“That won’t be necessary, John.” I feel a flash of heat rise to my face. Oh, God, what is wrong with me?

“I will leave you to rest for a few moments.” He slides a small lever on the wall, dimming the light lower and clicks the door closed.

Is this what freedom feels like? I’ve been with Eric so long I don’t know how to navigate the tumultuous sea of my own libido. This man is a professional. He is just doing his job. Taking advantage of the false intimacy of massage is exploitive. I know better than to even fantasize. What has gotten into me?


Back in my hotel room, I look forward to my solitude, contemplating the fresh hell that awaits when I go home.  I sip the evening’s first glass of red and crack the spine of a novel I picked up in the shop downstairs.


Four chapters in, I realize it must be past dinnertime. I call the lobby.


“Yes, Miss, the restaurant is still open. Would you like to make a reservation?”


“Please…I don’t want to be any trouble. It’s just me. I will eat at the bar.”


“Very good, Miss.”


I make an effort, even though I am not here to be seen or admired… fluffing my hair and applying a bit of makeup in the mirror before leaving the suite in a simple form-fitting sheath dress and flat sandals.


“I swear I’m not stalking you…” he laughs, as I take my seat in the lounge.


The bar is all but empty at this late hour.


“We meet again…”


“It’s a sign, Love.”


Having delved well into the evening’s share of wine, I am feeling generous, and a bit lonesome for company.


“Would you like to join me?”


“I thought you’d never ask!” He shifts over eagerly to graze my elbow and plants a kiss on my cheek. His boyish enthusiasm is charming and I give in to the moment’s comfort of his presence.

“Traveling alone?” A benign question.

“It’s complicated.”

“Ah, I see…” His inquiry ends. A most welcome reply and I let him talk. Let him dominate the conversation, grateful for the company. Hungry for diversion.


I learn about his small hometown in England and what brought him to the states. He tells me about his family and funny stories about his sisters back home. His ebullience is contagious and I find myself laughing aloud at his exaggerated voices and gesticulations.


There is no pretense, no posturing, no pressure. Just two adults, spending the evening. Passing the time. And what he doesn’t know, he doesn’t need to know.


We walk out on the beach —against the moonlit sand.


“Would you consider me too forward if I asked to share a kiss with you?”


We are lying back on our elbows on a beach towel. I stare up at the glowing orb floating above us as if making an inquiry.


“No, your timing is perfect.”


When he leans over  I catch the reminiscent scent of him—clean, with vague hints of coconut and citrus. His kiss is soft and tentative. He is cautious and it only endears him to me more.


I lock my arms around his neck and pull him closer, his tongue deeper into my mouth…savoring the experience. I am giving myself over to this—and it feels so good to  surrender.


His fingertips find the curve of my breast– taut and straining against the thin fabric. His hand sweeps down lower, already familiar with the soft terrain of my body.  Erection, thick and insistent, pressing against my thigh.

I hear myself  moan into our kisses—leaving all vestige of appropriate behavior by the wayside. My legs are spread shamelessly open as I offer him full liberty with my sex.  He only skirts the edges, playing whisper-light caresses against my hot and sensitive skin. But his tongue tells a more compelling story, wrestling warm and wet against mine.


“You are teasing me!”


I break our kiss and face him soberly.


“You don’t like?”


“Of course, but…”


“There’s plenty of time for that, my dear.”


“Really? No happy ending??”


“Your happy ending is yet to come.”


We pick up our things and head toward my suite.


“I had a lovely evening, “ he whispers at the door.


He doesn’t make a move to come in. Doesn’t wait to be invited.


“Until we meet again, Milady.” He kisses my hand.


To be continued…