Earlier in the day, Dana called Sandy with a single query: was her pool open?
Sandy laughed. "Fuck yes it's open!" She laughed easily, as that was her personality. Warm and fun, everyone had loved Sandy in high school then college. "Considering that I'm sitting next to it right now!" she told Dana.
"What do you want me to bring?" Dana asked, her voice light and pleased.
"Oh, how about a six-pack of that White Claw stuff, or something like that," Sandy suggested.
"I'm gathering my stuff and I'm on the way," Dana promised.
"'Kay. See ya soon," Sandy said and killed the phone. She set it down and tilted her head back towards the mid-morning sun. Already it was hot as fuck for the area, the temps already pushing 90 and it was only 10:30. By 2 it would be 97 and they were forecasting triple digits by 5PM. The humidity was high, making it feel like it was going to be 107, if the local weather forecaster was to be believed at all.
Sandy felt a light sheen of sweat on her chest. Yeah, she thought, feels like the weatherman nailed this forecast. She had a cooler already on the broad concrete patio, and opened it to withdraw a bottle of water. She sucked it down, gulping hard, because already she felt overheated.
She relaxed, her eyes closing behind the big sunglasses she wore. She was house-sitting, which was kind of a laugh since she was still living with her parents. Only a few weeks ago she had earned her college degree and diploma, but her career job did not start until August. She was going to be a teacher in the same district where she had gone to high school, except that she was going to be teaching the elementary school kids. She was looking forward to it with a measure of high excitement and abject terror; her one fear was that she would be a poor teacher.
The good thing about her parents' place was that it was set back, high up from the street, and the pool was behind the house. Their road was a country back road, that got minimal traffic. As a result, the home and this pool had virtually complete privacy. And her parents, now that their only daughter had graduated and had landed a job, had departed the day prior for their trip of a lifetime, a 3-week whirlwind tour of Europe. Sandy had the big house in which she'd spent her formative years all to herself.
The sound of the car's engine, mixing with the crunch of tires on gravel, announced Dana's arrival. There was a car door slam, and then footsteps. Sandy rolled her head towards the gate, but did not get up. It was too damn hot to move. The gate swung in, and Dana walked in. Sandy did raise her hand and wave happily, calling out her welcome to Dana.
"Well, you certainly look like you're going to spend a lazy day," Dana said with a grin.
"You bet your ass I am!" she confirmed. Sandy hauled herself up from the chaise and gave Dana a brief hug, then opened the cooler and dumped the twelve-pack of the hard seltzer inside. They moved stuff around to ensure there was room. Once done, Dana stood and wiggled her hips, sliding out of the frayed, somewhat tight jean shorts that she'd worn for the drive, and peeled off the tee-shirt. Dana's bikini was a simple black, nothing special in its design.
She donned sunglasses, lathered on some sunscreen, and then laid down on a lounger so that the cooler was between the two young women. They had been friends since the third grade; they were comfortable with one another whether in conversation or silence. Dana sighed heavily. "This is fucking perfect," she said.
"Tell me about it!" Sandy agreed absently.
They both laid, weaving in and out of soft conversations between contented silences. Sandy was not sure at what point she felt her body begin to wake up in a sexual way, but once it was there, it became harder to ignore.
"Heard from Mike lately?" Dana asked. Sandy and Mike had graduated together, and shortly after graduation began dating. They lasted two years, and Dana had been a frequent ear for Sandy's voicing of pleasures and concerns.
She laughed. "Actually, yes," she said.
"Bet he wanted a booty call," Dana said neutrally.
"No, just to say hi. He'd heard that I'd gotten the job."
"How?"
"Beats me," Sandy said. "He was nice about it."
"What's he doing?"
She chuckled. "Going back to college," she reported.
Dana frowned. "Thought he graduated."
"Can't find a job. Going I guess for a different degree or something."
"Oh." With the discussion of Sandy's ex-boyfriend out of the way, they relapsed into silence. But Sandy had not told Dana everything. Mike had called for a booty call, and it had been set up. Sandy grinned, recalling the breathless orgasms she had enjoyed with him. Whatever other faults he may have, he was an attentive lover. Their last call had gotten a little kinky. She had admitted a desire to have wrists tied behind her back, which he agreed to do instantly. The thought of reverse cowgirl, rocking on his cock with her hands at her back, and him delivering sharp spanks to her ass, intensified that tingling between her legs. Later, he'd put his cock right on her tongue when he came, filling her mouth and covering her tongue with his cum. Taking him that way made her cum again. The memory of the call's conclusion further heated her libido.
She got out a White Claw, and opened two. She rolled her head towards Dana. She studied the woman's body in profile. Dana had thin, sleek legs and a flat tummy. Her breasts were small, but pert. She had always been a little prudish, though, shying away from the comparatively innocent discussions of sex they'd had as high school students. Sandy's first roommate at college was a mirror image of her - loud, outgoing and daring.
Mike never learned that Sandy had cheated on him constantly during their long-term relationship with her roommate. That had happened within the first two months of being roomies, and somehow they managed to avoid ever getting into a big fight over it. Heather sported a similar body to Sandy - short, wider, curvier - but Heather was slightly more exaggerated in all forms. The first time Heather dove between her legs and made her cum from her tongue, she knew that she was hooked on lesbian sex. Every time Heather made love to her, she swore that the next time she saw Mike, she was going to leave him. And every time, she ended up making love to Mike and the intense sex with a man left her swearing off lesbian sex.
Over her span of years at college, she came to accept a simple fact - she was simply, truly bi-sexual. She loved the physical sensations of sex whether with a man or woman. Emotionally, she was attracted to men as a mate, so she was not a full lesbian. She was an earthy woman with a healthy sex drive, and it was fulfilled by the attentions of either sex. She had grown not to worry about this too much.
The problem was returning home. Her rural district was small, and whether it was a blessing or curse, everyone knew everyone, and everyone knew everything about everyone. So her dalliances with women would have to be conducted damn near under the cover of darkness in ultra-stealth mode, because tongues would never cease wagging in the town if it got to be known that little Sandy was an avid carpet-muncher. Her nose wrinkled at that thought; living in her area meant that she was surrounded by racist, sexist and homophobic people.
Her shoulder began aching. "Owwwww," she said after about five minutes.
"What?" Dana asked.
"Oh this damn shoulder," Sandy said, sitting up and rubbing it. "I'll be right back," she told Dana. Her friend nodded while Sandy dashed into the house and got the latex strips she used to do her stretching exercises and physical therapy. She had three such strips, and was using only the strongest now that she was in her nearing the end of the long recovery period.
But the human mind is a funny thing. In cartoons, when a character has an idea, a thought balloon pops up over their head, and in it is only a big exclamation mark, sometimes a bright color or pulsing. That's a fair replication to how Sandy felt, as the idea popped into her head. Maybe...maybe...
She grabbed all three strips and returned to the pool. Christ, I'm wet, she thought as she walked up the wide steps. She looked at the gate. "It's a bad idea," she whispered aloud to herself. But she carried the strips into the pool anyway.
Dana watched with detached interest as Sandy went through several stretching exercises with the strongest latex strip. Dana knew the real story, not the cover story. The injury occurred during an evening of somewhat rougher sex with a new lover, and not playing intermural softball as she had told her parents.
"I need to swim now," Sandy told Dana. She walked to the deep end, and dove in, swimming as strongly as her shoulder allowed. Back and forth she did her laps, and after twelve laps was feeling the intensity of the exercise. She breathed heavily, and it was always strange to know your body was sweating while in a pool, but that's what she felt. "The water's great, Dana, you wanna come in?" she called.
