Confessions of a Bad Boy

“Maybe so. But you’re great at what you do, and you deserve better than where you’re at, and someday it’s all gonna work out, Jessie. I know it. It’s my job to know these things.”


She hides behind her hair a little, suddenly shy. “That’s just the drink talking.”

“No. No it isn’t. If I was sober I might not be saying it – but I’d still be thinking it.”

We follow the path a little longer as it brings us back towards the pool, tucked around the corner from the dining table, which is now empty. The last waiters are wiping down the wine stains and heading inside.

Jessie stops and looks up at the stars, smiling. I gaze at the softness of her throat, the feminine arc of her shoulders, suddenly experiencing the wooziness of the alcohol once again.

“It’s such a pretty night,” she says wistfully.

“You want to stay out a little longer?”

Jessie looks at me. “I want to go for a swim.”

“Are you serious?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

It’s the kind of spontaneous suggestion Jessie used to make all the time when we were kids. I immediately feel like I’m a teenager again, being dragging into trouble by Jessie’s sense of adventure. But just like I used to back then, I’m only pretending that I don’t think it’s a good idea to get into a little mischief.

I look around casually. “So go ahead. I’ll watch.”

“No. You get in first,” Jessie says, already tugging her skirt down, and the only thing stopping me from studying her body is the fact that she’s looking at me just as intensely.

“No. I’m not swimming. The water’s probably freezing.”

Jessie grins mischievously as she pulls off her top and I fail to keep my eyes away from her breasts.

“Don’t be a baby, Nate. Are you still a terrible swimmer?”

“What? I’ve never been a terrible swimmer.”

“Sure you were. You have four and a half years on me, Nate, and I could still always outswim you. Even when we were kids.”

“Ha! I’ve heard of alcohol making you forget things – but I didn’t think it caused you to make shit up.”

“Come on, Nate! You remember. I’d challenge you to catch me before I reached the other side of the pool. And you never did.”

I snort. “You challenged me once, and I definitely did catch you.”

Jessie backs away towards the edge of the pool, looking undeniably luscious in her matching lace bra and panties. “Prove it. I dare you.”

It’s the magic word. The word that got me into a lot of bad situations – and just as many great ones. A word that, for whatever reason, stokes a kind of pride in me that makes me puff out my chest. Maybe it was never actually the word, but just the way she said it. Either way, she knows she’s got me.

She turns gracefully and dives so elegantly into the water she barely makes a splash. In the split-second that she’s in the air, all the reasons I shouldn’t dive in after her flash through my mind: The fact that I’m half drunk. The fact that I’d ruin thousands of dollars’ worth of clothes. The fact that we’re at a retreat filled with professionals who could make or break my career. And mostly, the fact that I’ve been dangerously attracted to this woman since we got here.

But all those reasons disappear the second I think them. Jessie knows I can’t resist a dare – I never could. Off go my shoes, socks, shirt and finally pants until I’m standing in my boxer-briefs with my pulse pounding in my ears. When I look across the pool, I see Jessie watching me, her nearly naked body silhouetted by the underwater lights, and our eyes lock for a single electric moment. Kyle’s text earlier flashes through my mind like a warning sign, and I feel myself wavering.

“Do it,” Jessie coaxes, her voice a mixture of challenging and enticing.

That decides it.

I take a run-up of a couple of strides and fly into the water. It’s warm and soft, and I lash through it, hearing Jessie’s laughter mix with the splashing of water. I glance up and see how far ahead she is, before submerging my head and swimming powerfully to catch up.

I grab her waist just before she reaches the other end, spinning her around and pressing her back against the side of the pool. My arms cling to the edge of it around her head, our faces inches from each as we smile and pant.

“Got you,” I say.

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to ignore the primal call of your own male pride.”

I look into her eyes as we bob in the water, the dim light of the retreat refracting over her wet skin, outlining the femininity of her face, the wetness of her lips. It might be the most beautiful I’ve ever seen a woman. Something tightens in me like a screw, pulls at my lust like a magnet. Her chest rises with every hard breath, her gaze softening innocently.

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