How We Got Our New Pool Continued

I can't tell you one way or another whether Angelica actually had hair medically implanted in her ass, whether it grew that way naturally or whether it was some new style bathing suit--it looked real to me.  It looked like she had on a thong bikini bottom and dark stalks of hair running in lines across her butt cheeks.  And Larry was right, she really did have a "nice ass," hair notwithstanding.  It had a wonderful curve along each axis, x, y & z--it was "great ass"-cubed, you could say, gentle high curves and plunges--and so I did have an immediate erotic reaction to it I will admit.  But then trying to introduce the tufts of hair into my minds-eye construction of carnal pleasure required a new kind of math, like Newton sitting under the apple tree inventing calculus.  Maybe the sine of Larry's shark-cock-codpiece + the cosine x pi of Angelica's hairy ass...I was still trying to figure it all out and must've been staring.

"Damn man," Larry slapping my back anew, "don't stare too hard.  Let's get you a beer, your tongue seems a little parched."

Alice passed walking away from me, Larry and Angelica, and on to the other side of the pool.  I think I heard her say something that sounded like "dick" as she went by which was, I knew, meant to be just barely heard.  She liked to insult me but also to leave a little mystery to the whole matter of her mood knowing that, in me, that was bound to cause the most anxiety.  So I knew I was a little out to sea as it were, and on my own.  Alice sat on another chaise and picked up a magazine from a side table.

"What's with all the cars in the driveway?"  I crossed to Larry's poolside cooler where he popped the cap off a Corona with his teeth (I know, why?  But by now though can't you see nothing with Larry would ever be easy?), pulled a perfectly wedged piece of lime from the ice and squeezed it into my drink.  I took a swig and realized that what I presumed to be the cologne from Larry's hand had somehow infused the lime giving my beer a faint flowery-spice odor that was altogether at odds with my expectations, gagging me slightly.  I looked over to Alice angrily reading US Weekly.

"Like a beer honey?" I called over.  No reaction.

"Parking's a bitch weekends like this.  I do a favor for some friends, give them a spot where they can walk to the shops without paying twenty bucks to the Arab cock-suckers in town.  Angelica, get my sweatpants would you?"

"Get them yourself.  I'm too hot."

In one motion Larry ripped the shark from his crotch, which peeled away with a rip of Velcro, and side-armed it at Angelica's chaise.  It made a whistling noise as it pinwheeled through the air and smacked with a wet slapping sound against her back over her kidneys and just above the line of hair on her right ass-cheek.

"Go in the fucking bedroom and get my fucking pants!"  He's was yelling now and there was a menacing edge to it.  I'm not sure if it's an act or the real thing.  "Do this one fucking thing for me, will you?  You've been laying on your ass all day."

"Fuck!" Angelica yelled but got up anyway with a toss of hair, both top and bottom, and crossed to the sliding door, pulling open the screen and disappearing into the low-light of the house.

"Larry, you have anything else besides beer?"  Alice was using a slightly seductive voice to annoy me now, but indicative for Larry of a certain buy-in to the whole scene.  It was just a put-on, of course, but for him it was blood in the water.

"Well there's wine," I cut in but Larry was on the move.

"I have Bacardi coolers too, here in the bucket."  He moved past the ice chest to the grill again which was beginning to smoke excessively.  It occurred to me to look then at what was left after the removal of the shark's head and I was relieved to see an ordinary Speedo.  The fact that I now found Larry's Speedo 'ordinary' was somewhat disturbing but even more so was the outline of Larry's penis which seemed to be reacting to Alice's come-hither tone.  Like a compass pin, no matter where he moved on the patio he seemed to keep it in constant 'point' towards Alice's star.  "There's also sangria in the fridge.  Why don't you run inside and see if you can track down a drink for your bride."

Smiling now, fucking with me to be sure.  His teeth shone white in the sun.  I could taste his cologne in my mouth.

"How 'bout a daquiri?"  Alice was stepping in, self-interested, not wanting to be left on the patio alone with Larry.

"I'll have to get the blender out."  Poor Larry was deflated by this complication.  Angelica appeared at the door.  She had put on a sheer green and yellow shift, which draped on her shoulders, and shorts underneath covering the ass-hair.  As Larry passed her through the door, presumably to get the blender, she handed him his pants.

"Watch the grill would you?" Larry said to no one in particular, clearly a little irritated.

Angelica stepped barefoot to the patio and stood next to me.  She took hold of the neck of my beer bottle and looked at me and then the bottle with a seductive smile then wrapped her lips around it and upturned the bottle in her mouth.

"Ugh.  This tastes like shit." She handed me back the now half-empty beer and nodded in the direction of the open screen door.  "He's pissed at his neighbor.  Something about the Armenian holocaust, I don't know.  So what do you do?"

"He's a graphic artist--self-employed."  Alice appeared behind us also now taking hold of my beer and drinking.  "This does taste like shit.  What is that Drakkar Noir?"

"Imagine sucking his cock.  Sometimes I want to puke."  They both laughed.

Larry appeared at the door a bit cheered up.  "I found the blender Alice.  How about strawberry?!"