She gave her clit one last squeeze.

Closed her knees.

Reached for the duster of raw silk brocade that lay loosely over the deck beside her. Tossed the lightweight robe over her shoulders.

Shading her tits.

Shielding her thighs.

Obscuring her fanny from prying eyes.

Constance raised a palm to her face. Replaced a stray strand of gold-dipped hair.

Cupped her hand above her brow.

Cocked her ears.

Scowled.

What did she hear? Constance made out a few words feeding into the breeze.

The shift of feet over sandy slats of dry wood. The tinkle of crystal.

“Veronica?” Constance sighed.

She let the duster fall open wide.

“Is that you, Constance? Thought you might be up here.”

Veronica appeared, “nude.

Body lubed.

Sucking an ice cube.

Pussyfuzz trimmed into the shape of a V.

Sporting bare clitoris where her labial forest had been defoliated.

She carried an opened bottle of champagne lazily by the neck, dangling it behind her bare fanny. Held two long crystal flutes against the cranny between her. brightly nipped tits.

“How’s about some champers, doll?” Veronica jawed slowly. “I’m like so totally awesomely wiped out I need some fizzwater in my veins.”

“Glad you brought up the bubbly,” Constance said, sucking out the melted liquid in her glass. “I too was in dire need of drink.”

“Bombs away,” Veronica said.

The bottleneck foamed. Sparkling liquid overflowed the champagne flutes. Rolled in frothy slips over her breasts.

Veronica tittered.

Shivered.

Shot a snootful of liquid into her gullet as she trained her gaze on Constance’s legs. Drew her eyes along the length of her gams.

Up past Constance’s partially revealed pubes and boobs, to her face.

“How’s the sunburn coming, doll?” Veronica drawled. “You in it for the long haul?”