Shoelaces

She said she wanted someone’s shoelaces and everyone laughed. It was hot by the pool and everyone was drunk.

She sat on the lounger with a black bikini on. There wasn’t much material in that bikini. The thin black bands lisped around her hips and disappeared between her thighs, and every one of them was catching a sly look.

She said she really needed someone’s shoelaces. She looked at me and came over and stood right in front of me. I was sitting on a sun-lounger.

“How the hell can I tie him up without shoelaces?” she said.

The boys laughed like they couldn’t believe this and I sat there cool, smiling, but inside I felt like a king.

She turned around to them. Her long body was tanned and slim. She had strong full hips and slender athletic legs. Her hair was dark from the water, but drying back to its lighter blonde. Every one of them was looking at her.

“I want to go upstairs,” she said. Then she said something else and looked at me, and none of the boys could believe what she had said.

“That’s what I want to do ... and I really want to do it, so please, somebody, give me some fucking shoelaces.”

She said it softly like an innocent girl ... like a damsel in distress … like butter wouldn’t melt.

I sat there smiling and she was smiling and the boys sat there with these amazed “lucky bastard” looks on their faces. Then Joe started unlacing his Nikes.

“Oh, thank you, Joe,” she said, and she kissed him on the cheek. Then she took my hand and led me up to her room.

Later the boys said it was like she was the most innocent girl you could meet. I laughed at that the next day. We were having beers.

“Let me tell you,” I said.