<br/><span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 14pt;"><strong>Lauren Embry</strong></span><br/><br/><br/>(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/4/46/Trilby_Paradise_Lauren01.jpg)<br/><br/><br/><br/><br/>Brett leaned in for a kiss, and Lauren’s heart stopped beating; partly from an insanely intense desire, and partly from panic.  She had been the one in control, edging herself farther and farther along, taking one step after another towards the thing that she wanted so much it frightened her.  Now, suddenly, it was Brett who was taking things that much further.  When he put his arms around her and pulled her close, she instinctively went stiff, her breath stopping.  This was--   This was--<br/><br/>His mouth covered hers, lips moving lightly against hers.<br/><br/>This was wonderful.<br/><br/>Deep in her throat, Lauren groaned softly, and she leaned against the wall of warmth and young musculature. She let her mouth open to his, and the tip of her tongue flicked against his experimentally.  Oh, God!  Her heart, her stomach, the pulse between her thighs -- they all clenched up tight, wanting more.  She broke the kiss and laughed softly at herself.  Her head was hanging back, but her body was rushing madly ahead.<br/><br/>Brett let go of her, and she felt a glass pressed into her hand: cold and solid, just beginning to be moist against the heat of her fingers.  She took a sip, and with an amused smile, breathed a sigh of relief: it was strong, really strong, as if Gabriel knew she needed a little help.  Or wanted to make sure Brett got lucky.  Her eyes locked to Brett’s, and she took a long, deep, swallow.  And another.  Rum and Coke -- it was a teenager’s drink, but it was potent, and all that sugar rushed the alcohol straight to the bloodstream.<br/><br/>She needed to make sure she didn’t get past tipsy.  If she got drunk, Brett might back off.<br/><br/>She was aware of movement past Brett’s shoulders; Monica had moved outside to the patio, and Gabriel was following her.  Lauren felt a surge of gratitude flow through her, warm and intense.  Monica was giving her a little privacy.  She would surely have been as comfortable sitting there with Gabe and doing…. whatever…. without any concerns for privacy herself.<br/><br/>Was that sort of thing going to happen?  Lauren’s eyes went wide at the thought.  They had a whole week.  Tonight might be the only night they spent with Brett and Gabriel.   Or they might stay here the whole week.  Who knew what might happen?  Who knew how things might change?  Or escalate?  So many prospects, and all of them shocking.  Or wicked.  Or both.  It was frightening -- but even more shocking was the thrill of excitement.  There were so many things that she’d never done before, never tried, never even imagined she might do.  Or ever imagined she might want to do.<br/><br/>She took another long swallow of her drink, and gave Brett a slow smile.  She was still nervous, and she was getting tipsy; but she knew what she was doing, and she knew that she wanted this to happen.  One arm slid around his waist, and she pulled herself close to him.  The big, hard bulge in his jeans was pressed tight against her belly, and she lifted her drink to her lis and drained the glass, her eyes on Brett’s.  He was young, and handsome, and underneath those college-boy clothes was a college-boy body, lean and taut and strong.  And he wanted her.  The bar had been full of pretty young things, wearing clothes that were borderline indecent; but Brett and Gabe had ignored the pretty young things, and come straight to her and Monica.<br/><br/>Maybe it hadn't been pure admiration.  Maybe they figured that two older women would be glad for the attention.<br/><br/>Maybe they figured that two middle-aged women would be more sexually experienced.<br/><br/>“I’m not like Monica,” she said to him slipping her other arm around his waist.  “I don’t have any great lines or smooth moves, and I’ve done anything like this before.”  Her fingers plucked at the back of his shirt, and she tugged it upwards and out of his jeans.  Her hands slipped underneath, palms and fingertips sliding over the warm flesh of his back.  “It’s been a long time,” she added with a smile.  “But I think I remember what goes where.  And why.”<br/><br/>The Rum and Coke, on top of the drinks at the bar, was already doing its job.   Her smile turned mischievous, and her hands fingertips trailed up and down Brett’s spine, tracing the rim of his belt till her fingers came around and met at the front, teasing at his belly button, her thumbs tickling his abdomen just over the rivit of his jeans.<br/><br/>One or two smooth moves after all, maybe.<br/><br/>