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“Okay, now you’ve done it,” he said when I did it one too many times.
I squealed as he swam over to me and play-wrestled with me in the water. Bear-hugging me to his chest, then spinning me around in a circle like some sort of amusement park ride, spraying water in all directions. Then he lifted me up onto his shoulders and walked across the pool, tilting me this way and that. I slid off his shoulders and hugged him like a jetpack while he playfully tried to throw me off.
It was silly fun, and for a few minutes we forgot all about the pandemic raging outside the hotel.
“Okay, I’m spent,” he said after half an hour. “I forgot how exhausting swimming is. Hot tub time.”
I rested my chin on the edge of the pool. “You first. Give mama a show.”
Donovan grabbed the ladder to exit the pool. When he was halfway up the ladder he paused, tossing his head back like he was on Baywatch and sending water spiraling through the air. I giggled as he walked up the ladder slowly, swaying his bare ass like Pamela Anderson. I quickly swam over and gave his butt a wet smack.
We both hurried over to the hot tub and jumped inside. It was a good deal hotter than the pool, but after a few seconds it felt great. Donovan turned the jets on, and soon we were both sighing and relaxing under the water.
“You didn’t tell me what you want,” he said after a few minutes. “For winning this round of hide and seek.”
“Did I win, or did you stop playing?”
“Does it matter?”
I looked sideways at him. “I think you know what I want.”
He slid over to me, planted his arms on either side of my head, and kissed me wetly. I sighed and wrapped my legs around his body as he sank into me, his body hot and hard andmine.
I moaned as he took me in the pool room, our cries echoing off the tile.
39
Donovan
The Day We Made A Sex Tape
After our fun in the pool room, I baked a loaf of Italian bread for lunch. When it was done, I sliced it into thin pieces and used it for sandwiches with the leftover ham from last night.
“I’ve never had bread this fresh,” Molly said around a mouthful of her sandwich. We were eating them in the restaurant with bottles of Coke. Her dark hair hung damply down to her shoulders, like a beautiful mermaid who had just come ashore.
“Yeah?” I said.
“It makes for a better sandwich. So much tastier than store-bought.”
“Mine needs more mustard,” I said as I grabbed the bottle. “I could barely taste it on my first bite. It must be this European brand.”
“My sandwich has plenty,” she said while chowing down. “And the ham is thick and salty.”
I raised an eyebrow while spreading mustard on my sandwich. “Is that how you like it? Thick and salty?”
She tossed a stray piece of bread at me.
“This is the first loaf of bread I’ve ever baked,” I revealed. “Not bad for my first try, huh?”
“I think you should bake another loaf tomorrow, and the day after that,” Molly said with a full mouth. “Just to practice, of course.”
I bit into my sandwich and sighed happily. “It’s nice to get all this practice in. A real kitchen is much better than the single stove burner in my hotel room. I’m going to miss it when we go home. The kitchen in my apartment sucks.”
“I’mgoing to miss having my own private chef cooking for me every day.”
“What do you eat normally?” I asked. “Lots of take-out?”
Molly shook her head. “I signed up for one of those meal services, where you get dinners shipped to you once a week.”
