Claire LaZebnik - Knitting Under the Influence

“Hold on.” He walked down the length of the pool to a row of small cabanas at the far end. He opened the door to one and vanished inside, then reappeared with something dangling from his fingertips. “It's a bikini. Those are one size fits all, right?”

“Not exactly,” Kathleen said. She took the scraps of fabric from him and held them up to the moonlight. “But I think it'll work. Slightly better than being naked, but not much.” She dropped her hand. “Someone wasn't afraid of a little exposure. I don't think I want to ask whose it is.”

“My ex-girlfriend's,” he said. “Does that bother you?”

“Not nearly as much as it would her,” Kathleen said with a grin. “Come on. First race is to see who can get changed faster.”

They emerged from separate cabanas at around the same time. Kevin was wearing longish board shorts that came down to about his knees. His stomach was slightly soft above the waistband but otherwise he looked good. He wasn't too hairy or anything disgusting like that, and his legs and shoulders were strong. Kathleen definitely approved of what she saw, and, from the expression on his face as he checked her out, she was pretty sure he did, too. It was a pretty skimpy bikini, and she knew she filled it well.

“Okay,” Kevin said, gesturing to the pool. “We freestyle to the shallow end, push off, and breaststroke back. First person to touch the wall wins.”

“Got it,” she said. “Ready, set, go.” She dived in neatly and beat him back by a couple of seconds. She clung to the pool edge, catching her breath, as he emerged.

“No fair,” he said. “You dived before I was even ready.”

“Excuses, excuses. I’m just faster than you.” Her legs cycled gently in the warm water. The cool air tingled on her dripping hair and face. The moon was almost full, and she could see Kevin's face clearly.

“I get another chance,” he said.

“I’ll beat you again,” Kathleen said.

“No way,” he said. “No way a girl can beat me if I’m ready.”

“Those are fighting words.”

“I know.” He grabbed on to the wall. “That's the point. And I call ‘ready, set, go’ this time.”

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll still win.”

But she didn't. He won by a full body length. As she emerged, he was already at the edge, his free arm raised in victory, the moonlight shining on the drops of water along his shoulders. “Oh, yeah, baby! Now who's the better swimmer?”

“Best two out of three,” Kathleen said.

He won again. “God, victory is sweet,” he said. “You wouldn't know, of course.”

“Do you always gloat?” she asked.

He faced her. They both clung to the wall, their hands a few inches apart, their breath coming in gasps. “Only when I have to fight this hard to win.”

“Made you work hard, huh?”

“Yeah,” he said. “But it was worth it. I won, didn't I?”

“Just a race,” she said. Their bodies moved closer in the water.

“Just a race,” he agreed. He reached his free hand out for her and she let herself float toward him. For a moment, they stayed like that, his hand against the small of her back, their legs moving in the water, hitting each other softly. It was so quiet, they could hear the sound of the tiny waves they were making just from treading water.

His hand moved higher up her back and slid under the string of the bikini top, then stayed there, growing warm against her skin. Kathleen let the water carry her against him. She tilted her face up and he put his mouth against hers. The taste of chlorine disappeared into the sweeter wetness of their mouths.

A few minutes later, Kevin lifted his head from hers. His eyes caught the light and glinted.

“Come on,” he said, his voice thick. “It's time to get out and dry off.”

James called Lucy on her cell around nine that evening. “Dinner?” he said.

“I ate already.” Actually, she had eaten a carrot and nine cashews, which, she realized, was only a dinner by her standards (she counted the nuts as protein), but she didn't really want to open the door to eating again. No temptation, no risk of giving in. She was always aware of those forty extra pounds, which, she was sure, were just biding their time in some kind of fat limbo, waiting for her to let down her guard so they could reconvene around her ass and thighs.

Besides, it was kind of late for James to call about dinner. She didn't mind being alone on a Saturday night, but she did mind his assuming she was sitting around waiting for him.

“Okay,” James said cheerfully enough. “But can I come see your?”

“Yeah, okay.” She was definitely up for some sex.

“And can I bring a pizza?”

“If you want.” She wished he wouldn't though-she liked pizza and wasn't sure she'd be able to resist it completely.

Maybe she'd just chew on his crusts.

As soon as she'd hung up, she threw herself into the shower, scrubbed herself down, shaved her legs, underarms, and bikini area, shampooed and conditioned her hair, dried herself off, moisturized her skin, plucked her eyebrows, dried her hair, put on a little makeup, and donned a silk camisole and lounge pants outfit that was both elegant and sexy.

Men, she thought, regarding herself critically in the mirror, were a lot of work.

James, of course, blew in wearing a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt-clearly the same clothes he'd had on since that morning-and sporting some five o'clock shadow. It wasn't fair, Lucy thought and not for the first time.

Still, he looked all right. The stubble suited him. He had the scruffy urchin thing going for him.

“Where's the pizza?” she said as she let him in.

He hit himself in the forehead with the palm of his hand. “Oh, shit, I forgot it. I’m starving, too. Anything here I could eat?”

“Let me see.” She went into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There wasn't room for both of them in there, so James leaned against the door frame and watched her. “Eggs. Oh, and leftovers from the Chinese food we had last week.”

“Do you think it's still good?”

“I don't know.” She opened a container and sniffed. “Smells okay.”

“You know how to make an omelet?”

“Of course.”

“Heat up the stir-fry, toss it into the omelet, and we'll call it a dinner.” He rapped his knuckles against the wall. “So how was the walk this morning? Sorry I couldn't make it.”

Lucy put the carton of eggs on the counter. “Couldn't? Or wouldn't?”

He smiled, unashamed. “Let's just say didn't.”

“It was fun. Free food, too.”

“Did they make a lot of money?”

“I don't know,” she said. “Do you care?”

“If it's money that would otherwise have gone to research, possibly.”

She got a bowl out, cracked four eggs into it, tossed the shells into the sink. “David came, you know.”

“To the walk?” He shrugged. “I’m not surprised. Probably didn't have anything better to do.”

“Don't be so sure. He's got a girlfriend now.”

“Really?”

She nodded, whisking the eggs. “He said he was going out with a girl tonight.”

James laughed. “That's a date, not a girlfriend. And after she spends an evening enduring the famous David Lee sense of humor, she'll be running for the hills.” He shifted against the wall, then reached into his pocket and started rattling his change.

Bored already, Lucy guessed. “You want to watch TV while I finish this up?” she asked, as she turned back to the refrigerator for the margarine.

“Sure.” He was gone.

By the time the eggs were done, he had already moved on from watching TV to checking his e-mail on her computer.

“Anything interesting?” she asked, putting the plate down at his elbow and resting her hand on his shoulder.