She wasn't too skinny, her freckles were perfect -- someday Victor was going to kiss every one of them. Maybe give them names, too. But right now there were breasts being pressed into his hands and Olive was arching against him, fingers under his waistband, and he wasn't really thinking about skin blemishes anyhow.

He was very glad he'd been optimistic enough to stash a pack of condoms at the back of his suitcase just in case.

Victor brought down a hand, started to wriggle out of his shorts. He was feeling like he was wearing too many clothes again.