Brief Encounters

Chapter #1- Pink Bikini

I met my wife in the summer of 2023 post coronavirus pandemic, in Lake Havasu, Arizona. It was the first real outing of the year; the States being cleared two months prior to continue with the sanitation laws whilst eliminating the need for face masks, and  giving the go ahead for big groups  to coexist together again. Now it was spring break, and all the graduates from this year and the year prior had all scraped together the last of their tax returns to spend the next two weeks getting shitfaced on sandy beaches by coral blue waters.

My wife was in the throngs of these people, crowded around an outside picnic table. She and a friend were standing on top of it, each carrying two bottles of liquor, giving out shots. Blush pink bikini on smooth brown skin, box braids swinging down her back, eyes low from marijuana, her face in drunk bliss. It was obvious that her friend was more of the people person: excitedly getting people to take a shot, greeting everyone as if they were old friends, laughing loudly and twerking to every song that blasted from the speaker on the table. Pink Bikini would come and help pour shots, shoving limes in the mouths of the lightweights, and sticking her tongue out when her friend shook her ass in her face. I must've been staring too hard because suddenly she looked at me and nodded;

"Wanna shot?"

I push my way to the front, and the crowd cheers in excitement-- people patting my back as I make my way up like I was a beloved athlete visiting his hometown, and not a stranger going to receive a shot from a hot girl, which I guess, is admittedly, something to cheer about.
I'm close enough now where I can see Pink Bikini's tastefully placed tattoos scattered from the inside of her arms to the outside of her calves, including one on her sternum (that had captured my rapt attention, for obvious reasons, but also because the artwork was very detailed), and one on the inside of her ankle that begged to be kissed.

PB's friend sees me and gasps.

"He's sexy buddy. Where do you want him?"

And now PB is looking at me, the crowd around us egging her on. She stoops so that she is sitting on the table in front of me, and leans back on her arms, seeming to enjoy the way I do an onceover of her toned stomach. Double belly piercings wink at me invitingly, and it's the last of my sobriety that keeps me from throwing her legs over my shoulders right then.
    As if she read my mind PB speaks,

"On your knees."

It is both a command to me and an answer to her friend's question. The crowd goes crazy as I slowly get on my knees in front of her. I position my face only a few feet away from the meeting of her thighs, but she lifts my chin so I'm looking at her face.

    "You drinking dark or light?"

I glance at those blush pink bikini bottoms.
    "Dark, hopefully."

The crowd loses its shit again.
She laughs, and motions for the Patron bottle her friend is holding.

"Bullshit," she says opening the bottle angling it towards my mouth for a shot. "I know you're a tequila man."

She gives me a little more than a shot, and I accept hungrily, because she's right about my drink preference. Although I would've gladly went through with the inevitable hangover that comes with mixing liquors, if it meant that I could get this close to her thighs again.
The crowd erupts in cheers and more people push forward, opening their mouths for a shot, and now she's 8 miles away from me instead of 8 seconds as the group pushes me towards the outskirts of the table.
Later, when the people are gone, and the last drunk girl has passed out in a heap on the sand, she and I will sit on the rooftop of her car; our friends fooling around in the backseat.  She whispers her name to me, before taking a huge hit of the blunt in her hand and leaning over to blow the smoke in my lungs.
Nuru.