Do you have another choice...

Justin gave you a nervous but encouraging smile.

“It doesn’t have to mean you’re committing to the team or anything. Just… think of it as trying something new. Seeing how it feels.”

You sighed, half-embarrassed, half-intrigued, and finally stood to follow them. Jamal, a step ahead, glanced back at you with a wide grin, the kind that promised trouble and excitement in equal measure.

As you walked beside Justin, you said, “You know, it’s really nice to go on a shopping trip like this. Yeah, it’s maybe a bit overwhelming, but still cool.”

He looked at you with a kind smile.

“Oh… that’s great to hear. I reckon being in a place like this for the first time is crazy, but at least you’ve got us.” Justin chuckled.

“Yes, you’re right. Again, man, thank you for paying for all that stuff. You really didn’t have to do that, I could’ve paid for everything myself.” You gave him an embarrassed look, cringing at how expensive you must seem, not knowing it wasn’t his idea to pay for everything.

“Again, it’s fine, don’t worry about it,” Justin smiled. “I’ve got the money, and you seem like a really nice person. Plus, you joined the BSA. You’re now part of our community.” His voice was soft as he spoke.

The three of you weaved through the crowd, past perfume counters and shoe stores, until the shining glass storefront of the swim shop appeared ahead. Bright displays of trunks, briefs, and speedos in every color lined the mannequins, lit by strong overhead lights.

Jamal gestured at the window with both hands like he was presenting treasure.

“There it is, Emile. Your destiny.”

You groaned under your breath, but Justin’s quiet chuckle beside you gave you just enough courage to step inside.

The three of you entered the swim shop, the blast of cool air and bright lights making you feel even more exposed. Racks of swimwear stretched across the space: rows of long trunks, sleek briefs, and speedos in bold neon, classic black, and everything in between. Posters of muscled athletes in competition cuts lined the walls, their tight suits leaving little to the imagination.

Jamal clapped his hands together, grinning like he was in a candy store.

“Damn, this place is perfect.”

He strolled ahead, presence larger than life, brushing his broad hand over hangers as he walked.

“Now, Emile, the real question is… are you a trunks guy, or are we gonna see you strut in some of these tight little numbers?”

You swallowed hard, your eyes flicking nervously to a display of bright-colored briefs. Just the thought of wearing something that small made your stomach twist.

Justin trailed behind, quietly scanning the racks, though his eyes kept sliding back to Jamal. His jaw flexed like he was holding something back, maybe a smile, maybe something else.

“You don’t have to get the really small ones, Emile,” he said softly. “There are looser cuts too. You’d look fine in those.”

“Fine?” Jamal snorted. “Man, we’re not going for fine. We’re going for unforgettable. Nobody remembers ‘fine.’”

He pulled a pair of bright blue speedos off the rack and dangled them in front of you with a wolfish grin.

“Now this… this would have people losing their damn minds.”

You groaned, covering your face with one hand.

“I can’t wear that. It’s basically skimpy underwear!”

“Exactly,” Jamal chuckled, his deep voice sliding smooth as honey. “And you’d look like a champ in it. Don’t fight me on this, Emile. You’ve got the build for it, a nice waist and that perfect thick white bubble butt.”

He leaned close enough for only you to hear, his breath warm against your ear, making your skin tingle.

“Trust me, it’s a crime to hide that thang.”

You try your best not to feel embarrassed by how often the black man talks about your ass. He is obviously doing it to make you feel normal about it and to build up your confidence.

Justin shifted uncomfortably beside a rack of goggles, clearly listening but pretending to be fascinated by the price tags. His lips pressed together tightly, and the tips of his ears turned red.

You didn’t realize it, but Jamal was obviously flirting with you, and you fell right into his trap. Justin knew what getting closer with a man like Jamal meant, and he couldn’t do anything about saving you. For him, the consequences would be too heavy. Trent had Sarah and him completely under control, and the possibility of losing Sarah was more than he could bear.

Jamal straightened and tossed the blue speedos over your arm before grabbing a tighter pair of short-cut trunks in black, then another in fiery red. He piled them into your arms with practiced ease, like a man dressing his favorite toy.

“Alright. Three choices. No excuses. You’re trying all of them on.”

Jamal’s dominance filled every word, and it was hard to resist following what he wanted. Your protests died on your lips as he guided you toward the changing rooms at the back with a firm hand on your shoulder. His grip wasn’t rough, but it was heavy enough to remind you how easily he could steer you.

The attendant barely looked up as Jamal waved the armful of suits at him and ushered you inside.

The little cubicle was narrow, a long mirror across one wall and a bench against the other. The thin curtain swayed shut behind you, but before you could breathe, Jamal leaned against the wall just outside, his voice low and teasing.

“Don’t take too long. I wanna see how my boy looks in each one.”

Your heart pounded at his words as you stared at the bundle of swimwear in your hands. The fabric was so small, so tight, there was no way it wouldn’t cling to every thick curve.

From outside, Jamal chuckled, that same lazy confidence dripping from every word.

“C’mon, Emile. Don’t keep us waiting. You know we’re dying to see how your body fits into those clothes.”

You set the pile of swimwear on the bench. For a moment, you just stood there, chewing your lip, staring at your reflection. The thought of Jamal’s grin on the other side of the curtain made your skin burn hotter for some reason.