The first twang of the country guitar spilled from the newly repaired speakers, followed by a rich, warm bass line that carried cleanly across the backyard.

Alex smiled. "Looks like the system works."

Mark gave an approving nod. "Told you you'd have it fixed before everyone got here."

Mark reclined in a cushioned pool chair, his muscular frame somewhat diminished by the circumstances. The accident three weeks ago had left him with bruising and strained muscles across his lower abdomen and thighs, making movement painful and slow. His doctor had advised rest, and while the former college athlete chafed at the limitation, he had to admit that reclining by the pool with a cold drink wasn't the worst way to recover. His pretty-boy features were relaxed, sunglasses perched on his nose.

Beside him, Alex settled into the adjacent recliner, wiping sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. Tall and lean with a bookish demeanor, Alex had always been the yang to Mark's yin; the two had been friends since elementary school despite their differences. While Mark had pursued sports and fitness, Alex had gravitated toward computers and audio engineering. He'd spent the last hour crawling around the outdoor patio, troubleshooting the wireless connection to the poolside sound system.

Before either man could say another word, the sliding glass door opened.

Jenna stepped outside carrying a pitcher of lemonade, the bright afternoon sun catching the auburn highlights in her wavy hair. She had changed into a simple white bikini beneath a loose linen cover-up, which she untied and draped over a nearby chair as she set the pitcher on the patio table.

The opening bars of the song reached her ears.

"Oh my God, I love this song!" she laughed, clapping her hands together like an excited child.

Mark chuckled, adjusting his position with a wince. "Here we go."

Without a second thought, she kicked off her sandals and began dancing barefoot across the warm stone patio, her green eyes sparkling with pure, uninhibited joy.

She raised her arms above her head, her thick auburn hair swaying with the motion, and began to sway her hips to the beat. The white bikini top, designed more for lounging poolside than active movement, strained to contain her generous C-cup breasts. With each bounce and sway, the soft, tanned flesh moved with a life of its own, jiggling and swaying hypnotically, the weight of them pulling at the thin strings tied behind her neck. The triangles of fabric shifted with every movement, revealing the inner swells of her breasts, the pale skin contrasting with her sun-kissed cleavage.

Jenna spun around, her back to the men now. The bottom piece, cut daringly high on her thighs with a cheeky Brazilian-style back design, showcased the round, firm curve of her ass, a feature that had launched a thousand swimsuit catalogs and made her a favorite model among swimsuit designers and photographers.

"Now Honey, you can't blame her," the singer drawled, and Jenna sang along enthusiastically, her voice bright and carefree, as she dropped into a low squat, her perfect ass jutting out as she bounced twice, then twice again, each movement causing the white fabric of her bikini bottom to shift slightly higher between her cheeks until it resembled more of a thong than the cheeky cut it was designed to be.

"For what her mama gave her," she chimed, dropping lower still, her hands on her knees as she shook her booty with playful energy. The motion sent her heavy breasts swinging chaotically beneath her, the bikini top sliding precariously until the undercurve of her tits was visible, pale and soft and quivering with each impact.

"It ain't right to hate her," Jenna laughed, spinning back around, her face flushed with innocent enjoyment. She ran her hands through her hair, lifting it off her neck, the motion thrusting her chest forward. Her breasts bounced and swayed, the inadequate triangles of her top doing little to support their weight, her nipples now prominent strains against the thin white fabric.

"For workin' that money-maker," she finished, as she turned to present her backside again. She bent forward at the waist, hands on her knees, and shook her booty with enthusiasm. The white bikini bottom was now thoroughly lodged between her cheeks, the fabric having ridden up completely, leaving her pert backside essentially bare and on full display, the muscles beneath her tanned skin flexing and releasing.

Both men watched with appreciative eyes, though Mark's gaze held the comfortable familiarity of a husband who had witnessed this particular performance countless times. Alex, however, felt a different kind of appreciation stirring in his loins. From his angle, he could see the way her pussy lips pressed visibly against the thin white fabric when she bent over, the shadow of where the bikini had disappeared between her curves. His cock was hardening rapidly, straining against his shorts, the arousal automatic and unstoppable. He shifted uncomfortably in his recliner, trying to discreetly adjust his growing erection as Jenna continued her dance.

Jenna straightened and danced over to Mark's recliner, her movements fluid and natural. She placed one knee on the edge of his chair, leaning down to kiss his forehead, her breasts hanging heavy and free beneath her. The bikini top had shifted so much from her dancing that one areola was exposed, the pale pink circle peeking from beneath the displaced white triangle, but Jenna seemed completely unaware.

"Having fun?" she asked her husband sweetly, her voice warm and genuine.

Mark smiled up at her, his hands resting on her hips. "Always, baby."

Jenna giggled and pushed off, spinning back toward the open patio space to continue her dance. She ran her hands up her body, cupping her own breasts and lifting them slightly before releasing, letting them drop and jiggle freely, the weight of them pulling the bikini top dangerously askew.

Jenna remained blissfully unaware of the effect she was having on Alex. In her mind, this was just innocent fun, a private moment with her husband and his best friend before their party guests arrived. She had modeled far more revealing outfits than this classic white bikini, and years of posing in various states of undress had stripped away any self-consciousness about her body. She didn't realize that her "normal", from years of modeling, was an outlier; most women wouldn't dream of dancing this way in front of their husband's friend, wouldn't be comfortable with their bikini bottom riding up so completely, their breasts bouncing so freely, their bodies on such display. To Jenna, this was just dancing, pure and simple. And so Jenna simply danced on, enthusiastically shaking what her mama gave her, unaware that every bounce, every jiggle, every glimpse of nearly-bare flesh was pure torture for the man watching from the next chair over.

As the song built toward its finale, Jenna's movements became even more energetic. She turned to face the men again, her green eyes sparkling with mirth as she performed a series of hip rolls that would make a professional dancer envious. Her flat stomach, with its faint definition of abdominal muscles, contracted and released with each movement, drawing attention to the dramatic hourglass curve of her waist and hips.

The song ended with a final twang of the guitar, and Jenna struck a playful pose, hands on her hips, chest heaving slightly from her exertion. "How's that for a sound check?" she asked with a laugh, completely oblivious to the state of arousal Alex was desperately trying to conceal.

Mark chuckled. "Works for me. You always did know how to work that money-maker, babe."

Jenna laughed along, bending at the waist to adjust the umbrella again and giving Alex an unintentional but spectacular view of her barely-covered assets. Alex swallowed hard, shifting in his seat, trying desperately to will away the throbbing erection now tenting his shorts. He was grateful, in part, for the loose swim trunks he'd chosen to wear today, and hoped the party guests would arrive soon to provide a much-needed distraction.

Alex's hope was short-lived.

As Jenna turned to finish the last-minute party prep, her eyes drifted down to where Alex sat, and she noticed the unmistakable tent in his shorts. Her lips parted in an involuntary gasp, her green eyes widening as she froze mid-step, the pitcher of lemonade nearly slipping from her grasp.

"Oh," she breathed, the single syllable hanging in the humid summer air.

Mark, catching his wife's reaction, followed her gaze. His eyebrows lifted behind his sunglasses, a slow understanding dawning across his face as he took in the situation: the obvious bulge in his childhood friend's shorts, Jenna's shocked stillness, the sudden tension that had descended over the poolside like a suffocating blanket.

Alex's face went from tan to crimson in the span of a heartbeat. He fumbled desperately with his hands, trying to arrange them over his lap in some pathetic attempt at concealment, but it was too late. The evidence was undeniable, prominent, straining against the fabric of his swim trunks. He shifted, crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and finally let his hands fall to his sides in surrender.

"I - I'm so sorry," he stammered, his voice cracking like a teenager's. His face was burning now, flushed a deep, mortified red that crept down his neck and onto his chest. "I didn't - I wasn't trying to - I mean, God, I'm so sorry, Jenna. This is - this is so inappropriate."

Jenna remained frozen, her mouth slightly open, her eyes darting between Alex's face and the source of his embarrassment. The silence stretched, broken only by the gentle lapping of water against the pool's edge.

"Alex, hey," Mark said, his voice calm and steady. He shifted in his recliner, wincing slightly at the movement, but his tone was reassuring. "It's okay, man. Seriously. It's... it's a physiological response. Happens. Can't always control that stuff."

Alex shook his head, his eyes squeezed shut in humiliation. "No, I know, but I shouldn't - I mean, she's your wife, Mark. I shouldn't have - my body just - it reacted on its own. I swear I wasn't trying to be creepy or disrespectful or anything. I was just watching you dance, Jenna, and you're just so... and I haven't..." He trailed off, his hands gesturing helplessly.

Jenna finally found her voice, though it came out softer than usual, tinged with uncertainty. "Alex, I... I didn't realize. I mean, I was just having fun. I didn't think about how that must have looked to... I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"No!" Alex's eyes snapped open, his expression horrified. "No, God, no, you didn't do anything wrong. Please don't apologize. This is entirely on me. You're just... you're beautiful, Jenna. I mean, obviously you know that, you model for a living, but seeing you like that, moving like that, your body is just..." He gestured vaguely, his hands flapping in the air. "Incredible. Perfect. I mean, the way you move, your curves, your... everything. Any man would react the same way. But I should have better control. I'm not some teenager."

Another long pause settled over them, heavy and awkward. Jenna bit her lower lip, her arms crossing unconsciously over her chest, a defensive gesture Alex had never seen from her before. It made him feel even worse, seeing her suddenly self-conscious because of him.

"I really am sorry," Alex said again, his voice smaller now, defeated. He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it standing in disheveled spikes. "I haven't been with a woman in... God, I don't even want to say how long. Years. And being around someone like you, someone who looks like you do, wearing... I mean, that bikini is... and the way you were dancing, your breasts were bouncing and your ass, I could see... I'm sorry, I'm making this worse." He covered his face with his hands, his shoulders slumping. "I'm just going to go. I'll grab my stuff and leave before your guests arrive. I'm so sorry, both of you."

"Alex, stop," Mark said firmly, though not unkindly. "You're not going anywhere. Jenna, tell him he's not going anywhere."

Jenna uncrossed her arms slowly, her expression softening from shock to something more contemplative. She looked at her husband, then back at Alex, who still had his face buried in his hands like a child hiding from a nightmare.

"Alex," she said gently. "Please look at me."

He lowered his hands reluctantly, his eyes meeting hers with visible trepidation. He looked miserable, utterly humiliated, his face still flushed crimson.

"You don't have to leave," she continued, her voice gaining strength. "I believe you. I know you weren't trying to be... inappropriate. I know what kind of person you are. You're sweet, and kind, and you've been Mark's best friend forever. I was just surprised. I forget sometimes that not everyone is used to... this." She gestured at her own body, at the bikini that had ridden so high during her dance. "I'm so used to being in skimpy clothes around photographers and stylists and other models that I don't even think about it anymore. I didn't realize how that must have looked to you."

"Like heaven," Alex blurted, then immediately wished he could swallow his own tongue. "I mean - God, I'm sorry, that was - I should just stop talking."

Mark laughed, a genuine, warm sound that broke some of the tension. "Easy there, Romeo. Let's take it down a notch."

A small smile tugged at the corner of Jenna's mouth, though her cheeks had pinkened slightly. "It's okay, Alex. Really. Thank you for the... compliment, I suppose."

"I'm just going to sit here very still and think about baseball statistics or something until this goes away," Alex muttered, adjusting his position carefully and keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the distant fence line. "And then I'm going to pretend this never happened, if that's okay with everyone."

"Deal," Mark said. "But you're still staying for the party. No arguments."

Jenna turned back toward the house and disappeared inside, leaving Alex and Mark alone by the pool. Alex let his head fall back against the recliner with a groan.

"Kill me now," he muttered.

"Nah," Mark said, reaching over to clap his friend on the shoulder. "You'll live. And hey, at least you know the sound system works."

"Small consolation," Alex groaned, but he didn't pull away from his friend's reassuring grip. "Your wife is never going to look at me the same way again."

"She'll be fine," Mark assured him. "She's pretty understanding. And like she said, she's used to men reacting to her. Comes with the territory when you look like that."

"Still," Alex said, closing his eyes. "I'm going to need a lot of beer before your guests arrive. Like, a lot."

"That," Mark laughed, "I can definitely arrange."

The afternoon sun continued to beat down on the patio as Jenna re-emerged from the house, a bowl of fresh cut watermelon in her hands. She had taken a moment inside to compose herself, and now her white bikini was properly adjusted, the triangles of the top positioned to adequately cover her breasts, the bottom pulled from between her cheeks and sitting correctly on her hips. She looked composed, professional even, the picture of a swimsuit model ready for a casual afternoon gathering.

But it was still a bikini. Still skimpy. Still showcased her impossible hourglass figure, her flat stomach, her long toned legs, the swell of her hips and the curve of her ass that the cheeky cut framed so perfectly.

Alex had been making a valiant effort to think about unsexy things, tax returns, his grandmother's dental work, the 1998 World Series, when Jenna walked back into view. His eyes tracked to her automatically, taking in the sway of her hips, the bounce of her breasts beneath the thin white fabric, the way the sun caught her auburn hair and made it glow like copper fire.

His cock, which had softened to a semi-erect state during his mortifying confession, surged back to full, throbbing attention with embarrassing speed. He felt it happen, felt the blood rush south, felt the fabric of his shorts strain against his rigid length. He shifted desperately, trying to angle his body away, but there was nowhere to hide.

Jenna set the pitcher down on the table and glanced over at him. Her eyes flicked down briefly, just a fraction of a second, but Alex caught it. She had noticed. She was pretending not to, engaging in light conversation with Mark about the party preparations, asking if he needed more ice or if the cooler was stocked, but Alex could see the tension in her shoulders, the way she kept her movements careful and controlled.

She knew. She knew he was still hard for her, still tenting his shorts like a teenager who couldn't control himself.

"So," Alex said, his voice sounding strangled even to his own ears. He stood up abruptly, keeping his back turned to them as he gathered his phone and keys from the side table. "I should probably head out."

Mark frowned. "What? No. The party's starting in twenty minutes. You're staying."

"I can't," Alex said, not turning around. He couldn't face them, couldn't face Jenna, knowing that she knew. "I really think it's better if I just go. I'll... I'll catch up with you guys later in the week."

"Alex," Jenna said softly. "You don't have to leave because of... that. We understand."

"No, you don't," Alex said, finally turning to face them but keeping his hands strategically positioned in front of his lap. His face was flushed again, that miserable crimson returning. "Look, I appreciate you both being cool about this, I really do. But your guests are going to be here soon. Your sisters, Mark. Your girlfriends, Jenna. They're going to be in swimsuits, and I'm going to be..." He gestured helplessly at his crotch. "Like this. I won't be able to control it. I'll be walking around with a hard-on all afternoon, embarrassing myself in front of everyone. I can't do that. I won't do that to you guys."

Mark exchanged a look with Jenna, then fixed his friend with a determined stare. "Okay, fine. I get it. So go inside, use the...