Chapter 11: Chuck and Tiffany

They left the bar, and then stopped. Neither of them knew where to go, or what to do now.

"You want to go swimming?" he asked, thinking that maybe he could do some laps and work off some of the sexual energy she had injected into him by telling him she was thinking about his penis. He couldn't believe she'd said that. He thought of her as being completely out of his class. She was beautiful, and oozed sex appeal. He couldn't believe, for that matter, that any man had refused to go with her, wherever she wanted to go. That dip she'd been going with had to be a complete loser to let her get away. Still, she had to have been teasing when she made him promise to show her his dick. There was no way she'd show him her breasts. He knew that as well as he knew his own name.

"You want to look at my body already?" came her voice.

"No," he said. "I want to do some laps."

"We're supposed to be talking," she said. "You have to promise to talk to me if we go swimming."

"OK," he said, giving in again.

"OK, then," she said. "Meet you at the pool in ten minutes."

"I'll be there," he said.

He was, in fact there, and already swimming strongly from one end of the pool to the other, when she arrived. He saw her standing on the side of the pool, watching him, as he turned his face to breathe.

He swam two more laps, sprinting, and then stood up in the shallow end, staring back at her. She looked fabulous in her bikini, and she knew it. She moved, and held herself in that way that beautiful women cultivate, that shows off their body without making it obvious that that's what they're doing.

Tiffany looked at the man in the water. His chest muscles were corded up from the stress of propelling himself through the water. He'd looked half fish as he swam, with not a motion wasted, cutting through the water like there was a motor attached to him somewhere. The sun glinted off his upper body. She had to admit he was a handsome man. Handsome and interesting. She felt his eyes rake over her body, and suddenly felt naked. She walked to the steps and stepped daintily down into the water. It felt good.

"You're a very good swimmer," she said, wading over to him.

"I'm a member at the YMCA, he said, stretching his arms backwards, to stretch those bulging muscles on his chest. "Swimming is one of the best aerobic exercises you can do. It works every muscle in your body if you do it right."

"I used to be in shape," she said. "You had to be in shape to cheer. You got hurt if you weren't."

"There's nothing wrong with the shape you're in," he said.

"Aren't you sweet," she said, sinking down into the water to her neck. "Tell me the craziest thing you ever did."

"What?" he blinked.

"The craziest thing you ever did," she repeated. "I want to hear about it."

"Seriously," he said, as if he didn't quite believe her.

"Seriously."

"I guess that would have to be joining the Peace Corps," he said.

She looked at him in amazement. He was a VERY interesting man.

"Really? I had no idea you'd done that."

"Yeah," he said, sinking down until he was neck deep like her. "I did it right out of High School. Got sent to the Sahara, of all places. Well, the fringes of it, anyway. We worked with Tuaregs, who had to give up their nomadic life because a drouth killed most of their animals. We were teaching them to be farmers."

He stopped, like he'd told the whole story.

"How in the world did you do that and still get a teaching degree?" she asked.

"I did a three year tour, and then went to school. I'm twenty-eight," he said.

"You're kidding," said Tiffany, who was twenty-four. "I thought you were much younger than that."

"Clean living," he said, as if looking four years younger than he was was no big deal.

"I'm impressed," she said. "I want to hear all about it."

She did hear all about it, but not in the usual way. She had learned a long time ago that men loved to talk about themselves. All she usually had to do was ask a few questions, acting like a ditzy blond, and off they went, to happily boast about things for an hour or more.

But it wasn't that way with Chuck. He answered her questions, but didn't go farther than that. She had to practically interrogate him to find out what life had been like in the Peace Corps. He didn't seem to mind talking about it... he just never volunteered anything.

Eventually they got out of the water and lay on towels, side by side, as they continued to talk. Eventually he started asking her questions too. She found out he had a wicked sense of humor, something she'd never have guessed about him. He could do stand up routines from memory that he'd seen years ago, and he did them so well that she laughed.

She soaked in the sun, slathering on sun block, sometimes sitting Indian style, sometimes flat on her back, and sometimes on her side, her head propped up while they talked. She threw him the bottle, demanding that he protect his skin too, and he rubbed some on the places he could reach.

"Turn around," she ordered. "Your back will burn if you don't get some there."

She squirted a line of sun block across his back and smoothed her hands over the hard muscles, enjoying the feel of them under her slippery fingers.

"There," she said, wiping the excess lotion on the part of her breasts that were exposed to the sun. He watched her do that, but didn't leer.

"You're not quite the man I thought you were," she said.

"Sorry," he replied. "I'm just me."

"That's not what I meant," she chided him. "You're much deeper than you look at first glance. I misjudged you, and I'm sorry about that."

"I'm just a guy, like any other," he said, uncomfortably.

"I wish there were more guys out there just like you," she said. "Life would be a lot more interesting if there were."

It was quiet for a moment.

"I'm also sorry for teasing you... back in the bar," she said. "That was uncalled for."

"Oh," he said, almost sadly.

What Chuck was thinking of was that she wasn't really interested in his penis after all. He'd been wondering about that whole part of the conversation. Why a woman like Tiffany would give a hoot about anything he had was a mystery to him. She could have any man she wanted.

"You look like you lost your last friend," she said, looking at him with a frown on her face.

"It's just that I'm not used to being around a woman like you, I guess," he said.

"A woman like me," she said, the frown still on her face.

"You know, beautiful, and popular and all that."

"I thought we got past all that cheerleader bullshit," she said, her voice terse.

"Just look at you," he said. "It has nothing to do with cheerleading. You talk about being out of shape, but you could be a model if you wanted to."

"No I couldn't," she said. "I have fat all over me. Look at this!"

She pinched the skin just above the waist band of her bikini. She could pinch maybe three quarters of an inch.

"And this," she went on, squeezing the skin on the back of her thigh. She could get a whole inch there.

"That's not fat, Tiffany," he said. "That's skin. You look great, and you know it."

She felt a thrill, associated with being given a real compliment. She felt the urge to touch him. Instead, she got up and got back in the water. He followed. Again, they floated, neck deep in the water. She couldn't understand it, but she felt better when his eyes weren't caressing her body... like she was more in control. She faced him.

"You look great, too, she said, as if that proved anything. "You have muscles on your muscles. You can't see them when you wear a shirt, but in that swim suit you look delicious."

"You're teasing me again," he said.

"No I'm not!" she barked. "You are a handsome man. If you weren't so shy you'd admit it."

"And I suppose you're attracted to me... like Bob was talking about." Chuck's voice was full of skepticism.

"Before we came here, I might have said no," said Tiffany. "But, in the short time we've been here, and even though your and my time together has been even shorter, I've learned enough to be able to say you DO appeal to me. So there!" She splashed water at him.

"That's not possible," he said. "Women like you don't get interested in a guy like me."

"What is WRONG with you?" she said loudly. "Do I have to throw myself at you to get you to believe me? I'm not going to do that, buster."

"Of course not," he said, his calm voice making her frustration level climb. "That's because you're not really attracted to me. I'm just your partner to play with while we're here. After that you'll forget all about me."

Tiffany was stunned. In the past, the normal roles had put her as the pursued, having to manage the pursuer. Now, somehow, she felt like the roles had been reversed, and she didn't understand that. All men panted after her. Why didn't this one? He was obviously attracted to her. She could see it in his eyes. But he was holding back, even after she HAD all but thrown herself at him. Surely he didn't really believe she was out of his class. That had been bullshit in High School, even if a lot of kids had bought into it. And he wasn't in High School any more.

She wondered about that too. Why HAD she taken things so fast? Sure, it had been a long time since she'd had sex. But she wasn't some hormone-filled sixteen year old cheerleader. She looked at him, floating in the water, three feet away, looking back at her. That was it! He was three feet away! He wasn't nudging up against her, crowding her, acting like she had no personal space. She thought back to the hot tub, but couldn't remember if he'd touched her then. Was he just shy... or was he treating her like a lady? She tried to think back to the last time a man had treated her like a lady... a man who was interested in her sexually. She couldn't remember, and it frustrated her. She realized she now WANTED to feel his eyes on her body.