#SandyBottom

by Alexi Venice

  “Work?” Jen asked. “I thought you were on leave.”

  “I stopped by because Jeremy needed me.”

  “Oh, well, if I demo first, will you promise me you’ll consider skiing today?”

  To be polite, Amanda said, “Of course,” then squeezed Jen’s arm. “I can’t wait to watch you do something I know you love.”

  Jen smiled, her mood lightening.

  Jake slowed the boat as they coasted into the calm bay, the water glassy and blue. “All right. Who’s up first?”

  Everyone said in unison, “Jen.”

  “What? Is this a conspiracy? Jake? Patrick? Dave?”

  “I’m not a skier,” Dave said. “I’ll watch.”

  “I can teach you if you want to learn,” Jen said.

  “Ah… Thanks for the offer, but drinking a beer and relaxing sounds just right today.”

  “Jake? Patrick?” Jen asked.

  “Already went this morning,” they said.

  Tommy raised his eyebrows. “That just leaves you, hotshot. We all know you want to show off for Amanda.”

  Amanda blushed. Have they been talking about me this week? Feeling stuffy and hot in her coverup on the 80-plus-degree day, she unzipped the blue fabric and shrugged it off. Patrick’s jaw dropped. Poor boy , Amanda thought, Even if I played for your team, I’m totally out of your league . Tommy smiled at her after he noticed Patrick’s shock.

  “Fine,” Jen said. “Here, Amanda, you take Buster.” Jen carefully lay a beach towel on Amanda’s bare legs, her thighs as tender as silk, then set Buster on top.

  Amanda kissed the top of Buster’s head, and, before she could pull back, he whipped his head around and licked her lips, followed by an attempt to lick her nostrils. “Whoa, little guy. I’m not into French kissing dogs.”

  “Lucky dog,” Patrick said.

  Both Tommy and Jake dope-slapped him.

  Amanda ignored him, fascinated by Jen zipping herself into a black life vest and donning blue ski gloves. She removed a fancy black water ski from the rack overhead and cinched up the laces on the ankle-boot, her right foot now secured; her left foot free.

  Jen gave Amanda a quick peck on the cheek. “Bye.”

  “Good luck,” Amanda said, as Jen swung the ski over the side of the boat and pushed off, landing in a sitting position in the water. Jake tossed her the rope handle then quickly moved back to the captain’s chair and eased the throttle forward in a slow troll.

  “Hold onto the dog,” he said to Amanda. “When Jen says, ‘Hit it!’ we’re going to accelerate like a bat out of hell.”

  Like I haven’t been there before, she thought but appreciated the warning. She hugged Buster to her tummy.

  When the ski rope became taut on the surface of the water, 75 feet behind them in the deep water, Jen yelled, “Hit it!”

  Jake slammed down the throttle, and the boat lurched up and out of the water, pulling Jen.

  Amanda watched in amazement as a huge bubble of water formed around Jen, her body disappearing behind it. The sun glanced off the bubble, creating a rainbow on its sheen. Amanda wondered if Jen was actually skiing or just being hopelessly dragged behind the boat.

  After a few seconds, however, Jen burst through the bubble and was on top of the water, her left foot tucked into the boot behind her right. She shook the water from her hair, her sunglasses perfectly perched on her nose. She immediately cut right, darting out of the boat’s wake and slicing through the flat water—almost parallel to the boat—then suddenly turned left, creating a rooster of spray into the air behind her. Her incredible momentum carried her across the wake to the opposite side, and she did the same cut, leaning back and turning, a spray fanning behind her as she raced across the wake again. Her body was as flat as a board, her elbows bent, her biceps flexed.

  From Amanda’s perspective, Jen didn’t look like she was having fun at all. Her lips were pursed, and her jaw was set. Amanda thought the whole point of skiing was to have a good time, and Jen looked anything but. Maybe I’m underestimating the physicality, Amanda thought, as she watched Jen gracefully—albeit determinedly—race across the wake from one side of the boat to the other, creating gigantic fans of white spray. Apparently, a working-out Jen was a happy Jen, even in her free time.

  They all applauded heartily when Jen threw her hands up in the air, releasing the rope handle and effortlessly gliding along the water until she inevitably sank.

  Jake slowed, turn the boat, and circled around her while she held the ski tip up for Patrick to grasp and haul into the boat.

  Jen grabbed the rope and pulled herself to the platform at the stern. She pushed herself up and sat, catching her breath.

  “You looked fantastic!” Amanda said, leaning over the backseat, Buster in her arms.

  “Thanks,” Jen said. “The water was perfect.”

  Buster jumped out of Amanda’s arms and hopped over the transom, licking the lake water off Jen. “Oh, you little cutie. I love you too.”

  “Seriously, Jen. Really impressive,” Amanda gushed.

  Jen angled up her chin and smiled, the hot sun burning the droplets off her face. “I missed you. I’m so sorry.”

  Amanda was taken aback at the sudden shift from water skiing to a confession. She lay her hand on Jen’s tanned shoulder under her life vest. “Don’t worry about it. We’re good. I’ve already forgotten.”

  Jen half-heartedly smiled, the shine missing from her usual brilliance.

  A prescience flared in Amanda that more explanation—not necessarily good—would follow later when they were alone.

  Thirty

  During their après-ski sightseeing tour around the lake, Jake and Patrick pointed out the deer on the island, the eagle’s nest in the tall pine, and the loon couple swimming with their twin loonlings. The brothers were practiced hosts, the family having entertained people on the water for years. They kept the pilot, Dave, in active conversation.

  Jen joined in sporadically with a casual observation about a lake cabin or nice beach, but the frog in her throat and the toad sitting in her conscience were croaking so loudly that she couldn’t hear herself think.

  She managed short chuckles at the men’s banter, but she felt like she was living under false pretenses, hoping against hope that Amanda interpreted her reticence as only nerves about Amanda’s unannounced visit. Still holding Buster snugly, Jen used him as a barrier between her raw emotion and Amanda. He seemed to sense her sobriety too, leaning in and protecting her, licking her hand and gazing up at her with his curious eyebrows and wrinkled forehead.

  She was grateful for their return to the dock, in desperate need of fleeing the captive dynamic on the boat. To what and where she didn’t know. She just knew she wanted off the boat.

  As Jake drove the boat toward the boat lift adjacent to the dock, Jen wished she could wipe the smirk off his handsome face. The corner of his lip and raised eyebrow had frozen in place ever since Amanda had arrived. Jen could tell he was entertained by her agony, probably having endured the same situation himself, but she found nothing remotely funny about the nightmare of her fiancée turning up the day after a kinky hookup.

  Even worse, Tommy had winked at Jen a few times, which he never did, then patted her on the shoulder, gestures that conveyed empathy, and that maybe he wouldn’t rat her out, but they had had the opposite effect—adding to her anxiety. God forbid that Amanda noticed them, seer of all things that she was. She might misinterpret them as signs that Tommy and Jen were rekindling a romance.

  Unlike her brothers, however, Tommy was trying, and Jen had to give him credit for that. He had offered her a beer a few times, saying, “Really, you need to relax,” but she had declined, deathly afraid that alcohol would loosen her lips into confessing that she had slept with Victoria.

  Instead, she plastered a smile on her face, as unwanted images of Victoria flashed repeatedly through her mind, sometimes going into a short video replay, the Kaya here, the handcuffs there, the lascivious glint
in Victoria’s eyes and satisfied smile on her lips. Jen felt naughty and soiled, even after water skiing. She had tried to blast away the filmy residue of Victoria’s touch with as much spray-back on herself as the ski would allow, but it hadn’t worked. Instead, she sat in a cold, wet suit, trying to shake the traces of Victoria’s touch.

  She snapped back to reality to find Jake ordering Patrick to grab the boat lift canopy overhead and steady the boat on the lift.

  On the other side of the dock, Kay and Kristin were in ankle-deep water with Ranger, the yellow lab. Kristin was yelling, “Mommy,” and Ranger was barking at Buster on the boat, egging him on. Buster couldn’t contain his excitement any longer. He leaped from Jen’s lap over the side of the boat and onto the dock, only to find himself skidding across the dock, losing a paw-gripping battle against the smooth metal surface. He plunged over the side and into the water. When his head broke the surface, his triangular ears angled back like a gremlin’s, and his paws swam in overdrive, making thah-dunking noises as he swam clumsily toward Kristin and Kay, only a few feet away. Ranger wagged his tail at Buster, greeting his little sidekick, who was not a retriever but still swimming successfully.

  “Buster!” Kristin yelled, clapping her hands.

  Even Jen laughed at Buster’s rookie move. She stayed next to Amanda while Jake raised the boat in the lift a few inches, then joined everyone in getting out. Tommy quickly went down the stairway into the warm lake water and plopped down next to Kristin, who was thrilled to have her daddy sitting next to her. She scooped up a handful of sand and showed it to him. He did the same, teaching her how to let it sift through his fingers. Jen wanted to hate him for being so content with a clean conscience, but she couldn’t. She had made her own bed, and he had had nothing to do with it. In fact, he had warned her against it.

  “Kristin wanted to swim when we finished a book and a micro-nap,” Kay said.

  “Looks like fun.” Jen sucked in her breath and descended the metal stairs into the water, wading over to Kay.

  “Did you have fun skiing?”

  “Yeah. The water was smooth,” Jen said then threw over her shoulder to Amanda. “Come in, Amanda, the water is warm.”

  “I’ll just sit on the edge of the dock for a minute.” Amanda lowered herself to the dock and dangled her toes in the water, Jake and Patrick watching her every move from the boat. “I finally got to see Jen ski, and she was spectacular.”

  “She is impressive, isn’t she?” Kay said. “I’m sure she was showing off a bit too.”

  “Oh, there was a whole lot of hot-doggin’ goin’ on,” Tommy said.

  Jen rolled her eyes and splashed some water on him, which he returned three-fold.

  Dave walked down the steps into the water, slowly wading out to his waist, feeling of the water with his hands. When the time was right, he dove under and began swimming.

  “You should compare our fresh water to your Pacific,” Kay said to Amanda. “Maybe go for a swim. No sharks here.”

  Jen knew Amanda wouldn’t. There was more than an ounce of princess in her, and, sharks or no sharks, the lake was very organic.

  “I’m usually only ankle-deep in the Pacific, Kay. Jen is the swimmer.” Amanda waved at Kristin, who threw a wad of wet sand at her.

  Jen put her hand on Kristin’s. “No throwing sand, honey.”

  Kristin laughed.

  Jen wondered if Kristin was imitating the cellphone throw again.

  Tommy stood, picked up Kristin under the arms and twirled her around, her toes skimming the water. She squealed and laughed as he dipped her thigh-high and threw her into the air.

  Kay turned to Jen. “I think the afternoon got away from us, and I didn’t thaw out anything for dinner, so it’s either frozen pizza or Fireside for dinner tonight.”

  Grateful to her mother for taking the lead, Jen forced herself to focus, her body a scrap heap of nerves. “Definitely Fireside. We have a lot of people. Did you make a reservation?”

  “Of course,” Kay said. “I thought Amanda might like to experience an authentic Wisconsin supper club.”

  A vision of running into Victoria at Fireside last week flashed through Jen’s mind, triggering her guilty eyes to dart from her mother to Amanda then to the sandy bottom of the lake. She kicked at a broken clam shell, feigning interest in it. “Good suggestion.”

  “Is an early reservation okay?” Kay asked. “I didn’t want to keep Kristin out too late.”

  Jen checked her waterproof watch, forcibly shoving aside guilt. “Sure. For what time?”

  “I made it for six o’clock.”

  “Earlier the better. I should probably go shower and change then. Do you mind watching Kristin for another 30 minutes?”

  Tommy, still tossing Kristin into the air and catching her as she landed in the water, said, “No problem. We’ll swim until Grandma Kay says it’s time to get out and get ready.”

  “Thanks,” Jen said, sending him an apologetic smile. “Off I go.”

  Amanda immediately stood. “I should shower too…tired from travel…sounds refreshing.”

  While helping Jake to fill up the boat with gas, Patrick muttered, “Tired from flying on your own jet?”

  Jen heard him, but she didn’t think Kay or Tommy did.

  “Shut up, you idiot,” she heard Jake whisper to Patrick. “No wonder you don’t have a girlfriend.”

  “What?” Patrick asked with genuine confusion.

  Amanda obviously heard Patrick, a tiny smile appearing as she cast a playful glance in Jen’s direction.

  Mortified, Jen was grateful for her sunglasses to shield her panicked eyes. She had half a mind to run down the dock and jump into the water with Dave, but she knew submerging herself still wouldn’t wash away Victoria—and the reality that she had fucked her brains out last night—or delay the inevitable reunion with Amanda.

  “See you in 30,” Jen rasped, as she and Amanda walked from the dock onto the grass bank.

  “I’ll give you 45,” Tommy said knowingly from the water.

  Jen waved over her shoulder. She had no idea what was about to transpire in their shower, but she cursed herself—again—for the major BDSM hangover. She felt numb, scared as hell that Amanda would figure out that she was a lying, cheating cunt. Yes, C-U-N-T. And a stupid cunt at that.

  Rationalizing her actions in a last ditch effort to remain sane, Jen reminded herself that she had legitimately thought that she and Amanda wouldn’t get back together when she had slept with Victoria. Why had she been thinking that? Away from Amanda for only a week, and she had fallen into the arms of another woman? She was no better than Roxy. On a subconscious level, maybe that’s what she had been striving for all along—to join the ranks of women who have had a one-night stand. Well, she had finally done it, a one-night stand with honors for wearing fur-lined handcuffs. She was crashing from her escapade, however, and she could only hope that her unsuspecting lover, currently by her side, didn’t figure it out.

  To make matters worse, Jen knew what Amanda would expect in the shower. How am I going to handle this?

  Thirty-One

  When they reached the top of the steps, Amanda looped her hand through Jen’s arm, playfully brushing her body against her as she leaned in. “Hey, you. Hope you don’t mind that I suggested I shower with you.”

  Amanda’s flirtatious, teasing tone usually brought a smile to Jen, but her face felt frozen. “Of course not. Let’s get your bag from the main house and bring it over to my cabin.”

  “I’d say, ‘forget about it,’ but clothes might be important later.”

  Jen glanced at Amanda’s body. In that barest of bare bikinis, she could stop traffic. Her coverup was loosely slung over her shoulders, creating a cape-like look, as she floated with ease up the steps, seemingly thrilled to be at Jen’s side.

  Jen flogged herself. She needed a diversion. “Are you hungry? Can I fix you some lunch?”

  “I’m in the mood for funch,” Amanda whispered in a low, husk
y voice, even though it was well past lunch time.

  Jen tripped over the toe of her flipflop. “How clumsy of me.”

  “You’re anything but,” Amanda said.

  Jen died inside.

  A few minutes later, after they had rolled Amanda’s bag over to Jen’s cabin, Amanda paused while unpacking and looked at Jen. “Are you okay?”

  Jen’s fingers were as busy as a chipmunk’s, holding up a black sleeveless, setting it on the bed, then picking it up again. “Um, yeah. Why?”

  “You seem a little nervous.” Amanda’s gaze dropped to the top then bounced back to Jen’s eyes.

  “Busted.” Jen tossed the top on the bed and held up her palms as if under arrest. “I’m horribly nervous. I admit it.”

  Amanda inclined her head, her adoring eyes shimmering. “It’s just me, Jen. Remember us?”

  Jen’s vision clouded with tears. “Yes, of course. I know…but… I want everything to—”

  Amanda closed the gap between them and cupped Jen’s face with a tender touch before Jen could finish her thought. “Everything is fine. Trust us.”

  Amanda’s earnest eyes splintered Jen. She knew she was meant to be in Amanda’s arms and no one else’s, of that she was sure, but she had no experience navigating betrayal. Her body felt at once alive in Amanda’s charismatic bubble, but her soul burned with shame and regret.

  Why did I do this to us?

  “You’re cold as ice.” Amanda pulled back, resting her hands on Jen’s hips. “Let’s get you out of this wet suit and into a hot shower.”

  For the first time since skiing, Jen realized her skin was, indeed, clammy and cold. A shiver thrummed through her. “I am freezing now that you mention it.”

  Amanda grabbed Jen by the hand and led her to the bathroom.

  They were barely inside the door when Amanda turned Jen around and unclasped the hook on the back of Jen’s suit top. She quickly slid her hands around Jen’s front, covering her breasts, her warm palms heating Jen’s hard nipples, the contact sending electric currents to Jen’s heart. She leaned back into Amanda and sighed. Amanda’s magical touch outmatched anything—and everything—Victoria had done last night. There was no comparison, and Jen knew that now. Stupid!