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“Well, honey, it’s just that you're still kinda young, you know? I just think you may not have had the experience that some of the others have. You see, Tylar, in a few years you'll see that there are men you fuck, and then there are men you marry. Generally, the two types don’t intermix.”
“Is that right?” I asked. “Well, does that mean you marry someone that you don’t like fucking?”
“Not at all, hon. You have to understand that guys you meet and immediately know there's no future potential, those are guys you ‘sport fuck;’ you've no pretenses; it’s just plain old fun. And you enjoy it as long as you care to. Bottom line though is that you don't quit looking for the guy you want to land as a keeper.”
Stuart appeared with two large plastic cups brimming with the draft beer. “Thanks, baby,” she crooned, accepting one and taking a deep swallow of the foamy beer.
I contemplated her words for a moment, looking over at her as she turned to Stuart and licked his ear. I noticed that Jenna was wearing a dark green tank top that evidently had a built-in push-up bra and light khaki shorts. Her eyes were made up as if she were going on stage. Something about Jenna appealed to men who had a penchant for taking a walk on the wild side. She likely rocked their world. I was envious of her in a way.
Clint returned with my third wine cooler. “Hey,” he said, “they’re grilling some hot dogs over there. Are you hungry?” He was worried that I'd get plastered and perhaps show myself.
“I could eat," I smiled.
I saw him visibly relax as we walked over to where Luke was rolling hot dogs around on the grill, making sure that all sides were equally charred. I grabbed a bun out of the bag and a paper plate.
“Hey Tylar,” Luke grinned, “having fun, girl?”
“Luke—” I started, and then hiccupped yet again. I giggled, “This is the best damned party I’ve been to in a very, very, very long time!”
“Glad to hear it little lady,” he responded. “Hold your bun out so I can put the weenie in it.”
This brought a fresh fit of giggles from me, and I doubled over laughing. Clint was right there, grabbing my paper plate and the bun out of my fingers.
“I got it, I got it, sweetie, go sit down.” He filled my plate with potato chips, baked beans, and mustard relish on my hot dog and brought it over to me.
“Thank you, Clint. Would you mind getting me another wine cooler?”
“Not until you eat,” he said firmly. The tone of his voice convinced me not to argue, so I took a big bite out of the hot dog, and groaned at how good it tasted. Once I'd finished, Clint finally relented, and brought another wine cooler for me.
Later, we all told stories and drank by the fire pit. It was going on midnight when Jenna got the idea of going swimming in the Sinclair’s pool.
“Whoa, wait a second,” Clint said, “I enjoy a night-time swim as much as the next person, but hey, it's getting late and we might wake up the Sinclairs. I for one appreciate my job here.”
“Chill out, Clint,” Jenna chirped, “Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair are over in Europe. They have their prodigal son, the lawyer, checking up on things while they are gone. I saw him leave in his hot little sports car late this afternoon. He's probably hooking up so no worries!”
I looked at Clint. He shrugged his shoulders and winked.
"Okay, everyone grab your suits and see you in the pool!” Jenna hollered.
The pool was a pretty far trek, but Clint said he'd wait on me to change and walk me down. I changed into my red two-piece suit, found a towel and shrugged a tee shirt on over it. I still had my unopened wine cooler from the party, so I twisted the top off, drinking about half of it before I heard Clint’s knock.
“You ready?” he asked.
“Lead the way,” I said.
The guys and Jenna were already there when we arrived. Luke, Rodney, and Stuart were passing Jenna around in the water, throwing her from one to another as she giggled and shrieked with delight. Ray and Denise had left to go back to Denise’s apartment in town for the night.
“Shhh, you guys, keep it down,” Clint warned, eyeing the darkened mansion. “I meant what I said earlier. I’m not looking to get fired.” He took off his tee shirt and slipped into the water at the shallow end of the pool. “You coming in, Tylar?” he called.
I finished off my wine cooler, kicked my flip-flops aside, and pulled my tee shirt over my head. I waded down to Clint, a bit anxious. I wasn't a swimmer and I had no clue as to the maximum depth of the pool at the other end. There was a diving board, so I figured it had to be eight to ten feet deep there.
Jenna was on Stuart’s shoulders and wanted to play a game in the water to see who could knock who off someone’s shoulders. “C’mon, Clint, get Tylar up there on your shoulders and let’s see which chick is the strongest. ’Course, it’s up to the guys to hold on tight to their legs, which shouldn’t be a problem for you, I guess,” she snickered.
Clint turned and looked at me questioningly, “Do you want to play?”
“I’m game,” I answered, feeling a resurgence of nerve since the last wine cooler. I scrambled up onto Clint’s broad shoulders. He waded to the middle of the pool. Rodney was appointed line judge so we waited for him to give us the signal to start. I noticed Jenna leaning down and whispering something to Stuart. Clint and I approached Jenna and Stuart in the middle of the pool. The depth here was about five and a half feet by my estimate.
“Ready, set, go!” Rodney yelled, backing out of the way.
