We both look at her expectantly, and she blushes, a questioning look in her eyes.
“Um, is everything okay?”
“Yes, everything is great.” I was going to say more, but I feel nervous. I look to Castor, hoping he can get the words out.
“Well, Ginny, we wanted to talk to you about something,” my friend begins. He looks a little anxious too. We see her eyebrows go up in intrigue. She puts her elbows on the table, leaning forward to listen at full attention.
“So, we wanted to talk to you about us, actually. I know we didn’t really get off on the best foot. I mean, we were blackmailing you with that Juicy Peach contest.”
Ginny throws us a wry look.
“I know,” I add quickly, practically tripping over my words. “It was unreal, and wrong of us. But we really like you Ginny. We love being around you; we love everything about you. You make us want to be better people, and we want to make you the happiest person on this planet. We want to give you anything and everything. But yeah, this whole blackmail thing was a little absurd.”
My friend steps in then.
“So sweetheart, we were thinking of calling off the blackmail piece,” Castor says slowly. “But we still want to see you. Would you be okay with that?”
The curvy girl stares at us.
“So you’re giving up?” she asks.
“Not giving up exactly,” I say quickly. “We just want to have a relationship that’s normal. Not one where you feel you have to sleep with us because of some naughty photos on a computer somewhere.”
“We love those naughty photos,” adds Castor quickly. “But we don’t want you to feel pressured because of them.”
The curvy girl smiles coyly then.
“You feel guilty, don’t you?”
Castor and I share a look.
“We do,” I say. “It was the wrong way to begin this relationship. We want to honor you, Ginny, and we want to honor what we have. We promise we’ll delete those photos, and we won’t enter them into the Juicy Peach contest.”
“In fact,” adds Castor. “We are the Juicy Peach contest.”
The curvy girl stares at us.
“What do you mean?”
I take a deep breath.
“We founded the Juicy Peach contest ages ago as pioneers in the boudoir photo industry,” I say simply. “Castor and I are the judges. Your entries never would have been seen by anyone but us. We just wanted you so badly, Ginny, that we decided to exploit all of our advantages.”
The brunette stares again at us, her cheeks going red.
“So this entire time, the blackmail was fake?” she asks.
I look down at my hands, and Castor looks similarly ashamed.
“Not fake exactly,” my friend begins. “There really is a contest, and there really is a winner. But no, we had no intention of ever letting any other man see your photos. You’re too beautiful, sweetheart, and those snaps are private. They’re for our eyes, and our eyes only.”
The curvy brunette swallows hard once more. She’s so gorgeous, but at this point, I’m sweating bullets. What if Ginny says no? What if she’s so angry that she stomps out of this restaurant and never comes back, leaving us with a roomful of regret?
But then Ginny gets a sly look to her face.
“So you’re now admitting to me that this whole blackmail thing was a sham, and that there was never any way that my pictures were going to get out.”
“Yes,” Castor and I say in unison.
“How are you going to make it up to me?” Ginny asks then, one arched eyebrow raised. “What are you going to do as reparations?”
“Reparations?” I say in a bewildered voice.
“What do you mean?” asks Castor, just as confused. “We’ll delete the photos immediately, sweetheart. I swear. Just give us ten minutes and they’ll be gone forever.”
Ginny throws her head back and laughs, the sweet tinkle a melody to our ears.
“Oh no, that’s too easy,” she says. “Castor and Corey, I want dirty pictures of you. Only then, will we be even.”
We stare at her.
“Are you serious, sweetheart?” my friend growls. “Because you know we’re game. Corey and I are more than happy to be the models in dirty snaps, if that’s what would make you happy.”
“Especially if you’re in them with us,” I add, already beginning to feel the blood pound in my lower half. “I’d love to shoot some with all three of us.”
With that, Ginny takes my hand in her left hand, and Castor’s hand in her right.
“Well, then it’s settled,” she says with a coy look from under her lashes. “The score will be evened once we have those snaps in hand. I want both of you, huge and stiff, thick and bronzed, captured on film. I want to see every inch, and I want it filmed too.”
“Filmed?” I rumble. “Are you sure, sweet girl?”