Layers: Book One (14 page)

“No friggin’ way! Get your ass up on that board.”

“All right. You don’t have to yell.”

I rip off my other high top and sock then stand and peel off my clothes and throw them on top of Lane’s. I walk toward the board.

“Okay, let’s see you beat a three.”

“Like that will be hard” I snort and walk to the end of the board.

I stretch my arms above my head and then rotate my hips.

“What are you doing?”

“Stretching, loosening the muscles. Aren’t you supposed to do that first?”

He thinks a minute. “I guess it couldn’t hurt. Maybe that’s where I went wrong.”

“Maybe. But I think you could have stretched for a decade and you would have still face-planted.”

“I’ll have to agree with you on that. I’m a shit diver sober or high.”

I bend and touch my toes.

“Fuck! Ten!”

“What? I haven’t done anything.”

“You don’t need to. Just stay right there and I’ll be a very happy man.”

I straighten. “Yeah right, Chubby Boy.” I jog in place and the board jumps. “God it’s freakin’ cold up here!”

He coughs and says with a bad and just plain wrong Southern accent. “Yes it is, ma’am.”

I look down and follow his gaze. “Hey, eyes off the tatas. And FYI your southern accent is creepy.”

He snorts like a pig. “I was going for smooth and sexy.”

“Well, you missed that train. It was creepy-werid.”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“If it’s creepy, it’s bad dude.”

He continues to stare at the tatas.

I raise a brow. “Eyes off the tatas.”

“Yeah right, like that’s going to happen.” He swims closer to the board.

“Before you dive and possibly render yourself unconscious or worse, I’d like to inform you that I think your tatas are spectacular. The best real ones I’ve ever seen. Well, maybe second best.”

“Second huh?”

“Yeah, Katie Allen. Seventh grade science teacher—best ever.”

“How did you se…never mind I don’t really want to know.”

“Are you sure, it was really quite innocent. Well, sort of.”

“That’s what I thought. Sort of.”

“Okay. Quit stalling and dive already.”

“All right I think I’m going to do a back gamer.”

“I think it’s called a gainer, man.”

“Whatever.” I turn around and step back to the end of the board. I place my feet so my heels are just hanging over. I raise my arms up over my head and position for a back dive. I take a deep breath and think how crazy and stupid this is. Shit-crazy.

”Okay back gamer, gainer…whatever, on three. One, two…”


“Before you go.” Lane breathes out. “I just wanted to say that your ass is fucking incredible.”

I look over my shoulder. “Are you done?”

“Yeah, I’m done.”

I reposition myself and puff out. “Okay on three. One, tw…”

“Wait!” He holds up his hands. “Sorry dude, but do you know what the fuck you’re doing?”

I bite my lip. “I think so. Maybe. Does it even matter?”

“Just concerned for your safety ma’am.”

“I’m freezing so no more interruptions.” I exhale and hate myself for being so damn competitive even while incapacitated. “Okay, here goes nothin’!” I jump back, tuck, twist, and then hit the water. I surface and scan myself.

No pain or blood—I’m good.

Lane swims next to me gaping like a fish.

“You look like a grouper, Lane.”


“Shit! Dude, I think that really was a back gamer…or back something.”

“Yeah. I really didn’t have a clue. So what’s my score?” I breathe out and pull my long wet hair from my face.

“A perfect ten!”

“Sick,” I say and we knuckle bump.

“That was crazy-ass scary.”

“Yes, and the end of our careers as high-off-your-ass divers.”

“I agree man, once was more than enough.”

We swim around, giggling like two high school stoners. I swim up close to Lane.

“I like your eyebrow piercing.”

He grins. “Thanks dude.”

“Is a female dude a dudla?”

He laughs. “Why the hell not? Dudla it is.”


I swim even closer. “Your tongue’s pierced?”

“Yeah.”


“Do you get food caught in it?”

He tilts his head. “No. I don’t think so anyway.” He sticks his tongue out, wagging it like a dog. “Do you see any?”

I float closer and look over his tongue. “No, looks food free. I don’t get it.”

“Get what?”


“The whole tongue-piercing thing. I think it’s kind of gross.”

“The chicks dig it.”

I scrunch up my nose. “That’s what I hear. Never had the experience myself.”

“Really?” He lifts a brow.

“Can I feel it?”

He grins like he just won the lotto.

“Not down there you idiot. On my hand.”

I give him the back of my hand.

“You can’t experience it like that.”

“I can use my imagination.”
I raise my brow.

He floats away from me. “Shit, man. Are you trying to torture me?”

“Torture you?” I laugh.

“Duh, dudla, I’m not going to lick your hand while your imagining…you know…that.”

I grin and lean closer.

He pushes back. “Lex stop! I’m…well...you know getting…you know.”

I tilt my head. “Oh, I get it, Mr. Chubby is getting a bit too chubby.” I swim a couple of circles around him.

“I have a nose piercing. See?” I point at a small hole on the left side of my nose.

He drifts closer to look, then floats back and hisses. “I need a minute.”
He swims to the other side of the pool and back.

“Are we good?”

“Yeah, all’s good, dudla. Just try and keep the tits under the surface.”

“The tatas are getting to ya, huh?”

“Yeah, man.”

We float for a minute or two and a light comes on in the solarium and we freeze.

“Shit! Keep your head down, Lex.”

I dunk my head and get the giggles. Lane joins in and we can’t stop. Another light comes on and we turn to look.

We watch a heavy-set man in a tux and a skinny blond woman in a long, red formal walk in.

“What are they doing?” I ask Lane.

He squints. “Can’t see. Let’s get closer, but keep your head down.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

We wade to the other side of the pool. I try very hard to keep the tatas below the surface, but it ain’t easy.

We bob at the edge of the pool and watch as the man stands behind the woman. He gives her ass a pat then grabs the back of her dress and tugs it up past her hips. Then he slowly shimmies her panties down to her knees.

Lane and I look at each other and raise our brows.

The man gives her ass another tap then bends her and her ass over the back of a lounger.

Lane and I look at each other again—silently debating if we should continue watching. He nods, and then I nod. Then we grin and carry on.

The man tugs up on the woman’s hips forcing her ass to lift and her head to lower against the front of the lounger. He steps aside and leaves her hanging while he removes his tux jacket and tosses it on the edge of a nearby wicker chair. He adjusts his pants and pulls down the zipper—letting them drop and pool at his feet. He turns and gifts us with a full-on view of his ass.

“Oh my God!” I breathe out. “That is the hairiest ass I’ve even seen.”

“Yeah, he could use a trim.”

I look at Lane thinking I should make an appointment to have his vision checked. “A trim. For hell. We’re talking serious man-scaping here.”

The man turns and we get shot blasted with a full frontal.

“Oh, man! Gross, dudla.” Lane scrunches his face.

I shake my head. “I didn’t think it could get worse. Dude I was so wrong.” I shiver. “Poor skinny women. Take it from behind and don’t look back.
Ever
.”

“I’ve seen worse,” Lane says like he’s an expert on man hair.


I raise my brow. “No fuckin’ way, dude.”

“Yeah fuckin’ way. There was a professor at NYU that used to braid and bead his man hair.”

“How and why would you know this?”


“Girls took pictures and posted them.”

“That’s sick, not good sick, bad sick.” I squint. Maybe I need to have my eyes examined. “I can’t even see his thing through that jungle.”

Lane squints. “I think…no…Yeah, it’s right there.” He points. Like pointing really helps.

I continue to squint. “Are you sure, that looks like a Vienna sausage.”

“Vienna sausage?”

“Yeah, those little flesh-colored sausages that come in a small can.”

“Oh yeah. Do they still make those?”

“I think so.”

“Well, I for sure will never be eating one.”

“Me neither dude.”

“Poor guy. No junk. That’s just sad,” he says with empathy.

I bump his shoulder. “It’s Poor Skinny Woman you should feel sorry for.”

We continue with our voyeurism. The man spreads the poor woman’s legs with his knee. Then he starts to finger fuck her from behind. After what seems like an hour to us—and most likely forever for her—he stops. He pulls out his fingers and licks them.

I cringe. “You know that’s a turn on when your lover does it, but watching someone else do it—not so much.”

Lane turns and looks at me. “Really. I think it’s hot.”

I frown. “Whatever.”

The man grabs his jacket and pulls out a condom from the inside pocket. He rips it open with his teeth and rolls it on.

Lane taps my shoulder. “Dudla, do they even make condoms that small?”


I turn. “Do I look like a damn condom expert?”

He studies me. “What does a condom expert look like?”

“Hell if I know.”

We hear a slap and turn back to the action. Gorilla man positions himself behind the poor woman and enters her with a grunt. He pulls back and gives her a quick hard slap on the ass.

I jump. “Crap, that sounded like it hurt.”

He starts pounding into her hard almost knocking her off the back of the lounger. “Yeah baby!” He shouts. “Who’s your daddy?” Spank. Spank.

I jump again. “Shit, that’s got to hurt.” I whisper.

The woman shouts. “Fuck! You’re my daddy! Daddy please make me come!”

I frown. “Good luck with that girlfriend, like that’s going to happen.”

Lane nods in agreement.

Spank. Spank. I wince. “Shit, he hits hard.”

“You feel so fucking good!” she shouts. “Oh! God, yes daddy I’m coming!”

“Yeah right,” we say simultaneously and laugh.

The man slams into her one last time—emitting a loud grunt. He then pulls out of the poor orgasm-faking woman. He steps back while she tugs up her panties and pulls down her dress. He pulls up his pants—removes the condom and ties it off. Then he shoves the used condom in a pocket and tucks his wee-one in.

“Looks like the show’s over,” Lane says.

“There is a God,” I breathe out.

The man gives her one last slap on her ass. She squeals like a pig as they turn out the lights and exit the solarium.

Lane and I look at each other. “That was…”

“Something we didn’t need to see.” Lane answers for me.

“Yeah.”

“I need a smoke after that. Maybe if we get really high we won’t remember any of that.”

He swims over towards our clothes. He pulls his pants to the edge of the pool and gets out another joint and lighter. He fires it up and takes a long hit. Then he swims over to me and hands it over.

“Thanks, dude man.” I take a long hit and pass it back. “Dude, this is like our forth joint.”

“And our last. We’ve depleted my stash,” he says as he exhales.

We smoke and float around for a few minutes.

“Dudla, I’m so fucking high.”

“Dude, my fingers are all prunie. It’s weird, I can see that they’re prunie but I can’t feel their pruniness.”

“What?” he spouts with another exhale.

“Never mind. I think it’s time to get out.”

“Yeah, I think you’re right dudla.”

We take one last hit and swim back toward our clothes. I start to pull myself out of the pool when the solarium lights up. Then a light outside of the solarium flashes on. I freeze and Lane grabs me and tugs me back into the pool. He takes my hand and drags me to the opposite side of the pool—away from the solarium.

We float in silence for a few seconds then the outer solarium door flings open and a women and a man walk out.