In addition to the massage, which had been fabulously relaxing and had indeed soothed her sore muscles, she’d gotten a facial and taken a mud bath. But after that, she’d felt a bit . . . bored, and remained out of sorts, all because of her newly acknowledged emotions for Brent. She suffered the insane urges of an in-love teenager—wanting to track him down, persuade him to spend time with her; time was so short, after all. And she’d resisted, of course, but she knew she needed to get her head straight about everything happening to her here.

Irritated with herself, she soon decided it would be wise to spend the evening much as she had her last evening alone. Rather than moping in her suite over her too-deep feelings for her guide, she pulled herself together and chose to continue soaking up the experience of being here as much as possible—even if in a more chaste way than usual. She put on a beaded tank and flowy skirt and went to dinner at the Paradise Grill.

She was slightly surprised to find the same calypso band playing, and she suffered mixed emotions. She’d loved their music, and she’d enjoyed the dance with her Blair Underwood look-alike, but she also felt a little embarrassed to see him again. Because she was unsure if any sexual vibes had passed between them—truthfully, she wasn’t used to recognizing such things if they weren’t as obvious as they’d been with Brent—and if something sexual had been there, would he think she’d come back because of him? And that brought up a familiar question: What did he think about the women who came here for sex? She was technically one of them now, no denying that. So did her handsome calypso singer think that made her a sex maniac, a slut, or maybe even worse—some lonely woman who couldn’t get it anywhere else?

Yet when his eyes met hers across the deck as he sang, she quit asking herself those questions. He simply gave off an air of utter . . . respect. And just now, in these strange surroundings, in the body of this strange version of Jenna Banks, she appreciated that—deeply. So when he smiled her way and offered a wink, she demurely smiled back and decided to enjoy this man’s simple, reverent attention. Maybe it was exactly what she needed to distract her from being so wrapped up in Brent.

Despite that, when the band eased into some soft reggae—“Is This Love,” a Bob Marley song she knew only because Shannon had gone through a Rasta phase in college—she couldn’t have been more surprised when the singer strolled slowly between the tables until he was crooning directly to her, the lyrics informing her he wanted to love her and treat her right. Her whole body went warm—partially with embarrassment, but the heat reached between her legs, too. When he lifted her hand for a kiss, her skin prickled, and the sensation skittered all the way down her arm and into her breasts. Oh my.

It was a relief when he moved on—even though she knew she had nothing to be self-conscious about. Sometimes it was hard to remember that everyone here had come for sex and was doing it with strangers—so having a handsome black man sing a romantic song to her was hardly a big deal.

Except that . . . well, this just shored up her fears. That she could be free and wild with Brent, but inside she remained the same old Jenna who shied away from sexual situations until she was deeply involved in a relationship. And now, after a few days and nights with Brent, she knew something else, too—what she’d thought was good sex for her entire adult life had actually been . . . pretty average. Even if, looking back, she could remember particular moments of glory, none held a candle to the level of pleasure she’d experienced here, with Brent Powers.

The band went on break when her food arrived, which bummed her out a little—her distraction was gone. Yet she’d already resumed being a little depressed, so she decided she’d just eat her chicken sandwich, then mope back to her room. Maybe she’d just be old Jenna tonight. Not that her old self moped—she never had, actually, because before coming here she’d truly been convinced she was happy with her sex life. But the old Jenna was content to spend an evening with a good book, and maybe that was the thing to do here. Quit pushing herself to stay “up” for every second of this. It was okay not to be immersed in sensuality every minute. In fact, it was probably smart. Soon life would go back to normal—so perhaps it was prudent to keep some aspects of it normal even while she was here, so the transition wouldn’t feel so shocking.

She’d just lifted her wineglass for a final sip when she looked up to see her sexy Jamaican heading her way. Oh boy. Her heart beat too fast, but she met his gaze and tried not to be nervous. She wished she felt as brave with him as when they’d danced together, but it seemed her most recent emotions with Brent colored her reactions to this man, too.

“I’m happy to see you back this evening, pretty lady,” he told her, his expressive brown eyes saying more. Sensing his honest admiration helped her relax a little.

Still, she tried to play it cool—since, in fact, she hadn’t returned because of him. “I enjoy your music,” she said, then gazed out over the setting sun and the blaze of colors it sent streaking across the sky. “And you can’t beat the view.”

When she looked back up, his eyes remained firmly planted on her. “The view is pleasant for me, too.”

Oh boy. His smooth-as-silk voice made her chest spasm lightly.

Just then, he glanced over his shoulder to where the other band members were reconvening on the deck’s small corner stage. “Ah, I waited too late to say hello—I must go, but you have a lovely night.”

“Well . . . thank you. For coming over,” she said, stuck for how to reply.

“The next song is for you,” he told her in parting, and she thought, Wow—okay, yes, there are officially sexual vibes passing between us. Which felt a little weird. She’d never been attracted to a man anything like this one before. He was a musician. He was Jamaican. She suspected she understood even less about his world than she did about Brent’s.

When the steel drums began again, she recognized the song—the reggae version of Peter Frampton’s “Baby, I Love Your Way.” Her calypso singer’s voice delivered the sensual lyrics with a sexy lilt she felt in her panties, especially when their eyes met.

Jenna remained at her table for a while longer, enjoying the music and the night, and all in all, by the time she departed, she felt better—about everything. So she was madly in love with Brent—big deal.

Well, all right, yes, it was a big deal. Because whether it was love or just infatuation, it could still totally consume her. But she had to be practical here. She’d known Brent a week—which meant that when she went home, she’d get over him. That simple. And maybe her fears about being able to get wild only with him were wrong—maybe she’d find out she could be sexually open with other men, too. After all, she was suddenly attracted to a Jamaican singer; so maybe she’d soon discover she was attracted to all sorts of new guys, and maybe they’d be guys who would inspire true sexual freedom in her and who would appreciate and understand if she shared with them the things she’d done here. Maybe, maybe, maybe. It was all uncertain—but for now it was . . . hope. Hope that she’d leave here with more than wild memories and a broken heart.

So that was it. While she was at the Hotel Erotique, she’d indulge in whatever Brent wanted—she’d give him all of herself. And when it was over, she’d be sad—but ready to move on with men, and sex, and life itself.

Despite the thoughtful invitation, Jenna couldn’t help being disappointed. Having quickly gotten used to a steady diet of kinky fantasies, she was ready for the next one and didn’t want any more recovery time. She wanted to see her man, wanted to see what he’d planned next for her.

But at least the letter meant he was thinking about her, too. Which, despite the differences between them, made her heart flutter in her chest. So if he’d been considerate enough to plan a relaxing afternoon for her, she’d certainly show up for it.

And if it was as lush and beautiful as he said, maybe it would be just the thing to take her mind off her emotions. After all, hadn’t she come here to bask in the sun? Even if she’d ended up getting much more in the bargain, once she managed to clear her mind of sex and Brent for a moment, the Grotto actually sounded like a lovely place.

Of course, she was aching for him by the time she picked up the carafe of erotic rum punch he’d suggested. It was hard to believe how fast she’d grown accustomed to naughty sex.

But she would drink her punch and luxuriate by the Grotto, and . . . maybe be bold enough to go topless and surprise them both. Well, if the other women he’d mentioned weren’t around, of course. She would love telling Brent later that she had, just to see the look on his face.

A day had passed since he’d seen Jenna, but he was still reliving their most recent night together. The truth was—her dungeon fantasy had gotten out of hand. He’d gotten too caught up in the role, in the power struggle, and taken things too far. As a facilitator, he’d never lost control of a situation before, ever—so he wasn’t sure how to explain it to himself. But she’d handled it like a trouper—she’d turned out to be so much stronger than probably either of them could have guessed. There was a lot more to Jenna Banks than he’d expected.

As for taking her back to his house . . . that part of the night also left him shaking his head. What the fuck had that been about? He concluded that he’d just been brain-dead after the dungeon scene. He’d followed urges without thinking. He’d simply . . . wanted to keep being close to her, not ready for the night to end.

Which was stupid, stupid, stupid. And he was getting stupider with her all the time.

He couldn’t help wondering what the other facilitators had thought when there had obviously been more going on between the two of them than a normal dungeon fantasy. Would he lose their respect? Would everyone suddenly think it was okay to get involved with a guest?

So he was creating problems with her here, multiple ones. Damn it.

Of course, he kept telling himself he was getting too close, feeling too much, but did he manage to get it under control? Not very well.

Yet he’d decided there was only one way to look at this. She had another week of fantasies, so during that time, he’d try to make the relationship less personal. And if he kept fucking up—well, it was only a week. And then she’d be gone and things would get back to normal.

God, why had Mariel had to be called away now?

But then he drew in his breath at the thought. If Mariel’s father hadn’t suffered that heart attack, Brent wouldn’t know Jenna—she’d be just another girl by the pool. She’d have convinced Mariel she didn’t want any fantasies, so he wouldn’t even have encountered her as a facilitator. She wouldn’t be growing, freeing herself, replacing those old, unhealthy perceptions of sex with new, better ones.

And as for him—well, for him the effects of her stay wouldn’t be nearly as profound, but if things hadn’t happened this way, he would have missed out on knowing someone whose company he enjoyed very much, and on a woman who, it turned out, excited the hell out of him. And after fifteen years here, that was saying a lot.

In fact, he was excited right now, his dick making a tent in his cargo shorts. Because it was time for Jenna’s next fantasy—only she didn’t know it.

Unlike her previous fantasies, however, he was simply here to privately observe and see how she reacted—not to take part. And though the opportunity for this fantasy had come up only yesterday, he thought the timing was good. This was a great point for him to step back, to let her spread her sexual wings without him there to push her.

Just then, a striking blonde in a pink bikini entered the Grotto area—and he could see immediately that she was just as beautiful as her pictures, and sexy as hell. He hoped Jenna would feel the same way.

He knew from Roxanne—the only female guide on the premises this week, who’d been too overbooked to take Jenna—that Chrissy was a twenty-eight-year-old lawyer on a fast track to the DA’s chair who, despite being straight, had long fantasized about being with other girls. But her social circle didn’t offer the opportunity, nor did she feel she could risk her professional reputation at home where so many people knew her.

She’d come here strictly for girl play, and so far had done very well in her first two fantasies. In one, Kirsten had guided her through some soft experimentation on the beach; then yesterday she’d lived out a courtroom fantasy, being seduced by two powerful women, the opposing counsel on a pretend case she’d just won, getting it on atop the judge’s bench in the resort’s on-site courtroom.

Now it was Chrissy’s turn to seduce. She knew only that she was supposed to be at the Grotto in her bikini, that at least one of the other parties didn’t know a fantasy was taking place, and that this was her chance to try her hand at tempting another woman into sex. Also on hand a little later would be Natasha, a facilitator who would keep things on track for both guests if required and also partake if it worked out that way.

As for Jenna’s progress, there was no more discipline needed. She’d learned to give and to take when commanded, allowing Brent to acclimate her to wilder sex than she’d ever had, and teaching her to accept and follow her body’s desires.

Of course, inducing her to obey him, while being a necessary evil that he’d personally enjoyed, had also reinforced her tendencies to please people, particularly him. So this fantasy—other than the added benefit of getting him out of the picture—was about encouraging her to be bolder, on her own. To respond to pleasure with ease. To choose to give it in return.

If she indeed followed her impulses, he’d know his tutoring was succeeding. After which he could advance her further, giving her new types of fantasies based more on her personal tastes—even if the actual content of the fantasies would be designed to continue expanding her limits.

And if more discipline came into play later, so be it. At least one of Jenna’s future fantasies contained such elements because he’d been unsure where they’d stand at this point and he’d, frankly, underestimated how malleable she’d be. But for today, that didn’t matter. Today was all about hoping Little Mary Sunshine was ready for a full-blown lesbian encounter. Hell. His cock was as hard as the rock walls of the Grotto, stiffening almost painfully when he envisioned what he hoped was about to happen here. Ah well—that was apparently how things would be for him until Jenna’s stay was over. He was going to enjoy monitoring this fantasy far too much.

It was after Chrissy spread her towel at the edge of the pool, sitting down to dangle her feet in the water, that Jenna arrived. And Brent’s heart nearly stopped. Damn—hot bikini, babe. He wished he could tell her. She looked fucking amazing. Not that the sight of her in a leopard-print bikini should get him that worked up, considering every other way he’d seen her. But there it was—Jenna just plain turned him on now.

As she lowered her carafe of punch onto the grass, then laid out her towel on a chair, all of Brent’s senses heightened. It wasn’t, by far, the first fantasy he’d monitored—guides sometimes watched fantasies to make sure everything went as planned—but it was probably the first fantasy he’d ever monitored with such intense, prurient interest. He was doing his job, but at the same time he was just another horny guy hoping to see some girl-on-girl action from the woman who’d been driving him to distraction the last few days.

Only one other woman had arrived and, when Jenna approached, she turned to look up from her spot by the pool. “Hi,” she said, flashing bright eyes and a friendly smile. She was extremely pretty, with long, blond, model-worthy hair.

“Hi,” Jenna said, then looked around a bit more—toward the small waterfall Brent had mentioned, tumbling from a small rocky cliff built into the verdant landscape. The pool itself wasn’t any larger than you’d find in the average backyard, but that somehow made it feel all the more like a secret utopia. Bright pink bougainvillea and other tropical flowers flourished near the waterfall and all around the area’s perimeter, and though a few palm trees dotted the soft grass, the space was sunny and bright. “This place is beautiful,” she heard herself murmur.

“I know,” the other girl said, appearing just as in awe. “I’ve been sitting here taking it all in. I’m Chrissy, by the way.” She gave her head a pretty tilt, leaving Jenna struck by how naturally vivacious she was.

“Jenna,” she introduced herself, lowering herself to the edge of her lounge chair, then bending to pour some rum punch into a plastic cup.

“Yum,” Chrissy said with a smile. “Lucky you. I just brought some water.”

Given that she hardly needed to drink a whole carafe, Jenna said, “Want some? I even have an extra cup.” The bartender at the main pool had given her two, in case one blew away in the breeze.

“If you’re sure you don’t mind. It looks delish.”

Jenna widened her eyes as she filled the other cup. “You haven’t had any erotic rum punch yet? It’s great—I can’t seem to stop drinking it and will probably be five pounds heavier by the time I get home.”

Chrissy gave her a quick perusal and said, “With pretty curves like yours, five pounds won’t hurt—you’ll still look totally hot.”

“Thanks,” Jenna said softly, flattered but—even after her experiences here—not used to having girls compliment her body in a sexual way. When she stood to pass Chrissy’s cup down to her, that’s when she noticed the other girl’s tattoo—a white and yellow daisy in the small of her back, just above her small pink bikini bottoms. She’d never seen a tattoo look at once so innocent yet sexy, and she thought it suited Chrissy well. “Nice tattoo,” she said. Though she’d never felt much one way or the other about them, this one appealed to her.

Chrissy smiled over her shoulder. “Thanks. A gift I bought myself for passing the bar.”

“You’re a lawyer?” She didn’t look like a lawyer. She looked like a swimsuit model.

Chrissy nodded easily. “Don’t let the friendly exterior fool you—I’m a tiger in the courtroom.”

“I’m impressed,” Jenna said, leaning back in her chair, and—mmm, the sun felt incredible on her skin. There was something special about the privacy here—even in the presence of someone she’d just met, she felt completely at ease. She stretched out, even lifting her arms up over her head.

And when she glanced back to Chrissy, she almost got the impression her new friend was taking in her body—again. “Oh, come on—I’m sure you do something equally impressive and fabulous.” Then she added, with a laugh, “You’d have to, to afford this place.”

“Actually,” Jenna informed her, “I won the trip in a contest.”

“Wow—lucky girl.”

“As for being impressive and fabulous, you’ll have to be the judge. I write historical biographies for a living.”

Chrissy gave her head a speculative tilt. “So you’re an author?” she asked to clarify.

Jenna nodded. “But don’t let the occupation fool you. I’m doing well, but I’m not living in a mansion or driving a Mercedes just yet.”

Chrissy shrugged. “Still sounds pretty fabulous.” Then she kicked up her feet, splashing lightly in the water, and leaned her head back. “Mmm, this is so nice.”

“Is the water warm?”

“Just right,” Chrissy assured her. Then she patted the grassy spot next to her towel. “You should join me.”

Okay, so this wasn’t going to be a quiet or introspective sort of afternoon. Jenna hadn’t really planned on chatting, but she liked Chrissy and decided it could be nice to just . . . hang out with another girl for a while. In fact, it might be enlightening to get to know another guest—she’d hardly spoken to anyone here besides employees. The guests tended to keep to themselves or the people they’d come with, and she’d actually been very glad to discover it worked that way—but given her curiosity about the sort of person who paid to come here, and that Chrissy wasn’t what she might have expected, maybe this would be interesting.

So Jenna moved her towel, smoothing it out next to Chrissy’s.

And as she sat down beside her, Chrissy said, “I just have to tell you—that’s a rockin’ bikini. Your tits look amazing in it.”

Jenna tried to ignore the blush warming her cheeks and hoped Chrissy wouldn’t see it. Maybe it made sense that girls who paid to come to the Hotel Erotique were more comfortable talking openly about bodies than she usually was—so she would try to go with the flow. “Well, thanks. I was actually admiring yours, too.” She punctuated the remark by dipping her feet in the water—the perfect temperature, as promised.

“My bikini or my tits?” Chrissy asked on a laugh.

Jenna caught her breath, but still tried to act as cool as she wanted to be. “Well, I meant your bikini, but your tits look pretty awesome, too.” She hadn’t really seen them before, but her new vantage point revealed that Chrissy possessed enviably perfect breasts—large, round, and so firm Jenna wondered if they were real. Real or not, though, they looked worthy of any men’s magazine.

In response, Chrissy gave her chest a little shimmy, making her boobs jiggle provocatively. “Glad you like ’em,” she said with another attractive smile. And for some reason, the move made Jenna aware of her own breasts, held snug in her Lycra top, and a surreptitious glance down revealed that her nipples were erect. Then again, they were usually erect these days, just as Brent had noticed earlier this week—the effect of him plus kinky sex.

“Oh, damn,” Chrissy said, snapping her fingers. “I forgot to put on sunscreen.” With that, she leaned back to reach for her beach bag, at the foot of another lounge chair just out of arm’s reach. She ended up lying nearly all the way over on her side, stretching one shapely leg across Jenna’s thighs. Jenna bit her lip uncertainly until Chrissy returned to the usual upright position, giggling. “Sorry—it was farther away than I realized.”

For some reason, Jenna made a point of not watching Chrissy apply her sunscreen, but as the scent of coconut met her nose, she couldn’t help observing from her peripheral vision: Chrissy smoothed it sensually over her arms, then her chest, including the round curves of her breasts. After doing her stomach, she rubbed more lotion across her thighs, massaging it in slowly and parting her legs to get the inner areas as well. Then she held the tube of lotion out to Jenna. “Do my back?”

If this were Shannon, it would be nothing—they’d been doing each other’s backs since high school—but with Chrissy, it felt different. As Chrissy faced away and lifted her long hair, Jenna wondered how it would feel to rub the lotion into Chrissy’s tan back as sensually as Chrissy had in front. So, with tiny butterflies fluttering through her stomach, she worked the fragrant sunscreen slowly and thoroughly into Chrissy’s skin—although she hoped it wouldn’t seem like she was . . . into her. “All done,” Jenna said, snapping the cap shut and setting the tube down between them.

Okay, so she found Chrissy attractive. She’d learned in her time here that this was all right, that it didn’t make her weird or anything. But as she’d applied the sunscreen, she’d also realized that she didn’t feel compelled to . . . go further, to fool around with her. It was liberating not to be freaked out by her light sexual response to Chrissy—yet overall, she just didn’t think she was that into girls. It had somehow been different when Brent was there—being with another girl, or more than one, had been so pleasurable because he’d wanted her to do it and it had clearly excited him.

“You didn’t put any on, either, did you?” Chrissy asked.

Jenna remained distracted by her thoughts. “Huh?”

“Your shoulders are turning pink. You need sunscreen, too.”

“Oh—thanks.” Geez, clearly she was too distracted if helping Chrissy lotion up hadn’t alerted her to do the same. She was usually smarter than that. “I keep forgetting the sun here is so much stronger than at home.”

“You have to stay on top of it or you’ll burn. And I bet that could really put a damper on a naughty fantasy. Here, I’ll put some on you,” Chrissy said, grabbing the tube.

Jenna offered her back, holding up her hair as well, as she said, “Good point.” She’d hate to miss her next long-awaited fantasy with Brent.

She waited patiently as Chrissy applied the lotion—with just as much slow sensuality as when she’d put it on her own skin. Jenna bit her lip, absorbing the smooth, deep massage of Chrissy’s fingers, and—mmm—despite herself, it definitely felt different than when Shannon did it.

Just enjoy it, she advised herself, remembering Serena’s words from the dungeon and knowing Brent would tell her the same. Taking some pleasure in the sensation still didn’t mean she was into the girl thing.

So as Chrissy’s touch vibrated through her, Jenna let out a silent sigh, arching her back slightly. She became aware when Chrissy slid her fingers up under the lower strap of her top, and also when her new friend’s touch glided downward, directly against the edge of her bikini bottoms.

“Hold your hair up higher so I can do your shoulders,” Chrissy instructed, and as Jenna did so, she sensed Chrissy shifting behind her, turning more directly toward her back.

She rubbed Jenna’s shoulders just as sensuously, her fingertips curling over Jenna’s collarbone—and Jenna began to feel it in her breasts.

That was when Chrissy rose up onto her knees and extended her massaging motions down onto Jenna’s chest. “You don’t want to burn here, either,” she said as if the move were perfectly natural, and Jenna bit her lip, pulled in her breath. Until finally Chrissy’s fingers—sporting a French manicure—stretched directly down onto the bared inner curves of Jenna’s tits.

She sucked in her breath as Chrissy worked the warm lotion into her soft flesh. Oh. My. It felt good. On her breasts. And in her bikini bottoms. She could barely reply to Chrissy’s last comment, finally murmuring, “No . . . I don’t.” The words came out whispery, and her pussy tingled, yet she still remained unsure if she was into this. The physical response was certainly there and it would be easy to let herself enjoy some simple pleasure in such a sexy setting, but . . . something held her back.

Maybe because it felt simple right now, but she knew once things got started, it would be more complicated. There would be expectations, reciprocations. Things she wasn’t sure she’d enjoy as much as these soft, easy touches.

Just then, another woman entered the area, and when Jenna turned to look, Chrissy automatically pulled her hands away. Jenna’s heart skittered, as if they’d been caught at something.

But the new girl on the scene seemed completely unconcerned with them and looked almost frighteningly confident. The shapely, mocha-skinned woman wore a bright orange tropical-print bikini, cut very narrow and possessing much less fabric than either of theirs. She appeared to be bi-racial, and she was beautiful in a severe, almost intimidating way. Taking the lounge chair on the far side of the pool, she said in a slightly husky voice, “Hi, I’m Natasha. Do you mind if I take my top off?”

And as Jenna tried not to choke on her own saliva, Chrissy calmly replied, “No, of course not. This is the Hotel Erotique, after all.”

“Thanks,” Natasha said just as casually, reaching for the tie behind her neck.

And it was at that exact moment that Jenna saw something—oh God, it was Brent—in the bushes! Just his eyes, actually, beneath the brim of a baseball cap, but it was undoubtedly her sexy—and devious—guide!

She drew in her breath, her gaze locking on his. That sneak! This wasn’t a casual afternoon at the Grotto, after all—it was another fantasy! Just one she wasn’t privy to.

How dare he—not telling her! She flashed an irritated, scolding look in his direction.

But, upon moving slightly more into view, he only flicked his glance playfully back and forth between her and Chrissy a few times, then raised his eyebrows and mouthed the word, Hot—which left her more amused than angry, despite herself.

And then more . . . aroused. Because she could instantly see that he wasn’t just teasing about it being hot. His gaze darkened on her and all playfulness faded as she understood he wanted this to happen: her and Chrissy.

Natasha was still busy shedding her top, and Chrissy was saying, “Wow, those are magnificent,” which drew Jenna’s attention briefly from Brent to take in the dark-skinned girl’s enormous boobs, which were, she had to admit, pretty magnificent. But then she turned her gaze back to the man in the foliage, still unnoticed by the other two girls, who were now discussing the merits of Natasha’s breasts.

She cast him another reproachful look, narrowing her eyes, and in reply, he simply grinned, shrugged, and spread his hands as if to say, What’s the big deal?

She crossed her arms. You know what the big deal is.

His smile grew more lascivious again, and she read his silent challenge.

Especially when he darted his glance back to Chrissy—then gave Jenna a sexy wink just before sinking back into hiding.

She remained miffed—a little, anyway.

But she couldn’t deny that now she was mostly . . . turned on. By Brent’s very presence. And what he wanted her to do. And the knowledge that he was watching, waiting. Her pussy quivered anew.

“I’d love to see your tits, hon,” Natasha was saying to Chrissy when Jenna tuned back in to the conversation. She nearly bit her tongue at the turn it had taken, but tried to calm down and get hold of herself. Because she could feel Brent’s gaze. Nudging her. Prodding. It made her want to be sexy, made her feel sexier already.

Chrissy turned to Jenna with a friendly smile, then replied to Natasha, “Hell—why not?” Then she put her back toward Jenna. “Will you unhook me?”

And it suddenly seemed so much easier now.

To reach up and undo the bottom of Chrissy’s bikini top.

To know where things were starting to go here.

Feeling how much Brent was enjoying this, she looked again in his direction as she said, “Here, I’ll get the top tie, too,” and gave the string at Chrissy’s neck a long, slow pull.

Jenna watched as Chrissy tossed her pink top aside in the grass, then turned back toward the Grotto. She bit her lip as she peeked down at her friend’s tits, her cunt pulsing.

“Girl, those are fantastic,” Natasha said, her voice downright lust-filled.

But for some reason, it surprised Jenna when Chrissy turned to her and asked, “Are they all you hoped?”

Firm with hard pink nipples circled by wide areolas, they were . . . pretty damn stunning, no doubt about it. The triangular tan lines somehow heightened their appeal, perhaps reminding Jenna that she was seeing something usually kept covered. “And more,” she admitted.

Chrissy cast a sensual grin. “Now you have to show us yours, too—it’s only fair.”

So it was. And truly, everything inside Jenna had changed now. Doubt had been replaced by daring, and she was completely into the game. Giving her lower lip a provocative bite and reaching behind her neck for the thick tie, she was taken aback to realize she actually enjoyed the sexy drama of revealing herself—she felt it in her clit as the top loosened and her excitement only grew as she pulled away the leopard-print fabric, even going so far as to lightly jiggle her boobs once they were freed.

“Mmm, nice,” Chrissy said, biting her own lip as she studied them. “And we definitely don’t want those to burn.” She reached again for her sunscreen. “Can I? Pretty please?”

Jenna’s pussy spasmed. A tiny part of her still remained nervous, but mostly, she was ready—ready to please Brent. So in reply, she simply sat up straighter, turned her body toward Chrissy, and once again reached to hold back her hair.

A naughty smile lit Chrissy’s pretty face as she flipped open the cap, squeezed some lotion into her hand, then leaned in to oh so sensually rub the sunscreen into Jenna’s breasts, massaging while running her fingers over and around Jenna’s erect nipples, and leaving Jenna’s pussy soaking wet. It felt, once again, as if she’d stepped into a porn movie—as if she were living someone else’s wild life.

“Do mine, too,” Chrissy said, passing the tube—and Jenna felt empowered now. So she didn’t hesitate to fill her palm with coconut-scented lotion, then transfer some to her other hand. After which she lifted both palms to Chrissy’s breasts.

Oh. God. So soft. Feminine. Strange but exciting, especially when Chrissy arched her tits into Jenna’s grasp and moaned. She couldn’t believe this was her, doing this—and yet she enjoyed every second of the sunscreen application, fueled by knowing Brent was probably going crazy with lust behind the tall bougainvillea across the pool.

When finally all the sunscreen had been massaged into her sexy new friend’s bare tits, Chrissy cast a lascivious smile and said, “Come into the water with me.” She took Jenna’s hand and Jenna followed, rising to her feet, letting herself be led.

Perhaps oddly, her descent down stone steps into the sun-drenched pool made her think of baptism, but of an entirely different kind than you’d receive in a church. One more renewal here, one more new awakening that, in many ways, felt like a true rebirth.

Once both girls were in the pool, the water rising to just below chest level, Chrissy smoothly slid her arms around Jenna’s waist and began to kiss her. Jenna returned the kisses, surprised but still emboldened, no longer afraid of new—even if alternative—sexual experiences. She continued to feel Brent’s arousal somehow radiating from his hiding place as she sank cautiously but surely into the oddly pleasurable sensation of kissing another girl. As Chrissy shifted slightly, moving close enough to rub their tits together as they kissed, blood rushed to Jenna’s cunt, everything around her feeling soft and sensual. Natasha watched from her lounge chair, but Jenna barely thought of her—she thought only of her body, her actions, and her guide: her master, the man who had transformed her and was, it appeared, transforming her still, using only his eyes now.

When Chrissy bent to tenderly kiss the sensitive tip of Jenna’s breast, it shot through her like electricity, but—still practical, always—Jenna said, “What about the sunscreen?” Chrissy had definitely applied it well—right where she was kissing.

Yet her sensuous friend only smiled, softly murmuring, “Edible. Got it in the gift shop.” Then she proceeded to lick and kiss Jenna’s tits some more.

“Mmm,” Jenna moaned, not even trying to hold it in. Brent wanted her to experience pleasure here, so she now would luxuriate in it. It vibrated through her in slow, hot pulses that made her cunt feel like a deeply beating heart between her legs. Chrissy fondled Jenna’s breasts while she laved and sucked them, and Jenna’s eyes soon fell shut as the sexy sensation consumed her. Oh God, it felt just as good as when a guy did it, only . . . softer, sweeter somehow. She leaned her head back as she grazed her fingernails lightly over Chrissy’s shoulders, suffering the urge to make her feel good, too.

So when Chrissy finally lifted her head, licking her upper lip as she gave Jenna another seductive grin, Jenna didn’t think twice before following her next inclination. She returned the favor, dipping to gently rake her tongue across Chrissy’s left nipple.

Mmm, God—it was so taut against her lick. She instantly had to do it again—and again. Then she caught the pink bead in her mouth, gently sucking even as she swirled her tongue around it.

She heard Chrissy’s light gasp of delight and relished it. She could pleasure a girl. A hot, gorgeous one. She had the power. Yes.

She suckled Chrissy’s nipple in earnest then, loving the sounds the other girl made and still envisioning Brent’s reaction. She soon moved to Chrissy’s other ripe breast, again licking, sucking, nibbling, as comfortable as if she played with girls all the time.

When she rose back upright, they resumed kissing and pressing their tits together, moving sensually in the water until Chrissy’s thigh slid between her legs. Within a second, their bodies were interlocked that way, each pushing one thigh to the other’s crotch and beginning to grind, a position she remembered sharing with boyfriends in high school and college—simulated sex. Their motions were slow, sensual, Jenna’s body heating wildly from the inside out, until Chrissy whispered in her ear, “I want to lick your pussy.”

Jenna’s breath caught. But she didn’t argue. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all. She simply met her pretty new girlfriend’s gaze, gave her lower lip a hot little bite, then turned and walked up out of the pool.

As the water sluiced from her body, she reveled in it—even still wearing bikini bottoms, she’d seldom felt this gloriously naked, especially when the sun hit her breasts and she thought once more of Brent watching.

Looking back to the pool, she was surprised to see Chrissy not following, but when she caught the hungry look on her girlfriend’s face as she instead neared the Grotto’s edge, Jenna realized she should simply sit back down on her towel.

As she took a seat, though, her stomach lurched. This was getting serious. This was going to that place she hadn’t been sure she wanted to go. But she was here, and her cunt pulsated madly, so she simply chose to forget her worries and go with the moment.

Situating herself at the pool’s rim and lowering her feet in the water, she parted her legs and let Chrissy step between them—then released a hot sigh as Chrissy smoothed her hands up Jenna’s open thighs. First Chrissy was gazing up at her, but then her eyes dropped to Jenna’s leopard-print-covered crotch, so that when Chrissy whispered, “So pretty,” Jenna wasn’t sure if the compliment was for her or the mound between her legs.

When Chrissy reached for Jenna’s bikini bottoms, Jenna drew her knees up, then planted her hands on the ground behind her and lifted her ass, letting Chrissy pull them down. She’d felt naked before, but this completed it. She’d never felt bolder than when she parted her legs again, this time putting her freshly shaven cunt on display.

As her girlfriend let out a low sound of lust, Jenna glanced down to see her pink folds glistening beneath the sun. That’s when Chrissy molded her palms to the muscles stretching from the tops of Jenna’s inner thighs and leaned in to lick her most intimate flesh. The pleasure burst through her like fireworks and a hot cry left her, unplanned. All she could do after that was bite her lower lip and watch.

She watched as Chrissy licked her pussy again, again, each time forcing a moan from Jenna’s throat.

She watched as Chrissy sank her whole mouth over the pulsing pink creases in a sensual, openmouthed kiss that made Jenna instinctually part her legs wider, the small of her back arching involuntarily.

She watched as Chrissy thrust two fingers inside her as she laved and kissed and teased Jenna’s clit with her mouth, leaving her to sink into a state of pure abandon. She leaned back on her elbows, still watching between her spread thighs and soon kneading her own breasts, needing sensation everywhere.

Oh God. The naughty sensations pumped through her like a whole new kind of blood in her veins. She felt so dirty—dirty good—knowing Brent watched her, imagining how long and rock-hard his cock was right now. She thrust lightly at Chrissy’s eager mouth, the pleasure deepening, thickening, slowly becoming the biggest part of her. She took in the blue of the sky, the scent of coconut lotion, the slick moisture of her pliable breasts against her palms. She felt the grandeur of pleasure, pure physical pleasure, without attachment or commitment, just like Shannon and Kevin wanted for her, just like Brent wanted, too. And then she exploded into a hot orgasm that flowed up through her body like a volcanic eruption, covering her thoughts and senses so that all she knew was the buffeting, pounding release that washed away everything else.

Until she was coming back down, the upsurge receding—and even before the final pulses ebbed, she wondered, What next? Do I have to return the favor? Do I want to?

And then, like once before, Natasha saved her. The sound of a splash drew Jenna’s eyes to where the topless woman had just entered the Grotto from the other side and now moved across the shallow pool, coming up to smoothly, confidently embrace Chrissy from behind. Her hands closed sensually over Chrissy’s breasts, eliciting a fevered gasp from her the very moment she lifted her head from Jenna’s crotch.

Almost immediately, Chrissy responded further, letting her head drop back in pleasure as she covered Natasha’s palms with her own. Soon, though, Natasha’s hands dropped, both of them grazing down Chrissy’s slender stomach and into her pink bikini bottoms under the clear water. A low sob echoed from Chrissy’s throat as the two women began to move together, Chrissy writhing against Natasha’s touches, Natasha rubbing her shapely body against Chrissy from behind.

Weirdly, Jenna almost suffered a pang of jealousy—had Chrissy forgotten her that quickly? But then, as if reading her thoughts, Chrissy looked up. “Come back in and play with us.”

Jenna instantly but politely declined, saying, “I just want to watch,” yet felt better having been asked, silly as it seemed.

Not that she really wanted to watch—but she wanted to be comfortable watching. She wanted to be a woman who could lie here naked on an island, comfortable watching two other women pleasure each other. Or . . . did she mostly want to be that kind of woman for Brent?

Either way, she watched, feeling wild and free as they touched each other, soon kissing—but then she got up, putting on nothing but the wedge slip-ons she’d worn here, and began to make her way around the pool.

“Where are you going?” Chrissy stopped kissing Natasha to ask.

Jenna smiled lightly and replied, “Just taking a little walk—I’ll be right back.”

After which she left the two women to slink off into the bushes to find Brent—surprisingly comfortable, even happy, to stroll up to him naked in the hot sun. She discovered him reclining in a lounge chair in shorts, a T-shirt, and the baseball cap she’d noticed before. She put her hands on her hips, challenging him—even as she kept her voice low. “What’s going on here, mister?”

She got a little wet again as his eyes roamed her body. “You’re going on, honey,” he said quietly. “Look at you—Little Mary Sunshine walking around naked and gorgeous, getting her pussy eaten by a pretty girl at the pool.”

She simply arched one brow in reply. “I guess you think you’re sneaky.”

He gave his head a tilt. “I did. Until you saw me. That kind of ruined the sneaky element for me,” he informed her with a grin.

She moved on to the heart of the matter. “Did you enjoy it?”

“Very much,” he answered deeply. “I’m very proud of you.”

His commendation warmed her. “Good.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

She drew in her breath and answered honestly, as she always did with Brent. “More than I might have thought.”

He continued appearing well pleased. “I’m glad. You looked amazing, by the way. Kissing her. Sucking her tits. And when she was eating you, I loved the way you massaged your breasts and didn’t hide how good it felt.”

Her cunt quaked lightly at his blunt words and she admitted, “I guess you’ve taught me something about that.”

“You’re a good student.”

She cast a teasing look. “So I don’t need any more punishment from Father Powers?”

He offered another grin in reply. “No, I’m afraid you’re not misbehaving so much anymore, sunshine.”

“Would this be considered misbehaving?” she inquired, then lifted one leg over his chair, lowering her naked body to straddle him. She pressed her palm to his hard-on, finding him gloriously big. Mmm.

A hot sigh left him just before he said with a dirty little smile, “Yes, honey, definitely. But you’d better get off me or you’ll give me away.”

“To those two? With all the noise they’re making?” Chrissy and Natasha had gotten quite loud now and Jenna was, frankly, happier to be over here. “I want this,” she told him, giving his erection a sexy squeeze.

Brent looked amused yet admonishing. “Well, sunshine, as the Rolling Stones once said, you can’t always get what you want.”

Which irritated her. “Why not?”

“Because this isn’t that kind of fantasy.”

“What kind of fantasy?”

“A cock fantasy,” he said.

As more need welled in Jenna’s chest, she leaned inward and whispered in his ear. “I hate to tell you this, but all of my real fantasies are cock fantasies.” Especially since meeting you. Though she left that part out.

She saw him draw in his breath, his expression of humor beginning to edge into something more like arousal. Yet still he said, “It’s not that I wouldn’t love to, but I can’t.”

“Why not?” She didn’t want to sound pouty, but she was starting to feel that way.

It surprised her when his face grew clouded, troubled. “Oh so many reasons,” he murmured, perhaps more to himself than to her.

She blinked at him. “You’re serious. You’re seriously not going to fuck me?” She feared she might be talking too loud at this point, but she almost didn’t care.

“Not now, honey,” Brent told her, keeping his voice soft as he lifted one hand to her cheek. “Like I said, I’d love to, but you’re not the only one in a fantasy right now, and if your girlfriend over there finds me here, it fucks up hers.”

“It didn’t fuck up mine. It helped it,” she went so far as to admit.

“Don’t say that,” he told her gently.

“Why?”

He pursed his lips slightly. “You were supposed to do this without knowing I was here. You were supposed to do it just because it felt good.”

She bit her lip, and gave him still more truth. “It did feel good. But it felt better after I saw you.”

Brent narrowed his gaze on her, and she waited for some kind of ad monishment, but instead he simply said, “So maybe we learned something new here. Little Miss Sunshine gets off on being watched.”

By you. She nearly said it, but didn’t. Instead she simply acknowledged, “Maybe.”

“That’s good to know,” he replied—but at the same time, he began raising her off him, his hands on her ass, pushing upward.

She balanced on her knees, still astride him, and couldn’t resist trying one last time. Dangling her tits near his face, she whispered, “You’re really going to leave me here, soaking wet for you?”

He gave her a look. “Quit torturing me and get back to your fantasy.” Then he proceeded to lift her further, until she had no choice but to stand.

To her surprise, he stood up, too.

“You’re leaving?”

“I have a meeting in ten minutes.”

She tilted her head. “What am I supposed to do about being, you know, turned on?”

“You have two perfectly capable partners over there, sunshine,” he reminded her with a sly smile.

“You’re evil,” she replied, lifting her gaze to his.

“That’s right,” he answered. “I’m a very bad boy.” And with that, he kissed her hard, deep, reaching down to stroke his fingers smoothly through her pussy. When he’d ended the kiss and backed away just slightly, he slid those same fingers in his mouth, quickly sucking them clean. “You’re right, sunshine—you’re soaking.”

Then he reached around to smack her bottom, adding, “Be sure you put some sunscreen on this pretty ass,” just before he walked away.

When she returned to her room, though, she discovered a package on her bed—a narrow box of hot pink wrapped with a white ribbon. Upon removing the lid and pushing aside white tissue paper, she couldn’t have been more stunned to discover—oh Lord!—a bright pink penis-shaped vibrator! Brent’s gifts never ceased to surprise her, that was for sure.

Then she saw the note.

Holy God.

Jenna had never had a vibrator before. She’d had a longtime boy-friend, a few years ago, who’d occasionally been into using toys on her, but that had been her only experience with them before the glass dildo in the dungeon.

Her first thought: She didn’t want to use it on herself—she wanted Brent to.

But God, she needed the release.

She stood staring down at the vibrator as if it were a rabid animal that might strike at any second. Then she realized how ridiculous that was and ran her fingers along the length of it, where the shaping was so exact that she found fake veins built into the thick, sturdy rubber. She picked it up, tested its weight, then grew bold enough to play with the knob on the end, filling her room with a low buzzing noise.

What would a naughty girl do right now?

Lie down on the bed and use it?

No. That seemed . . . too easy.

Take it to the shower with her? That sounded sexier, but who knew if it was waterproof, and God, what if she somehow shocked herself? Ugh—not a good thought.

She supposed she could be so daring as to take it out on the balcony, or even out on the beach tonight to use it there. But then—that only made her feel more lonely. Who was so desperate that they took a romantic walk on the beach with their vibrator?

Then an idea hit her. A really dirty one—so dirty she wasn’t even sure she could bring herself to do it. But the moment that fear struck, that fascinated, curious sort of doubt—the “Can I?” question—she knew she had indeed figured out exactly what a truly naughty, nasty girl would do.

Her whole body tensed as she walked to her purse and drew out her cell phone. She’d barely looked at it all week—and had long forgotten about calling Shannon, unsure now that she could even share with her best friend all that was happening—but she was suddenly glad she’d brought it. Flipping it open, she set it to record video—then she propped it against her purse on the desk, pointing it toward the bed.

And then . . . she became a porn queen again.