Chapter 23

Trip and Wren packed the last of their things and loaded his car early the next morning. The back seat of the big Impala was stuffed to the headliner, and the trunk was so full that we had to use a piece of rope to secure the lid. Trip even left about half of his record collection with me to take home in the Land Cruiser.

After one last check upstairs, he handed over his apartment key as we rode down the elevator. I gave Wren a quick hug and shook Trip’s hand. Then I waved as they climbed into the car and pulled out of the parking lot, bound for Atlanta.

People had already begun to arrive for the commencement ceremony, and I dodged a group taking pictures in front of the apartment building. Upstairs, I showered, shaved, and dressed in a coat and tie. Then I walked the short distance to the Stokely Athletics Center.

I hoped to surprise Daphne and Sara, since I hadn’t told them that I was coming to graduation. I didn’t know who they’d invited, if anyone, so I found a seat by myself and waited as the arena slowly filled with people.

I was sitting between two large families and struck up a conversation with the grandfather to my right and an aunt from the family to my left. The arena’s air conditioners labored in vain, so we fanned ourselves with our programs and complained about the heat.

Since I was by myself, I asked the two families what their kids’ names were, and told them about Daphne and Sara. We had to sit through the usual boring speeches, but they eventually ran out of homilies and advice. The first two rows of students in caps and gowns stood. I pointed out Daphne when she approached the stage. The announcer read her name, and nearly thirty people whistled and cheered for her. We were so loud that she looked up in surprise.

We did the same for Sara, who was even more surprised than Daphne. About fifteen minutes later we cheered for the man’s grandson, who gave us a big thumbs-up as he left the stage. We were still waiting for the woman’s niece when I heard a name I hadn’t been expecting: Kendall Lynn Payton. I was so surprised that I momentarily froze.

A small group across the arena applauded, and I looked over to see her parents, brother, and a few other relatives. Then I turned back and watched her walk down the steps from the stage. She looked happy, and I felt a twinge of regret that we hadn’t repaired our friendship, although I had tried a couple of times. She gave me the cold shoulder each time, so I gave up.

I sat in reflective silence until it was time to cheer for the woman’s niece. The rest of the ceremony passed in a party atmosphere, but my heart wasn’t in it. When things finally ended and the graduates threw their hats in the air, I left Kendall in the past and made my way down to the floor.

Daphne flung her arms around me as soon as she saw me. She wore heels that made her three inches taller than me, so I had to dodge her tassel as she kissed my cheek.

“That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever done!” She hugged me again and almost lost her cap.

Even Sara gave me a hug when she found us. She pushed me away as soon as she realized what she’d done, but the moment had been genuine. I grinned. She tried to scowl, but was too happy to pull it off. A small group of their friends materialized a moment later.

“Was that you?” Jamie asked as he shook my hand. “All that applause?”

“Yeah,” I said, a bit sheepishly, “I sort of organized a cheering section.”

He laughed. “We had no idea who y’all were.”

“Well, I didn’t know if Daphne or Sara had invited anyone, so...”

“We invited people,” Sara said archly, “but I don’t remember you being one of them.”

I shrugged it off with a grin. “What can I say? I don’t need a formal invite to come see my friends graduate.”

“So you think we’re friends now?”

“Jeez, Sara,” Jamie said, “don’t get your panties in a wad. I told you he was all right.” He introduced me to the others, a guy and two girls with punkish haircuts. Then he turned back to Sara. “Did you at least invite him to the party tonight?”

Sara gave him a look of disbelief. “Seriously? I don’t think it’s—”

“Sure it is!” Jamie said. “He’s cool.” He turned to me. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, totally,” I said, although I didn’t know what he was talking about.

“He’ll be okay,” Daphne told her. “I’ll make sure.”

Sara scowled. I did too, although I wasn’t sure why.

“It’ll be fine,” Jamie told Sara. “He’s not Jerry Falwell. I mean, he lived with Billy and was totally cool.”

“Totally clueless, you mean.”

I knew better than to prove her point by asking what they were talking about.

“Nonsense,” Jamie said. To me, “Tonight at seven at Daph and Sara’s place. We’ll have booze and snacks, but more is always welcome. Bring your own party favors, if you want ‘em.”

“Yeah, no problem,” I said.

“Awesome! Now let’s get some pictures.” He pulled out a little Kodak Instamatic and chivvied us into a group. “Daph, you look gorgeous, as always. Smile, Sara. Put your arm around Paul. Don’t be shy. Move in, Alice. There you go. Okay, everyone say cheese.”

I spent the rest of the afternoon rehashing what Jamie had meant about me living with Billy and being cool. I found out when I arrived at the party. I could be a little slow on the uptake, but I wasn’t an idiot. Well, not a complete idiot. Still, I didn’t put the pieces together until a couple of guys started dancing. Together. Without a girl.

Daphne actually laughed at my expression. Jamie nearly choked on his wine cooler.

“No, for real?” he said when the coughing fit passed. “You just figured it out?”

“I told you,” Sara said. “Totally clueless.”

I looked around and realized that most of the “couples” at the party were the same sex. I must have turned pale, and Jamie read me perfectly.

“Don’t worry,” he said with a laugh, “we know you’re straight.”

I looked at him in a new light. “Hold on. You’re ... not?”

“Nope.”

“Then ... what?”

“Gay. Duh.”

“And Billy...?” I swallowed hard.

“Him too.”

“Holy shit.” I leaned against the counter and suddenly felt light-headed. I’d lived with the guy for almost a year.

“You honestly didn’t know?” Jamie said.

I shook my head. “Totally clueless.”

“See?” Sara said. “Told you.”

“God, I need another drink.”

“That’s the spirit!” Jamie said. “Me too.”

“Daphne?” Sara asked, and the blonde nodded.

Sara pulled four wine coolers from the big ice bucket. She opened the first and handed it to Daphne. Then she did the same for me and Jamie.

“Well, now that everyone knows,” Jamie said, “let’s toast.” He raised his bottle and struck a pose. “We are all in the gutter”—he paused for a grin—”but some of us are looking at the stars.”

We clinked our bottles and drank.

Then Jamie winked at me and I nearly leapt out of my skin. He laughed and punched my arm. I did my best not to flinch at the contact.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re not my type.”

I didn’t know whether to be offended or relieved, so I took another drink to calm my nerves.

I finally began to relax after several more wine coolers, but then I had the bright idea to join a drinking game. It involved a deck of cards and tequila. Lots of tequila. I don’t remember much after that. I do remember that a few of us went to an after-party at Jamie’s apartment.

A couple of hours later, I wasn’t in any condition to drive, so I decided to walk home. Bad idea. I couldn’t make the world stop spinning long enough to walk a straight line, much less to my apartment. So Jamie poured me onto the couch and covered me with a crocheted afghan that smelled like potpourri. It was nice, and I smiled blearily as he patted my cheek.

I woke up the next morning with a skull-splitting headache and a tongue that felt like week-old gym socks. I only had flashbulb memories from the night before, but I remembered laughing a lot and being nervous. My last memory was a smiling face and soothing words, then something soft and warm. And fragrant.

I concentrated and tried to remember more as I replayed the night in my head. Things still didn’t make sense, but then something clicked and I remembered where I was. I lurched off the couch and immediately doubled over as a wave of nausea hit me. I clamped down on my gag reflex and slowly straightened. Then I frisked myself in a panic. Shirt? Tucked in. Belt? Buckled. Zipper? Zipped. Ass?

I cautiously reached back, but then froze at a sound from behind me. I spun toward the kitchenette and sincerely wished I hadn’t. The pain in my skull was so bad that I thought I was going to die. At least, I hoped I would. When I finally decided that I might live after all, I realized that four guys from the night before were staring at me.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said weakly. I tried not to look as sheepish as I felt.

“No one molested you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“We never molest on a first date,” another one added. “Just light groping.”

“Oh, seriously,” Jamie said, “leave’m alone.” He stood and went to the counter. “Never mind them,” he said to me, “you want coffee?”

I shook my head and then closed my eyes to endure the nausea. “Dear God, how much did I drink?”

“A lot.”

“You’re a nice drunk, though.”

“Yeah, really friendly.”

“Before you passed out.”

They laughed.

I must have looked pretty pathetic, because they took pity on me.

“Have a seat,” one guy said as he offered his chair.

I shook my head again, but gritted my teeth and managed not to vomit. I looked at my watch. “Oh, shit. I need to get out of here.”

They all laughed.

“No,” I explained, “I need to leave town. Wait, not because of last night! I mean, I had fun, but...”

The first guy chuckled. “He said ‘fun butt.’”

“Be nice, Troy,” Jamie said. “He’s going back to Atlanta. He told us last night, remember?”

“He also told us about all the girls he banged,” the second guy said.

Jamie rolled his eyes. “I would too, if I was surrounded by queers like y’all.” He turned to me. “We’re going to have breakfast at the diner. You’re welcome to join us.”

“I really can’t,” I said. “I have to finish packing my stuff.”

“Yeah, I’d better go too,” the last guy said. “I still have a couple of residents to check out.” He stood and turned to me. “Can I get a ride home?”

“Um, yeah, I guess. Where to?”

“Andy Holt,” he said, “same as you.”

“Really? I’ve never seen you there.”

“I blend into the background.” He stuck out his hand. “We met last night, but I don’t think you remember. Andy.”

“I remember,” I said. “Vaguely.” We shook hands.

Andy turned to his friends. “Later, gentlemen. I’ll call before I leave on vacation.”

Jamie came around the couch. I held out my hand, but he hugged me instead. I didn’t know how to react, so I simply stood there awkwardly.

“Oh, bless your heart,” he said at last, “it’s not contagious.” He released me. “Have a good summer. See you in the fall.”

“Yeah, um ... you too. Take care.”

Andy and I drove home in silence. We both had monster hangovers, but neither of us knew what to say.

He turned out to be a pretty nice guy. He was the student assistant manager of the apartment building, so he checked me out when I was ready to leave. He gave the apartment a cursory inspection and then signed the forms.

“You guys’ll get your deposits back in a couple of weeks,” he added as he handed over my copy of the paperwork. Then he lowered his voice. “And ... um ... I know you’re cool and all, but ... last night...”

My ass clenched and I took an involuntary step back.

“Seriously? I’m not going to molest you!”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You didn’t have to,” he said with a touch of bitterness.

“Yeah, you’re right,” I said. “Sorry.”

He studied me. “You really mean it, don’t you?”

“Of course. It’s just that...” I shrugged.

“Yeah. I understand.”

“I guess I’m worried that someone might think I’m ... you know ... like you.”

“A degenerate, you mean?”

“No! Not at all. What you do in your private life is your business. Yeah, it freaks me out, but that’s my problem.” I paused and chose my words carefully. “I’m ... different too. Not like you, but still ... nothing like most people. So I know what it’s like to have a secret life and to worry that people will find out and think I’m ... well ... You said it, a degenerate.”

He furrowed his brow, but let it go without asking.

“Anyway,” I said, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“I wouldn’t know what to tell.”

“Neither would I.”

He laughed. “That’s fair. And thanks. I don’t wanna lose my job.” He gestured toward the front desk. “Speaking of which ... I’d better get going. I have a few other late move-outs and a couple of summer rentals.”

I offered my hand before he turned to go. “It was nice to meet you, Andy.”

“Nice to meet you too, Paul.” He paused. “You living here next semester?”

I shook my head. “Off-campus. Dunno where yet, but we’ll find something.”

He nodded. “Start looking now. The nice places fill up quick. Lemme know if you need a reference. I know most of the property managers in the area.”

“Thanks,” I said. “I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it. Take care.”

“You too.”

We parted with a wave and I walked out to my car.

Before that moment I never would have imagined that I had something in common with a gay guy. But after meeting Jamie and Andy and the others, I realized that they lived a kind of secret life too. The rest of the world considered them deviants, like nudists and swingers and anyone else who didn’t fit the Moral Majority’s idea of normal.

But what exactly was normal? And did I really want to be like everyone else? Not in the relationship category, I decided, when “normal” meant one man and one woman, period, full stop, end of story. I didn’t want a harem or anything, but I didn’t relish the idea of sex with one and only one woman for the rest of my life.

At least I had a choice in the matter. I suspected that Jamie and Andy didn’t. Neither did Daphne or Sara. Some people and some relationships weren’t normal, but that didn’t make them wrong, did it?

No, it just made them different.

I survived the drive to Atlanta, although my hangover held on to the bitter end. I turned down Trip and Wren’s invitation to a dance club and got a good night’s sleep instead. So I was rested and refreshed when I met them at the local airport the next morning. By contrast, they looked like they’d had a late night and had had to rush to get out of the house.

I suppressed a grin and hefted my backpack. Trip and Wren carried packs as well, along with his guitar case and her big straw sun hat. It wasn’t a lot for a week’s vacation, but we didn’t need a lot. It was a nudist camp, after all.

Chris Coulter arrived a few minutes later. After introductions all around, he and I preflighted the Cessna. He offered to let me fly as pilot-in-command since I had more experience, but I told him to take it and add the hours to his logbook. I was glad I did. Flying the Comanche had spoiled me, and I couldn’t believe how slow the Cessna was by comparison.

Elizabeth and Leah met us at the airport in South Carolina, and poor Trip did his best not to gawk. Even Wren had to fight the urge to stare. I chuckled at their reactions, but couldn’t blame them. Elizabeth was wearing a sundress that showed off her curvy figure, and she wasn’t wearing a bra. Leah showed even more skin in her string bikini top and white short-shorts.

I enjoyed the view for a moment, until I remembered that she had a boyfriend. I selfishly hoped that she’d broken up with him, but shook off the thought and told my libido to behave. Still, I felt a surge of hope as she stood close and slipped an arm around my waist. Then I remembered my manners and gestured to my friends.

“Elizabeth,” I said, “you remember Trip. And this is his girlfriend, Wren.”

Elizabeth smiled and shook their hands. “Leah’s told us all about you,” she said graciously.

Chris returned from the FBO, so I separated from Leah and helped him chock the plane and secure the tie-downs.

“Well,” Elizabeth said when we rejoined them, “shall we go? I can’t wait to slip out of this dress.” She grinned sidelong at her husband. “And I’m sure Chris is ready to slip out of his clothes and into something more comfortable.”

Leah rolled her eyes but gave me a mischievous grin as we climbed into the Coulters’ station wagon. Chris sat up front with Elizabeth driving, and I let Trip and Wren have the middle seat so they could enjoy the scenery. Leah and I opened the tailgate and unfolded the tiny seat in the back. I stowed my backpack beside me and swung the door closed.

Elizabeth lowered the rear window. “Do you have enough air back there?” Wind rushed through the car as she pulled out of the parking lot.

“Yes, thanks.”

In spite of the heat, Leah snuggled close. I put my arm around her and she rested a hand on my thigh. Then her fingers inched higher, until they tickled my crotch.

“Hold on,” I said quietly, “don’t you have a boyfriend?”

“I’ll explain later.”

She began massaging my dick through my shorts, and it reacted predictably.

I stopped her. “Um ... maybe when we get to camp.”

She ignored me and deftly unzipped my shorts. Against my better judgment, I shifted to give her access, and she pulled out my half-hard penis. Then she lowered her head to my lap. I nervously glanced over my shoulder, but Trip and Wren were listening to Chris. Elizabeth probably saw in the rearview mirror, but she didn’t betray us.

Leah kissed the tip of my dick and then wrapped her lips around the head. She began bobbing gently, and I grew to my full length in a few seconds. She concentrated on the glans for a moment and then swallowed about half my length. I rested my hand on her head as she slowly fellated me.

After a moment I untied the bow in the bikini string around her neck. Then I tugged the knot at her back, and the flimsy top fell off. She shifted to give me better access to her breasts. I tweaked her dark brown nipples and closed my eyes as she worked on my cock.

I hadn’t had a real blowjob in weeks, so I didn’t last long. Leah felt my muscles tense and knew what to expect. She wrapped her lips around the head and began stroking.

A moment later I exploded with a soft grunt of pleasure. Leah swallowed my semen and nursed my deflating shaft until we turned onto the road toward camp. She sat up with a self-satisfied grin as I tucked away my limp manhood.

Once we reached the camp proper, Elizabeth turned into the first row of cabins. Trip and I had requested one of the two-bedroom cabins rather than rooms in the motel-style buildings closer to the clubhouse. Elizabeth stopped the car in front of the last one in the row.

“Hey, Mom,” Leah said as she climbed out, “would you leave the keys so we can go to the store?”

“All right.”

Trip did a double take when he saw that Leah was topless. Even Wren seemed surprised, but she covered it better.

Leah grinned and bounced on the balls of her feet. She knew what it did to her breasts, and what the sight would do to Trip. He shifted his backpack to hide his erection, and I rolled my eyes at her antics. She clasped her hands behind her back and pointed her nipples at Trip.

“Mom and I cleaned the cabin this morning,” she said blithely. “We brought sheets and towels too.”

“Oh, crap,” I said. “I completely forgot.”

“We thought you might,” Elizabeth said dryly. “Well, your mother thought of it.” She grinned. “She packed extras and brought them up this morning.”

“We didn’t have time to make the beds,” Leah hinted.

Wren turned to Trip. “Will you bring our things while I help Leah?”

Trip and I lingered for a moment to thank Chris and Elizabeth, but she shooed us after the girls.

“Get on with you,” she said, “domestic bliss awaits.” Then she winked at Chris. “And speaking of bliss...”

She slipped her hand into his, and they walked toward their cabin with a wave.

Our cabin was almost identical to the Coulters’. The living area held two couches, a coffee table, and an upholstered chair. The furniture was dated but looked clean and comfortable. The kitchen and dining area occupied the back third of the cabin, along with a pantry and small bathroom. The floors were bare wood, except for an oval-shaped rag rug in the living room.

Trip and I dropped our packs on the couch and surveyed the place. It was rustic and homey, and surprisingly cool in the summer heat. The cabins had been built before air conditioning became common, so they were designed with a vaulted ceiling and plenty of screen windows to let the air circulate.

The girls emerged from the back bedroom and smiled when they saw us.

“This one’s ours,” Wren said to Trip. “Leah already has her things in the front bedroom.”

“Hold on,” I said. “Not that I mind or anything, but ... when did we decide that we’d be sleeping together?”

Leah rolled her eyes. “You’re such a goof.”

That wasn’t really an answer, but I let it go.

She turned to Wren. “We need to go to town if we want wine coolers or anything. The liquor store is closed on Sundays.” For my benefit, she added, “Your mom bought some basic groceries for us. Milk, bread, lunch meat.”

“Great,” I said, half-sarcastically, “we’d be sleeping on bare mattresses and starving if it weren’t for her.”

“You are a bit clueless sometimes,” Leah said.

Wren agreed with a smirk. “So, you guys can live without us for a while?”

“Sure.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Let me grab a T-shirt,” Leah said, “and we’ll go.”

Trip and I decided to check out the construction site at Bernie Kestrel’s old place. He’d seen the designs when I reviewed them for Susan, and it was something to kill the time until the girls returned.

I almost didn’t recognize the place when we arrived. The house was completely gone, as though it had never existed, including the foundation. In its place the workers had built a mini-clubhouse, a smaller, more modern version of the one at the main camp.

The door was unlocked, so we ventured inside. It was a party room instead of a communal living area, basically a big open space with a kitchen at the back. It even had central heat and air, so it could be used year-round. Side doors led to men’s and women’s restrooms, and a door in the back opened into a large storage room full of folding tables and chairs.

The main room was currently set up with two sitting areas, one facing a fireplace and the other in front of a stand for a TV. The couches could be pushed aside to make room for the folding tables and chairs, or to use the space for dancing or socializing. The room also boasted an old-style jukebox with neon lights, although it was unplugged at the moment.

A set of French doors opened onto a patio and cookout area with a built-in grill. Wrought-iron tables and chairs sat neatly against the side wall, stacked out of the weather. The patio was lined on two sides with brick planters and raised beds, although none of the landscaping had been delivered.

The plans called for a swimming pool in the center of the site. The workers had dug the hole and formed the basic shape in rebar, but hadn’t shot the gunite or placed the concrete for the pool deck. They had placed the foundations for six cottages, though, and piles of construction materials dotted the site, so work would probably continue throughout the summer.

The location was far enough from the main camp that the workmen wouldn’t be startled by random nudists. The distance would also preserve the camp-goers’ privacy. Most nudists didn’t like to be stared at, much less ogled, so keeping the two groups apart was best for everyone.

Trip and I finished our tour and then returned to the main camp. We emerged from the forest as the Coulter station wagon skidded to a stop in front of our cabin. We thought something was wrong until we heard Leah and Wren giggling like schoolgirls. They weren’t wearing a stitch of clothing.

“Let me guess,” I said dryly, “you drove all the way from town like that?”

Leah grinned and nodded.

My eyes automatically went to the tan lines where she usually wore bikini bottoms. The skin was much paler than the rest of her, so it accentuated her shaved pubic area. Trip noticed too, and almost squirmed as he realized that he didn’t have a backpack to hide the tent in his shorts. Wren and I shared a grin until she frowned.

“Why’re you guys still dressed?”

“Yeah,” Leah said.

Trip and I looked at each other and shrugged.

“We were waiting for you, I guess.”

Wren rolled her eyes. “Well, we’re here, so get naked.”

Trip stammered, and I put his protest into words. “Excuse me?”

“Which part didn’t you understand?” Wren said. “Get naked. Strip.”

“This is a nudist camp,” Leah added.

Wren grinned. “We wanna see your ding-dongs dangle.”

“Our whats what?” I asked.

“Ding-dongs. Dangle.” She glanced at Trip and turned mischievous. “Or stand at attention. Either is fine.”

Leah nodded. “We like it when they stand at attention.”

I gave Trip a faux exasperated look. “I think it might’ve been a mistake to introduce them to each other.”

“Quit stalling,” Wren said. “Take off your clothes and help us unload the car. In that order.”

“Yes, ma’am!” I stripped off my shirt, shorts, and underwear. I left my shoes and socks, but tossed the rest onto the porch. Trip reluctantly followed suit. He tried to hide his hard-on, but that just made it more obvious.

Wren gave him an appreciative once-over. “Nice.”

“Don’t worry about it, dude,” I told him. “Happens to me all the time.”

Fortunately for him, unloading the car was enough of a distraction that his erection had softened by the time we started putting away the groceries.

“Wait,” I asked Wren as I emptied one paper bag, “how much do you think we’re going to drink?” The current bag and another were full of four-packs of Bartles & Jaymes.

“Oh, relax,” Wren said. “There are four of us and we’ll be here a week. Which reminds me. Trip, dear, will you get the cases of wine from the floor of the back seat?” She nodded toward the station wagon parked outside.

“Cases?” I said. “Plural?”

“Seriously, Paul,” Wren said, “I’ve done this before. I know how much people drink, even if it’s only a glass of wine with dinner.”

I shook my head dubiously, but went with Trip to unload the wine. My family usually included some wine and beer in our supplies, but nothing like what Wren had bought.

“Okay, look,” she explained when I still seemed unconvinced, “a bottle of wine serves four glasses. That’s it. So we’ll probably drink two bottles a night, minimum. But sometimes we’ll have coolers instead, probably two apiece. That’s two four-packs a night. We’ll be here for eight nights. Do the math.”

“She’s right,” Trip said.

I could multiply as quickly as he could. “It still seems like a lot,” I muttered, but left it at that.

“He’s so cute when he loses,” Leah said to Wren.

“I love how he doesn’t believe me, even though I’ve been doing this since I was old enough to count.”

I acted surly as the girls teased me, but I wasn’t really upset. Oh, my pride had been wounded, but not enough to cause a real sulk. Still, Leah sidled close and whispered in my ear.

“I’ll suck you off if you lighten up.”

“Hey,” I called to the others, “who’s in the mood for a party? Trip, get the music going and let’s open that wine!”

Leah rolled her eyes but smiled. “Men!”

“Let me guess,” Wren said, “you offered to sleep with him if he quit being a grump?”

“Something like that.”

It was Wren’s turn to roll her eyes, but then she looked thoughtful. “Hmm,” she said slowly, “Trip and I had to rush this morning, so we didn’t have time for anything else.” She glanced at him. “Do you feel like a nap before we meet everyone?”

“By ‘nap,’” Trip said, “do you mean...?”

“Duh. Whaddya say, big fella? Are you, ahem, up for it?” She shot a pointed look at his flaccid penis.

“Not at the moment,” I teased, “but I’m sure he will be.”

Leah arched an eye at me. “And what about you, Ponyboy?”

“You don’t really call him that, do you?” Wren said.

“Nah, not really. Only when he’s being a goof.”

“Like now?”

“Like now,” Leah agreed.

“So,” Wren asked Trip again, “up for a roll in the hay?”

Trip managed to look bashful and excited at the same time, so Wren sashayed into the bedroom and gestured for him to follow. She winked at us. “See you in an hour or two.”