"I'll race you!" Goggles already on, Brianna's winning smile gets tucked into the turtlefur face mask, and she is off down the slope. The other girls scatter in different directions, it's like they planned to throw down.
"Fuck me." I make a total hash of goggles, scarf, gloves and poles as I try taking off and getting ready at the same time. Skiing in late February is awesome. The days are longer, and its no longer deathly cold, but you still have to wrap up warm for the descent. Particularly if you're racing...
Where the fuck did she go? I am heading in the right direction - down - but the mountain is big and getting down first is only fun if we go together. I scan the hill in front of me for a legendary ass in legendary pants: the bright orange high-rise pants were the butt of all the jokes this morning - could light up a room at night, would never get lost in the fog and certainly be the first to be rescued in case of an avalanche...
The butt in the pants - God's gift to man, well at least to me, at least this week: not sure there are long term prospects for this beautiful bubble butt, but you enjoy what is gifted to you, right? It will head back to high-school and Philly with my mum and dad and Em sooner than I'd like to admit. Until the time they drop me back off at college, I have decided to make the most of it.
Over there! I gain momentum heading towards the mogul, where she is no longer able to move stealthily. - Should have picked a less outrageous color! Standing up as she enters the course, I focus on her turquoise'ish top. The color scheme is appropriate for her personality: a lot of fun - nowhere to hide.
Her technique is impeccable, moving down the mogul course at top speed, I won't be able to gain on her unless I stay here on the main run. She doesn't see me pass her and then cut in front and come to a halt in the middle of the course.
"What took you so long?" I cheekily try on, as she glides towards me. She hits me playfully with a pole, as she continues down the course, and I sheepishly follow her to the bottom. She really is an accomplished skier, handling the moguls like a pro, dropping a couple of jumps in just to show off, she still beats me to the bottom. A successful mogul run for me is not embarrassing myself; I am successful.
"What took you so long?" I should have expected this. Her exhilarating smile crushes as I pull myself towards her. "Want to do it again, but slow this time, so that you can keep up, and maybe learn a thing or two?"
"Hey, treat your hosts respectfully and you might get invited back," pulling my face out of the layers as I approach I smile and give her a kiss. "That was really great, where did you learn it?"
"I've been skiing since I was five," she beams, as I have betrayed my inner prejudices: not a lot of black folks on the slopes. Happy to have fooled me for a full morning: "It was important for dad that we got exposure to winter sports, so I have been on the ski team since middle-school." Her steel blue eyes are shining as she kisses me, and push me towards the lifts.
The gondola line is the shortest it's been all day, so we head over in that direction. Bri is applying shock blue lip balm as we join the line, is nothing about her neutral? Riding to the top is fun: "Lets do a couple of the runs on the back of the mountain and then rejoin the rest of the group later, OK?" She nods in agreement and blows me a kiss along with a fluttering of eyelashes completing her doe-eyed look.
Joking and flirting, we move pretty quickly to the front of the line, and crammed between two families we get the gondola to ourselves. The steward closes the door and wishes us a great ride.
Great is an understatement. Bri settles across from me on the bench, and without a word unzips her coat and pulls up her under-layers. I look outside, having not even left the base station, she laughs at my concerned look: "Baby, nobody cares." She pushes her breasts together and unclips the bra on the front. Grapefruit sized, firm and round, they not as much fall out as spring into view.
