The Tips
Back in their room, still a little damp from their poolside finale, Jake dumped the bag of crumpled bills onto the bed. Skip let out a low whistle as they began sorting through the stacks—twenties, fifties, even a few hundreds tucked in.
“Dude,” Jake said, eyes wide, “this is insane. Just over two grand. In tips. Two grand!”
Skip did the math in his head, then grinned. “Add that to the fifteen hundred we got for hosting, and that’s… thirty-five hundred bucks. Thirty-five hundred! For one night of being friendly and showing off our cottontails.”
Jake laughed, still shaking his head in disbelief. But Skip leaned over, wagging a finger with mock seriousness. “Correction: when we got out of the pool, they got a look at a lot more than our cottontails.”
For a second, they both held the thought—and then burst out laughing, collapsing back onto the bed. Jake raised his hand, Skip slapped it with a sharp high-five, and Jake said, “We’re legends.”
Skip grinned, scooping up a fistful of bills and tossing them in the air so they fluttered back down over the bedspread. “Hell yeah we are. So… what do you say?”
Jake sat up, a spark in his eye. “Let’s go celebrate. Palm Springs won’t know what hit it.”
The morning sun stretched warm across the backyard, bouncing off the turquoise water. Martin slid the patio door open with Daniel at his side, coffee mugs in hand—only to spot Jake and Skip gliding lazily through the pool, not a stitch on.
Daniel smirked and leaned toward Martin. “Well, it looks like our boys are no longer shy about showing off their cotton tails.”
Jake laughed from mid-lap, flicking water from his hair. “Not after last night, we’re not!” Skip chimed in, floating on his back, “We’ve been properly initiated.”
The two men chuckled, shaking their heads with amusement. “Palm Springs will do that to you,” Martin said with a grin.
At the edge of the pool, the boys climbed out, grabbing towels but only half-heartedly drying off before tossing them aside. With easy confidence, they padded across the deck, golden in the morning light, and joined the men at the patio table. Neither made any attempt to cover themselves or the fact that they were both still wearing the cockrings, and no one at the table seemed inclined to mind.
Breakfast was simple—fresh fruit, pastries, eggs—but the mood was rich. Between bites and sips of coffee, the group reflected on the night before.
“You two,” Daniel began, setting down his fork, “absolutely outdid yourselves. The way you handled the crowd? The charm, the energy—you were the perfect hosts.”
Skip grinned. “Can’t lie—it was wild. I’ve never heard people chanting for our cotton tails before.”
Jake added, “And to think, all we had to do was smile, dance, and… well, jump in the pool at just the right moment.”
Martin raised his mug in salute. “You gave everyone exactly what they came for. Our 25th anniversary will be talked about for years. We couldn’t have asked for better.”
The four clinked coffee mugs across the table, laughter bubbling again, the desert morning carrying with it the easy glow of a party well-thrown—and well-played.
The laughter lingered as they finished breakfast, the morning sun climbing higher over the palms. Martin leaned back in his chair, studying the boys with a warm smile.
“You know,” he said, “there’s no rush. If you don’t have classes tomorrow, you’re welcome to stay another night. Or today as long as you’d like, really.”
Daniel nodded in agreement, lifting his coffee. “It goes without saying—you two are invited back any time. Our door will always be open for you here.”
Jake raised his brows, pleasantly surprised. “Seriously? That’s… really generous.”
Skip grinned, elbowing him. “Well, after last night, I think we earned permanent guest passes.”
Martin laughed. “I’d say so. You’ve officially joined the Palm Springs tradition.”
The boys exchanged a glance, their smiles making it clear they were tempted. The pool sparkled in the sunlight, the house felt easy and welcoming, and the idea of another day in the desert—lounging, laughing, maybe even celebrating a little more—was hard to pass up.
Then, with a mischievous spark in his eye, he leaned back in his chair and gave a long, lazy stretch—the kind of full-body sprawl that left no mystery about the shape of him.
Martin and Daniel exchanged a glance, clearly amused at the playful display.
Not to be outdone, Skip smirked, “Well, no classes for me either,” and threw his arms overhead in his own exaggerated stretch, showing off in the morning light.
Daniel chuckled. “Well, after last night, I suppose you two have nothing left to be shy about.”
Jake dropped his arms, gave his balls a tug and laughed. “Guess not.”
Daniel spread his hands with a grin. “Then it’s settled—you’ll stay. The desert has a way of keeping people a little longer than they plan. And since you won’t be driving, MIMOSAS”
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