Page 33 of Wrecked With You

Roy looks like a male version of Beth and probably is. He’s accompanying Clara, a brunette with eyes that are too small for her face and a mouth that’s too wide. She keeps eyeing Scott, and I get the feeling that she’s very much looking forward to whatever part of this game will pair her with him.

All of the introductions are accompanied by hugs and groping and a few very intimate kisses, which I return. So, I notice, does Tony. Though every time I look at him, I find him already looking at me.

Needless to say, this isn’t how I usually act at parties, but when in Rome...

The welcome ritual complete, Scott lays down the rules. Apparently, it’s called the Dessert Delight game because of fresh strawberries and cans of squirtable whipped cream that top a nearby table.

“We all have a number,” Scott tells us, then proceeds to count off from one to seven. As he explains it, persons one to three lay down, each with our own can of whipped cream. While on the ground, we decorate a few key body parts.

The other three stand in line and come to each of us in turn, “eating” their dessert. They can even embellish with the berries if they want to. Once the last person in line has visited everyone, then the first person in line lays down, and the last on the ground stands up. Rinse, lather, repeat.

Obviously, the game becomes more intimate depending upon where one puts the whipped cream. And, of course, the game is played in the nude.

I glance up at the shining sun and wonder about what kind of burn I’ll have in the morning. Still, a job’s a job, and once I’m assigned number three, I untie my sarong, strip off my bikini, and lie down on the mat, trying to seem nonchalant. As if this is the kind of game I play every week after book club.

In truth, I’m not really nonchalant at all.

I’ve done many, many things for work and for survival that required me to be naked when I didn’t really want to be. But even I’m a little intimidated by the thought of stripping down to play what seems to be nothing more than the equivalent of a high school game of spin the bottle. Honestly, I’m just not that social. I want to do my job. I want to find The-Asst.

And then I want to go back to the room with Tony.

The realization shocks me a bit, and I look up at where he’s standing, trying to read his face. Is he intrigued by this game?

Is he looking forward to licking and touching these strangers? Or is he only looking forward to touching me? Tasting me?

For that matter, is he looking forward to me at all?

I’m more disturbed by the possibility that he’s not even thinking about me than I should be, and I can’t stop wondering about my reaction to him. Am I losing my edge? Or, more accurately, has he stolen my edge?

I don’t know.

The only thing I’m certain of is that I want him.

Beth, already naked even though she’s standing, passes out the whipped cream cans to the three of us who are prone. I’m in the middle position. And since I don’t know who my first partner will be, I decide to go easy on the whole thing and put whipped cream only on my breasts.

Beside me, Amy draws a line of whipped cream from her pussy all the way up to her cleavage then dabs her finger in the cream and draws a line across her mouth, as if the cream were lipstick.

On my other side, I can see that Scott has put cream nowhere except his very erect cock.

Apparently I’m the only slow starter in this game, which would make my sister laugh.

The four who are standing, Tony, Clara, Beth, and Roy line up. Roy starts with Scott, and I turn my head to watch, hoping a little voyeurism will get me in the mood. It doesn’t. Not until I shift my gaze to Tony, who’s still waiting in line. And when Roy reaches me, I close my eyes and imagine Tony’s touch, his tongue.

I feel him straddle me, then bend over and very carefully lick every bit of whipped cream off my breasts. I keep my eyes closed, not wanting to react, but not being able to help it. The sun is warm, the whipped cream cool, and I can’t deny that his tongue feels nice on my sensitive nipples.

But still, I imagine it’s Tony.

Beth is next, and I’m feeling a little bolder now. I put a line of whipped cream right under my belly button and then let it trace up to between my breasts. She smiles shyly at me as she kneels down between my legs and then without another word, she puts her tongue on my clit—completely bare of cream—and strokes slowly upward until she actually reaches a patch of skin I’d decorated.

I suck in air, not expecting that intimate a touch. I can’t deny that it feels good though, and that Beth is cute. I consider the possibility of inviting her to the cabana with me and Tony, but dismiss it immediately. It’s not that I don’t think Beth would be fun. I do. But I don’t want to share Tony, and I’m not interested in leaving him for an evening to be with somebody else.

Once again, this is not like me. Somehow, this island has befuddled me.

Instead of sliding into debauchery, I seem to be sliding more into cohesiveness.

That makes sense though, right? After all I’m here on assignment, not on vacation.

Beth lifts her head and smiles at me, the kind of smile that suggests she’d like to meet privately after this get-to-know-you game is over. I manage a non-committal smile back and close my eyes as if in ecstasy as she follows the line of cream up my belly. When it’s all gone, she whispers her cabin number in my ear and tells me that she and Scott would be very happy for me to drop by at any time. I make another noise that could be acquiescence, and then it’s Tony’s turn.