In The Garden Of Snakes (An Erotic Summer Tryst)

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In The Garden Of Snakes (An Erotic Summer Tryst) Page 4

by Virginia Wade


  “Get off!” She pushed him. “It’s not me who needs you. Kiss her.” She pointed in my direction.

  The urge to flee was incredibly strong. “Uh…I’m good.”

  “She’s about to bolt.”

  “No she’s not. Come on, Jess. Kiss him. He’s not bad.”

  “Thanks,” he said dryly.

  “No problem, Romeo.”

  I gripped the towel; the bikini top was hardly sufficient. Stuart’s eyes roamed over me, from the top of my head to my face, lips, neck and lower. He seemed to be taking a thorough inventory. His eyes softened, and his mouth turned up in a hint of a smile. That smoldering, interested look made my tummy tingle.

  “Don’t be shy.” He scooted closer. “You’re like a skittish little colt.” He touched my face. “What pretty blue eyes.” His proximity was alarming. The scent of perspiration with a hint of cologne teased my nose. It was a decidedly masculine aroma, heady and unfamiliar. A thumb grazed my lips, the edges dipping into my mouth slightly, wetting the finger. He zeroed in on my lips. “Just a baby kiss for a baby girl.”

  Carmen watched us, playing with her hair. She seemed amused and more than a little eager, waiting for Stuart to make the next move. Her plans for my seduction had fallen into place, as evidenced by the smug little glimmer in her eyes. But, I had yet to give in. I hadn’t moved an inch for fear that I really would run away. In that moment, as I stared into the mysterious dark eyes of a stranger, feeling the heat coming off him, something shifted within me. Another little wall in my armor had fallen down.

  He leaned in. “Oh, no,” I whispered.

  “Yes.”

  His warm, wet lips covered mine, while his hands gripped my head, because I had tried to move away from him. It was an involuntary response. His beard felt rough against my skin. He was hard and forceful, where Carmen had been soft and light. A thick tongue entered my mouth. His arm went around me, and he pulled me to him, the towel falling away. I found myself crushed to the steel wall of his chest, while he devoured me, practically eating my tongue. This was entirely different than kissing Carmen. He scratched my face with his stubble, his tongue all but gagging me. I suddenly panicked, pushing against him.

  “No!”

  “Jesus, Stuart. What a fucking pig. It’s her first kiss. You were supposed to be gentle.”

  His face was in my neck, kissing and sucking, scratching me with his beard. “She’s so sweet.”

  “Get off!” He was all sinew and muscle and stronger than I was by a mile. “Stop!”

  Carmen smacked him. “Stop it, Stuart!”

  “Shit! Sorry.” He looked aroused and angry. “You fucking wanted me to kiss her. So I kissed her.”

  “You were supposed to be gentle. Ugh. What a moron.”

  “I was gentle.”

  “The hell you were.”

  I held the towel around myself. “I’m going back. It’s been interesting.”

  “Now look what you’ve done. You scared the shit outta her.”

  “I fucking hate virgins,” he snapped irritably. “I gotta get back to work. I’ve wasted enough time already. You bitches amuse yourself some other way.” He got to his feet and stalked off.

  “I’m sorry, Jess. Are you all right?”

  I nodded. “Yeah.”

  “He’s not usually like that. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with him.”

  “It’s okay. No harm done.”

  “He wasn’t like that the first time he kissed me. He was so sweet and gentle. I thought he’d be like that with you. I didn’t think he’d try to friggin’ eat you,” she laughed. “What a disaster.”

  “Let’s go lay out.”

  “Yeah.”

  Chapter Six

  That evening, after dinner, we all gathered outside around an enormous fire pit to watch a Hollander family slide show. The slides were decades old. We sat on cushioned seats with blankets and the sound of crickets serenading us. Abby and Madison roasted marshmallows on long sticks, and the adults drank wine, chatting and laughing amongst themselves. Uncle Henry operated the projector; a white screen suddenly sprang to life with an image of a smiling couple.

  “Omigod!” blurted Roberta. “Isn’t that Rose and John?”

  “It is,” said Joseph. He sat with his wife, Constance. Rose was in her wheelchair with a blanket around her shoulders.

  “Oh, dear. Look how young I was.”

  Christian and Grandpa Fred sat with Sonya. Christian glanced at his paramour often, their eyes communicating their desire. Watching them reminded me of how they had made love in the barn and the way I had felt seeing them in that intimate embrace. The slideshow went on for almost an hour, picture after picture documenting the history of the Hollander’s. It was like looking into a window to the past. There had been images of Carmen and I when we were younger, tanned and smiling, on cookouts and church excursions. Her father, Joseph, had looked youthful, his hair dark without the gray and his face without wrinkles.

  The warmth of the blaze made the coolness of the evening bearably pleasant. I ended up on the grass, with Carmen’s hands in my hair. She was combing through the thick strands with her fingers, which felt wonderful. Little tingles went up and down my spine at the feel of her gently detangling the strands. Rose and Grandpa Fred returned to the house, as did Abby and Madison. The adults drank and laughed, swapping stories from the past.

  “Remember that trip to Florida when the Ford blew a tire,” said Uncle Henry. “We nearly wrecked the damn car.”

  “I remember that,” said Carmen. “We had it towed and then a storm came in and we were stuck in that cockroach infested hotel. Ugh.”

  “That’s what family vacations are all about,” laughed Joseph.

  “God. When my best friend Lori and I went to Cancun, she got food poisoning,” said Roberta. “She spent four days in the hospital hooked up to an I.V. That was a disaster.”

  “No more so than when we went to that island off the coast of Australia during Cyclone Justine,” said Constance. “Ruined the entire week. There was a Japanese couple on their honeymoon. I’ve never seen a woman so unhappy.”

  Everyone laughed at that. I stared into the fire, thoroughly enjoying the feel of Carmen’s hands in my hair.

  Constance stood up. “I’m getting more wine.”

  “I’ll go with you,” said Roberta. “I gotta pee.”

  Sonya and Christian sat together with a blanket around them. “This has been the best week,” he said, smiling. “You guys are awesome.”

  “Thanks, Christian. Glad you’re having fun,” said Joseph. He glanced in my direction. “How are you enjoying your stay, Jessica?”

  “I’m…it’s good.”

  He gave me a considering look, making my tummy tingle, which was peculiar. The firelight softened his features, lessoning the stark lines of his face. He hadn’t asked me a hundred and one questions about my life, which was a relief. He seemed relaxed and content, sipping his wine. His gaze strayed on us, flitting to Carmen and then me.

  I glanced up at Carmen and smiled. She whispered, “I can see straight down your shirt.”

  “You perve.”

  To my surprise, she touched her lips to mine, a spontaneous kiss that I hoped no one saw. Her tongue gently licked my lip, and I opened my mouth, kissing her deeper. The hand that had been in my hair suddenly slid to my throat, her fingers pausing over the pulse in my neck, which had kicked into high gear. She tasted like wine and marshmallows, sweet and delicious.

  Maybe you’re a lesbian, Jess. Oh, God. Mom’s gonna freak out.

  No, I’m not a lesbian. I just…like kissing Carmen.

  It’s cause you’re afraid of men.

  No I’m not.

  Oh, yes you are.

  Her hand drifted down my throat to my chest, where she dipped into my shirt, touching my breast. I shivered with arousal, my pussy clenching from the contact. I knew we would spend the night fucking each other, and I couldn’t wait to get into bed with her. Someone clea
ring his or her throat broke the spell, and I swallowed my embarrassment, my cheeks tingeing red.

  Christian grinned at us. “Somebody’s had a lotta wine.”

  Joseph stared at me, clearly shocked. I guess he hadn’t been expecting that. That had been the most risqué thing I had ever done in my life. Being in this house had affected me on almost every level. I was doing things I never imagined myself doing and loving them. I’d worn a bikini for the first time today, and I had made love to a woman, repeatedly. Just now I had kissed her in public in front of her friends and family, profoundly shocking her father.

  Oh, God.

  Joseph continued to stare, which was puzzling. It seemed as if a thousand different thoughts were racing through his mind, his eyes never leaving me.

  What the heck is he thinking?

  “Would you like to explain that, Carmen?” he asked.

  “How do you mean?” Her hands were in my hair again.

  “That kiss. Is there something I should know about?”

  “Not anything that’s your business, dad. No.”

  “Have you had a lifestyle change?”

  “If I have, so what?”

  His look was considering, his eyes pinned on me. “What about you, Jessica? Is there anything you want to confess?”

  I swallowed hard. “No.”

  His expression now veered towards anger, which was strange. His reaction to having witnessed his daughter kissing a girl had disturbed him. “Well, it’s late. I’m heading in.” He got to his feet, snatching a wine glass off the table. “Good night, folks.”

  “What the hell is the matter with him?” whispered Carmen. “It’s not like he’s in any position to judge me. He fucks around on Constance all the time.”

  “He does?” Joseph stared at us, watching us whispering.

  “She fucks around on him too.”

  My pristine image of him was now thoroughly ruined. This was the man who had taken us on camping trips and canoe rides down the river. We’d attended baseball games together and fireworks on the Fourth of July. What Carmen had said couldn’t be true, could it? He wandered off with his hands in his pockets, the wineglass in the crook of his arm.

  “We should go to bed,” said Carmen.

  I tingled thinking at that suggestion. “We should.”

  She took my hand. “Good night, everyone.”

  Christian winked. “Good night, lovers.”

  “Way to keep a secret,” quipped Sonya. “I had no idea you were so…close.”

  Carmen bristled. “I’m not a lesbian. We’re just…oh, never mind. Good night.”

  “Good night.” I waved to Carmen’s Uncle Henry and her Grandpa Fred.

  Once in my bedroom, she turned the light off and opened the French doors. “It’s so pretty out here.”

  I joined her, standing on the balcony, glancing down into the garden. There were lights along the walkways. “It is.”

  Her arms went around me. “Your boobs felt so good.”

  “You really freaked your dad out. He looked mad.”

  “I don’t know what his problem is. He’s no saint.” Her lips touched my neck. “I can’t wait to get you naked.”

  “You’re so bad.”

  “Yeah.”

  Hands were on my breasts, my nipples hardening on contact. I tingled everywhere, my tummy especially, and, as she kissed me, the strangest images drifted through my mind. Instead of Carmen’s lips on me, I felt Joseph’s, which was a disturbing and sobering thought. Why would I think of him at a moment like this? He’d always frightened and intimidated me with his domineering personality.

  “Let’s get naked!” Carmen whipped her shirt over her head. “We should sixty-nine.”

  “If you say so.” I dropped my shorts and took my t-shirt off. “Who’s on top?”

  “I am.”

  “Okay,” I giggled.

  We spent the night pleasuring each other to orgasm, over and over, until we collapsed in each other’s arms, her face in my boobs. She seemed to prefer sleeping like this. As the first streams of sunlight poured in through the opened French door, I perceived a series of soft clicks. It was like the way my phone sounded when I took pictures. I opened an eye and got a shock. Joseph was in the room! He stood at the foot of the bed and held his cell phone, pointing it at us. I glanced at Carmen and found her face in my chest, my naked breasts on full display. The sheets had tangled around us, and my legs were entirely exposed, as was my hip, and a portion of my bottom. Carmen was without the benefit of a sheet.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Evidence.”

  “What?”

  “I should text these to your mother.”

  I sat up, grabbing a sheet and waking Carmen. “I hope you’re kidding.”

  He smiled slightly. “I should.”

  “P-please don’t.”

  “Dad? What are you doing?” Carmen sounded groggy.

  “Nothing to worry your little head over. I’ll be in the studio, if anyone needs me.” He left the room.

  “Oh, holy shit!” I muttered. “He fucking took pictures of us naked!”

  Carmen yawned. “He’s just gonna paint ‘em.”

  Horror had me jumping from the bed. “No! Oh, hell no.” I grabbed my t-shirt, tossing it over my head. I slid my shorts up hastily. “He has to delete those!”

  “He won’t. It’s no big deal. He’s painted me naked before.”

  I raced from the room. “Shit!” Her laughter followed me. I found Mr. Hollander on the staircase. “Wait!” He turned to look at me, his eyes skimming my chest. I hadn’t worn a bra, and I knew my nipples were hard. “You have to delete those.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, omigod, yes. Please. Nobody can see them.”

  “I thought lesbians were proud of their sexuality?”

  “I’m not a lesbian.”

  “Really?”

  I squared my shoulders and lifted my chin. “Yes.”

  “This is a whole new side of you, Jessica. What a difference a day makes.”

  He clearly thought my distress was amusing, which was alarming and irritating. “You have to delete them. Please.”

  “Don’t you even want to see what they look like?” He pressed a button, and a gallery of photos appeared. I stood next to him and saw myself in the arms of a woman, her face pressed to my breasts, which looked enormous.

  “Oh, my God.” It was even worse than I thought. You could see my legs all the way to my ass and hips. I looked so wanton, my hair a tangled, honey-colored mess all over the bedding. Carmen was totally nude, her thin frame cuddled next to me, her face peaceful in repose. “You can’t show these to anyone.”

  “That’s a shame. This would make a lovely painting or two. Maybe even a series.” He raised an eyebrow. “I could do an entire show. I’ll title it, Women In Love.”

  “No!” He was joking, wasn’t he? “Please delete them. Please.”

  He smiled slightly. “I never thought I’d see you like this, Jessica. Never in a million years.”

  I silently agreed with him. “That’s not me.”

  “I think it is.”

  “You don’t understand. I…I enjoy Carmen. I’ve never been with anyone before, girl or boy. That was…just something that happened. It’s private. You’ve no business barging into our room and taking pictures. I’m sure you violated my right of privacy or something. I won’t give you permission to use my image in that way.” There. I had told him. I had stood up for myself. I’d never been so assertive before, and it felt strange, yet nice.

  His smile made my stomach drop. “Or I could blackmail you, Jessica. You should pose nude for me or…I could text your mother these photos.” His smile broadened. “Now, there’s an idea. Why didn’t I think of that before? I’m short a model, and from what I’ve seen, you’d do nicely.” He stared at me, and I felt my lower anatomy contract with pleasure, which was worrying.

  “No.”

  “Suit yourself. Work cal
ls. I’ll see you later.” He took the stairs.

  “Wait!”

  He halted, pivoting. “Yes?”

  “What are you gonna do?”

  “Paint these images.”

  “Shit.”

  “Or I could just paint you, but you have to show up and you have to be naked.”

  I swallowed hard. “You’re not going to text those to my mother, are you?”

  Again there was a hint of a smile. “I should, but I won’t. Come and pose for me. It’ll only take an hour or two tops.”

  “Th-that’s pornographic.”

  “No. It’s art. It’s tasteful, Jessica. You’ll be situated on a velvet divan with the proper lighting. I’ve done Constance and Roberta and Sonya. I’ve even painted Carmen. There nothing pornographic about it.”

  He needed a model. His interest in me wasn’t salacious or sexual. Why did I feel utterly disappointed suddenly? “I’ll be down in a half an hour.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  Chapter Seven

  Carmen knew I was taking a walk. For some reason, I hesitated to tell her about posing nude for her father. It seemed like a secret I wanted to keep to myself, but not disclosing this bit of information puzzled me. As I headed down the path, the sun sprinkled down through the trees, throwing patches of light on the ground. Little tingles danced in my stomach at the thought of being nude in front of a man. He had seen me in bed, naked, in the arms of his daughter. That thought alone sent little shivers down my spine. I shouldn’t be reacting like this to a pervert. There was clearly something wrong with Mr. Hollander.

  The door to the studio was wide-open, and classical music played. Joseph was dressed in slacks, a gray shirt, and a smock, which protected his clothing from paint.

 

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