courtesy dictated she shouldn't leave stuff lying around the shared areas.
As she toted her bags into her room, she smiled wickedly. This would be cathartic. She pulled all the bedding off; the sheets, pillows, mattress pad, everything. Hauling it into the laundry room, she stuffed as much as she could in the huge washing machine and started it. She'd put it all out with the recycling or drop it at a shelter.
In her room, she smoothed on the new silk bedding. She chose navy blue stripes on gold. A nautical departure from her sister's obsessive floral. She hauled the plastic packaging out through the garage to the driveway and packed them into the recycle bins. The trash bins sat next to them, and everything had their address stenciled on them. "Strange." It came to her. Hurricanes. If the wind came up, their trashcans could end up in the next county.
When was pickup day? If she was going to live here, she needed to sit down with Sixto and get the basic information on running the house. She smiled and went back out to the pool, her mood improved at least a hundred percent.
***
Sixto's photo shoot ended early. The lighting wasn't right on South Beach, but he got to keep the swim trunks. He pulled into the garage at 1:30 and saw the Miata. Bree had the contents of Cloe's desk and if she'd found what he thought she might find, she'd be waiting inside for him. With a shotgun.
The management company listed his name as an employee. He hadn't mentioned anything about it to her. Maybe he should tell her about his role in the business. It might save his ass later, if she dug deeper into the company structure. He could still play ignorant about the moneymaker in the east warehouse.
He tossed the mail onto the table and picked up a used plate and fork. Okay, so she was that kind of roommate. Walking toward the kitchen, he glanced out at the pool and stopped so suddenly, the fork slid off the plate onto the carpet.
He blinked to clear his vision, but it was as perfect as he first saw. Bree, in a skimpy bikini, floating on a flat raft, her long, blonde hair swirling in the water like waves of silk. Her big, red sunglasses covered half her face. With her arms out to her sides, he could see every inch of her perfect breasts. He swallowed, felt himself move in his trunks. Her little pooch of a stomach was his undoing and a full woody grew.
The bikini bottom barely covered between her thighs and her legs went on forever, so long, they overshot the raft and her feet trailed in the water. He had a difficult time catching a complete breath. Her face was the only thing on her that resembled her sister. Where Cloe was hard, Bree was firm. Where Cloe was concave, Bree was round and soft. And personality. Bree had one, Cloe didn't.
He picked up the fork and set the dish in the sink. The smart thing to do would be to take a cold shower and do some studying.
He wasn't in a smart mood.
Sixto went into his bedroom and opened the patio door. He heard the noise. The Beatles played on the outdoor stereo and Bree sang along. Not well.
"Hey, Ringo! Mind if I join you?"
She lifted her head and visored her hand over her eyes. "Oh. Hi." She slid off the raft into the water, got out and grabbed her towel, and wrapped it around her.
For a long moment, all he could do was stare at her fine booty and incredible legs. Then her actions registered. "You're leaving?"
"I'll be right back." She walked into her bedroom.
He dove into the deep end and stayed down, enjoying the cool quiet under the water. He surfaced and tread water, looking into her room to see what she was doing.
She walked out wearing a long, white t-shirt over her suit.
"You don't have to cover up for me."
She shook her head and descended the steps into the pool. "Oh, yes I do." She struggled to climb back onto her raft.
He would have helped, but he still had a high hard one and she didn't need to see that.
She made it aboard, lying on her stomach. Pulling her hair off to one side,
As she toted her bags into her room, she smiled wickedly. This would be cathartic. She pulled all the bedding off; the sheets, pillows, mattress pad, everything. Hauling it into the laundry room, she stuffed as much as she could in the huge washing machine and started it. She'd put it all out with the recycling or drop it at a shelter.
In her room, she smoothed on the new silk bedding. She chose navy blue stripes on gold. A nautical departure from her sister's obsessive floral. She hauled the plastic packaging out through the garage to the driveway and packed them into the recycle bins. The trash bins sat next to them, and everything had their address stenciled on them. "Strange." It came to her. Hurricanes. If the wind came up, their trashcans could end up in the next county.
When was pickup day? If she was going to live here, she needed to sit down with Sixto and get the basic information on running the house. She smiled and went back out to the pool, her mood improved at least a hundred percent.
***
Sixto's photo shoot ended early. The lighting wasn't right on South Beach, but he got to keep the swim trunks. He pulled into the garage at 1:30 and saw the Miata. Bree had the contents of Cloe's desk and if she'd found what he thought she might find, she'd be waiting inside for him. With a shotgun.
The management company listed his name as an employee. He hadn't mentioned anything about it to her. Maybe he should tell her about his role in the business. It might save his ass later, if she dug deeper into the company structure. He could still play ignorant about the moneymaker in the east warehouse.
He tossed the mail onto the table and picked up a used plate and fork. Okay, so she was that kind of roommate. Walking toward the kitchen, he glanced out at the pool and stopped so suddenly, the fork slid off the plate onto the carpet.
He blinked to clear his vision, but it was as perfect as he first saw. Bree, in a skimpy bikini, floating on a flat raft, her long, blonde hair swirling in the water like waves of silk. Her big, red sunglasses covered half her face. With her arms out to her sides, he could see every inch of her perfect breasts. He swallowed, felt himself move in his trunks. Her little pooch of a stomach was his undoing and a full woody grew.
The bikini bottom barely covered between her thighs and her legs went on forever, so long, they overshot the raft and her feet trailed in the water. He had a difficult time catching a complete breath. Her face was the only thing on her that resembled her sister. Where Cloe was hard, Bree was firm. Where Cloe was concave, Bree was round and soft. And personality. Bree had one, Cloe didn't.
He picked up the fork and set the dish in the sink. The smart thing to do would be to take a cold shower and do some studying.
He wasn't in a smart mood.
Sixto went into his bedroom and opened the patio door. He heard the noise. The Beatles played on the outdoor stereo and Bree sang along. Not well.
"Hey, Ringo! Mind if I join you?"
She lifted her head and visored her hand over her eyes. "Oh. Hi." She slid off the raft into the water, got out and grabbed her towel, and wrapped it around her.
For a long moment, all he could do was stare at her fine booty and incredible legs. Then her actions registered. "You're leaving?"
"I'll be right back." She walked into her bedroom.
He dove into the deep end and stayed down, enjoying the cool quiet under the water. He surfaced and tread water, looking into her room to see what she was doing.
She walked out wearing a long, white t-shirt over her suit.
"You don't have to cover up for me."
She shook her head and descended the steps into the pool. "Oh, yes I do." She struggled to climb back onto her raft.
He would have helped, but he still had a high hard one and she didn't need to see that.
She made it aboard, lying on her stomach. Pulling her hair off to one side,
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