Page 88 of Hotter in the Hamptons

Aly laughed too and then groaned. “Have I created a monster?”

“Maybe,” Lola replied. “But a monster who is about to fuck you.”

They undressed, and Aly showed Lola how to pull the straps into place. Lola felt like a nervous teenage boy. It was not something she’d ever fantasized about, having a dick, using it to have sex with a girl. She wasn’t sure if she’d like it, but she was determined to be a good sport. Still, she felt a little silly, looking at it hanging there between her legs.Dangling.

Aly handed her the lube.

Lola said, “I feel like I’m about to lose my virginity.”

“You aren’t not.”

She worried briefly if this was some sort of test, if Aly was trying to see how committed to the bit she really was, if it was a bit at all, or if it was actually serious. She was determined to prove herself.

Aly lay back, and Lola crawled on top of her. Together they guided the dildo inside Aly, who made a little gasp when it was fully in. Then they were joined, their bodies fitting together in a new way. Abruptly, Lola’s concerns vanished. There was nothingnotto like about this. The base of the dildo pressed into Lola’s clit, and as they moved together, she found she liked the sensation of being in total control. It was nice for them both to be hands free too.

She was setting their pace—slow but intense. Her hips moved like liquid.

Aly was soft and pliable under her, following her lead, her eyes half-closed in ecstasy.

“Do you want to get on top?” Lola asked.

“Not really,” Aly said, and they both laughed.

Lola went back to thrusting. Her abs were growing tired with the effort, her arms a little shaky from holding herself up in a forearm plank, and she felt a new appreciation for every man who’d ever fucked her in missionary. It was a lot of work. But it was worth it.

“Are you sure you’ve never done this before?” Aly whispered into her ear. Her breath was hot and damp.

“Maybe in another life,” Lola replied.

Chapter 13

July gave way to August, the days melting into each other like ice cream dripping off a cone. Life for Lola became a hallucinogenic whirlwind of sunshine, Aly, the beach, oysters, Aly, wine, lobster rolls, Aly, orgasms, Aly, Aly, Aly.

Lolawantedto keep in mind that she’d vowed not to lose herself in Aly, but Aly was making it very hard. Finally, she gave herself a deadline: by the end of the summer, she’d figure her shit out.

But for now…

Every night, they fell asleep together, tangled and spent, and then Lola would dream about Aly until waking up to her face. The world smelled of salt air and pheromones. Her lips were permanently swollen from being bitten and sucked.

The obsession seemed mutual, much to her ongoing surprise. Sometimes she’d catch Aly staring at her while she did the most mundane things like brushing her teeth or putting her hair in a topknot. Often when they kissed, she could feel Aly’s heart pounding. She stillcouldn’t believe she had this kind of power over someone so cool and confident, who only became more and more devastatingly hot with each passing day.

Once a week, she and Ryan did a girls’ night, staying in to watch TV, do face masks, and gossip. That was their promise to each other, a way to make sure neither got so lost in new love that they couldn’t find each other. But otherwise, Lola was happily camped out on Aly Island.

Sometimes, though, she felt small needles of panic about the life that awaited her back in the city—or rather the life that didn’t. She didn’t want to hide forever. She wanted to make a plan for herself. She knew she needed to. She knew it was the most important thing she was supposed to be doing. It was herlife, after all. But then, there Aly would be, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear, and all would be forgotten.

Her clothes started to fit a little more snugly, now that the farthest she walked was to Aly’s house. Their frequent picnics of bread, cheese, and wine on the beach certainly didn’t help. But she also didn’t care about the pockets of extra flesh that were softening her out. The more of her there was, the more Aly had to grab on to. The weight seemed to settle on her boobs and her ass, making her feel like a ripe peach. And Aly certainly didn’t seem to mind.

As with every year, there weren’t any work events in August; it was always as if everyone—the PR people and the influencers and the journalists and the marketers—had all signed a contract agreeing to slow down for four long, sun-drenched weeks. The product launches and collection re-sees would pick back up in September—New York Fashion Week too, followed by London, Milan, and Paris. The whole racket.

Usually, Lola grew bored in those final summer moments, restlessin Soho waiting for life to pick back up while Justin was at work, their apartment too big for one person. This was the first year she allowed herself to enjoy the endlessly long days. The lack of obligations or reasons to put borrowed clothes on felt like a kind of liberation. Her only job was Aly.

Meanwhile, the sewing machine sat in the corner of Giancarlo’s living room, unopened and collecting dust. She hadn’t had a moment to even think about unboxing it. She’d even grown sick of seeing it, its looming shape a testament to how she’d ignored her own promise to work on herself. It was taunting her. She knew she should probably just send it back and figure out if she could resell all that vintage she’d acquired too. When she saw it all folded in the corner of her room, she sometimes felt a pang of regret that she still couldn’t bring herself to fully go down that road. But the pang was quickly replaced by the very real pull to devote herself to Aly, get her fix again.

One morning, as she and Aly lay by the pool eating chocolate croissants and drinking iced lattes, Aly said, “Do you have a vision for what this looks like when summer is over?”

“I’m not really sure,” Lola said, which was the truth. It was hard to imagine what would happen after they left this magic place. Or what she wanted to happen. She hadn’t let herself think about it since Aly had gone MIA.

“Iwas thinking,” Aly said and trailed a finger along Lola’s forearm, “we could do this, for real. You could be my girlfriend.”

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