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“Hey,” he said, leering at her with a stupid, shit-eating grin that told Victoria her first impression of him had not been wrong. He was a jerk. He laid his phone down on the bar. She looked at it and the tiniest finger of panic began to wrap itself around her stomach. “Can I get you something?” she said, glancing at his phone. “Nah. I just wanted to play you my new ringtone.” “What?” “My new ringtone. I want to play it for you. I think you’ll like it.” He picked up the phone and pressed a button. The phone said: lick me … lick me … lick me … and it was saying it in her voice, low and husky with lust, but loud and clear. The panic that had only touched her before gripped her fully now and her knees buckled. Victoria thought that, for the first time in her young life, she might actually faint. But she pushed back against the panic with a growing sense of outrage that blossomed into full-on anger. Her fingers tightened around the sharp knife in her hand and she toyed with the idea of. All four guys were really looking my wife over. Who could blame them? She was wearing a skimpy swimsuit, one that left very little to the imagination, and the expression on her face said "I want to fuck your ass off." One of the guys, a very tall black guy named Andre, apologized to me for staring, saying that he hadn't seen too many women in a while and that my wife had a body that was meant to be looked at. My wife blushed and told him there was no need to apologize. She enjoys being looked at. After about two hours of drinking and talking, we were running low on booze, so I offered to pick up some more. Earl volunteered to go with me. We weren't gone for more than a half hour. When we returned to the pool we found that my wife, Andre and his two buddies were gone. Earl said that he and his friends had planned to rent a boat and go water-skiing, and that his buddies had probably already gone to rent it. He told me he'd go find them and hook up with me later. I told him that my wife.
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