Page 17 of The Sky in Summer
“Oh girl, you’re going down.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, we both stop with the playing. Then we burst out laughing. Cause we are drunk as fuck.
“You said going down!” I giggle.
“Let me rephrase that last statement. You are going to lose.”
He comes over to my side of the table. Taking my hand, he leads me onto the small strip of lawn.
“Remember the kindergarten Olympics Mrs. Rogers set up for us?”
“Vaguely.”
“Okay. This is what we did. An obstacle course, a pretend swimming contest where we practiced our strokes, and to wrap it all up was the wheelbarrow race. We could do it right here, under the summer’s night sky.”
It all comes back to me now. The idea of participating again is hysterical.
“Practiced our strokes!” I laugh at his words, and he joins me. Shit, I am drunk and getting stupid. I don’t care.
“Didn’t we win the wheelbarrow race?”
“Yep. That’s the one we’d have to figure out. We aren’t racing against anyone, but we could time ourselves and switch places. See who is the better crawler and who is the better racer.”
“I don’t see how it’s going to work, but we’ll figure it out. I can get some of the boys’ old toys and things for the obstacle course.”
“That sounds good. You’re right. We can do it here on the grass.”
I contemplate saying ‘do it here’ but reject it immediately. Then a thought occurs.
“Orrrrr, there’s the community rec center, and a pool for a real swimming contest. We could do all the events there. If you’re game that is. But maybe you’re afraid of Miss Peaches and her abilities. They are impressive.”
“Oh, I’m definitely afraid of what you can do to me. You seem to have some weird power over my normal good sense. Like a virus invading my brain.”
“I’m glad you recognize when you are beat.”
He takes my arm and wraps it behind my back, holding it against my waist. While he faces me. Jesus. His Vienna sausage is pressing against my sweet taco.
“Beat you say? I think not, Miss Peaches.”
I unravel myself from his hold and he doesn’t fight it. His point was made though. And the fact I liked it won’t be forgotten. The fantasies I will dream about in future masturbatory stories will be made of that moment when he showed his strength and held me captive. I do not hate it at all.
“I’m not able to drive right now and neither are you. But we can walk.”
I leave no room for disagreement. I may be drunk, but I’m not brain dead.
“Good idea, what do we need to take with us? Towels?”
“Let me think. Towels. You don’t have trunks, so we can go in the pool like this.”
He thinks for a moment then adds his take.
“Then what would I wear when we get back? Wouldn’t it be better if you loan me one of the boys’ trunks, and you get in your suit? Is there a dressing room there? Can we change back before heading for home?”
“Yeah, that could work. Just don’t get any funny ideas that I am going to change my mind about getting frisky with you just because I see you half naked.”
“Frisky? My grandfather used to say that.”
Both of us start laughing at the thought.
