“Really? I love that movie!” She gave a little shimmy of excitement against him. “With Dick van Dyke and Benny Hill, how could you go wrong?”
Caught up in her excitement, Jay’s hands, pulling her smaller ones along, slid up and over her soft, full, very naked chest. “Benny Hill would like you.”
She froze, her nervous tension transmitted clearly where her back leaned against his chest.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just…” His blathering apology trailed off as her fingers squeezed his.
“Shh. It’s okay.” Her action on his fingers caused his own hands to squeeze the giving yet firm flesh under them “You just surprised me.”
“I surprised me too. I don’t normally…” Now it was his own loss for words that interrupted him.
Robin tilted her head back and kissed his cheek, just over the line of his jaw. The simple touch was electric. “I don’t normally either.”
They stayed that way for a moment, until a couple walked up the trail past the massage booth. Four hands slid down to a more proper place around her waist, but in a tighter embrace than before. The man and woman, perhaps in their mid-30s, both with no sign of tan lines, nodded as they strolled last. As they disappeared around the next bend, Robin giggled.
“That was close.”
Jay gave her a squeeze, nuzzling close to sniff again in her hair, daring to plant a light kiss on her neck, moist with a trace of sweat in the humid Ohio air. “This is close.”
“I know.” She whispered. “This is not like me.”
“I like you. And this.”
“Me too.”
She broke the next silence. “Isn’t it weird that we’re both named after birds?”
“Both of us? All four of us if you include the blue-footed twins.”
“Silly boy.” She snuggled back on him. “Hmm. And that feels like a lot more worm that the early bird was looking for.”
Jay snorted in surprise, caught off guard. Encouraged, she continued.
“The poor bird might choke.” He inhaled sharply.
Robin gasped when she realized how that has sounded. “I didn’t mean…I wasn’t…oh god!”
Her hands pulled free of his and covered her face as she started to sit up. His arms held her tight.
“Hey. It’s okay. I know you didn’t mean…that. Really, it’s okay.” He felt her relax, her hands again finding his.
She shook her head, the motion filling his nostrils with ambrosia again. “That was bad.”
“Nah. That was a good one. Like I said, Ian Fleming would like you.”
He changed the subject, away from her embarrassment. “Speaking of people named after birds, do you think anyone else here is?”
“Is that what we were speaking of?” Relaxing, she leaned back into him again. “Like who?”
“Well, see that tall girl, with the Afro?” The woman in question was tall, wearing her hair in a style that had been more popular a decade earlier, her Afro spilling out over a scarf tied as a wide headband. Sizable muscles flexed in her dark, defined arms as she leaned over a massage table, her subject hidden from their view by the fallen tree. “Her name’s Phoebe.”
“You know her? From where?” Robin sounded miffed, almost jealous.
“Never seen her before in my life.”