As she walked over to him, her hips moved the way they always moved when she wanted attention; slow, smooth, rocking from side to side with each step. She was wearing a thong bikini, and I could see every perfect ripple of her ass as she walked away, the strings on her hips kind of begging to be pulled and set free.
I shook my head and sank back into my sun-lounger, trying to appear casual, like I wasn’t watching them, swirling the last inch of melted mojito around my glass and scrolling on my phone. But my eyes kept drifting back up toward the pool’s far edge to where she’d stopped, right beside his chair.
He looked up when she spoke, a flicker of surprise on his face, and I immediately felt a surge of jealousy. She gestured to the lounge chair beside him, hair falling over one shoulder as she did so. A calculated gesture, but effective. He nodded (who wouldn’t?) and she took a seat, perching her ass in such a way that it accentuated the natural shape of her body, her back arched and her hips wide.
She looked amazing.
The hum of the poolside speakers and the chatter from the bar made it impossible to hear what they were saying, but I could read her body language a mile away, and she was giving him all those tiny signals that say, you can look at me if you want to. It’s okay. In fact, maybe I like it.
The poor guy didn’t know what hit him. I could see it in the way his shoulders tightened; the way his hand hovered awkwardly over the book in his lap; the way he was trying to look anywhere other than the shimmering reflection of the pool on the underside of her breasts. He was so not the type of guy Julie usually went for, and it almost made me want to protect him, to mother him, to hold him close and…well…
…fuck his brains out.
He said something then, something that made her laugh, and he smiled properly for the first time. He looked even better now he was relaxed. Damn. Julie placed her drink down on the table beside his chair, bending forward slightly as she did it. I bit down on my straw.
It had been months since I’d had sex, I reminded myself.
Months.
For a second I imagined it was me standing there instead of her. A towel draped casually around my waist, pretending I was just being friendly. I’d make some half-joke about the heat or cocktails or something lame like that, and he’d look up at me with that same shy uncertainty as I let my towel fall open, showing him my barely covered, heaving chest, wet with a mixture of sweat and lotion, the fabric of my bikini straining under my nipples.
Instead, I just sat there, pretending I wasn’t watching their every move. He laughed again and she laughed too, reaching out and putting her hand on his knee as she did so, her breasts bouncing as she giggled, close enough that he could have reached out and grabbed them if he had dared, close enough that behind the darkness of his sunglasses, he was almost certainly watching them. I felt another twist of jealousy in my stomach and a twinge of excitement somewhere lower.
Fuck it.
The competition was on.
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Even though this was a shorter part I love hearing Sarah's thoughts and her trying to convince herself to go over there.