All characters are eighteen or older.
***
I met Amanda and Brooke at Ignacio and Rachael's beach house during one of their big, swanky parties. It started when I was talking to Ann over by the big salt water fish tank; the one with the octopus. We were talking about the hosts' odd relationship when she nudged me and nodded her head in the direction of the ocean. "Hey Craig, there're two hotties checking you out," she said around her cigarette.
"Aha," I said serenely. "The new mustache is paying off."
Ann smirked at me. She'd been anti-mustache since I first conceived it. "They probably think you're queer and they need a shoe consultant," she joked.
"We'll see," I said while taking a sip of my drink. It was only Sprite. I was planning to get laid that night and I don't like to cloud my judgment or ability when I'm on the prowl. Without turning my head I asked, "Where are they?"
"Out on the deck, they're giggling and pushing each other like fucking school girls. I think they're trying to decide who's got dibs on you."
There was a big, wall sized mirror in front of me and a little to the right so I was able to get a bank-shot look at the girls without craning my neck. Ann was right. They were hot; one blond with short wavy hair, blue eyes, a freckled nose and pert B-cup tits under a snug pink halter top; the other a chestnut-brown brunette with long, straight hair, big, dark doe-eyes, a ready smile and a pair of big gorgeous breasts that were straining the fabric of her tight black dress. As Ann had reported they were stealing looks my way and playfully nudging and swatting at each other.
"Yeah, I see them in the mirror behind the piano. I can't see below the waist though. How're things down there? Any peg legs, cloven hooves, obvious penises or anything else I should be aware of."
"You could turn your goddamned head and look for yourself y'know."
"I'm playing it cool and making plans. I'm thinking of a flank attack. That requires surprise."
"OK Rommel," she said with a roll of her eyes. "They look adequately put together downstairs as far as I can tell. Although, it would serve you right if you got one home and she whipped out a big veiny schlong."
"Oh Ann," I said, chastising her. "Your jealously only makes you more desirable."
Ann laughed at my joke. She was a mannish television producer who had a thing for hefty young women so there was absolutely zero sexual tension between us. We'd been good friends for years.
"Which one are you planning to try for? The brunette with the big rack?" she asked.
"I'm hoping I won't have to choose," I said with a lecherous arch of my eyebrow.
"God you're a slut."
I laughed. "I'm a man. For me that's not even an insult."
"OK Casanova, if you
have
to choose, which will it be?"
"Well, I always prefer..." I started to say, but the moment I had been waiting for suddenly presented itself. As I watched, a tall, balding, middle-aged man in a conservative suit approached them. I recognized him from television as a moderately famous political commentator. As he tried to strike up a conversation with the two girls I watched their polite smiles, shifting eyes and awkward body language. I knew that the time for the attack was at hand.
I excused myself to Ann and weaved off through the crowd as she called after me, "Go get 'em tiger!" When I got to the bar I grabbed a half full bottle of tequila and three shot glasses before circling around out through the living room, down to the patio, past the pool and back around up to the deck. When I hit the top stair and started walking up behind the girls I slowed myself down to a cool saunter.
I finally got a good view of the lower half of the young ladies. Ann was right; there was nothing wrong below the equator with those two. Blondie was wearing a pair of white denim short-shorts that seemed painted onto her tight, narrow ass while Doe-eyes' slinky dress showed her full curvy hips to perfection before opening in a leg baring split high up on her tanned sinewy thigh. Doe-eyes wore a pair of black, open-toed fuck-me heels and Blondie was wearing pink cowboy boots. I was tempted to pause for a minute to appreciate the view, but I had work to do.
I strode up to the girls and their wanna-be suitor and began speaking to the young ladies like we were old friends, "I got the tequila. Let's head down to the beach and knock back a few."
The square dude in the suit scowled irritation at my cock-blockery but the girls recovered from their confusion quickly and with looks of profound relief.
"Yeah, that's right, the beach," said Doe-eyes.
"What took you so long," said Blondie with a conspiratorial smile.
I leaned in and gave them both a friendly kiss on the cheek. They both seemed surprised and delighted by my forwardness.
"Dude. You should join us," I said to the T.V. pundit, indicating the bottle of tequila in one hand and the three shot glasses in the other. Blondie and Doe-eyes gave me a what-the-fuck-are-you-thinking look.
"Uh... Yes. Sure," he said, just as surprised as the girls that I was willingly including him.
"Go in and get yourself a shot glass and meet us down over there by the beat up old boat," I told him cheerily, waving the bottle in a vague direction off away from the house. As far as I knew, or still know for that matter, there was no old boat out there.
"Yes. Sure. I'll be right down," he said and started to dash away before remembering to play it cool and slowed down to a quick walk.
