by Xavier Neal
“I have,” I announce proudly. “But the one in fancy sneakers hasn't.”
“They're not fancy,” Kellan attempts to explain to her, “they're simply new.”
A hempy smile creeps onto my face. “And white.”
“So?”
“So they're probably going to get paint stained, sir,” Wendy kindly explains. “While the white jumpsuits will cover your clothing and the goggles your face, your shoes and hair, will be exposed.”
The frown that appears on Kellan's face is priceless. When he glances down to where I'm giggling and he sneers, “Goggles over your goggles? Lucky you.”
I adjust my glasses at him and smirk. “That's right. Be pissy my eye wear gets coverage while the hundred-dollar product in your hair is about to go to waste.”
“Should've asked to borrow your hairnet.”
The comment is delivered with a challenging stare.
Oh...Game on Prince Jerk Off.
Wendy tries to dial back her look of horror.
Guess not everyone is as accustomed to our banter as we are.
“If you'll follow me to the lockers, I'll explain the rules and cover the basics before you sign your consent forms.” The two of us follow her through the set of double doors where there appears to be a waiting area. To the left are several places to sit including a couch, but to the right the wall is covered in monitors that appear to be broken into groups. “This is where you wait if you have selected a particular course that is currently being occupied. Parents are also welcomed to wait here if their child is here for a birthday party or a friend and they do not wish to participate.” Her hand gestures to the screens. “These are broken up by the courses they cover, which are labeled above and below.”
Kellan steals a glance at the names, but I don't bother. It's not new information to me.
She moves a little further into the room and extends her hand towards the maps pinned on the other side of the screens. “Here are your course options. There are six. They're broken into Beginner, Intermediate, and Expert. As you can see in each division there is an easy and a difficult.”
“We want The Kingdom,” I state confidently before giving Kellan a glance. “Unless that hits too close to home for you.”
He resists the urge to mouth off. “Whatever will make my pretty pretty princess happy.”
I instantly gag and turn back to Wendy. “You can continue.”
She nods, spins on her heels, and begins walking again. This time we go through a set of double doors on the right. On the other side we see people being handed their white suits while others are being handed their bags.
“You will be given a white suit as well as goggles to protect your clothing and eyes. Occasionally paint has dripped through the suits and stained clothing. You will be signing on your waiver that you will not hold Balloon Bust responsible if that happens. Your waiver will also have you acknowledge the risk of possible damage to your eyes or any other exposed body parts. The paint in the balloon is non-toxic, however, if for some reason you swallow an amount, please end the game and report directly to me so that we can handle the situation accordingly. Once you two are dressed, you will each be given a bag of balloons filled with watered down paint. You will each have separate colors, which will help identify the winning team. The object of the game is to cover the other person completely in paint. Whoever has the least amount of paint on their suit wins.”
“And you determine who that is?” Kellan quickly questions.
She nods. “An unbiased third opinion.”
“Meaning don't flash her your winning smile to try to score extra points.”
To my surprise, he gives me a sweet smirk, and declares, “My winning smile is only flashed for you, love. Everyone else is just fortunate to catch a glimpse.”
Don't swoon! He's the enemy right now...Though with that comment I'm almost tempted to forfeit.
Wendy gushes a faint awe before continuing, “The entire course is roped off in the same colors as your balloons. Do not go past these points. You are welcomed to use any part of the course to hide or gain your victory, but you should be aware you are only given twenty minutes to destroy one another and a limited amount of ammunition. You are given two minutes to hide, twenty minutes to battle, and two minutes from the sound of my whistle to report back to me. If for any reason in the middle of the game you have an emergency, there will be white flag you can wave. In the booth where I will be waiting, there are multiple screens which I monitor your movements from as well as another team member in case I miss something detrimental, such as an injured player. Any questions?”
The two of us shake our heads in unison.
She instructs for us to wait a moment and crosses to the counter closest to the doors that will lead to the courses. We watch her grab two clipboards and two pens. Promptly she returns and offers us the forms. “This re-explains everything I just did and covers negligence as well as poor player conduct.”
Having read the forms before, I quickly scribble my name.
Kellan sighs, “You do know it's never a good idea to sign something without reading it first.”
“This isn't my first time here newb.”
He lets his eyes scan the document. “Just how many times have you played?”
“Why?” I push. “Worried how much of an advantage I might have?”
He hums, signs his name, and states with smirk. “No. Wondering how humiliated you're going to feel when you get destroyed by a novice.”
His lack of humbleness isn't surprising yet still spurs me to snap. “Game on Duke Dilhole.”
“Dilhole? Are we back in the 90s?”
“I'll grab your equipment,” Wendy interrupts.
The process for getting dressed and equipped isn't long. Thankfully for us our choice of course isn't currently occupied allowing immediate access. Before we follow our guide, Kellan takes a moment to snap a photo of his shoes, insisting it's to post to his followers, though I'm convinced it's to commemorate the short lifespan of his sneakers. Afterward, Wendy escorts the two of us out to the field but doesn't go through the gate.
“Three sharp whistles and you can begin. Three sharp whistles and it ends. Got it?”
We nod and Wendy slips into the small monitoring booth.
She pushes a button to open the gate, which is when I give Kellan's smug face one last look. “Hope you're ready because I'm gonna tell the whole world Prince Kellan got beat by a girl.”
He winks. “Not a bloody chance.”
Oh...I'm gonna enjoy watching paint drip down his face so much.
The two of us split ways and I head left towards one of the far perimeter walls. While at first glance the entire course looks like a Kindergartner sneezed on their over prized castle themed playground, the paint area is filled with traps and tricks to use as your advantage.
If you know they're there.
On my way, I stop, quickly plant the trap I had in mind when I selected the course, and crouch behind the wall, allowing myself to keep an eye on the direction he's most likely going to be coming from.
Three sharp whistles are blared and my breath stops. As predicted, Kellan begins creeping around the corner of the wooden area, eyes scanning the empty area at a rapid rate. The predatory concentration on his face is equal parts entertaining and exciting. His footsteps continue slowly, face still my direction until he briefly turns to grab a quick glance of the upper level of the playground. At that moment, I pop up and hurl my balloon across the way, aiming not for him but the ground at his feet.
The balloon shatters splashing paint on his shoes and lower pant legs. “Son of a bitch!”
While he's hunched over inspecting his ruined footwear, I throw another, thankful when it lands on his neck and back. My triumphant giggle is cut short when he quickly retaliates throwing one where he believes I still am. His initial miss only encourages him harder to rush after me tossing numerous balloons at any part of my body he thinks he can hit. Barely able to dodge,
I sprint back the direction he came and up the very stairs he thought I was originally hiding at the top of.
Hearing Kellan's steps slowly approach where I've crawled makes me smirk as I prepare to play out my first idea.
“You made a big mistake going after my shoes,” he scolds, his body now approaching to the crawl space I'm in.
Kellan's body rounds the corner to find me waiting in a crab walk position. Immediately, he prepares to throw when I kick my foot out, the balloon I had been balancing smashing against his chest and splashing his goggles.
“Damn it!”
I quickly scurry away, crawl through a tunnel, and head for the back set of stairs. To no surprise Kellan chases after me, one of his balloons crashing against the pole beside me, drops of his yellow paint landing on my shoulder. He sprints after me, running laps around the playground, attempting to cut me off when he can, and successfully nailing me three times with cheap shots though he ends up suffering damage in the process. Although it's obvious we are both playing to win, our laughter is out of control to the point of distracting at times. We continue behaving like over grown children, climbing on the walls, making goofy faces, and missing more often than hitting. Once I'm certain he's down to his last balloon, I rush towards the area where I began the war and pretend to be trapped.
Kellan smirks and toys with his last balloon. “I told you I would beat you...”
I slowly move backwards until I bump against the wall, hands purposely behind my back. “That's your last balloon....”
“Only one I need,” he reassures, moving closer confidently. “I smash this one, right...here...” Kellan's free hand roams down the front of my suit. “I win. You'll be completely dripping with my paint.”
My fingers subtly wrap around my hiding weapons. “Then you better not miss.”
His face leans down to mine. “Don't worry. I won't.”
I tilt my head. “Haven't you learned yet that arrogance isn't sexy?”
Kellan chuckles, “Everything I do is sexy, love. You ready to get wet?”
With an additional premature victorious smirk, he pulls back to throw his final balloon. Swiftly, I duck, lunge forward, each of my hands loaded with a balloon, and smash them at his sides. The unexpected action causes him to lose the grip of his weapon, which splashes our shoes.
“Sorry,” I sneer. “Looks like you're the wet one...”
His jaw falls, which only makes me burst into giggles. All of a sudden he reaches out and traps me in his arms before I can get away. I squeak and plead for my freedom while he ignores the request, tickling me in the process.
Luckily for me, three sharp whistle blows become my key to freedom.
I toss my hands in the air. “Yes! I win!”
Kellan glances down at the white suit that's significantly covered in more paint thanks to my final move and sighs heavily.
“You got beat by a girl,” I tease and skip back towards the gate where our ref is waiting.
“You cheated!”
“Strategized!”
The two of us arrive in front of Wendy who is attempting to stifle her snicker.
“He's being a sore loser.”
“I am not.”
“Would you two like a photograph?” She politely asks.
“Yes!” I exclaim. “Let's commemorate the day the lacrosse player lost to the art lover.”
He groans yet wraps his arms tightly around me.
Wendy steps back in the booth to take the photo.
Through my smile, I state, “We are so framing this photo.”
Kellan lets out a laugh, which replaces his staged smile with a genuine one. After Wendy gives us a thumbs-up to let us know we're finished, he whispers in my ear, “I can't wait for us to clean up together in the shower...”
That's definitely a better prize than just picking dinner. Looks like I'm gonna win twice this afternoon...or maybe even three times if you know what I mean.
Kellan
I lean against the door frame of our hotel bedroom as I adjust my watch. “Love....You almost ready?”
“Give me one more minute.”
She said that twenty-five minutes ago. I'm not exactly in any hurry to get to this thing, believe me, but I would hate for our first publicly announced event to include the word late in the headline.
The door to the bathroom opens and my jaw instantly becomes agape at the sight.
Brie slowly saunters into the room effortlessly slaving my attention with every sway of her hips. The thin, floor length white gown, has a low v neckline, which has her voluptuous chest displayed in the most enticing fashion. My eyes reluctantly trace the remainder of the dress that only accents her most flattering curves. As my tongue and cock swell in unison, she casually turns, exposing the hip high slit on her right side and her beautiful back being covered only by her straightened hair.
Bloody hell, how are we ever supposed to leave now? And why would I ever let anyone else see her like this? Have I completely lost my mind?
“Well?” Brie pulls her hair to the side of her face where the crystal hair pin is located. “Do I look okay?”
Would it be so wrong to tell her this isn't the only time I hope to see her in a white dress?
“You look...” The sentence seems to drift away while my eyes drink in the impeccable sight once more.
She gives me a nervous yet playful smirk.
“I mean,” I clear my throat to try again, “you look...Well you look...” Helplessly, I steal another long, hard stare, my almost rendered speechlessness now actually complete. My mouth continues to move despite the fact a single word does not escape.
What do you do when there are literally no words for how sexy your girlfriend looks? I mean the hair, the makeup, even her glasses are practically sparkling.
Brie runs a finger down my chest causing me to groan. With a teasing smile, she declares, “I'll take your cave man speak as I look amazing.”
My hand slides onto her hip. The feeling of her bare skin on my fingertips sways all thoughts towards the sexual end of the spectrum. To no surprise my dick stiffens desperately in my black suit pants. “Quite an understatement.”
She gives me another mischievous smile. “Did I mention I'm not wearing anything underneath this?”
Mad. This woman lives to drive me mad.
I stifle a growl and pull her closer. “Is this payback for having you spend the day at the spa? You know most women would appreciate an afternoon of being pampered and treated like a queen.”
“Duchess,” she corrects. “You're not a king. You're a Duke.”
“And a prince.”
“Who, unless your brother dies in a freak beer chugging accident, is not going to be king.”
“And the great country of Doctenn should mourn that fact because I am entirely more fun than my brother.”
“I don't doubt that.” Brie lightly laughs. “But to answer your question, yes I am punishing you for having me spend the day with strangers rubbing and pulling on me. Do you have any idea how weird it is to have three different people working on you at the same time like you're a-”
“Masterpiece?” My artsy interjection causes her to fight a smile. “Because you are and you deserved the royal treatment for enduring a night of torture with me.” I link my free hand with hers. “Are you sure you want to do this? You don't have to. You can spend the evening in this hotel room in that dress, waiting for my return. Sort of like a slutty angel I can cover in sin after my night of charitable good fortune.”
She shoots me a sarcastic look.
What! It was worth a shot!
As we arrive at the door, I stop us from exiting. “In all seriousness, I do understand if you're not ready for this. If you want to wait. If you-”
“Kellan, are you sure it's me you're worried about and not yourself?”
The accusation lifts my eyebrows in surprise.
“Maybe you're not ready to announce to the world this way that you have a girlfriend. I mean ph
otos with coffee mugs or candlelight or tickets to a play is quite different than showing up with her on your arm. Maybe you're ashamed to be seen with-”
My tongue swiftly slips into her mouth smothering the end to that sentence. Brie squeaks in surprise and instinctively reaches out to grasp my jacket for balance. Our mouths melt together in a heavenly combination of hot breaths and hard pushes. Before the situation can spiral out of my control or my point for interrupting can be completely forgotten, I pull back and say, “Never doubt that I view myself as the luckiest man alive to have you on my arm.” When I receive a soft smile, I state, “I'm ready if you are.”