The bass is hard. The temperature is hot. "Bar in the front, dancing in the middle, pool in the back...thankfully Aussie pubs aren't much different from American bars." I don't really attract that much attention until I open my mouth and order a coke. Then every eye is on the American with the weird accent ordering a decidedly "wimpy" drink. I shake off the stares with a smile as I peel my glasses off.
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Tyler let out a sigh of relief as he set down the last fully painted model of his Dark Angels' army. He stood up and made his way across the room tiredly. He stopped abruptly in front of his full length mirror, taking a good look at himself. For an 18 year-old freshman in college he looked pretty damn good, he thought. Short brown hair, fairly tall, and very well toned.
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She got into the hotel elevator on the 7th floor, wearing nothing a swimsuit with a towel around her waist, at the same time I got out, and I knew I had to follow her.
There was no doubt it was the same woman I'd noticed that morning as I'd left for the conference, leaving room 713 just after I'd walked out of 717. She'd had on a perfectly smooth pencil skirt over black hose or stockings, a matching jacket, three-inch heels, and a white blouse--the kind of business attire that drives me to distraction every single time.
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It's a late Friday night and I'm feeling it bad, making the rounds with my pool cue, lookin' for a game and some possible action. The local place, Lefty's is about half full but not too jumping. No one at the table. Well, hell If you ain't got no one to play with, you might as well play with yourself.
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Chapter 1
I've lived in Columbus for eight years now, a vice president of a local bank, divorced now for five years, not dating much, just mostly 'batching' it these days. I've lived on Oriole Lane for the time I've been in Columbus, with the same neighbors on either side.
On the East side are the Coleman's, Rod and Ellen, both well into their retirement, on the other side, a younger family, nearer my age, Hank and Sandra Morse.
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It had been a bad week, and I was ready to go out and cut loose. I was feeling a little slutty and dressed accordingly. I put on my black leather bustier, which shoved my tits up and put them well on display and I shrugged my leather jacket over the top. My leather mini skirt came to mid thigh and I added knee high spiked heels boots to complete my look.
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Chapter 1
I was laying on a chaise poolside one warm sunny afternoon, thinking about how much my life had changed in the last year.
The changes had started with my coming home and finding Harry fucking his partner's wife in our bed. Well, you can imagine. It all hit the fan and I kicked his sorry ass out.
The divorce was handled by lawyers, I had a real shark, sorry, guys, but the bastard deserved it and he has a hell of a lucrative business, so I ended up with a very nice settlement and ongoing alimony that lets me not work if I choose to do so. And, right now, that's what I'm choosing.
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That Tammy Burt and I were friends, good friends, was a fact, but I was never quite sure how it started. Okay, a shared love of programming helped, as did the fact that Tammy and her divorced mom lived just a block away, but at the time our friendship began, Tammy was only twelve and I was sixteen. Four years in middle teens was a lifetime!
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Mary-Lou had her own private little pool down by the river. She'd found it quite by accident when she was a young teenager. The spring floods had cut across a corner of the river, changing the course slightly, and a deep hidden pool had formed amongst a copse of trees. Mary-Lou had been after a turkey that had vanished into the trees and had found the new pool by falling into it.
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Susan, known as Susie to all her friends, had just graduated from Junior College, and had her Associates Degree in Business. She was going to enjoy the summer off, before joining the working world. She had been thinking about making love to another girl for some time now. She had discussed it with her boyfriend, Paul. He, of course, was all for it, as long as he was included.
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