Candid Confessions Bundle #3 (3 page)

She grabbed a large pile of tissues from the bar and
pushed them into Jacques’ hands. He picked one up and dabbed
gingerly at her dress.

‘No, not there…up here,’ Bailey said, indicating her
bosoms. Jacques took another tissue and pressed it around her
cleavage. Well, I couldn’t deny that was smart. I’ve never seen a
man clean anything with such enthusiasm. But Jacques seemed to be
having trouble focusing. I could see that the alcohol had gone to
his head. Bailey helped him concentrate by lifting her bosoms with
her hands. For me, that was the last straw.

‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, Bailey,’ I said. ‘Why don’t
you just rip that stupid dress off and let him fuck you right there
on the floor. That’s what you’re asking for isn’t it?’

Bailey lost interest in Jacques. Her eyes narrowed
into angry slits, and then she came at me with fingernails
flailing. She scratched me down one cheek, and I retaliated by
poking her in the eye. Remember those silly fights you had with
girls in junior high? All scramming and hair-pulling? Yeah, well
this was one of those. I reached out to tug at Bailey’s annoying
curls, and she cannoned into me, knocking both of us to the floor.
Bailey screamed into my face.

‘Leave Jacques alone, you clumsy slut. Go and find
your own man to roll around in the snow with.’

I was going for her throat now. ‘I might be a slut,
but at least I’m not a dumb blonde bimbo. Even Barbie’s got more
brains than you – and she’s made of plastic!’

‘Why you…’

Well, I suppose you can guess the general gist of
how the conversation went. I won’t spell it out, as it’s too
embarrassing to write down. We had been going at it hammer and
tongs for the best part of a minute when someone pulled Bailey off
me. It was one of the guys in our group. He held Bailey back, but
she continued to kick and scream. The guy tried to calm both of us
down.

‘Hey girls, if you are fighting over Jacques, I
think you are both wasting your time. Look!’

We both looked in the direction he was indicating.
It was the bar stool where Jacques had been sitting a few moments
before. Except he was no longer there. My eyes drifted down and saw
Jacques on the floor, his head slumped against the bar.

He was fast asleep.

Bummer.

***

Battle recommenced the
next day at 10.00am sharp when our lesson began. This was Christmas
day, so everyone was in a particularly cheerful mood, throwing
friendly snowballs and wishing each other the compliments of the
season – all that kind of shit.

Of course, when I say ‘everyone,’ I mean everyone
except for Bailey and me. We
looked
very cheerful and
friendly on the outside, and we even wished each other Merry
Christmas when we arrived at the slope. But we were also muttering
evil incantations at each other under our breath. Fortunately, we
didn’t spend much time together during the lesson. Jacques – who
seemed to have only a vague idea of what had happened the night
before – had decided the group was ready to do runs from the chair
lift. I’ve always been scared of heights, so I was nervous about
tackling the chair lift. So Jacques buddied me up with an older
woman who was very supportive and tolerant of my nerves. After
that, the lesson passed peacefully – until we lined up at the
bottom of the slope for what was to be our final run.

I managed to get myself onto the ski lift without
injuring myself or anybody else, and as the lift carried us up in
the air, I turned to chat to my companion. But instead of seeing my
friendly middle-aged buddy next to me, I found I was sitting next
to the monster in pink.

Bailey.

I had no idea whether she had ended up next to me by
accident or design, but I decided discretion was the better part of
valor. I kept my mouth shut.

It was a beautiful day for skiing, and with any
other person on the planet for company, I would have enjoyed the
view. What could be better than watching people having fun in the
snow on Christmas day? The sun was peeking weakly through the
clouds, and the fir trees provided some welcome green relief from
the expanse of white. It was awesome…except for having the Queen
Bitch sitting next to me. We got nearly to the top before she
spoke.

‘You bought that dress on purpose to piss me off,
didn’t you?’

I gave her a dirty look. ‘Don’t flatter yourself,
Bailey. I wasn’t giving you a second thought. How the hell was I
supposed to know you would buy the same dress?’

‘Well anyway, it was a poor choice. You don’t have
the boobs for it. That dress suits a woman with a full bust, like
me.’

At that moment, I could have cheerfully thrown her
off the chair lift into the abyss below. And if a jury heard what
she had said to me, they would have let me off with justifiable
homicide. How dare she criticize my tits! I admit that hers are a
little larger, but mine have done a very good job of attracting men
over the years, and I won’t have my closest friends shot down in
flames like that. I was ready to fire a return volley.

‘I don’t know why you bothered wearing a dress at
all,’ I replied haughtily. ‘You should have just come down to the
bar in your bra and panties. If you’re going to act like a whore
anyway, you might as well be open about it. Then we would all know
where we stand.’

That one struck home, I could see that. But there
was no time for her to reply, as we had reached the top of the
lift. Our chair slowed down and did a 180-degree turn. As we came
out of the turn, I pushed myself off the chair and started to ski
away. Bailey was right beside me, and before I could get away from
her she shoved me hard in the back. It didn’t hurt, but it threw me
off balance. I thought I was going to fall, but I remembered what
Jacques had said about balancing, and I threw my weight forward.
Somehow I managed to stay upright, but I was out of control.
Instead of going down the slow side of the slope, I was now
accelerating down the faster side.

Bitch, bitch…stupid fucking bitch…

I would have come up with some more creative abuse,
but I was too busy concentrating staying on my skis. In theory, I
knew how to slow myself down. In practice, I was too scared to be
able to think straight. I saw a fir tree ahead of me and getting
closer by the second. If I didn’t turn very soon, I would slam
straight into it. I focused hard and managed to make the turn – but
I turned too sharply and was soon going at right angles across the
slope. I saw a pink blur ahead of me, and realized it was Bailey.
She would have to get out of the way – there was no way I could
stop myself. But she seemed just as transfixed as me. I hurtled
towards her at high speed and there was a loud thud as we collided.
Both my skis came off and I somersaulted over her head and landed
deep in the snow.

Ouch!

I was dazed for a moment, but soon came round. My
ankle was hurt, but I was able to stand on it. I think I had just
twisted it a little. By the time I got to my feet, Jacques was
skiing towards us. I found out later that he had been in the chair
behind us on the lift. He skidded to a halt beside me.

‘Are you OK?’ he asked. He seemed to be asking me
that question a lot.

‘I’m fine,’ I said. ‘My ankle hurts a bit, but no
serious damage. I’m not so sure about Bailey, though.’

I said that because Bailey was lying in the snow a
few yards away, with her leg turned at an angle that looked very
unnatural. And she was screaming for help in a voice that made even
me feel sorry for her. Jacques took one look and winced.

‘Oh, she’s broken a leg. No doubt about it. I’ll go
and fetch the medics. Tell her that help is on its way.’

Jacques sped away down the slope at top speed. I
stumbled through the snow to where Bailey lay, and did my best to
comfort her. I did, really. I’m not that much of a bitch. But even
while I was talking to her in my most soothing voice, a thought
kept going round and round in my head.

Angel – 1. Bailey – 0.

***

Bailey didn’t have to
wait long for help. The medics arrived on a snowmobile, with a
stretcher behind and Jacques on board, too. His prognosis was
right. Bailey’s leg was broken in two places – a classic skier’s
injury. Jacques said she had her ski bindings too tight, so the ski
didn’t come off like it should have done when she fell.

Silly cow.

But I tried really hard not to gloat. The medics put
Bailey onto the stretcher and whisked her away for the trip to
hospital. That left me and Jacques standing alone in the snow. The
lesson was over now, so we had nothing to do but head back down the
slopes to the resort.

‘How is your ankle?’ Jacques enquired.

To tell you the truth, I had forgotten there had
been anything wrong with it. I could stand on it without any
problems now. But I didn’t feel the need to share that information
with Jacques.

‘Oooh, it still hurts a bit. I’m not sure if I can
get down the slope on my own.’

‘Then let me help you.’ Jacques bundled up all our
skis and poles under one strong arm. Then he put the other around
me, and we worked our way down the hillside together.

‘I saw what Bailey did, you know,’ he said. ‘I was
right behind you. I couldn’t believe it when she shoved you like
that. She only has herself to blame for her injury. I thought she
was a nice girl, but I see now that I was wrong.’

‘I don’t feel any anger towards her,’ I lied
effortlessly. ‘I just feel sorry that she is going to miss out on
all the fun.’

‘Serves her right.’

Jacques escorted me all the way back to my room.
Once I had stripped off my ski gear, he encouraged me to lie down
on the bed. ‘You should rest for a while, Angel. I don’t want you
to do any further damage to that ankle.’

‘It does still hurt a bit,’ I lied. ‘Maybe you could
massage it a little. But you had better take your ski gear off
first– it’s too hot in here to wear ski clothes.’

Jacques didn’t need to be asked twice. He stripped
off his ski jacket, leggings and boots and sat at the bottom of the
bed in a sweatshirt and pants. ‘Actually, I trained as a masseuse
back in Switzerland. A proper massage is very good for soothing
skiing injuries. Just lie back and let me take care of you.’

I was happy to do just that. I was wearing a T-shirt
and shorts, which I had found the most comfortable to wear under my
heavy ski gear. I could see Jacques taking a good look at my legs
as he began to massage my ankles. Bailey might have had a touch on
me in the breasts department, but when it comes to legs, I could
give her a real run for her money. Jacques certainly seemed to be
captivated by the view.

‘My calves are a little sore as well,’ I whimpered.
‘Do you think you could give those a massage, too?’

‘Of course.’

Jacques didn’t hang around. His hands slipped up my
legs, and gently caressed first one leg, and then the other. I
could tell he was serious about being a real masseuse. Maybe he was
smarter than I thought. He knew how to massage the muscle and relax
it. Wow, it felt so good! And the more his hands rubbed up and down
my legs, the more I began to feel turned on. I had been dreaming of
getting my Swiss ski instructor into my bedroom all week, and here
he was groping my legs and sending delicious feelings through my
body.

‘You know what,’ Jacques said. ‘It’s best to do the
whole leg. That way, you can be sure you won’t get any cramps in
the middle of the night.’

‘Oh, I hate cramp. I don’t want that to happen. I
guess you had better massage me all the way, then.’

Yes, it was a pretty crude double entendre, but it
did the job. A smile curled around Jacques’ lips. Now I knew we
were both on the same page. His hands slid further up my legs,
stroking along the outside of my thighs. I let my legs slip apart,
and Jacques responded by moving his hands to the inside of my
thighs.

‘That feels good,’ I whispered. ‘But I think the
spot you need to reach is a little bit higher.’

‘You mean up here?’ Jacques hand slid up the inside
of my thigh until it touched my vulva through my shorts. I gave an
involuntary squeal as he rubbed his fingers along the outline of my
slit and he reached my clitoris.

‘Yes, I want you to massage me right there.’

To speed things up, I slipped off my shorts and my
panties in one easy movement, with my T-shirt and bra following a
few seconds later. Jacques caught on pretty quick and stripped his
clothes off, too. His body was pearly white – I guess that’s what
happens when you follow winter round the globe. But he was in good
shape. His legs, especially, were muscular and his butt was well
primed with fucking muscles. Just what I needed. Jacques brought
his body alongside mine and started to massage me from my hips to
my neck. There was no pretense at performing a medical massage any
more.

This was purely sexual.

My nipples hardened at his touch, and I got wetter
and wetter as his hands descended between my legs once more.

‘I love a shaved pussy,’ he whispered, bending down
to take a closer look. ‘You are incredibly sexy, Angel. I want to
taste you, to feel you in my mouth.’

So we were still on the same page then. I relaxed
and spread my legs wider so that Jacques could plunge his face into
my pussy, which he did with great enthusiasm. Oh yes, this was what
I had come to Colorado for. Forget the exhilaration of skiing
through powder snow. I found it much more exhilarating to have a
hot ski instructor between my legs. Jacques knew how to lick pussy,
that’s for sure. There must have been a few Swiss girls walking
round with smiles on their faces when he was a teenager. He was
gentle but insistent, his tongue working its way around my inner
pinkness, licking up the come that was I was producing in
spades.