We settle quickly, but almost immediately, her leg bounces beneath the table like a drumbeat. I slide my hand across her exposed thigh to steady her.
Four servers in black place shallow royal blue glasses at each of our place settings.
“What’s this?” Millie asks.
“An olive oil tasting,” I answer. “It was Ezra’s idea.”
After a brief lesson in the history of harvesting olives and the differences in types, a waiter pours about a tablespoon of oil from an amber-colored glass jar.
We’re instructed to swig and swish the olive oil around in our mouths before slowly letting it fall down our throats.
“If it burns, that’s how you know it’s the good stuff,” the waiter says.
Unprepared, the girls immediately choke and sputter, their eyes watering.
When I lean into Joey’s neck and croon, “C’mon gorgeous, you take my cum better than that,” she practically needs an inhaler to calm down.
The remaining oils are equally robust, though the women don’t down such large samples this time.
“That was fun.” Joey pats her lips with a napkin, leaving traces of her blush pink lipstick on the cloth.
“Yes, very cool. Thank you,” Millie adds.
When the staff removes our glasses and replaces our placemats with fresh ones, Joey shifts in her seat so she’s facing me. “What will you do when you get back to the city?”
“For work, you mean?” I ask.
“Yeah.”
“I applied for a job based out of Austin, actually. I’m waiting to hear back.”
She rests an elbow on the table, cupping her chin in her hand. “Is it still freelance?”
I nod. “If I get it, I’ll be traveling a bit.”
“Mmm,” she hums, studying me. “I hope you get it.” Her genuine smile fills me with more warmth than whiskey.
29
Josefine
“Are you left-handed too?”I rub the sleep from my eyes and sit up.
I didn’t spend the night with Cam after dinner last night, but we did visit the nude beach together one more time this morning. Afterward, he brought me back to his room and ate me in the shower before properly fucking me in bed. Then he fed me lunch and put me down for a nap.
He sets the pen on top of the hotel’s stationary and makes his way to the espresso machine across from me. “Coffee?”
“Please.”
“Too? Does that mean you’re a leftie?”
When I nod, his eyes light up behind his glasses.
Motioning to the desk with my chin, I ask, “What are you writing?”
The espresso machine whirs to life, spitting out liquid fuel in a cup the perfect size for an American Girl doll.
The bed dips when he scoots in next to me. “Just something.” He holds the porcelain cup and saucer out to me but carefullypulls it back before I can take it. “Wait. I don’t know how you like your coffee.”
