Bowling with Wivien

He wasn’t much of a bowler, but the promise of company made the pins worth aiming at. Camera in hand, he brought Gigi and Wivien to the lanes, the polished wood gleaming under low lights. Wivien’s blonde hair caught every flicker as she leaned over to pick her ball, skirt riding high on her thighs. Each frame she threw gave him a fresh angle—soft curves, quick glances over her shoulder, a grin that dared him to keep watching. Gigi stayed close, cheering, hips swaying with every spare and strike. Between turns the three of them traded touches and low laughter, the air thickening with something far warmer than competition. When the last ball clattered into the pit, Wivien turned, eyes bright, inviting him closer. He set the camera down. The game wasn’t over yet.