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Baby it’s Hot Outside

Summer Loving

I hold the copyright to this story. Do not publish any part of this story without my consent, in writing.

Baby, It’s Hot Outside

Delilah Night

Changi Airport is one of the best airports in the world. It is quite possible the only one where a passenger can clear a customs and immigration checkpoint, reunite with their luggage, and be in a cab in thirty minutes. Right now, though, I hated that efficiency with a burning passion.

Were this a typically glacial airport, I’d be guaranteed another ten or twenty minutes to stare at the eye candy in front of me. Unfortunately, I was living on borrowed time. Erik’s flight had landed thirty-five minutes ago and it was odd that he hadn’t shown up yet.

The object of my lust had broad shoulders that tapered to his waist—a swimmer’s build. I wanted to play with his thick, black hair. When he knelt down to put something away in his carry-on, I took a moment to appreciate the way the denim stretched over his butt.

He got to his feet and looked around, clearly lost. The view from the front was even better than the back.

Dear Santa, I’ve been a very, very bad girl. Please leave a lump of coal and a box of condoms in my stocking. Sincerely, Caroline Chang.

The man attached to the ass I’d been ogling spoke. “Carrie? Is that you?”

No X-box controller. No backwards baseball cap. No failed attempt at a moustache.

“Erik? Wow, you look great!”

My mental picture was still that of a teenager camped out in my parents’ living room in Boston, Massachusetts, circa 1996. Clearly it needed updating. My brain helpfully offered up the image of him as a cop who’d pulled me over and me offering to do whatever you want to get out of my speeding ticket.

Oh God, I’m going to Hell. Thou shalt not lust after thy little brother’s friends, even when they’re almost thirty.

“You look gorgeous as ever. I really appreciate the offer to take me in for the holiday.”

I shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I had already scheduled this week and next as a vacation. Stock market’s dead this time of year.”

“I expected to be back in New York by now, but like Jake told you, negotiations—” Erik stopped. “Holy shit, Carrie, it’s a billion degrees here.”

“Welcome to the tropics,” I replied, hiding a smile.

He wasn’t my first visitor to have that reaction. Exiting a building in Singapore is akin to receiving a hot, wet slap across the face three hundred and sixty-five days a year. For a moment, I thought Erik might dive back into the air-conditioned comfort of the airport.

Taking his suitcase, I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry, Frosty, I won’t let you melt.”

The next day I played tour guide. The erotic dreams that had haunted my sleep the night before made me feel like a lecher. I took refuge in the familiar, sensible shoes of Jake’s pedantic big sister. Exploring Chinatown inspired a lecture on how Mandarin had become the dominant Chinese language in Singapore.

“That’s handy for you. You speak Mandarin fluently, right?”

“My parents would kill me if I didn’t after sending me to Chinese school every Saturday from the age of four. When Jake got kicked out in the sixth grade, they—” I stopped as a memory niggled at the back of my mind. “Wait, it was both of you, wasn’t it?”

“Um, yeah,” he said sheepishly, clearly regretting ever bringing up the topic.

“Typical. I always had to be the model student while Jake screwed around,” I said. “The two of you sold dirty magazines, got expelled, and became legends.”

He snickered. “I wouldn’t say legends. More like gods.”

“More like punk ass kids,” I said fondly. The throbbing heat between my legs had finally disappeared.

“I’ll have you know that I’m now a model citizen. I’ve even been called a catch.” He flashed me an irresistible smile and arched his eyebrow in what I would have called an invitation had it been any other man.

I wouldn’t mind catching you. Catching, stripping, screwing…

So much for the cooling effect of a shared childhood memory.

As daylight shifted into night I found it harder and harder to keep the appropriate distance for a friend’s older sister.

The sight of Erik shirtless and asleep on my couch had me reaching for the aircon remote. Had he always had those abs under his stupid Nirvana t-shirts? A love trail disappeared into frayed cotton pajama bottoms. I decided to lower the temperature and put a blanket over him. Otherwise I might give in to the urge to sexually harass him while modeling my favorite lingerie and stilettos.

I locked myself in my bedroom. Collapsing on the bed, I grabbed a pillow and screamed into it. It didn’t do any good; my body was still fully aroused.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” I asked the room.

Duh, you want to screw his brains out.

“Of course I do. But it’s Erik. I’m like his honorary big sister. There’s no way he would ever think about me like that. It doesn’t matter that I think he’s—”

Gorgeous.

“I’m the responsible one. I have to make good choices.”

It would be an awesome choice if you turned off the aircon in the living room and invited poor, overheated Erik to share your blissfully cool bed.

There is a Singlish word—cannot—which means “No, not in a million years. Don’t even think about it.”

Just stop it, Caroline Cǎihóng Chang. Cannot. Cannot, cannot, cannot.

“Cannot,” I repeated out loud. “I hit on Erik. He shoots me down. Jake tells everyone he meets the story until the sun explodes. No fucking way.”

I tossed and turned for hours. Finally I gave up and reached for my vibrator. Cannot was for the real world. Whatever happened in my explicit fantasies was no one’s business but my own.

My undernourished sex drive was surely why I thought Erik was flirting with me at dinner the next day. I’d taken him to the hawker center in Pasir Panjang near my apartment to introduce him to my favorite foods.

“Should we do a Lady and the Tramp with this noodle? Or is that only with spaghetti?” He lifted a bite of char kway teow into the air, dangling it from a fork.

“Very funny,” I said primly, while remembering how that scene had ended. How would his lips feel against mine, even for a brief moment?

Accepting the bite didn’t mean anything. I didn’t suck on the noodle, or his finger, or any other body part. I just let him feed me one bite from his fork. It was casual, friendly. Which is why I’d fed him a spoonful of my curry laksa in return. Because I was being friendly.

As we joined the thronging Christmas Eve crowds along the retail mecca of Orchard Road, Erik took my hand. The electric shock that flew from my fingers to my clit could’ve powered the Christmas lights displays that stretched as far as the eye could see. It had to be my imagination that his thumb was caressing my palm.

Cannot.

We stopped to people-watch and enjoy ice cream while we sat on the steps in front of The Mall at Forum. It wasn’t the dessert I pictured as my tongue lapped at the dripping cream.

Licking. Stroking. Suck—

“Is that band playing ‘Let it Snow’?” Erik interrupted my train of thought.

Blinking, I surfaced from my erotic haze. I listened, then nodded. “Yes.”

“Wouldn’t snow on the equator be a sign of a nuclear winter?” He raised an eyebrow at me and grinned.

I snickered. “One of the malls does a nightly show where the Christmas tree shoots soapy foam out of the top, and they call it a snow storm. It’s a big—but, likely chemical-laden—hit with the kiddos.”

Jesus Christ. Maybe you’d like to discuss dengue fever as an encore, Carrie? No wonder you haven’t been laid in forever. Cannot.

“So, am I stealing you away from anyone while I’m here? Boyfriend?”

I shook my head as I swirled my tongue around the edge of my cone. “No. No one recently. I’ve been too busy to date.”

He casually draped an arm about my shoulders. “Are you still close with people from home, or have you fallen out of touch with everyone?”

Resting my head against his shoulder, like friends do, I shrugged. “Facebook helps. Josh and I still chat every so often.”

“I never liked Josh,” Erik remarked.

“Why?” I turned to look at him, surprised. My high school boyfriend had always been a sweetheart. Now he was married to a lovely woman, and they had two kids.

“Why do you think? I was crazy about you. You only noticed I was alive when you kicked Jake and me out of the living room.”

I almost bobbled my ice cream at his words.

Wait, what? You were what about me? Down, girl, CANNOT. He said “was,” not “am.”

“That’s not true. I noticed you were alive whenever you ate the last slice of pizza, too.” Sarcasm was my crumbling line of defense against desire.

“Three days with you and I feel like a lovesick idiot all over again.” Erik gave a bitter laugh. “I sound like a fucking idiot, too.”

Okay, that’s definitely a present tense verb.

“You’re not an idiot,” I said quietly. “Or if you are, I am, too.”

Our eyes locked. As one, we stood. Our ice creams landed in a bin, and we began the journey home. Had it been any other night, I would’ve opted for one of Singapore’s ubiquitous taxis. But on Christmas Eve, Orchard Road was zoned for foot traffic only. The MRT would mean switching lines twice and take easily forty-five minutes to get back to my place. I couldn’t wait that long.

“This way,” I said, taking his hand. My plan was half formed at best, but I knew I needed to get us off Orchard Road. I headed in the direction of Tanglin Mall, thinking of all the cabs that would surely be passing by there to drop visitors at the start of the Christmas displays.

Erik’s fingers traced the thin line of skin between the top of my shorts and the bottom of my tank top as we walked. When we stopped at crosswalks, I felt the warmth of his body press against my back as he wrapped arms around me. Arousal grew with each passing intersection. Did the colorful illumination from the Christmas lights highlight or hide that my nipples were erect?

Neither of us noticed that the tree at Tanglin Mall was spurting “snow.” All we saw was that there were no cabs idling nearby. There were no cabs two blocks down the road at Gleneagles Hospital, either. I tried to find a cab using the GrabTaxi app, but it was unsuccessful.

See, the universe is sending you a sign, and it says “cannot” in big, neon letters.

Looking around, I saw our salvation.

Fuck you, “cannot.”

I grabbed Erik’s hand and pulled him into the Botanical Gardens. Silently, I led him down the path until we were near the lake. Moving carefully, I led him down and away from the lights toward a copse of trees hidden in shadow.

It was one thing to burn my way through every battery in my house trying to cool my libido with a vibrator. It was entirely another to deliberately jump into the fire. But then, anyone who chooses to live in a land of eternal summer shouldn’t be scared of heat.

“Caroline,” he murmured as he pulled me close.

I twined my arms around his neck and pressed my lips to Erik’s. It was everything my fevered imagination had conjured, and more.

When I was little, I used to have a collection of snow globes. I’d shake them until the blizzard inside obliterated the miniature scenes. The touch of Erik’s lips on mine created the same effect—everything but him was erased from existence.

Can. Can.

His hand slid under my top, and took possession of a breast. His fingers rubbed over my sensitive nipple as our tongues danced.

Although free to grab the ass that had first caught my eye, I was more tempted by other anatomy. I fell to my knees in front of Erik, oblivious to the ground beneath me. The button fly of his jeans was open in seconds. My hands explored the length I couldn’t quite see. I learned the path of the vein on the underside of his shaft by touch.

Will it be sweet and gentle? Or the kind of pounding that leaves a delicious soreness for days?

I dedicated myself to fulfilling every dirty image that had flicked through my mind as we’d eaten ice cream. Hot flesh, rather than frozen dessert was licked with enthusiasm. Saltiness, rather than sweet, dripped onto my tongue. The head of his cock was granted entry to my mouth with tantalizing slowness.

“Carrie, you’re killing me!”

I pulled him deep into my mouth, and set a demanding pace.

Erik’s hands fisted in my hair as he chanted, “…spread you open. Fuck you so hard. Spank that sweet ass of yours.”

It was a miracle that my panties weren’t on fire from the blaze building between my thighs.

On your knees in return, licking me until I’ve come so many times I can’t stand.

“Carrie!” Erik groaned as his orgasm hit and I swallowed repeatedly.

We broke apart, breathing heavily when the roar of a sports car engine on a nearby road shattered the quiet. I blinked rapidly, as what we’d just done—and the penalties if we’d been caught—penetrated my lust. Time to move this party somewhere a little more legal.

“You know, for all that I’m sure that you’d love to see this UNESCO World Heritage Site in more detail, I think it’s too hot for us to be outside. I’d hate to confess to people back home that I let you get heatstroke.” I said with mock innocence. “They’d say that I’m a terrible host.”

I could almost hear Erik’s smirk form. He hauled me to my feet and kissed me thoroughly. “We can’t have that. I guess we’ll just have to take refuge in your apartment and not leave until I have to fly back to Tokyo and finish up my meetings.”

CAN!

***The End***

If you enjoyed “Baby it’s Hot Outside,” please consider purchasing the anthology

Summer Loving

You can also check out my new novella, Capturing the Moment.

RJ and Meg were one deeply in love. But that was six years and a broken engagement ago.

Will one day in Siem Reap, Cambodia bring them back together, or will they go their separate ways?

 

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