Chapter Four: The Beach House
Vika calls me at 7PM and wants to know if she and Amy can come over before 9 like we had agreed. I tell her that's fine. I ask her if she's told Amy anything, and she responds in a whisper that she can't talk at the moment too well, but that I should be ready for a surprise.
Vika's tone had been excited, as if I will like whatever the surprise might be. I get my cameras tuned up and my software and drives ready for the next set of adventures.
They arrive a bit before 7, both wearing knapsacks and wearing typical Florida fashions for giris their age ---- tight lowriding bellbottom pants, shirts cropped to expose bellys and arms, and too much eye makeup.
Well, not really too much, because I love that slutty-little, virgin-whore look that girls affect when the're experimenting with makeup. I'm talking lots of eyeliner, a touch too much mascara and lashes teased to their max. Trying to look older than they really are, but turning out looking like little tarts in need of spankings. Vika has her hair pulled into two long pigtails, braided tight. She knows what I like.
My eyes pour over her little friend. Amy is four inches taller than Vika and much more developed in the bust and hips. Her waist is trim, with no poochy belly or flabby ass. She has dark brown hair and brown eyes, and is tanned dark as an almond.
She looks shyly at me as she scoots by through the kitchen door and joins Vika leaning against a counter opposite me. I smile at the both of them and hold Amy's eyes when we are formally introduced. She holds my gaze with an expression of interest and challenge, her body language saying that she's aware of me as a man, but she doesn't return my smile. She is very cute.
Vika gives her friend a tour of my house while I make some chocolate milkshakes for them and a fruit smoothie for myself. I hear the two of them giggling throughout, and I wonder just how much Amy knows at this point. They both come back into the kitchen, and Vika excuses herself saying she's got to use the bathroom, leaving Amy and I alone together.
Amy boosts herself up onto the counter, watching me as I blend our drinks.
"I'd rather have a beer if you've got one," she says offhandedly. "Milkshakes are for kids."
"In the fridge," I reply without hesitation. "Help yourself."
She hops down and opens the refrigerator, pulling a bottle of Dos Equis Amber from the door and tries to twist the cap off.
"Here," I say, throwing her a bottle opener. "The good beers don't have twist tops."
She catches it deftly and pops off the top like a pro. She spies the trash can standing open next to me and snaps the cap into it with a whizz from 8 feet away.
"Hey, your pretty good at that," I laugh, looking at her.
"I'm good at all kinds of things," she says as she lowers her drink from her lips, running her tongue across them seductively. It's then that I notice that she's wearing braces on her teeth. Probably the reason she doesn't smile is because she's embarrassed about them.
"Come here," I say in a friendly tone, accepting her challenge.
She saunters over and stops right in front of me. I lean down and kiss her, using my hands on her hips to pull her to me. She kisses back, and I can taste the beer as she stuffs her tongue in my mouth. She presses into me, grinding her pelvis against my crotch.
Definitely not a virgin, I laugh to myself. We pull apart simultaneously, both aroused and intrigued. She smiles shyly and I can see that she's as much surprised at herself as she is with me. I'm really digging the braces, but don't say anything about them.
She has long, brown hair, parted down the middle, a broader face and fuller features, with maybe a trace of Italian or maybe Arab, or even American Indian mixed in somewhere a few generations back. I'm inclined to think Italian as I look at her more closely. I like that she lets me stare, and that she's checking me out just as thoroughly.
"I'm glad you're not doing dumb-shit stuff like asking me how I like school," she says, still standing inches away and looking up at me. "I told myself that the instant you did I would be outta here. I'm not some little kid, and I hate being treated like one."
"I didn't suggest that Vika invite you over here so I can treat you like a kid, Amy," I say pointedly. "I don't treat her like one, so I don't intend to treat you like one... but I have been known to give spankings now and again."