Kristy, my granddaughter, was so happy with herself because she'd learned a new nursery rhyme. She kept saying it over and over as she played house with her dolls. I had to smile, both because at four years old, she was so damned cute, and also because of a time in my youth that rhyme made me remember.
That December, I found myself at a ski resort in Vail for a week of skiing. I hadn't really wanted to go skiing, but my roommates insisted I'd have a great time. They said if I didn't like skiing, there would be sex and a lot of it.
"Man, there'll be pussy walking around all over just begging to get laid. That's what they go there for -- to get laid."
"You haven't lived until you've been in a hot tub with a few sexy snow bunnies in bikinis. They take off their tops, you know, and if you get 'em really hot, the bottoms too. It'll be rub-a-dub-dub with the girls in the tub. They'll be wanting a cock so bad they'll almost fuck you right there."
Somehow, I doubted the women at any ski lodge would be quite so accommodating. It wasn't that I'd been skiing before and knew that to be the case. It was just that in my limited experience, I'd yet to meet the woman who said she wanted to be fucked in a hot tub full of other people. I was also pretty sure there wouldn't be any women stripping in any hot tub unless they were drunk out of their minds. I like a woman to be relaxed, but I like her to be able to do more than lay there and pass out just when things start to get fun.
They'd badgered me for weeks until I finally relented. I had the money and did need to get away from work for a while. I jokingly said I'd go if only so they'd have someone to bail them out of jail if they got out of hand.
It was a frigid, sloppy wet Sunday morning in Nashville when we got on the plane for Vail. As I buckled my seat belt I asked myself how I could be so stupid as to let myself get talked into something like this.
The ski resort was nice, but then, for two grand for the week it should have been. That two grand didn't include a lot of other things either. If you didn't have skis and ski boots, they would happily rent them to you for somewhere between a hundred and two hundred dollars depending on if you wanted ordinary or professional. Don't know how to ski? We'll fix you right up for another two-fifty, four hundred if you need a second day. Yes, you can climb back up a hill with skis on, but it's easier and faster to ride the lift. They would gladly sell me lift tickets for only a couple hundred more.
Since I'd never been on a pair of skis, I didn't need lift tickets, but I did need skis and ski boots and some instruction. The slender blonde girl in a tight sweater got me all set up and smiled when I handed her my credit card.
"The beginner lessons start out front tomorrow morning at ten. You can pick up your skis and poles here then. The instructor will show you how to put them on, and then teach you how to ski. You'll be gliding down the slopes before you know it."
That night at dinner, my roommates were full of talk about this girl or that girl they'd seen, how big her breasts were, whether she smiled at them or not, and which ones were likely to hop in the sack with them. I ate my dinner and laughed at all the right places while I did some people watching of my own.
I've always found some things about women to be odd. I mean, I really, really like women, but some of the things they do are hard to figure out. I've never understood why a woman can't seem to go to a public restroom by herself unless she's married and sometimes not even then. Single women always seem to go in two's or more.
Another thing I've never figured out is what I was seeing at dinner that evening. There were several groups of girls sitting together. I figured they'd come together just like my roommates and I had. In each group there would be one or two girls who would qualify as beautiful, sometimes even fashion model beautiful. They were dressed to attract a man's eyes, and they wore makeup that made them look sensuous and mysterious.
In each group, most of the other girls were definitely pretty, just not fashion model pretty, if that makes any sense. These girls also dressed to attract attention, and they used makeup as well. Any guy would have been eager to give them the attention they sought.
Then there was at least one girl in the group who didn't seem to fit in. She'd be smiling and laughing and talking with the group, but her clothes didn't exactly accent any figure she might have had, and she seemed to not know about lipstick, mascara and all that other stuff women use. She wouldn't be ugly or anything like that. She'd just be sort of plain. I figured she was there like I was. She came along without much hope of having fun, but her friends had talked her into it.
}{
The next morning, I had breakfast in the lodge and then got ready for the ski lesson. About a quarter 'til ten, I walked to the lodge and picked up my skis and poles.
The instructor was a guy who looked like he must have been born on skis. He glided effortlessly up to the group of men and women assembled in front of the lodge. You could almost hear the heartbeats of the women speed up when he took off his sunglasses. He was tall with the rugged good looks you'd expect from a ski instructor - one of those beards that looked only about a week old, and a smile right out of a toothpaste commercial. He wore a ski outfit like you see on the Winter Olympics, and it fit tight enough to prove he was in good shape. From the whispered conversations I heard around me, I figured he could have his choice of any woman in the group.
"God, he looks hot. Maybe I'll ask him about a private lesson...in my room."
"I think I'll fall down and let him pick me up. Maybe feeling my boobs'll give him the same idea I'm having right now."
"I wonder how his beard would feel on my legs. I'd love him to do that to me...at least first. I bet what came later would be great too."
I figured the ski instructor had ended my chances for any woman at least for a day or two until he sorted them out and found the one or ones he wanted. I'm not tall, my smile is just OK, and I don't have a beard. I'd be like eating hamburger when you really have your mind set on a steak. I resigned myself to learning how to ski.
Skiing didn't look difficult. It was, at least for me. I managed to get the snowplow down pretty well, so I could at least slow down. The beginner's slope wasn't all that much of a slope, but I still practiced slowing down a lot. It worked pretty well until something happened and I ended up falling down. My skis went over my head and then dug into the snow. I felt a stabbing pain in my right ankle.
The ski instructor showed me less concern than he did when the redhead in her green ski outfit fell on her ass. He'd carefully helped her up and checked both her legs from ankle to thigh for injuries. He just looked at me and frowned.
"You caught an edge and went over. Do what I showed you and it won't happen again."
He went back to helping the redhead then. I took off my skis and limped back to the lodge. The same slender girl at the ski rental counter gave me a partial refund and said I should probably go to the first aid station to make sure I hadn't broken anything. The guy there looked at my ankle, said I'd just sprained it, and gave me a stretchy sock thing to wear. He said I'd be fine in about a week if I didn't twist it again. I hobbled back to my room and watched television until lunch. It looked as if I'd be watching a lot of television before the week was up.
I took the shuttle into Vail for lunch. Lunch wasn't included in my package deal and I thought the restaurant was a bit pricey for just a salad and a sandwich, but it was good. I took the bus back to the lodge and watched more television.
My buddies banged on my door about five.
"Hey man, we found you some pussy. We met two girls this afternoon, and we're gonna have dinner together. They have a third girl with them, and she's for you. After dinner, we're gonna play in a hot tub. Hurry up and change clothes."
I knew what that "she's for you" meant. It meant I'd be stuck for the night with either a plain jane or a girl who was a lot filled out in all the wrong places. She'd probably giggle all the time too.
I figured I'd just try to make it through dinner. If she was all that bad, I could say my ankle was hurting and head back to my room. It would be a rotten thing to do to any woman, but I didn't fancy entertaining anybody while watching my buddies play with two hot girls.
The three girls they'd met were about like the groups of girls I'd watched the night before. Two of them were definitely hot -- a blonde with an ass that did some wonderful things when she walked up to our table and a brunette with really big tits. The third, also a brunette, would have turned a few heads if she'd dressed as well as the other two and did something with her hair. Swivel Hips and Big Tits wore tight dresses with stockings and heels. This one wore jeans and an oversized sweatshirt with running shoes. Her dark brown hair hung down her back in a ponytail held together by one of those stretchy cloth rings.
