Page 3 of Pucker Up
A lifeguard stood on duty next to the hole in the ice, ready to pull out anyone in distress. Number twenty lasted about fourseconds before he shot up the ladder and ran past the line of players and into the waiting sauna. “What I wouldn’t give to be in there right now,” Mel said.
“You need a hobby,” I muttered.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been laid; I can’t help it.” She shrugged. “Aubrey has been running me off my feet with the staging crew every night.”
The crowd erupted in laughter as players thirty-three and seventeen held hands and jumped in together. The laughter escalated as the two of them emerged and screeched, shooting out of the water as fast as they’d jumped in.
As we clapped for the players, I asked, “How long?”
“Like at least a month.” Mel shook her head and let out an exasperated, “You?”
“Something like that, but instead of the wordmonth, use the wordyear.”
Mel stopped mid clap and clasped her hands together. “Oh, Goldie. That’s not healthy. With all of these fine specimens around, you need to take care of your…needs.”
“It’s not that long, and I’ve been busy with my work. Once I get my study done, I can think about dating again. Trust me, you will never in a million years catch me with one of these guys.”
“Your thesis might take another year or two. Are you willing to put your life on hold like that?”
“It’s not on hold. I’m writing my thesis.”
“You know what I mean.” Mel could sense that she was treading on thin ice.
“I do,” I sighed. She was right, but I couldn’t bring myself to get hurt again. My work never ghosted me, it never cheated on me. It was always there, just like Morton. “Look.” I pointed to the dock. The music had changed to something that I didn’t recognize, and number eighteen was doing a full-on striptease, using part of the dock as a stripper pole.
“Let me get on your shoulders,” Mel ordered as she pushed my shoulders down.
“What?” I felt ridiculous, but let her climb onto me. Luckily, she was built like a hockey stick, tall and straight up and down. I stood easily, even with her weight on my shoulders.
The striptease player screamed like a toddler and his exit from the water was far less flirtatious than his entry. He ran to the sauna, his hand cupped over his junk. “The dicksicle dunk takes another victim,” Mel shouted from my shoulders. “Ooh…” She patted the top of my hat with her gloves. “The Bailey brother is next.”
“Ladies and gentlemen, please put your hands together for the Bailey brothers, Gideon and Ace.”
“Ooh, the brother is almost as cute.”
A couple of the spectators around us glanced at Mel, who had apparently gone boy crazy. Her body swayed as I rose onto my toes to see if her assessment of the other Bailey brother was accurate. The two men were waving at the audience like they were the royal family and had just stepped onto the balcony at Buckingham Palace. Gideon’s teeth were so white the sun reflected off the perfect veneers.
The music was turned up for the grand finale. The Bailey brothers and the crowd lost its collective mind. Ace, the other brother, didn’t look anything like Gideon. Where Gideon was tall with dark features, Ace was leaner, smaller, and looked like he had just stepped out of the surf. His hair was a sandy blond, and cut into a classic hockey player flow. While Gideon mostly ignored the crowd, Ace walked behind his brother, and waved like Queen Elizabeth had, his hand slightly cupped as he barely moved it from side to side.
Instead of a perfect showman smile, his was a little lopsided. When the brothers reached the end of the pier, Gideon stepped out of his sweatpants. Ace paused and then tore off his trackpants, the old-school tear-away kind I hadn’t seen in years, like he was starring inMagic Mike. Beneath the pants Ace was sporting briefs, the tighty-whitey kind, only his had Simpson’s characters all over them.
The women in the audience had already gone feral, but when he twirled the pants above his head and tossed them into the audience, I genuinely worried that someone might get trampled. The flying tear-aways made a wedding bouquet toss look tame.
Mel screamed and raised her hands above her head. “Ace, I’ll take those undies.”
“All right.” I dropped to a crouch. “Get off.”
My best friend dismounted from my shoulders. “What?” Her grin was cheshire-like.
“What happened to you on the way over here? It’s like you’ve never seen a guy at the beach before.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen guys like that anywhere.” Her eyes were glued to the action. “Look, it’s freezing outside and both of them look—”
Her statement was interrupted by my elbow to her rib cage, but like a car accident, I couldn’t look away from the men. While the Bailey brothers didn’t seem to share much in the way of looks, they both appeared to be well-endowed in the bulge-in-the-boxers, or in Ace’s case, briefs, department. “Wow.” I clapped my hand over my mouth.
Mel draped her arm over my shoulder. “Let’s see if those monsters can withstand the dunk.”
Gideon turned and methodically descended the ladder into the lake. He was doing some obvious breath work, his rib cage expanding and contracting, and didn’t seem shocked at the sub-zero temperatures. “They do ice baths after practice, but I think this might be colder,” I said.
