Page 6 of Reality Girl, Ep. 3

Chapter Three

We satin the lounges by the pool, drinking. The pool lights were on, illuminating the water to a tempting aquamarine color. I gazed at the water, unsure of how I wanted to continue my first night with Eric.

He was no newcomer to alcohol consumption, that much was clear. I wouldn’t consider myself a lush, but I was versed on all matters pertaining to margaritas. I was no match for him, though. As I finished my second tequila-laced cocktail, he placed his fifth empty beer bottle on the table between us.

“Damn, those taste good after that flight. Never been much for getting on planes, especially at night. Did you fly in or drive?”

With my eyes fixed on the pool, I responded. “I flew.”

He leaned forward, rested his forearms on his knees, and gazed into the water. “Is something in there?”

I turned to face him. “In where?”

He tilted his head toward the pool. “The pool.”

“What do you mean?”

“You been staring at it for fifteen minutes. Didn’t know if maybe you were looking at something, or if you were just spacing out.”

I let out a laugh. “Spacing out. I was about half drunk when you showed up, and now I’m closer to being full-on drunk.”

He relaxed against the back of his chair. “That sucks.”

I scrunched my nose. “Why?”

“Won’t be much fun if you’re drunk and I’m not.”

I nodded toward the lone beer bottle that remained of the six-pack. “You’ve almost guzzled a sixer.”

“Shit.” He reached for the bottle. “I can drink fifteen or so before I get buzzed.”

It didn’t surprise me, considering his size. I wasn’t as fortunate. I was already at the point where I typically did something I regretted the next day. I needed to either go to the bar and see Franky, go to sleep, or go for a swim. It was late, and I was drunk. They were all possibilities.

I looked at the pool and let out a sigh. “You didn’t bring anything you can swim in?”

“I don’t know what the fuck I was thinking,” he said. “No, I sure didn’t. I can grab some up tomorrow, though.”

My eyelids were growing heavier by the minute. “I need to either go to bed or go for a swim.”

“That pool looks fun. Easy choice, if it was me.” He motioned toward Bobby, who was on the other side of the pool. “Does he ever stop?”

“Nope. Pretty much follows me around all day, every day.”

“I was gonna say I’d just swim in my boxers, but that probably ain’t a good idea if he’s gonna keep staring at us with that camera.”

I had an idea why he would say such a thing, but doubted he knew that I knew he had a massive cock.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Boxers are all floppy and stuff.” He winced. “Not much support.”

On the outside, he looked like a handsome weightlifter. His closely-cropped blonde hair, chiseled facial features, and mountains of muscles made him an attractive package for almost any woman he’d meet.

His bronze tan would fool most into thinking he was a local, at least until he spoke. The twang in his voice was a dead giveaway that he was a Midwesterner. I would have guessed Oklahoma more than Nebraska, though.

I really needed to go to bed. If I didn’t, there was no doubt I would get myself into trouble. I didn’t want to fuck Eric, but I did want to see his dick. I wanted him to flop it out, show it to me, and explain what percentage of women allowed him to assault them with it. I wondered things about it. If it was big since he was a child, or if he grew into it as he got older. If it made him dizzy when it got hard. If he ever damaged anyone physically with it. What it weighed.

I wanted to compare it to something so I would have a clear mental picture of how big it actually was. My wrist or a dill pickle. I had no idea which was more accurate. Hell, for all I knew, it was the size of a cucumber. A big cucumber. The curious side of my brain was fighting with the tired side, and the curious side was winning. It came as no surprise considering there was a potential prize-winning cock involved.