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I LIE BACK on top of the sheets, naked, one arm behind my head. I’m on the fringe of drunk — from drink or her, I don’t know. What was I thinking? I went in too heavy, again. I have a game plan: take it steady, let her see she can trust me, that I’ve changed, that I’m over Connie. Then I see her, and I forget it all. I lose my cool like a lovesick fucking boy. But those nights… What I’d give to have her in my bed again, to take her over and over, to hear her screaming my name when she comes around my cock.
I’m already hard before I move my hand to my dick. I rub my length and grip my balls, growing harder still as I picture Dayna’s face. The way she looked at me by the fire, hungry for me, the way she used to look at me.
I turn my thumb around my tip then take my shaft in my fist. I imagine her slipping out of that black dress to reveal her lace bra, her perfectly formed tits, that lean stomach, a black suspender belt and stockings. I increase the rhythm of my hand as I watch her in my mind, stalking towards me and kneeling across my lap. She unbuttons my shirt and presses her soft lips to my chest as she uncovers me. I hear her groan, feel the sound vibrate against my chest, when I cup her over her thong. She unbuckles my jeans, draws down the zip and slides her hand under the denim, groping me over my boxers. I stand abruptly, lifting her legs around my hips. I feel her heels on my skin as she crosses her ankles and pulls me tight against her. She pushes my shirt over my shoulders and slides it off, one arm at a time. I push her back against the chalet wall and take her nipple in my mouth, sucking the supple flesh until it stiffens.
I pump faster with my hand and moan without meaning to, grateful that there’s no one in a room next door to me. I try to control my thoughts. I try to imagine her sitting back on the chair, unhooking her suspenders and drawing her thong down her legs slowly, seductively. I want to see her spread her legs. I want to witness the glorious sight of her fucking herself with her own fingers. But my mind is working as fast as my fist, both working my cock untiringly, and all I can imagine is us both naked, against that wall, me pounding into her ruthlessly as she cries out my name.
My thigh muscles tighten. My core locks. My mouth opens, and I want to shout her name into her neck. I pump my shaft faster and increase the pressure as I remember how it felt driving deep into her at the point of no return.
I hold my free hand over the end of my dick as I drive up and down, my hips grinding as I spurt everything that’s been pent up for much longer than one night, covering my hand, squirting onto my stomach.
I SHOWER THEN head out to the kitchen, following the smell of coffee. Any other Saturday after a skinful the night before, I wouldn’t wish to see this time of day, but today I’m like a kid at Christmas; I can’t wait to get out on the snow.
“I don’t think we have a choice, Arthur. Yes, I know that.” Dayna, dressed in only shorts and a thin strap vest, has a towel wrapped around her hair and her iPhone tucked under her ear as she pours herself a filter coffee. “Look, I’m meeting Sophia Falicino at the bank on Wednesday, but let’s suppose, in our wildest dreams, she agrees to give us more money. Is she likely to have it approved by Friday? I can’t put a bid in without the formal approvals, not when it comes to bank finance.” She scoffs. “Yes. Possible but highly unlikely… Mmm, I thought about private equity, and I’ll give it shot, too, but they’ll be even worse than the bank for due diligence and they’ll want security. They’ll want a stake in the well, a big one.” She picks up her coffee in one hand and takes hold of the phone in her other. “I don’t want to get into bed with Bahrain any more than you do, but if I offered them a stake, with our ble—” She turns and sees me. “I’ve got to go, Arthur. Just think about it for me, please. I’d like your support.”
She leans back against the worktop and sips her coffee. “First you’re looking at my phone, then you’re eavesdropping on my conversations.”
I walk into the kitchen and get myself a mug. “I wanted caffeine, that’s all.” She walks away as I start pouring a cup of the coffee she’s made. “Although, I have to wonder why you’re so concerned with extra money if you’re ranked first.”
The only retort I hear is the sound of her footsteps climbing the staircase.
“Happy birthday, Cross!” I shout after her.
“Screw you, Layton.”
WITH THE EXCEPTION of Amy and Yvette, we all ride the gondola out west to the tip of a black slope, in agreement that if there were a legal blood alcohol limit for skiing, we’d probably be over it and consequently deciding against off-piste.
“Did you see close was at thirty-nine dollars a barrel yesterday?” Teddy asks.
“The scary thing is, I think there’s still room to fall,” I tell him.
“I spoke to your dad this morning. He said it looks like Ocean Energy is going into liquidation,” Dayna tells Teddy, who shakes his head and whistles through his teeth.
“They bought a new rig and refinery right before the downturn,” he tells her. “I can only hazard a guess as to the size of the finance they took out, but there’s no way they’d have been turning a profit on the new gear. Probably a hefty loss. And what with everything else… now isn’t the time to make rash moves.”
It’s hard to tell whether that’s Teddy thinking out loud or whether his words are directed at me, or Dayna, or both of us. Fortunately, I don’t have time to question my own motives for wanting the Bahraini well, because it’s time to hit the white sheets. I position my shades, check my helmet is fastened and lead the group onto La Chaux.
The snow is like a waterslide covered in washing-up liquid. My skis move without effort. I head straight down with Spencer, neither of us turning to kill our speed, Spencer howling like a dog at full moon as we hurtle down the slope. I start to carve and look back for the others, only to see Dayna’s powder-blue jacket whiz past me. The woman has balls. She’s obviously followed our lead, our weight carrying us faster than her.
The slopes are still relatively empty and untouched, which means it feels like we’re skiing as a group once the others make up some ground. We’re all shouting, jibing, screaming, laughing together as we turn off one run and onto another.
“Race you!” Spencer shouts back to those of us closest to him — Dayna, Tim and me.
We all quit carving and hunch down, skis parallel and straight, and we take over the few other groups of people having their first run of the day. We start to take out speed in the final section. All except Dayna; she holds it straight for as long as she dares, flashing glances at Spencer. She knows he’ll pull up before her because it’s harder for him to kill his speed on a board without killing himself. But, Jesus, it’s tight. Reckless, even.
Finally, Spencer starts to turn and Dayna follows suit to the end. I’m hot on their heels, quickly followed by Tim, Matty and the others.
“I win,” Dayna sings.
She starts dancing on the spot with her poles, lifting her legs one at a time, her skis turning at all angles. She’s gloating, no doubt about it, but her way of doing it is so goofy and malcoordinated that it’s adorable.
I see it coming before it happens. She lifts her right leg, but the tip of her ski gets stuck in the ground. Her arms turn like a slapstick comedian. I move towards her, but not fast enough, and she crashes down into the snow like a starfish.
It takes a second before she’s laughing hysterically, her whole body shaking. And its infectious. I stand over her, bent forwards with my hands on my knees, laughing hard. It’s the kind of laugh that physically hurts my ribs, and I can’t remember the last time I felt this welcome pain.
“I guess not everything’s changed, Cross,” I tell her, offering a hand. “You’re still uncoordinated.”
“Hey, only when I’m dancing, Layton.” She takes my hand but yanks me down hard, and I can’t save myself. My back hits the deck beside her and we’re both laughing.
