Ski Lodge: I used to drive to Mammoth for skiing, when I lived in the LA area. Never had a night quite like this, though!
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It was a long, good day. Sore afterwards, from keeping up with the boys, and full on spaghetti &crispy garlic bread, Anjin curled on the couch in the half lit room. Electric blue, the television complemented the yellow-red firelight licking into the living room from the hearth. Eight tired skiers made small talk as the opening credits rolled. It was possible, she thought, after a day like THAT, that half of them would fall asleep where they sprawled before the movie ended. They’d driven 6 hours from LA to Mammoth Lakes on through a blustery white night to get here at 11PM yesterday, drink too much, sleep too little, and then snowboard all day. Her body yearned for a massage, but most small aches were soaked away in the hot tub earlier, or dissolved by the wine.
A little smile tickled the corner of her mouth as she thought back to the hot tub. It had been dark but for the spotlight down in the water, big fat snowflakes coming down, 5 of them in there drinking and telling stories about the day’s skiing when she’d decided, just like that, it was time to take her top off. It had pretty much stopped the conversation for a second. “What? These… are my tits.” Anjin said, tracing a fingertip down her sternum and then briefly cupping them for a jostle, lifting the nipples out of the water for a second and then dropping them back in with a little splash. “Nothing special. See?”
“Whoa.” said Daniel, nervously and looking away. Just that, a syllable tapering up into the darkness.
“Yeah, it’s cool, what’s the big deal?” said Guillermo, getting on the bandwagon, he pulled his shorts off and plopped them in a wet heap on the edge of the tub, a big “I dare you” grin across his bearded face. Guillermo was a muscle-packed fighter, Italian, outgoing, devil may care and it showed in his enthusiastic but haphazard skiing. You could count on Gui to get injured, and to shake it off.
Anjin grinned. “Yeeea, let’s see, Guillermo. Come over by the light!” she teased, reaching to poke him.
He swatted her away with a brush of his powerful left arm. “You just stay on your side, woman.” Guillermo always pretended not to like Anjin much, which she believed, but everyone else knew better.
As for the others, Steven the ingenue, was repulsed. “Why does everybody always have to be Naaaked? It’s obscene. What will Jago say when he finds out you’ve been showing your breasts everywhere? (Jago is Anjin’s boyfriend, and he had been absent, making the spaghetti sauce at the time.)
“How do you get the guts, Anjin, aren’t you embarrassed?” asked Amy. She was interested, rather than appalled, but at 22 and the baby of the group, she was a little bit shy.
“Oh so what? It’s just skin, and it’s Fun! Jago won’t mind, he’ll be glad I’m happy. Besides, he’s already seen them and probably borrr-ed of my boobies by now…” She said this last looking down at them in mock sadness, drawing slow circles around one nipple with two fingers.
The last one in the pool was Trudi, Guillermo’s g/f, and she didn’t say a thing, just stripped. Entirely. Clearly, it was an answer to Gui, and he smiled, nodded once and poured the wine.
That was all two hours ago. Now, full of dinner, they subsided into a moment’s lull as the movie began. Alien. If anything could keep them awake through wine and exhaustion it would be that. Anjin hadn’t seen the classic horror flick in years, and Amy never had (hence it’s selection for this trip: everyone HAD to see Alien!) Anjin curled up next to Jago’s heavy chest and rested her hand on his ribcage, just expanding and contracting the hand idly, feeling the ribs, sometimes reaching up to rub the muscle that lay over his heart. If she twisted her head just so, she could feel it beating. His left arm covered her back, and his fingers tangled her hair and pressed her neck here and there. Anjin felt warm, and loved. She glanced over at Amy, the single woman on this trip, she was sitting near Dan, but neither attached to him nor likely to be. Dan was deeply engrossed in the movie, but Amy caught Anjin’s glance and returned it, eyes flickering over to Jago and back. He was a lean brute of a man, attractive and charismatic, usually. Right now he was more frumpy than anything else, in a rust colored, half-zippered polypropylene shirt, navy sweatpants and fuzzy socks, slouched half asleep in the couch with a beer in his right hand and a girl in his left, he looked and felt good to Anjin, but probably not any great impression on anyone else, least of all Amy who was half his age. Still, she had looked him over, and the straps of muscle, bulk of his legs, were hard to miss. So was his cock, laying somnolent but a not undetectable bulge reclining over his right thigh, under the fleece.
Anjin thought of the shape of that cock, it’s color, what it would look like right now, under those pants. She could reach down and give it a squeeze… Then she snapped back to reality. They were in public. Sigourney Weaver was in some argument with the USMC brute on the spaceship; she was taking a lot of shit, but that just meant he would probably the first one who’d have his head bitten off later. Anjin loved this movie, how the bad guy was a bad Girl, and all the tough men were helpless to stop her with mere strength. Women were mentally tougher than men, anyway, she thought, though you never got a chance to prove it. She thought of her relationship with Jago, how it had grown from both of them basically submitting entirely to each other. This man, solid like a 200lb flank steak, who could pick her up and break her in half: she could stop him with a glance, take his clothes, read his e-mail, tell him to cook or shut up and he would. But it was not one sided. Anjin gave herself utterly too, hung on his words, attended to his pleasure. Thinking this, she arched her back a little, so that she could press one soft breast into his side, so that he would feel it and know she was there, naked underneath, and thinking of sliding her skin on his. What a way to live! Anjin was utterly in the moment. She reached her hand under the shirt and stretched it up a little, palming his abdomen. Firelight flickered on the narrow strip of belly Anjin bared for Amy: had she seen it? Maybe not.
The movie was heating up, men in big trucks were smashing into the lair, (over) confident in their power to deal with whatever they found with guns and radios. All eyes were glued to the tube. Anjin traced a finger down below the belly button, smoothing the waistband of the sweatpants, casually running her fingers one after another over the single washboard bump. Just once.
His eyes darted to hers accusingly. “No one saw!” she looked back at him, no need for words… “I can do it if I want to!” There was a little defiance in her look.
“No.” He didn’t need to speak either.
“Yes.” She hardened her glance with a clench of her little jaw and a narrowing glare, reaching slowly down, and giving one slow firm deliberate squeeze. Amy was watching, and Anjin smiled at her. Jago held perfectly still, obeying her implicit order. He was her toy and she’d flaunt him if she wanted. He gave a tiny grunt of disapproval, and a squeeze of acquiesence, simultaneously.
Anjin put her hand back where it belonged, on his stomach. Amy’s eyes shifted back and forth uncontrollably. Soldiers were filing through blue lit caves, sticky goo everywhere, their lazers darting over muscular looking things they did not realize were alive and dangerous. Anjin locked eyes with Amy and pressed her hand down, catching the waistband under her thumb and sliding it down too, exposing his cock’s head. It was red in the light, blue when the TV flashed. Paralyzed, Jago fixated on the movie.
Extending her hand, Anjin finished pulling the pants down and grasped lifting him up and waving him around slowly, like the head of the monster that was now itself raising up from a dark recess in the back of the cave. It parted its lips, dripping slime. Anjin licked hers. She glanced at the screen, meaningfully: Amy should watch the movie.
As if. Amy responded by shifting in her seat, turning to face Anjin, elbows on knees, attentive. She would watch and learn how such relationships were made.
She tilted the long rounded shape towards the screen, reflected light shining of it’s wetted, dripping end.
The Alien drew back its fangs, revealing a red gorge, about to kill.
In one dive, Anjin engulfed as much of his cock as she could, feeling it jam in her throat, her wet heat everywhere.
On screen, a man died, red blood everywhere. Jago erupted, his girlfriend sucking his cock, head bobbing in time to his contractions. Amy gasped. Anjin pulled back, smiling down at her toy, licking it clean now and again as it continued to pulse gently.
The monster retracted her jaws, white fluid dripping.
No one spoke.