The Bikini Diaries (28 page)

He didn't beat around the bush, just smiled suavely. "I changed my mind."

'About?"

"Sleeping with you tonight. That stuff about the bed feeling empty is for the birds. I'll take my chances. Get in. I want to wrap around you and fall asleep together."

Was he mistaken or did her eyes light with romantic joy? He didn't know a lot about

romance, but that was what he felt from her in that moment, and he supposed it pretty

accurately described what had brought him backing his Benz up the drive. She didn't

answer—merely bit her lip, gave him a sensuous look that turned his dick still harder,

then got back in the car.

I shouldn't have done it. I must be losing my mind. Or at least my grip on this situation.

Wendy berated herself silently as she biked across Emerald Shores the next day. She still couldn't believe she'd let Brandon talk her into going back to his place last night. After all, she'd been so strong, so rational—and she'd actually made it out of the car and all the way to the door, ignoring the way his heated kisses had burned through her and how

those gorgeous blue eyes had borne down into her very soul.

Of course, sleeping next to him had been wonderful. They'd ended up having sex again,

just natural, normal sex in his bed— she'd put on one of his T-shirts to sleep in, sans

panties since hers were still wet, and more good night kisses had led to good night

fucking and good night orgasms.

She sighed now as she steered her bicycle through a picturesque tunnel that led beneath

the main boulevard to keep bikers from having to cross traffic. Her pussy warmed at the

recollection, which made her both happy and sad. She was happy because it had been

wonderful, and
he
was wonderful. But she was sad because she still couldn't let herself feel all lovey-dovey about him. She was leaving tomorrow and this would be over and

tonight would be her last night with him—forever. She let out another sigh.

Oh, for God's sake, stop this. Don't be such a girl Be White Bikini Babe—your

inspiration, your idol. White Bikini Babe doesn't care
about the last night with any guy,
because for her sex is a lifestyle, and there will be more of it, and she will be in control of
it. White Bikini Babe lives for pleasure and power. And this week, so do you.

To her surprise, the little pep talk actually helped. Maybe all it took was a reminder—

okay,
constant
reminders—of what she'd wanted from this experiment in the first place.

Once she refocused on that, she felt stronger, tougher, more like she had earlier in the week. She pedaled onward in her practical shorts and tennis shoes feeling, once again,

like a woman with a secret.
Lots
of secrets. About cucumbers, and threesomes, and beach sex, and being with another girl.

There, that's better.

And when she passed a cute guy—probably in his late twenties, also on a bike—she

followed her natural instinct to smile flirtatiously and earned a similar response. Even in her practical shorts.

Yes, that's
much
better.

Now, you have one more night with Brandon. Don't forget who you are. You are woman,

hear you roar. You are a sex machine, a pleasure seeker, a hedonist. You are... Black
Bikini Babe.

"Hey, bunny."

The warm voice on the phone nearly turned her knees to jelly, despite the feet that she

was sitting down, relaxing barefoot on the sofa in her studio condo.

"Hey," she said when Brandon picked up her call, "but shouldn't that be Ms. Carnes in this instance?" She was teasing, yet also thought it was smart to keep some walls erected between business and pleasure, especially given their potential future business

association.

'M right, Ms.
Comes,"
he said, though his voice still sounded outrageously sexy. "And by the way, I'm still battling a hard-on from visions of you sucking Stacy's tits last night,
Ms.

Carnes."

Okay, now her pussy was practically humming. She had to get them back on track here.

"So are we gonna have phone sex or are we gonna talk about the future of Emerald

Shores?"

He chuckled. "I like when you're authoritative, Ms. Carnes. That's hot."

She let out a sigh, having her own battle—between talking business with him or talking

pleasure. "I'm glad you feel that way," she said, "since I have some more... suggested improvements for the resort."

That turned him slightly more serious. "Oh boy. Do I need to brace myself?"

"Depends. I feel everything I'm asking for is reasonable and practical—but who knows if you'll feel the same way?"

On the other end of the phone, he sighed. "Okay. Let's have em.

Again, by paging through her journal to find the business notes in between her more

personal ones, Wendy had put together a new list and now began reading it to him,

ticking off items as she went. After the ones she'd given him at their meeting a couple of days ago, she supposed it was adding up to a lot, but she had no choice—she had to be

objective when it came to investing millions of dollars of Walter's money. In feet, if

Walter invested in Emerald Shores, it would become a substantial percentage of his

holdings. She had to ensure that the resort was the best it could be before she could

recommend her boss sink that kind of money into it.

She concluded with, "Some of the rental bikes seem to be in disrepair—I've seen a few people biking around with bent handlebars. And the guy running the rental could be more

attentive—he needs to help people get the bikes adjusted correctly before they leave,

since I saw several people wrestling with raising and lowering their seats on the bike

path. Finally, some of the older swimming pools need to be refurbished or maybe even

replaced. Particularly the pools at the Sea Cottages and the Dunes. They simply don't

compare with others built since then and the pool at the Sea Cottages seems not very well cared for."

When she at last went quiet, he said, "Is that all?"

"Yep."

On the other end of the phone, he only sighed again, pointedly, and she thought he

sounded annoyed. And too quiet for the Brandon she'd come to know.

She bit her lip, then said, "Remember, I'm just doing my job. I have to think of Walter's best interests."

He hesitated before replying. "No offense, Wendy, but... I'm not sure you realize how much these things cost. You're suggesting lowering prices on activities and drinks, and

giving
some
things away for free, but at the same time you want us to shell out considerable funds on improvements. I have other investors besides Walter—who will

wonder where their annual profits went."

"Well, I'm sure they know that sometimes you have to spend money to make money.

You're selling luxury here—and the product needs to fit the advertisement."

"Point taken, but some of my investors are large corporations. All they care about is the bottom line. If it drops, they could walk. Then I'll be right back in the same boat I'm in now—out looking for someone new to put substantial money into the resort."

"Not if they have an ounce of business sense. Look, I know it's more complex than I make it sound, but if you don't keep your luxury resort in tip-top shape, it's no longer a luxury resort. And I realize that keeping a place this size and scope in tip-top shape is monumentally more challenging than it would be to keep any
other
resort that way, but I'm afraid that's the task you set before you when you conceived Emerald Shores."

In response, he only sighed yet again, in obvious irritation.

Prompting her to say, "You're mad."

How strange, she thought, to be doing big business with her lover. If he were any other

guy in the world, this conversation would go differently; mainly, she wouldn't give a rat's
ass
if he were mad. But with Brandon, she did.

"No, not mad," he said then, sounding more like himself to her. "Maybe I'm just pissed off at myself for not seeing how many flaws have slipped past me. I view this place as a paradise and I didn't realize so much was wrong. Guess I'm a glass-half-full kinda guy."

"Let me be clear," Wendy said. "If I've failed to mention it, this place
is
paradise. It's...

made me feel like I'm in another world."
Where I can do anything I want without any
consequences.
"But ultimately... I guess
I'm
a glass-half-empty kinda girl."

"Why?" he asked. The concern coloring his voice told her it was more of a personal question than a business one.

What was the answer?
Maybe because guys like you have never looked twice at me?

Maybe because I had to transform myself, turn myself into a mad seductress, to get your
attention? Maybe because had none of that happened, and I'd walked in here to meet with
you a few days ago, I'd have been totally intimidated by you. I'd have fill dreadfully
average in your presence. Beautiful people don't know what it is to be average; success
follows beautiful people wherever they go.

God, where had all
that
come from? Finally, she caught her breath and said, "I don't know. But given what I was sent here to do, I think it's probably a good attribute to

possess. I'll plan on meeting with you and Charles tomorrow morning before I leave to

get your feedback on my... requests."

For a second, she wondered if he was still angry, if the business part of their relationship was going to put a serious damper on the pleasure part. But then he said, very

professionally, "All right then. Charles and I will plan on seeing you at ten a.m. as scheduled. And, of course, I'll be meeting with you tonight, Ms. Carnes, to fuck your

brains out."

Her pussy rippled as she responded in her best corporate tone, as well. "Looking forward to it, Mr. Worth. Goodbye now."

Then she hung up the phone and decided to hit the beach for a couple of hours one last

time. To sort of... say goodbye to it, and to get a little sun so her tan lines would be fresh and sharp and sexy when Brandon took her bikini off later tonight.

The beach excursion was good for her, in more ways than one. Besides the relaxation of

soaking up some rays and listening to the calming sounds of the surf, she was reminded

of who she was now. Since she really
had
changed—the things she'd experienced since arriving here had progressed from being a pretense to being a true part of her. She was

now a woman who could wear a sexy bikini with confidence; she was a woman who

could flirt with—and fuck—even the hottest man. The male stares she garnered as she

strolled up the beach had brought that home to her. And it would make tonight, with

Brandon, easier.

Because she would
remember
who she was now. That simple. The woman who could

rack for mere pleasure and then wave goodbye without looking back She liked

Brandon—
a lot
—and sometimes she felt downright close to him. But she saw those as

"weak moments"—which had all hopefully passed now. In the end, she expected to have fond memories of the time they'd spent together, and
passionate
memories of the sex—

and that was all.

When she went downstairs and entered the pool area at ten on the dot that night, indeed, the gate was unlocked and the scene dark, quiet.

Except for Brandon, who had spread out a checked tablecloth on the concrete near the

pool's waterfall, and lay lounging comfortably across it in swim trunks, next to a picnic basket. Her heart swelled in her chest, but she tried not to feel it as she approached.

"A poolside picnic, Mr. Worth?"

He looked up with a grin. "Consider it foreplay, Miss Carnes."

"We can go back to 'bunny' for tonight."

His grin widened. "Come here, bunny—you look hot, and I need to kiss you."

Words like that never failed to entice Wendy, so she wasted no time letting him take her in his arms. The lights in the pool illuminated the water to a bright aqua glow, and the palm trees and tropical flora that dotted the luxurious lagoon-style pool made the scene much more seductive than Wendy had imagined. She'd checked out the pool in the

daytime—and had even taken a quick dip one afternoon—but at night the mood was

much more enveloping, and as they kissed, she came to understand why Brandon had

wanted to spend their last evening together here.

Over grapes and cheese and wine from the basket, they talked—mostly about the

intimacies they'd shared this week. It was a naughty conversation, Brandon insisting she tell him what parts she'd like best, prodding her to describe them in detail— almost like phone sex without the phone.

"If you could have only one of those experiences—if. you had to choose—which one

would you keep?" he asked.

She thought about it for a minute and instantly knew the answer. It was the very first

night, with him, on the beach. It had spanned the gamut from flirty to dirty, it had been both freeing and intimate, and she'd left feeling amazed by,
herself and
thoroughly satisfied by
him.

But that just seemed like too boring an answer, given all that had come after. So she very purposefully lied. "The menage a trois."

A knowing grin unfurled on his handsome face. "I knew you loved having two cocks at once."

"Guilty," she replied smoothly, still quite astounded that she could be so cool and blasé about such forbidden acts.

But that was what Brandon gave her—the respect that encouraged that kind of freedom.

"Come into the water with me," he said then, taking her hand to pull her to her feet. He slid one arm warmly around her bare waist and whispered low and wicked, "I don't have two cocks, but I can still make you scream."