I – hey, you forgive me? For what?"

"For not going with me," she said, "to the creepy industrial park. The gym's probably, like, filled with creeps. They'll kidnap me and it'll be all your fault."

"Monday! We can go Monday after work!"

"I can't go Monday," she said. "I promised Max and Jordi I'd make them dinner in exchange for not having to tell them what we did Friday night."

"Oh. Well. Thank you for falling on that sword for me. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she said, "and you owe me a favor. A big one."

"A small one," I shot back. "It's not like they're my roommates."

"Okay, fine. A small favor. Hey, what time are you gonna pick me up Monday?"

"I guess... six? Six-fifteen?"

"Okay, sounds good. I'll see you then. I gotta go; the place opens soon. Make sure you bring me some coffee on Monday!" And she looked like she wanted to say something else, but hung up before her mouth could form the words.

If I had too much work to hang out with Emily, I needed to get back to it. I was climbing back onto the roof when my phone ping-ping-pinged again.

already took this

dont wanna waste it, u know

And a picture of her ass, covered by a pair of steel-silver leggings that couldn't have been tighter if they'd been painted on.

That girl, I thought, is impossible, and felt warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the mounting heat, as I tapped out an appreciation and a solemn promise that no such image would ever be wasted.

**

I parked outside Emily's building at six Monday morning with two mugs of tepid black coffee. She drained hers nearly in a single draught, and by the time I'd navigated the little back streets, annoying left turn and slow traffic light necessary to get back onto the highway, she was leaning her head against the window and snoring cutely. She stayed asleep until Sanders waved us through the front gate, coming awake with a little snort, blearily blinking as I parked in what'd started to become my spot in the lot.

"Good morning, sunshine," I said, maybe a little bit mockingly. Who could say?

"Ugh. G'm'rning."

"What's got you so tired? Long night? You're usually pretty chipper in the morning."

"It's early." She made a face. "It's, like, barely 6:40. This seven o'clock start sucks."

"Yes it does. It really, really does. Thom said it's probably just this week though."

"Fuck." She yawned. "I hope so."

"So...?"

"So?"

I laughed at her. "So what's got you so tired? How was the climbing place you went yesterday?"

Her face lit up. "Oh! Oh, it was great. It was really cool and you're coming with me sometime. No excuses."

"None, huh?"

"Yeah," she said. "You have to. You wanna sit on the porch or go down to the athletics building?"

I thought about it for a second as we followed the road, hand in hand, up the little hill between the two buildings.

"Porch," I said. "At least this morning. Probably won't hurt our chances to get an offer for the fall if Thom keeps seeing us here early."

"You're committed, huh? We haven't even worked with the kids yet and you're ready to sign up."

"Yeah, I think so," I said slowly. "I've been thinking about it a lot, and unless this week really sucks, I dunno. I'm happy? I can see myself really liking this. But tell me about the place."

"Aww." She batted her eyelids at me, then spoiled the effect by yawning again. "Sorry. Um. The gym. So... I'm so tired because I went over there at, like, two, and then I was there until six, and then a bunch of the girls took me out to say hi and welcome to Virginia and welcome to their little community."

"Wait wait," I said, "back up. The girls?"

"Oh yeah," she said. "So I get there and it's pretty empty, except for some kids having a birthday party, I think, and a couple guys, and this group of girls. So I figure, you know, I'll get a tour and stuff and ask about the yoga, and the guy at the desk shows me around. But he doesn't, like, know anything about the classes since he doesn't do yoga, right?" She giggled. "He seemed pretty high. Just tells me they're Tuesday and Thursday. But he points to one of the girls and tells me she's a regular, and maybe I can go ask her."

"And?"

"And so I go over and say hi, I'm new, just checking the place out, the guy at the desk – who asked for my number twice, by the way –"

"Did you give it to him?"

"Ooooh," she said teasingly. "Jealous?"

"No!" I laughed. "Not unless you're gonna start sending him better pictures than you send me. That one this morning was very nice, by the way."

"Yeah it was. And no, I didn't give it to him." I hadn't thought she had. "Anyway, Angie – the girl he pointed out – is so cool. Fuck. And she said the yoga classes are great, and their little group meets before them on Tuesday and Thursday and my boyfriend and I – I know, but it was easier than, like, explaining – should join them."

"I get it," I said, trying to match the tone she used to tease me. "So you want to introduce me to your new friends? Big step!"

"Well," she said, "sort of. Because I kinda came clean about the whole thing at dinner – they insisted on taking me to dinner, which is why I'm so tired. I didn't get to sleep until late."

"So you told them... what?"

"That I'd met this guy –" smiling at me "—but he's not exactly my boyfriend and we still need to figure that part out. And they all had a bunch of advice until Angie made them change the subject. But yeah. It was really nice, and it's cool to have more friends here. And you need to meet them."

"Why? Not that I'm opposed or anything."

"Because I'm going to be friends with them, and with you, so you need to be friends with them. And because you need more friends too, right?"

"I do," I said reluctantly, sitting on the porch steps. Emily sat next to me, leaving enough space for plausible deniability.

"And we both, like, need some help, right? I mean like with our lives, you know? We need to figure things out a bit. Well, Angie has got shit figured out. Hot husband, her daughter is adorable, loves her job. And Corey – her name is Corrine but she goes by Corey – is just, like, super blunt and direct. But in a good way. And hanging out with them was really fun."

"Okay," I said. "You've convinced me. I'll go hang out with my best buddy's new girlfriends. What a burden this is."

We would have kept talking, but the appearance of Thom's truck brought our conversation to a halt.

**

Children, I decided, were exhausting, but happy children were energizing.

I'd been working on the high course with Ryan and Scott; Emily had used her free pass to take the low course, which I hadn't understood. Scott helped at the zipline landings, I'd helped at the approach end, and Ryan ran the platform; we'd been smooth and quick enough to give every kid that day two turns. Ryan's ability to see what felt like two or three things at once was impressive.

By the afternoon, I should have been dragging, but the enthusiasm of the kids pulled me through. They were so annoying; running here, there and everywhere, not listening, never where they should be, distracted by everything. And the older kids, the fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds we'd had in the morning, combined that lack of focus and attention with a sort of jaded nonchalance that got very annoying very quickly. The younger ones made up for it, though. They were too excited to focus, shouting when one of their friends zipped across the valley, pelting up the long steep stairs as fast as they could when it was their turn to tow the pulley back. When they were given jobs to do and told they were important, the kids took that to heart, focusing on holding their hands up in spotting positions solemnly, as if waiting to catch the world if Atlas should let it drop.

Thom was pleased. It'd been a smooth first day, though we were a staff member short – Arthur, apparently, whose father the lawyer had taken him on a trip to the south of France, was late coming back. By the reactions of Thom, Gwen, Kieran and Ryan, something scandalous was happening; Hope was as confused as the five of us newbies. Dave, Gabby, Hope and Kieran had had an easy day on the pond, and Gwen showed a touch of rare public enthusiasm describing how well Emily had done keeping groups of kids organized and engaged throughout the day. As a reward, Thom gave us an extra half-hour of grace in the morning, pushing our start time back for the rest of the week – "as long as you don't screw it up," he said gravely, dismissing the five of us, though he asked the full-time people to stay.

Unusually, Dave fell in with Emily and I as we walked back to our cars.

"How was the pond?", Emily asked.

Dave smiled broadly. "The fuckin' tits."

"That good, huh?" I snorted a little.

"Bro," he said, speaking seriously, as if imparting the secret formula for health, wealth and happiness. "Three groups a day, right? They gotta walk down there, dude. And they gotta walk back, right?"

"Right, yeah," I said, not sure where he was going with this.

"They gotta be on time to stuff, dude. And they don't get to leave early."

"Oooh," Emily said. "So you have a big gap between groups?"

"Yeah, girl!" He offered her a fist bump, which she accepted half-heartedly. "Thirty-minute break in the morning and another one after lunch, and Kieran showed us a shortcut from the pond to lunch, so we had like 90 minutes."

Emily blinked. "Damn," she said. "So did you do, like, any work today?"

Dave grinned again. "Fuck no I didn't! Helped unload the boats in the morning, put away paddles in the afternoon. Took two naps. This job is fuckin' great."

"That does sound pretty good," I said. "Easier than my day, for sure."

"Yeah, bro. That shit's work. Hey, Emily. Why didn't you come to the pond with us?"

"What do you mean us? I obviously would have swapped with you," she said mockingly. "I haven't really gotten to hang out with Gabby yet."

"You coulda swapped with Hope. You, me and Gabby. We could have a good time together."

I frowned. "Why did you pick the low course, Em?" I'd hoped she'd work with me, though given the division of labor at the high course I supposed that wasn't realistic.

Dave jumped in. "Yeah, why did you?"

She adopted a superior look, seeming to look down her nose at both of us despite her height disadvantage. "Because," she said, "low course is, like, eighty percent of what we'd be doing in the fall, and I wanted to see what it's like. The pond is fun, but they, like, never use it after camp. And I get why you like the high course stuff, Ducky, I really do. I know you want to stay in the fall but if you hate the low course stuff, you might be miserable." Her expression changed, becoming sympathetic, and she looked at me. "I haven't made up my mind if I'm staying or not. So I wanted to take the most important piece for a test-drive."

"That makes sense," I said, slowly. I wished I'd thought of it that way.

Dave scoffed. "You picked the most boring thing to see if it was boring when you could have been tanning. Missed opportunities, girl."

"What did you think?", I asked.

"You know what? I liked it," she said. "I liked it a lot." I couldn't help smiling. "I mean, I had Gwen with me and she's so good –"

"Kind of a bitch though," said Dave. "Am I right?"

"No, actually," said Emily mildly. "You're really not. She's so organized and on the ball, I felt like I was getting in the way, but she went out of her way to, like, give me things to do and make me take responsibility for stuff. She even let me lead some things in the afternoon, which she said doesn't happen during the first week. So that was really cool."

"That's awesome!" I offered her a fist bump of my own, which she returned with much more enthusiasm than she had Dave's just a minute earlier. He frowned a little at me. "Other than Gwen, what was good?"

And she was off, talking about her day and the way the different ages had behaved, and how Gwen and Thom had taught her about sequencing events, not just through the period but for the full three-week camp session and the whole summer, knowing that more than half of the kids would stay for all nine weeks. I listened intently; this was useful stuff. It could be a good head start for the fall, and I saw her point about evaluating the job based on its most common activities. I wanted to stay, but low course was my weakness, and I resolved to get myself assigned there as often as I could, at least for the first few weeks.

Dave was bored. When Emily paused, he saw an opportunity and took it.

"Enough talking about work, dudes." He turned towards me as we walked. "Emily said you guys went out on Friday."

"Yeah," I said cautiously. "We did."

"Where'd you go? Was it fun? Did you get fucked up? Did you –" he made a lewd thrusting gesture with his hands and pelvis.

"Don't be gross, dude," I said. "We went to a pub that had live music, we didn't get fucked up. It was cool." Cool. What an inadequate way to describe the fooling around we'd done, the sex we hadn't had, the emotions we'd shared. "Nice getting to know her outside work," I added lamely. We were approaching the parking lot now, thank God. I couldn't wait to get rid of him.

"Pretty lame, bro." He looked at Emily. "There's this sweet place out by me that does half-price hookah and tequila on Wednesday. It's pretty Gucci. Better than some boomer bar."

"Maybe" said Emily, mock-sweetly. "But you know what wouldn't be better? The –" she repeated his pelvic thrust. "Because this guy's dong is bigger than my forearm."

A laugh started to bubble up in me as Dave's face went slack. Who the hell says dong?

"Seriously, David. I came –" she looked at me "—five times? Or was it six?"

"Five," I said, as seriously as I could. "The last one was an accident so I don't think it counts. Wait, are you counting the one at the bar?"

"Oh, no," she said, matching my tone. "I forgot that one. So six. I'm surprised I can walk. Thank you so much, baby." She took my arm. "And there was the one this morning –"

"Two."

"—the two this morning, right. And last night –"

"I think he gets the point," I said, losing control of my laugh, and Emily laughed with me.

Dave shook his head like a punch-drunk boxer, then smiled a pained little smile. "Okay, okay. You're fuckin' with me. Very funny, shouldn't have asked, sorry. You guys should still come to the Lounge."

"Sorry," I said. "It's a school night." His mouth started to open. "We already have plans Friday and Saturday," I added.

He whistled. "Damn, dude. When's the wedding?"

"Soon," Emily said. "I need to ask Ruth if we can use the cabin. You want to be a flower girl?"

He shook his head. "No, but if you get Gabby to be your maid of honor I'll be this guy's best man."

"Sorry, bro," I said. "Thom's my best man and Hope's the ringbearer. Only thing left is flower girl."

"God, dude. You're simpin' hard. See you tomorrow." He rolled his eyes and walked to his car.

"See ya, Dave," snickered Emily. When we were in my car, and he was safely in his, she turned to me with a sparkle in her eyes. "Of course he drives a BMW. Of course."

"He's a nepo-baby, right? What an –" I paused, as Dave revved the engine once, twice, and unnecessarily both times "—asshole." I started the car and followed him out of the lot, heading for the back road that'd take us to the highway; turning right would be shorter, but traffic in the village backed up fiercely, and I wanted to skip it.

"He totally is," she laughed. "Did you see the look on his face when I said you had a big cock?"

"I can't believe you did that," I said. "I mean, I can, because that's something you'd do. But I didn't expect it."

"Mmm," she said. "It's fun to raise the stakes."

"What would you have done if he'd played along?"

"Made you drop your pants," she replied instantly, then laughed. "I'd have just raised again. But he wouldn't've. He's too used to spending daddy's money to look cool. He can't do it on his own. There are lots of guys like that in L. A., they're everywhere. I used to meet them all the time, back in my old life."

"Old life," I said. "You're twenty-two. I'm older than you. What do you mean, old life?"

"Anyway," she said, rolling her eyes at me as we paused for a stop sign, "he rolled in here expecting to be, like, mister stud, the cool kid everyone wants to be friends with. But he's out of his depth. Hope looks like she could throw him through a wall. Kieran's got that hot Irish accent, and he's married to a yogi. Ryan's the size of a house."

I nodded. "He's worried Gwen might stab him."

"You were too, when you met her," she said reasonably.

"Guilty as charged," I admitted, "but I've come around. So what?"

"So he's not impressing any of the regulars, yeah?"

"That's a good point. And he wants to?"

"Of course he does," she scoffed. "He needs attention like you need water."

"I do need water," I said. "Can you grab my bottle? I think I tossed it in the back."

"Here." She handed me hers, uncapped, and I drank from it, and a little bolt of desire struck me. Her lips had been on this. It wasn't so long ago they'd been on mine. "And he's not doing so hot with us summer people. There's Scott, who looks like a geek, and he's a kindergarten teacher, which is, like, the least cool job there is."

"But it's a job, a real job," I said.

"Exactly! It's not just a job, it's a career. And he's older, too, and Gabby's paying a lot of attention to him."

"Despite his looks," I said, intrigued. "And his, I don't know, his weirdness."

"Yeah. He looks like a geek and he has a geeky job and the busty –" I'd never heard someone use the word 'busty' before, outside porn "—lifeguard is kinda into him because he has something Dave doesn't, and he doesn't like that, and that makes him less interested in her."

"So that's why he's trying to flex at you?"

"No, you dummy," she said sharply. "That's why he's trying to flex at you."

I was rolling the Jeep through a series of curves as the road rose and fell, undulating around the houses of the not-quite-super-rich, each sitting back on its own private hill. Over the summer I'd drive this road dozens of times, and occasionally wonder how many of the people who lived in them sent their kids to Ridgeway, or had, or would. There were three speed bumps in this section and a one-lane stone bridge, and the right gear changed regularly; second to third to fourth and back down again. I think that's why it took a moment for what she'd said to penetrate.

"Huh? You mean – are you saying he's gay? He's not gay."

She laughed brightly. "No! No, no. But he is, like, trying to get your attention."

"Why? What do you mean?" I was baffled, and I took my attention from the road briefly, glancing at her. She leaned against the door, twisted in her seat, and the look on her face was insufferably smug.

"What's the thing he wants from this summer?"

"To get a girlfriend," I guessed.

"Wrong." She sounded very certain. "He doesn't want a girlfriend. He does want to get laid, and he'll accept a girlfriend if that's the only way he can get his dick wet. But the most important thing to him is getting the cool people to think he's cool. That's Thom, Ryan, Gabby, you and me." I wanted to ask for an explanation but didn't need to; she knew I wasn't following. "Thom's the boss. He can give out privileges. Dave wants easy, so he's going to suck up to Thom when it doesn't involve, like, extra work. Ryan used to be a college athlete. He'd be a good wingman. Gabby's –"

"I know why he wants Gabby to think he's cool, thanks. Why am I on that list?"

She laughed again. "Not hard to figure out, right? What do you mean, why are you on the list? It's obvious."

"Not to me," I said, and it wasn't. Fortunately, we were out of the rolling curves now. I had a little more attention to spare. I glanced at her and smiled at the incredulous look she gave me in return. "Why me and not Kieran?"

"Kieran," she said, "is married and thirty. So Dave thinks he has nothing to offer. But you do."

"What?"

"Couple things," she said, holding her hand out where I could see it and ticking the items off. "First, I'm pretty fucking hot."

"Yes, you are," I interrupted.

"Aww, thanks," she said. I couldn't see her smile, but I felt it, a warm pressure on my skin like a beam of sun through the window. "And it's not like we're doing PDA at work, but we're also not hiding that we're into each other, right?"

"If we are," I said, "we're doing a terrible job. Remember what Thom said at the pond on Friday?"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about! Imagine you're Dave. Not short, not fat; you're in decent shape, dress well, and you're, you know, pretty cute. And you drive a nice car, and you're gonna go hang out for the summer, just to kill time and meet chicks, and you know you can pick up chicks because you've been doing it your whole life. And you walk in and there's four girls there."

"Wow," I said sarcastically. "I can picture it just like it was last week."

"Shut up, you," she chuckled. "So there's four girls. Gwen sees through him instantly, because she can recognize a superficial douchebag when she sees one. Hope doesn't fit the image he's going for. And Kieran and Thom treat her like a younger sister. Two male authority figures watching out for her? And one of them is the boss? Too risky. So then –"

We came to a halt at a light. Roadwork had closed the right-turn lane, so we'd need to wait for a full green. We had a minute or two before that.

"Hold that thought," I said, and I leaned over and kissed her. She returned it enthusiastically, taking my face in her hands. I stroked her hair, feeling the tilt of her head and the curve of her cheek under my hand. Her lips were soft and warm, and her tongue pulled away...

"Green light," she said, leaning back, a devilish glint in her eye.

"Huh?"

"Green light." The car behind us honked. Oh, shit. I waved my hand in apology and got us moving again. "Enjoy yourself?"

"I've wanted to do that since Saturday. Go on."

"Me too," she sighed. "Me too. Where was I?"

"Four girls."

"Right. Gwen, Hope. Gabby was his first choice. But she's got some nasty family stuff going on, remember? Scott's chatting her up and she's receptive because he seems stable and normal. He's safe. Dave might be fun, but is Dave gonna be there when she needs someone? Probably not."

"And Scott will."

"I think she thinks so, but is he fun enough? Maybe not. That's what she's working out. And while she's doing that, Dave's thinking, basically, this girl is boring, she probably doesn't put out. Fortunately there's one more girl –"

"And she's beautiful and perceptive and wise –"

"He doesn't care about two of those. But he's a boob guy and by the time he gets around to talking to the girl who doesn't have them, she's taken." I opened my mouth, then shut it when she continued. "Remember, this is how he sees it. What he sees is a guy who's taller than he is, better looking. Doesn't have a nice car, but he can drive a stick. Seems like he has his own house. Doesn't talk much, but people take him seriously. When he tells a joke, they laugh."

This is pretty good for the ego, I thought, even though none of it's true.

"Now he's thinking, damn, this guy's got the girl I wanted. It's a rivalry now."

"And it's a competition with me and not with Scott because choosing Scott means Gabby's flawed, so he's not interested anymore."

"Exactly," she said. "Now you're getting it. He thinks he's cool, he thinks you're cool, I picked you, therefore I like cool guys, so if he can out-cool you then he'll get me. But Scott's not cool, so Gabby must not be cool, so he won't be interested until he thinks she's cool again."

"How the fuck did you figure this out?"

"Oh," she said, "I didn't. I'm mostly guessing."

"You're shitting me," I said in disbelief.

"Educated guess, though. I've talked with him and Gabby a bit, and, like I said, I run into this kind of guy all the time in California."

"So you're pretty sure? What I don't get," I said, "is why he's not just writing me off as a geek like Scott, because none of what you said earlier is true." Then I added, "I guess I am taller than he is."

My hand was on the knob of the shifter. Emily placed hers over mine and squeezed briefly, and my heart leapt at the contact.

"You're so modest," she said. "But face facts, buddy. You have a great body. You're really handsome. Don't argue." I could feel my mouth opening to do so, and snapped it shut. "Trust me. Expert opinion here. And you have this attitude, like, you've dealt with a lot, you can handle whatever's coming. As soon as I met you I felt like I could trust you."

"The first time you met me," I said, glancing at her as I changed lanes, "I was staring at your ass, and I was beet-red."

"That's true," she giggled. "But it was nice to be appreciated. Did you like the picture I sent you yesterday?"

"I did," I said. "Very much. Maybe try without pants next time? Just to see if it's better."

"I will if you do," she said. "Anyway, I was thinking of our talk in the clearing. And then, like, you come into the job and you pick it up like that." She snapped her fingers. "Middle of the first week and Gwen's telling Thom you need to stay. I know you're worried about getting an offer for the fall, but trust me. You've got it in the bag if you want it. Believe in yourself."

"Look who's talking," I returned. "You're the star in our group, Em. I'm only good at one thing. You're great at all of it." I could see her shaking her head from the corner of my eye.

"I'm good at it."

"Better than me."

"Only on the low course," she said.

"Which is most of the job."

"Which is most of what we do on the job. But we also have to be patient, and calm, and think about the whole group and the whole staff and all that. You're so good at that, and you're always helping out."

"So are you!"

"Only because you do," she said, and I glanced at her. She wasn't looking at me now. She'd turned away, studying the window. "Every time he asks for volunteers, I'm planning to sit there, then you get up and, like, shame me into helping."

"That's not... I don't mean..."

"I know, okay? You're just good, and I think: I want to be like that. I want to be better than I am."

"Who you are is really good."

"There's room for improvement."

"Everyone has room for improvement," I said. "Nobody's perfect. You're pretty close, okay?"

We didn't speak for a few moments, and I turned into her neighborhood. I was pulling the car into a space near her front door when I heard her whisper: "I want to be." I turned towards her, surprised and confused, and she winced and said, "Fuck! Grocery store. I forgot I have to cook. Would you like –" she fluttered her eyes at me, endearing, flattering, entreating me to forget whatever had just happened "—would you like to come grocery shopping with me?"

"Sure," I said. "But... would you like to make out a little bit first?"

And she smiled, wide lips revealing brilliant white teeth, and said, "Yes I would, very much."

So we did, and kissing each other in that parking space outside her door until an amused Jordi, putting out the recycling, knocked on the window and made us both jump.

That was Monday.

**

Sent at 10:12pm by Emily R:

hey

you still up

Sent at 11:56pm by Emily R:

buddy i cant sleep

Sent at 12:19am by Emily R:

heres a treat for u to wake up to

see you tomorrow ????

6:45 ok???

That's what I saw when I woke up. The time she suggested was fine. I was about to tell her that when I saw what she'd sent earlier – specifically, when I saw the pictures.

The first was a cute selfie. She was lying on her back, and her arms pressed her small breasts together to create just a little bit of cleavage, barely visible in the deep V-neck of her shirt. Her tongue was out, curling towards her chin; her long thin straight nose scrunched above it, her eyes were squeezed shut, and her dark hair spread across her pillow.

The second was the same, with two critical differences. Her eyes were open, teeth bared in a playful snarl. And, perhaps more importantly, she'd pulled her shirt up to her shoulders. Her breasts lay flat against her chest, warm tan orbs crowned with dark areolas scarcely larger than the hard nipples standing proudly in their centers. She was teasing one, pinching it lightly between her slender fingers; it wasn't until the third or fourth time I looked that I noticed she'd painted her nails a deep violet.

And the third... Her face wasn't visible at all. She'd aimed the camera between the shallow valley of her cleavage, and its gaze traveled down her flat stomach sculpted by years of yoga and Pilates, down to the lilac band of her panties and, beyond, her slim thighs, knees bent, pressed together. Her hand was in her panties, tenting the fabric. I'd had my tongue where those fingers were, and it was a picture I could taste, and smell, and hear, and badly wanted to again. Friday couldn't come soon enough, if we made it that long.

Sent at 5:21am by Dafydd W:

Good morning, buddy.

Yeah, 6:45 is fine.

Also, oh my God those pictures were hot. Fuck. ????

What a way to wake up.

Sent at 5:25am by Emily R:

u like??

Sent at 5:26am by Dafydd W:

Very much. Second-best morning this year.

Sent at 5:28am by Emily R:

wait which one was better?

Sent at 5:2am by Dafydd W:

Saturday morning, waking up with you.

Dummy.

Sent at 5:29am by Emily R:

????

awww

that was sweet

send me one ????

I sent her back a photo from my bathroom, shirtless, loose hair spilling down my back and across my shoulders. I'd started to develop a little farmer's tan, and the subtle tan line on my bicep was visible as I brushed my teeth.

Sent at 5:32am by Emily R:

hot ????

but not what i wanted

show a girl the goods

Well then. I finished brushing my teeth and took a moment to pull together the clothes I'd wear. Then I set about getting myself fully hard. With the material Emily had sent, it wasn't especially difficult. I took one in the bathroom, but it looked gross under the lights. I'd never had a girl ask for a dick pic before, not like this; Liv had occasionally wanted video or post-nut photos, but that's an entirely different business. I wanted to impress, if that was possible. I padded down the short hallway to the house's main room, a combination living and dining room with windows on three sides, separated from the kitchen by a marble-topped counter. I propped my phone against a tall coffee mug and took another one, standing at a little angle in the golden morning light, cock jutting out as I tried to subtly flex the muscles in my butt, thighs and core. Satisfied, I sent it off and dressed.

Sent at 5:45am by Emily R:

???? ????

cant wait to feel that again

Sent at 5:48am by Dafydd W:

Buddy, I can't wait until Friday.

Sent at 5:50am by Emily R:

me tooooo

u know, if u get here a lil early maybe we could make out a little??

Sent at 5:52am by Dafydd W:

I'll be there as soon as I can!

I arrived at 6:39am, and we made out a little in her parking lot before she drove us to work, driving aggressive and fast in her little sportscar. We tried to talk about work, not sex, but it was there with us in the car the whole way.

The last thing she said to me before we went our separate ways – me to the low course, her to the pond – was a suggestion that I not check my phone around other people, and especially not around the kids.

**

That turned out to be a good suggestion. My phone buzzed off and on all day with a steady stream of pictures. Emily in the bathroom, giving a V sign to the mirror in her bikini top and shorts. A selfie from her canoe, cute, grinning ear to ear with the rock walls of the pond in the background. A slightly blurry photo from an odd angle, taken quickly, of her tongue stuffed in her cheek and her hand cupped as if giving a blowjob to the air. A series of photos that must have been from her modeling days – sandy butts, oiled breasts, hair blowing in the breeze; sunsets and palm trees, pools and shower stalls; water caressing her body. A quickly-taken close-up of a nipple that came in shortly before lunch. A shot taken down the length of her torso as she lounged on the bench, a sort-of safe-for-work cousin of what she'd sent me last night. And finally, after the pond crew had returned to the cabin and gone away to change, Emily in a bathroom stall, naked to the waist, hefting her breast and planting a kiss on it.

I'd only sent her two in return. One was a pretty standard selfie; I'd taken it at a low angle to make it less obvious. For the second, I'd pled a need for the bathroom between groups and risked a mirror selfie with my shirt unbuttoned and shorts tugged down low, showing off as much as I could without being wholly out of luck if someone came in. We were, after all, at a school, and workplace nudes carried a certain degree of risk. Fortunately, she'd been appreciative and understanding.

We talked about it in the car on the way back, speaking loud over the wind-noise from the open windows and the thump-thump-thump of her music.

"I can't believe you risked a nipple picture," I said.

"It wasn't that much of a risk," she said, smiling her smile, warm and sweet and playful all at once. "I left my water bottle on the bench, let Scott and Ryan get a little ahead of me and told 'em I needed to run back and get it."

"Still, though. It was hot. I'm glad Thom made us wait to go to lunch, or I'd have had to walk all that way with a boner."

"Oh, no," she said with all the gravity of a judge. "Inconvenienced by a hot photo. How terrible."

"Shut up, beautiful," I said. "Sorry I didn't get as risky as you."

She laughed, hair blowing in the wind as she negotiated a curve much faster than I'd taken it the day before. "I told you, I like showing off and I like attention. And I like a little bit of risky, too. Before I moved here I was so, I don't know, so upset after what happened last year that I shut down a bit."

"And now you're coming back online?"

"You're getting the full Emily, buddy." She laughed again. "I'm happy! I haven't been happy, like really happy, in a long time." I was watching her, and when she glanced at me our eyes met, and I remembered how beautiful she was. I hadn't thought about it in whole minutes.

"I am too," I said. "I really am. I don't know what we have but it feels special."

"It does."

I didn't want to say the next thing. We were going to talk Friday about us and whatever that meant, whether we were going to make the jump from friends, buddies, sexual partners, to something else, something more, and now, in the car, wasn't the time to pre-empt that conversation. Especially because, I admitted to myself, I'm scared to distract her. She really did drive very fast.

"Hopefully my pictures were good enough," I said instead.

"They were," she said, "but, you know. I could always use more. Just to evaluate."

"You want to know what you'll be working with on Friday?"

She giggled. "No, I have a pretty good idea. But I'm going to wear out the one you sent this morning if you don't give me more."

"Gotta feed the addiction, huh?"

"You know it."

"Tell you what," I said. "I'll trade you. I'll send you whatever you want if you send me an equivalent."

"Ooooh," she said. "So if I want something, I just have to send you a picture first?"

"Within reason," I said, feeling like I had to clarify. "Within reason. I'm not gonna whip it out on the zip platform, okay?"

"Awww," she pouted. "Please?"

"No. No getting fired, no getting arrested," I laughed.

"You're no fun," she said, and stuck her tongue out at me.

"Careful. I might kiss that later."

"You promise?"

**

Sent at 5:26pm by Emily R:

A photograph: Emily at a rock climbing gym.

She's standing in the bouldering area.

There are five, no, six people visible in the background,

standing out in front of the grey walls and bright plastic holds.

Sent at 5:32pm by Dafydd W:

Nice! Have fun.

A photograph: A high-angle selfie of Dafydd in his kitchen.

His hair is down, held back with an orange fabric headband.

Sunlight from the window catches on the feather-brown

streaks at his temples and on his cheeks.

There's a sliced tomato visible on a cutting board,

and a cast-iron pan on the stove.

Sent at 5:35pm by Emily R:

i am!

whatcha cooking?

the girls want to meet u

A photograph: Emily in the center of a group of girls.

Left: a short, muscular Black girl. Her hair is in cornrows.

Her hand is on her hip. She's wearing a matching black leggings-and-top combo.

Center-left: a brunette in a white T-shirt and trucker hat.

Her long curly hair spills out from under the cap.

She's not smiling.

Center: Emily. She's as hot as she was an hour ago.

She's in the yellow tank top she wore last week.

The dimple in her chin is clearly visible below her smile,

and her coffee-brown eyes smolder above it.

Center-right: a tall redhead with freckles dusting her dusky skin.

Her curly ponytail is draped across her shoulder.

Her arm is around Emily's waist.

A little girl with a gap-toothed smile hugs her leg.

Right: a slender blonde whose bright blue eyes look out from deep circles of makeup.

Her smile is cool, a little amused.

She has a stud in her eyebrow, and several in her ears.

A colorful sleeve tattoo stretches from her left shoulder to her forearm.

Sent at 5:37pm by Dafydd W:

Greek salad with some leftover turkey. I don't want it to go to waste.

I'd love to meet them.

... You're by far my prettiest buddy <3

Sent at 5:41pm by Emily R:

ty <3

enjoy ur salad!!

Sent at 6:54pm by Emily R:

going into yoga

when are u going to bed??

Sent at 6:57pm by Dafydd W:

Nine, probably? What about you?

Sent at 8:06pm by Emily R:

sounds good

Sent at 8:59pm by Emily R:

A photograph: Emily in her bathroom in her apartment via the mirror.

She's nude, with one foot up on the countertop.

Her hair is pulled back in a high ponytail with a scrunchie.

She holds her phone with one hand.

With the other, she's spreading her labia. She looks wet in more ways than one.

wish u were here

Sent at 9:01pm by Dafydd W:

I wish I was too. Fuck. ????

Sent at 9:02pm by Emily R:

u owe me one ????

Sent at 9:02pm by Dafydd W:

Give me a minute!

A photograph: A mirror selfie, Dafydd shirtless in jeans,

standing side-on. His fly is open and his hard cock stands out.

Good enough?

Sent at 9:06pm by Emily R:

it'll do, for now

see u tomorrow ????

Sent at 9:07pm by Dafydd W:

See you tomorrow <3

And that was Tuesday.

**

I was brewing coffee when another picture came in. Emily was brushing her teeth, hair wild, looking like she'd been knocked flat on her ass by the Sandman. Her brown nipples were visible through a thin white tank top.

Sent at 5:31am by Dafydd W:

Good morning, sunshine

Stay up late having fun? ????

Sent at 5:34am by Emily R:

guh

no but max jordi n serah were super loud

they had an argument

not sex

though maybe makeup later??? Idk

Sent at 5:36am by Dafydd W:

Everything okay?

A photograph: a close-up of Dafydd smiling softly.

He's holding a coffee mug, and small scars on his hand are visible.

Sent at 5:36am by Emily R:

yeah i think so

what's that on ur hand, buddy??

Sent at 5:40am by Dafydd W:

Oh, that? Bike accident when I was a kid.

I got clipped by a car on vacation. I was lucky I wasn't hurt but I got pretty bad road rash on my hands and arm. The worst part was having to stay off the beach all week.

Sent at 5:42am by Emily R:

that sucks ☹

u look nice this morning tho

6:45 again??

Sent at 5:42am by Dafydd W:

You do too.

Sounds good!

Sent at 5:43am by Emily R:

liar ????

**

"Morning, Em," I said as she climbed into my car.

"Morning," she said with a yawn. "Can I make a request?"

"Sure, what's up?"

"Can we listen to something that's not so fucking sad this time? Can I be the DJ?"

"Fine, but you owe me," I said, and worried a little at the gleam in her eye. "Can I DJ tomorrow?"

"Don't worry," she said. "I'll make it worth your while."

We were on the highway before I figured out what she meant. She stretched in her seat, then turned to look at me. "So what did you think of the picture last night?"

"Which one?", I asked, knowing exactly which one she meant, and knowing she knew I knew.

She pinched my side and snorted. "The one at the gym. You doofus. The one I took after my shower."

"I thought my response was pretty clear," I said. "If we weren't running late I'd have wanted to make out before we left your place."

"I'm being punished because you're running late," she groaned. "This sucks."

"Sorry, I'll try to do better next time."

"You better, buddy. Though maybe..."

"What're you thinking?"

"This," she said, and leaned across to put her head in my lap, unbuttoning my pants and yanking the zipper down. I could feel her warm breath on me as I struggled to keep my attention on the road, and her fingers as she pulled my stirring cock from my boxers, cupping my balls with her other hand. "I've never tried this before." And then her mouth was on me.

She sucked hard at first, barely moving her head as I hardened in her mouth, then backed off, focusing her attentions on my head. Last week she'd wrapped her lips tight around me and ridden me with her mouth, fast and rhythmically, staring into my eyes. Maybe it was the angle – it didn't look comfortable – but she didn't take me as deeply as I knew she could, but her gentle licks and kisses, then quick shallow bobs of her head, and the movements of her hands – one loosely around my shaft, stroking slowly, the other lightly massaging my balls – felt good. Very good. And then she stopped.

"This," she said, turning her head to face me but keeping it in my lap, "is kind of awkward."

"The angle or something?" I was breathing a little heavily. She hadn't gotten me close to cumming, but I knew she could have. Olivia never could, a little part of my brain whispered, and I told it to shut up; she wasn't here and never would be again.

"Yeah," she said. "Stupid cupholders. Let me know before you cum, OK? And don't you, like, fucking crash." Then she put her mouth back on me.

I tried to keep as much of my attention on the road as I could. My arm was awkwardly draped across her back as I kept my hand on the shifter, and I tried not to move my hips; I didn't want to bump her into the wheel. Worrying about that, and our position in traffic, and the proper gear, kept me focused, helping to stave off the orgasm I felt could happen at any –

"Em!" I hissed. "Move."

"What?", she asked, turning her head but not taking her hand from my cock. "You close?"

"Cops," I said. I'd forgotten – we were about to pass the entrance to the largest police station in the county and could always count on four or five cruisers around that intersection.

"Fuck!" She pulled off me, tucking me away with one hand and wiping her mouth with the other. "Damnit! I was really into that."

"Oh my god," I groaned. "Me too. Fuck. I'm gonna have blue balls all day."

"Aww, baby," she said. "You don't want me to do it again when we're past?"

"I mean, I do, but then we're on the Pike, and traffic there's such a pain, then we're in the village."

"Fine," she sighed. "You're right. But can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"I wasn't gonna let you cum anyway," she snickered, and as she did a county sheriff passed us on the right.

"Buddy!", I said, scandalized.

"I want you ready for Friday," she said. "I know I will be."

"Don't worry about me. I haven't been able to think about anything else this whole week. But can I tell you a secret?"

"Of course," she said, "but make it good. Then I have a question for you."

"Olivia and I went to a concert in Baltimore this one time. Drove up from Charlottesville. It's like a three-hour drive. And while we were on the way up, she decided she wanted to give me road head. Never got close to cumming. But if you'd had five more minutes, I would have popped."

She didn't say anything for a minute, and I glanced at her. She grinned at me when she saw me looking. "Well. Good. Be nice and maybe I'll let you do it."

"Yes ma'am," I said. "What was your question?"

"Did you jerk off last night?"

"Yes," I admitted. "That picture was fucking hot."

"You weren't looking at porn or anything?"

"No," I said. "Just that nude."

"Good," she said. "I'm glad. I'm not, like, against porn or anything. But please don't tonight. Or tomorrow."

I eyed her. "Did you get off last night?"

"Yep! And this morning."

"Seriously? Even with how tired you were?"

"Yeah," she said, grinning. "I put in headphones and watched a video last night to drown out my roommates. I fingered myself this morning."

"Did you look at my picture?"

"Yeah. All of them."

That... was pretty hot. "That's pretty hot."

"Right? I thought so. I can't fucking wait for Friday."

"Me neither," I said. "I might need you to hold off on the nudes if you don't want me to do anything."

"Nope," she said. "You're going to need to be responsible, because I'm having too much fun to stop."

"Take pity on me! There's only so many ways to take a dick pic."

"I don't mind," she said. "Send me one during work today, okay?"

I rolled my eyes at her as I stopped at a light. "You're insatiable." And she smiled back at me, a cocky little come-get-some smirk.

"Yes I am. And so are you, buddy." She was right, and when I told her so she looked at me and licked her lips so sensually I thought I might burst in my pants right there. Then she laughed again and took pity on me and changed the subject.

**

I did what she asked. I'd been sent to the pond that day, and she'd been sent to the high course. Gwen was with me, and David and Hope. As I'd left the cabin that morning with the three of them my phone had buzzed: it'd been Emily, telling me don't forget.

When we got to the pond, I had a golden opportunity.

At the end of each day, the pond crew put paddles and PFDs ('not life jackets', Thom's voice droned in my head) into a trailer that lived down at the pond during camp. Canoes were racked on the trailer on weekends and locked up, but during the week we simply pulled them up on shore. Unfortunately, someone knew that.

Gwen, David and I had driven down the pond road in the company truck; Hope had stayed behind to meet the first group of the day, making sure they knew how to get down to us. When we arrived, the place was a mess. There were new coals – cold, but new – in the firepit between the benches by the landing area, and a few beer cans strewn about. "Nice party," Dave had said, holding up a pair of panties on a stick, fished out from under one of the benches. It wasn't just beer, fires and stripping; whoever had been down there – Gwen's assumption was the older camp counselors – had taken out the canoes, and the neat stack they'd left Tuesday afternoon was strewn about the whole landing, and paddles were everywhere.

One of the canoes was beached at the far end of the pond on the rocky shore, and while David collected boats and paddles, verifying that nothing was missing, and Gwen called Thom, I volunteered to retrieve it. I struck out along the shore, working my way through the underbrush. After a thick initial band of foliage, difficult to push through, I'd kept an eye on the pond as I walked, fondling myself hard. I took a quick photo simply by pulling the waistband of my board shorts away from my pelvis, aiming the camera down at my groin with the flash on. I took another, more elaborate, with my shorts pulled down under my balls, forcing my length up and out, behind a rocky outcropping that, I hoped against hope, would keep me hidden from Gwen and David if they'd had reason to get onto the pond in a boat. Fortunately, they hadn't, occupied with their tasks at the landing; I could hear Gwen's voice floating across the water: "there's a pair of fuckin panties down here, Thom!"

I took a third picture in the boat itself. I knelt on the plastic hull, shorts pulled down; I wanted Emily to know this photo was on the water, in a boat, that I could have gotten caught. She'd been at the pond. She'd know, or at least assume, the level of risk I was taking. And she'd appreciate it. I didn't want to provoke her into taking a silly risk, but I did want to send her a picture she'd finger herself to. I made sure my cock was visible, but also that the boat was visible, and the pond. This is for you, and only for you, I wanted to say, via a picture of my cock.

I sent her the first picture that morning. I didn't see a response, not for a while.

David had been right on Monday: the pond was the best. There was plenty of time to lie out and tan or nap or check social media, plenty of time to chat with Gwen, Hope and Dave – though frankly, I didn't want to talk with Dave – plenty of time to rest and relax. The kids were, mostly, thrilled to be there. The younger ones even stood still, quivering with effort, as we fitted them with appropriate paddles and PFDs, before making a mad dash for the boats. None of them had a clue what they were doing, and at that point they didn't care, consumed by the joy of water and the thrill of being in control of the boats. By the end of the summer, Gwen told us, they wouldn't want to canoe anymore, just swim; but for now they loved the little plastic boats and the chance to bump into each other and thrash their paddles in the water, shouting and cheering as they pursued each other in the sort of games of chase understood only by children, dogs and camp counselors. Gwen let them do it, giving them free reign of the pond, and Hope and I stood by to help the hapless ones who couldn't go straight or ended up in the water. It was fantastically fun, unsurprisingly, and I could see why pond days were considered a reward for good, hard work.

Emily's response came in while we were on the water.

Sent at 9:56am by Emily R:

daaaaamn

????

more plz

I sent the second as we finished the long climb from the pond to the cabin, pretending I needed to tie a shoe as an excuse to drop back out of my conversation with Hope. I wanted a fresh reaction.

Thom was sitting on the porch as we came out of the woods, plucking away at his banjo. No one else was back yet and wouldn't be for a few moments, and he set us to various tasks in the cabin – David instructed to pick up a broom, Gwen inventorying first aid supplies, and Hope teaching me some of the critical high course knots. Soon Thom had put away his banjo and was working with both of us, critiquing her instructional style and willingness to let my minor mistakes slide and my mistakes and sloppiness in equal measure. He was kind but impatient; I wondered if that impatience might turn to rudeness or anger in more stressful circumstances than these slow lazy summer days.

The low course crew came back first, a few minutes early, then the high course group, and we were off to lunch. Emily checked her phone as we left, and I saw her suppress a smile and bite her lip a little. Ryan asked if something was funny, and she brushed him off, plying him with questions about the apprenticeship and how he'd gotten through it as we walked to the dining hall. I was content to stick with Kieran and Scott and listen to Kieran educate Scott on all matters low course in his high-speed flow of words, filing away what I heard for use in the fall. Gotta get an offer first, I felt myself think, and told myself sternly to shut up and believe.

Group lunches always felt a little strange. We were surrounded by campers and counselors, not to mention school administrators who helped with the camp during the summer, so we couldn't talk frankly about our groups or our days, and we had to watch the stories we told and the words we used to tell them. And while we were starting to get comfortable with the senior people and they with us, they were a tight-knit group with their own in-jokes. They tried to include us, we tried to be included, but it was still only the first week. I listened to their conversations, didn't say much, and tried not to choke on my sandwich when Emily poked her tongue into her cheek at me. And before I knew it, it was time to head back to the cabin. I figured we'd do more work on basic skills. Maybe we'd clean more.

I did not expect a post-lunch handstand contest.

Ryan, grumbling and rolling his eyes, said he'd be the timekeeper, but Thom declined, scornfully telling us that Ryan was too top-heavy to do handstands, but that he'd have to take a turn anyway.

"It doesn't matter," I said. "Emily's going to beat us all. Not even close."

Hope opened her mouth, then closed it abruptly. She remembered what'd happened at the pond. Kieran elbowed her, then said, "Ye know, Hope wasn't here last summer. I think she coulda beaten Caitlin. What do ye think, Thom? Hope over Cait?"

"Maybe," he said. "You're gonna talk your wife down like that?"

"Aye," said Kieran. "But only in the service of talking Hope up."

Scott had been watching everyone as we assembled on the lawn, each of us searching for a flat piece of ground, preferably with some soft grass to fall on. Finally, he asked "can all of you actually do a handstand?"

"Only one way to find out," said Gwen.

"Indeed-y," said Thom. "Who's first?"

"Emily should be last," I said. "We should get to feel like we have a chance."

"That means you gotta go first, buddy!", she said.

"Okay, but I'm with Scott and Ryan. I don't actually think I can do a handstand."

We agreed – or, rather, Thom dictated and we agreed – that we'd be allowed to use our heads as a third point of contact and that we could have assistance getting up and balanced initially. Emily helped me get started, and I kicked off the competition with a time of six seconds, gleefully called out by Ryan. Scott couldn't break a second, collapsing as soon as Gabby let go of his legs. Kieran set an early mark of twelve seconds. Dave's ten was good for second place, then Hope cleared seventeen seconds but needed two tries to do it; at her first attempt, her strong core muscles had flipped her straight over. Gabby went down after seven seconds and Ryan after four. Gwen, smirking knowingly, did twenty seconds on straight arms, but Thom wiped the smile off her face with a twenty-two second time.

Then it was Emily's turn. She shook her head no when I offered to help, stretching a little before kicking herself straight up, long braid touching the ground. Her arms were straight and her toes were pointed in her shoes; as the hem of her tank top dropped towards her chin I could see the tight muscles in her core engaged, and her bent fingers dug into the dirt. Then, just to show off, she lowered one leg, pointing it straight out while the other stayed upright, bending back just a hair to stay centered. Bringing her legs back together, she bent her knees and twined her legs together; I could see her lungs working and hear her deep, slow, controlled breathing. Carefully, she unwrapped herself, holding her legs bent with knees together then spread them apart in almost a full split. Gwen gasped softly and in an admiring voice Dave said "damn."

"Hey Ryan," I said. "Did you remember to start the timer?"

"Oh shit," he said. "There we go." Emily snorted and wobbled on her hands, but brought herself under control quickly.

"Sorry," I said, and she closed her legs, then opened them again, knees bent, one fore, one behind. And she stayed that way for a long time before bringing them together and pointing her toes back into the air.

I could see her toes start to wobble, but before she could fall she dismounted from the handstand, waving her hands above her head as she flipped back over, acknowledging our applause.

"Forty-five seconds," said Ryan. "And there was probably another thirty seconds I missed."

"Thanks, Emily," grumbled Thom. "You've ruined handstand contests for the summer."

"No way," she chirped back. "I've just given you all a target to shoot for. Hey, maybe we can do all of you against me."

"I think you'll still win," said Gabby.

"Maybe," said Emily, "but that's no reason to give up now."

"You have to give us classes, Em," I said. "Teach us everything you know."

"I'm too fat to do everything she knows," said Ryan in his deep rumble.

"Yeh, fatso. Yer hopeless but the rest of us can learn something. Handstand classes at lunch!" Even in defeat Kieran was enthusiastic.

"Not just handstand classes," I said. "Summer yoga."

"I like it," Emily and Gwen said simultaneously, then Emily added, "and Pilates."

"Fine," said Thom. "But if anyone gets hurt it's on you. And if I want to play a staff game we have to do that instead."

"Yes, boss," said Kieran. You'd have thought he'd just been ordered to the front line in some short brutal war.

"Not to break up the party," Gwen said in her slow voice, "but we're gunna have groups in a moment, so if you have business to take care of now's the time."

As I retrieved my bottle to fill it in the athletics building, Emily grabbed my arm and whispered in my ear, "You fucker. I was wet all through lunch."

"Now we're even," I snickered, knowing I had another one ready to go.

**

I don't know how I got away with it, but I inflicted the third picture on her during the afternoon debrief. Fortunately, she had enough sense not to check her phone at the table. She didn't check it as we walked, either; Scott and Hope joined us for the walk to the lot, and we chattered about nothing the whole long way back. It wasn't until we'd settled into my car that she looked at her phone.

"Mmm," she purred. Then her eyes widened, and she said, "I thought you didn't want to take any risks! How'd you get this in the boat?"

I laughed. "Remember the thing Gwen talked about at debrief?"

"Yeah, the panties Dave found?"

"Yeah, that. One of the boats was down at the far end of the pond, so while Dave and Gwen cleaned –"

"You had to go get it, and there wasn't anyone around!"

"Exactly," I said. "I took all three of those this morning. I figured you'd appreciate how potentially public they were."

"Well," she said as we passed the guardhouse and waved goodbye to Mr. (Officer? Ten days and I still didn't know) Sanders, "I do, believe me. It's a very nice cock, and if it wasn't covered in pond water and sweat I'd put it back in my mouth as soon as we were off campus." I felt myself stirring at that.

"You're right," I said. "I'm pretty gross right now. Oh hey, I know. You have a spare towel; maybe I could stop at the townhouse and shower, and you've been sweating all day, so maybe you could join me." I rolled the windows down as I spoke; the pond did leave a lingering odor.

"Tempting," she said, "but I think you're trying to take advantage of poor sweet innocent me." And she fluttered her eyelashes at me.

"Maybe a little."

"Maybe a lot. Oh well. Just because you're gross doesn't mean I can't enjoy myself." As we left campus, rolling through the intersection and onto the back road I liked, she unbuttoned her pants, pulled them open and shoved her panties down. She shifted in her seat to make it easier for me to see, leaning against the door and window, one knee braced against the dash. She was still bare, and she pulled her lips, normally closed, secretive, private, apart to expose her swollen brown folds, and the soft button of her clitoris, teased by the finger that rubbed against her hood –

"Hey. Mister. Eyes on the road." My eyes snapped back to the street and I slowed abruptly for a stop sign. "If you get us killed before I get to have sex with you, I will be very upset."

"You should have thought of that before you started fingering yourself in my car."

"No," she said, and I could hear her smile in her voice. "I'm the impulsive one, and you're the responsible one."

"Oh, that's how it is?"

"That's how it is."

For the next few moments I was busy driving. When I had a moment to spare, I'd glance at her. First, she had a finger pressed softly on her hood, rubbing gently back and forth. Next, a finger slid inside her, stroking gently. I looked back to the road, and when next I glanced over her fingers were on her clit again, pinching it, rolling it between them softly, so softly, and I returned my attention to the car as I navigated what I thought was a wholly unnecessary speed bump, when a thought struck me.

"Do you squirt?"

"Huh?"

"Squirt. Have you ever squirted?"

"Oh," she said. Her voice was a little breathy, and hard to hear over the sounds from the open windows. "No, never. I'd like to, if I can."

"Well, do it some other time. I don't want my car to smell like pussy forever."

She burst into laughter, which trailed off into a little moan. "It'd serve you right. Now shhhh. I want to concentrate." When I looked over, her eyes were closed, lips parted, and she had two fingers pumping slowly, deeply, into her cunt, and her other hand ran in circles across her mound, pressing hard, and I looked back to the road to avoid drifting into the other lane. I didn't look back at her until we were on the highway, and I heard her gasp once, twice, inhale hard and let it out in a long, long groan.

"Good?", I asked.

"Pretty good," she said, breathing a little harder, a little faster. "Not what I wanted. But good."

I looked at her quickly. "Can I have a taste?" She smiled, wide and bright, and brought her hand to my face. I kissed the tips of her fingers, touching one with my tongue, and took it into my mouth, enjoying the sweet spice of her. "You taste really fucking good."

She pulled her hand away and stuck the tip of her middle finger between her lips, then giggled around it. "You know," she mumbled, "I really do. Mmmm."

My pants were uncomfortably tight in the front. "You sure we can't just stop at your place?"

"I'm sure," she giggled. "Patience."

"Easy for you to say," I said roughly. "You just got yourself off in my car and apparently I'm not allowed."

"Of course you're not," she said. "I want it all Friday."

"And I don't? You should have to edge yourself till then."

"No way," she said. "Bad idea. Don't ever ask me to do that."

"Why? It sounds like there's a story there."

She got herself dressed, pulling her pants and panties back up, sitting back into her seat, quiet for a moment. "I guess? It's not really much of a story. So Carmen – I told you a bit about Carmen, right?"

"Yeah. You dated her for a while, but it didn't work out."

"Mhmm. That's her. Anyway, Carmen wanted me to try it between two of our dates. And, like, it just doesn't work for me, I guess. If I get really horny, like, to the point where I'm touching myself or, like, jilling off, I have to get off. If I don't, I just lose the feeling entirely and get really pissy."

"She was asking you to try edging and it didn't work for you?"

"Every day," she said, frowning at the memory. "We'd send nudes and videos and stuff, but she wouldn't let me cum, and I was so into her I went along with it. And by the time we saw each other, she was really horny and I was just, like, pissed off. We got into bed and I'm about to cum on her fingers, right, and she pulls them away and asks me to go down on her, and I just lost it. I wasn't horny anymore, I didn't want to fuck her, we had a huge fight, and that's how we broke up the first time."

"Wow. Uh, okay," I said. "So..."

"So the moral of the story," she said, flipping from frowning to flirty, "is that if you want me to be horny, like, let me be horny."

"Okay, I get it. We still have time before we get to your place if you want to go again."

"I probably could," she said. "I'm insatiable."

Of course, I wanted her to be horny, so that evening I sent her some texts, and a picture or two, just to help out, and when I wished her good night I tried hard not to think about the ones she'd sent me in return. And then it was Thursday.

**

Sent at 5:24am by Dafydd W:

Good morning, sunshine.

Sent at 5:26am by Emily R:

morning handsome

see u at 6:30??

Sent at 5:27am by Dafydd W:

Why so early?

Sent at 5:28am by Emily R:

????

Sent at 5:28am by Dafydd W:

Oh. OH.

See you at 6:30!

Sent at 5:29am by Emily R:

thatta boy

Let me say: we just kissed a lot. She sat on my lap and let my hands get under her shirt a bit, but we just kissed, hard and soft, tenderly and fiercely, with lust and passion together and alone, and then we went to work. I think if we'd done anything more, we wouldn't have stopped. It was her day to drive, and she let me control the music, requesting something that'd help us cool down, and I did my best to oblige.

We worked together for the first time that day. With a series of big groups scheduled for the high course and small groups headed to the pond, Thom sent Hope and Dave to the low course; Gwen, Gabby and Scott to the pond; and Kieran, Ryan, Emily and I all to the high course. Ryan marshalled the landing, using his giant frame to catch the kids and starting the long process of resetting the system for the next camper. Each kid dangled from a pulley, and the pulley would need to be unhooked, then towed back across the valley by a relay of campers stationed at intervals across the long span. Ryan got the pulley moving back to us quickly, and Kieran sent it back to him equally quickly, never missing a step in his process, moving fast and efficiently through a process he'd done thousands of times. Within seconds of the pulley arriving back at the platform for the next kid to hook in, Kieran had them on their way, and monitored everything and everyone from his perch forty feet up in the trees. I don't think he missed anything, and I don't think he stopped talking the entire day, constantly chattering to the kids sharing the platform with him, encouraging the ones who were nervous, pulling up the ones whose bravado was starting to grate on their mates' nerves, and issuing a challenge to Emily and me: if we could keep the platform stacked with kids through all three groups, he'd buy us lunch.

Lunch was free, but we appreciated the challenge anyway. And we rose to it. I'd never yet been so busy, nor had so much fun, at Ridgeway as I did that day. We had to scramble, but we had the platform filled with kids the entire day. Most were thrilled to be up in the trees, looking down on their friends; a brave few dared to lean off the edge, resting their weight in their harnesses, sitting into the air. A few were nervous, a few were scared nearly to tears. Emily, it transpired, was great with the rambunctious ones, the ones who couldn't wait to be in the air, who wanted to try to make the long climb into the trees without being properly clipped in. I was better with the scared ones, and with her discipline and my coaxing and cajoling and both of us dashing around we were sending more kids into the air than even Kieran could handle, and he asked us happily to slow down a little.

Emily was the one who realized that the slowdown was in getting the pulley back across. She skipped down the stairs to meet it at the bottom of the valley, then ran up the hillside with the kids, exhorting them to go go go run you can do it almost there yessss!, and Kieran shouted down at the next set of relay-runners that, come on, they could go faster than an old lady. Emily's answering yell – "Who you calling an old lady?!" – was drowned out by a vast shout of laughter.

"Sorry, Em," I said to her. "You're twice their age. Practically ancient."

"I'm barely old enough to drink," she wailed sarcastically. "I can't even rent a car!"

"Ancient."

"I'll get you for this," she said.

"Maybe, but not if I'm not here!" And I took off down the stairs to help the kids with the relay, and before long I was running it for them, sweating in the hot sun, pounding up the stairs with the rope. By the end of the day we'd gotten every kid in all three groups through at least once, and most through twice, and Kieran and Ryan lavished us with praise during the debrief. Even Thom was happy, though he did point out that running the pulley was outside our scope; "if the kids want to go they can do the running. You don't have to do that shit." We were tired and happy and made a point to walk back to the car alone.

"Well," I said.

"So," she said, then: "Fuck. I thought we'd stopped doing that."

"I don't think we'll ever stop doing that. I hope we don't, anyway."

"Agreed," she said. "It's cute."

"It is cute. Annoyingly cute."

"That's us, buddy. Annoyingly cute, annoyingly in sync. And you know what? We work really well together."

For some reason, my mind flashed back to nearly a week ago, when I was sitting in her room, leaning against the headboard of what I suppose was her roommate Serah's old bed. Emily had been resting on me as we both yawned and admitted to each other that, for once in our young lives, sleep was more important than sex. You love me, I'd said in jest, and she'd replied maybe. You'll have to fuck it out of me. Tomorrow was going to be my chance. Neither of us had any complaints so far – certainly not on that score, except that we hadn't yet done the deed. We'd edged up to it, circled around, poked and prodded and tomorrow it'd be real.

"Earth to Ducky! Whatcha thinking?"

"I was thinking about last week," I said, "and looking forward to tomorrow."

"What about last week?"

"You know, our date. Or whatever. When I stayed over."

"Oh, that," she said, deadpan. "I forgot. Very forgettable."

"Yeah, I know," I said, matching her tone. "You cum so hard you pass out all the time."

"Every day. Twice a day, sometimes. I really can't keep track."

"Like I keep saying, insatiable. It's enough to make a guy nervous."

"Oh hush," she said, poking me in the side. "You love it."

"Maybe," I said, and smiled and echoed her words back to her. "But I'll never tell. You'll have to fuck it out of me first."

"Challenge accepted," she said instantly. "You're going to see stars. You're going to, like, die, and not just la petit mort. It's gonna be la grande mort. If you're lucky you'll come back as a fuck-zombie. You –"

I rolled by eyes and covered her mouth with my hand. "Emily, there are more ways to fuck than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Don't let your mouth write checks your body won't cash." I felt like I'd at least restored parity, if not taken the upper hand. Then she licked my palm and growled, eyes dancing over the edge of my hand, and I realized she was still winning.

"I think you know my mouth has a lot of credit," she said, as I wiped my hand on my pants. "I think I can cover any check I write."

"I mean, okay," I said. "I might still have that electro-stim wand..."

"Mmm," she said. "Not this time, buddy."

"Sex swing? You think you're ready for that?"

"Maybe next time," she laughed. "Let's just try some regular fucking first, yeah?"

"Well," I said, "if you're sure. Gotta build your credit up, I guess."

"Fine, you win. And what would you like as your prize?" She stepped closer to me, bumping me a little with her hip, sliding a hand down her body suggestively.

"I have some ideas," I said, putting an arm around her and squeezing her possessively, and she purred happily into my side.

Thank you all for reading. I hope you've enjoyed it as much as I've enjoyed writing it. I really do appreciate all of your comments, favorites and ratings. Please get in touch if you have feedback.