Downhill

3

DAY 3 - Sunday

Liz showed up mid-morning as I suspected she would do. When we finally were alone she told me all about her threesome - details I didn't need to hear.

Jacob wasn't happy with Liz. At. All. But he still agreed to help me, despite my protestations for the second day.

The day wasn't too different from the prior one, but today Liz decided to leave the slopes early to have dinner and "hang out" with Jacques and friend.

By the time 5:00 rolled around, I was finally able to make it down the bunny slope without help and even tried to tackle the intermediate slope.

I was bent over breathless as I glided toward Jacob who was chatting with a blond woman, who must have been a few years older than him. Even with her ski jacket, her boobs looked like inflated beach balls. Oh well, I guess some women get worried about that shit when they start to sag. I knew that wouldn't be me.

When Jacob saw me he chuckled at my state. Luckily he met me halfway so I didn't have to meet his lady friend.

"Okay. I'm done. No more. You can't make me," I panted out.

He laughed some more as he took regular breaths like a healthy human being. Which was clearly not the category I fit into at this moment.

"Dinner?" He asked.

"Yassss," I smiled brightly at the thought of food.

"Let's go in and grab a bite," he offered as he gestured to the resort.

"Uh. I'm kinda not dressed for dinner."

"Don't worry. We aren't the only ones."

"Fine," I agreed and my mind flashed back to the long underwear Liz packed me that currently were the only thing under my jacket.

After removing our skis and Jacob miraculously pulling two pairs of shoes from the backpack he wore, we entered the resort restaurant. When he motioned for me to remove my jacket I hesitated.

"Jacob," I whispered. "My top is a little...thin." The issue wasn't that it wasn't fashioned for winter sports. The issue was that the top was fashioned for Liz. And Liz was a B cup, where I was a large D. Plus it was white.

"I'm sure it's fine. You can't eat in a ski jacket," he insisted.

"Okay. But I warned you," I mumbled, pulling on the zipper.

We handed our jackets to the maître d' and Jacob quickly glanced at me. But then did a double take and blinked a few times before turning to follow the host to our seats. I wanted to die.

Once we were seated, I looked around. Luckily he was right that the clientele was a mix of dressed states. And since we were early, the vast majority wore snow pants. Some even wore bibs.

We made some small talk and I was finally starting to feel comfortable. At least I until the waiter arrived.

When he turned to get my drink order he said, "And what will your lovely daughter be drinking this evening?"

I looked up and his eyes were clearly on my chest. But before I could give him my order Jacob spoke up. "My date. And she will have a Jack and Coke."

I'm pretty sure my eyes were as round as saucers. Mainly because he called me his date and the fact that he had he audacity to order for me. And get exactly what I wanted!

The waiter now looked a little nervous about the state of his tip, and it didn't help that Jacob basically shooed him away.

I looked at the man sitting across from me. He didn't seem troubled by what transpired just moments before.