by Lulu Pratt
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he said with a rascally grin. “Go on, tie it around me.”
Who did he think he was? “Tie it yourself, hot shot.”
I walked over to his chaise lounge and dropped the scarf on his chest. Or, I meant to drop it on his chest. In reality, it landed closer to his, err, nether regions. Finn’s face pulled back in surprise and perhaps a little glee.
“That where you meant to put that?” he asked.
“Of course not,” I replied, my voice coming out in a squeak. I’d been telling the truth, but my pitch was so dicey it sounded like it’d been a fib.
“Whatever you say.” He bit back a smile and returned to his book.
Gosh, that boy had some nerve. He made me want to… to… heck, I didn’t know anymore, couldn’t think straight between all the annoyance and embarrassment and, yeah, attraction. Why is being around guys so darn confusing?!
Brain spinning with emotions, I moved back to my suitcase and grabbed a short nightie. Unfortunately, tiny nightdresses were all I’d brought. These ones weren’t from Mimi. Even back home, I slept exclusively in nightdresses. Mama had raised me to believe that nightwear were a luxury everyone could afford but no else could see, so you might as well get cute ones. I’d taken that to heart, and saw my nighties as a way to express myself for myself, without any other judging eyes.
All this to say, the nightdress I pulled out was itty-bitty, with a pink leopard pattern and a deep scoop neck and empire waist. I’d never thought of it as scandalous, because I’d never thought anyone would see it.
And Finn won’t, I reminded myself. He’s putting the blindfold on.
Right. Nightie in hand, I went to the bathroom, quickly disrobed and wiped off my make-up, put on a bit of moisturizer, then bundled up my day clothing.
I cracked the door open. I’d killed the light in the bathroom, and couldn’t see out. Had Finn kept his promise? I couldn’t tell, but I wasn’t about to wait all night – I needed to just get up my courage and bolt.
“Your mask on?” I called, hoping he’d be honest.
“Sure is.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Reckon you’ll just have to trust me.”
A fair point. With a sigh, I tiptoed out of the bathroom, and then with a start, raced to the bed. I somehow managed to dodge Finn’s chaise lounge, and landed firmly under my own covers. I realized with an eye roll that I’d kept my dirty clothes in hand, so I tossed them over the edge of the bed – quite out of character for me, but desperate times, desperate measures.
My eyes adjusted to the dimness, and I hitched up on my pillow to get a good look at Finn.
True to his word, he’d kept the scarf on. Despite myself, I smiled. I knew that it was what he should have done, what any man should have done. But still… a part of me was happy that I’d made a request that many would’ve regarded as silly, and that he’d gone along with it anyway.
A very different part of me was also pleased to see that he had thrown off the blankets he’d scrounged from a nearby linen closet, and was wearing little to no clothing – just a set of black briefs that hugged every inch of his bottom. I felt my mouth watering, and other unmentionable muscles clenching up. Even in the dim light, I could see that, though he was thin, his body was carved of granite, his pale skin laying atop pure muscle. As he twisted on the couch, I caught sight of abs, pecs, tattoos, the whole kit and caboodle.
This is wrong, I told myself, interrupting my satisfying show. He didn’t watch you, which means you don’t get to watch him.
But then, he’d also purposefully kicked the sheets off, and I knew he didn’t have my sense of modesty. He’d made that much clear throughout the day. And as I gazed at him, I found myself become increasingly more – gosh, should I even admit this? – becoming even more… aroused.
A little snore emerged from his throat, and I felt my hard-won self-restraint slip, just a little bit.
Just enough that I allowed myself to reach beneath my nightdress, and with one nervous finger, find my pearl. It was slick to the touch, and I recoiled. This isn’t right, my voice opined, and I realized, with a sudden jolt, that I was getting awful tired of this voice. Playing with my own body wouldn’t hurt anyone else. What I did with my body was my dang business. And right now, what my body wanted, what it craved, was a release.
With renewed confidence, I pressed down on my private part with the butt of my hand, rubbing it firmly, moving my hips in the opposite direction to increase friction. I could feel my neck growing hot, beads of sweat beginning to form at the nape and between my breasts. I rubbed harder, demanding satisfaction. In my mind’s eye, I saw Finn, stretched out in just his underwear, his gaze commanding and a small tent forming over his crotch.
Sensation filled my slickness and was warmly spreading to my other erogenous zones. I let out an involuntary gasp, and immediately clapped my hand over my mouth.
But then Finn rolled over, and in a voice thick with sleep, mumbled, “Did you say something?”
Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh. Oh my gosh.
“No,” I whispered feverishly. “Go back to sleep.”
He yawned and flipped back to his other side.
Had he seen anything? Was he more awake or asleep? Would he remember this encounter in the morning?
My mind raced as I tried to come up with any number of excuses. I was massaging my neck. It was just a weird snore, I have sleep apnea. I was practicing yoga.
Not like I could ever tell him the truth – I’d been masturbating to thoughts of him.
Chapter 11
FINN
I AWOKE GENTLY, the wind on my cheek lapping at me like the family dog. For a moment I was petrified of the sudden darkness before realizing that I was still wearing Poppy’s scarf. Smells like her, I thought with a little sigh. Like strawberries dipped in cream.
There was a nearby rustle. Was Poppy awake? Could’ve sworn I heard her last night, puttering about the room or something, but then, I had a vivid imagination.
“Poppy?” I whispered, not wanting to startle her out of sleep, but also not caring to remain blindfolded for the rest of the day. “You there?”
Her voice came back in bright singsong. “Yes, I’m here, and yes, you can take the scarf off.”
“Much appreciated.”
I unfurled the scarf from my head, and as the layers disappeared from my eyes I saw that she was standing before me wearing a gauzy, flowing skirt in an ethereal shade of jade, and a crisp white top that cinched at her waist. Around her feet were tan sandals, with ties that wrapped several times around her ankle and lower calf. She was Diana, both a goddess and mistress of the hunt.
Needless to say, my sleep was over. “You look wonderful,” I murmured, my eyes running over her body.
“Thanks,” she replied in a tight voice and a shy smile. Had my roving gaze offended her? Or was there something else choking her words? “Get up, time to seize the day.”
I sighed deeply. “If you insist.”
Poppy raised both her brows, her face the portrait of shock. “You’re in the middle of paradise,” she said slowly, “and I have to goad you outta bed? Man, ain’t that a kicker.”
I shrugged and said, “I’ve spent plenty of time in paradise. I’ve learned it’s not about the place, not really, but about the people you’re there with.”
She bit her lip and play with the pleats in her skirt. “And what do you think of the people you’re here with this time?”
“I think some of them are fucking marvelous. Maybe one in particular.”
She blushed so furiously I thought her cheeks might burst. Those self-same cheeks constrained a smile from emerging, but nevertheless, I saw it playing in the muscles.
“Get ready,” she repeated, though this time more playfully.
“Aye, cap.”
I arose from the bed, and was fully standing and stretching my arms before I realized I was still in my knickers. Poppy’s eyes shot
to my crotch, then immediately looked away, but it was too late. I’d already seen it.
What’s this girl thinking? I wondered. What does she want?
Her eyes purposefully trained in the opposite direction, Poppy gestured to my hips and said, “Can you, err, cover… that.”
I snorted, but didn’t put up a fight. “As you wish.”
Of course, I got the sneaking suspicion she rather me not cover it, but that was a fight for another time. In the meanwhile, I wrapped one of my sheets around my waist and toddled into the bathroom, legs still slow with sleep.
After a quick pee, I washed my face, then set to shaving it.
Poppy knocked. “May I come in? I need some of my make-up.”
I leaned behind me, blade still to my face, and twisted the handle of the door, swinging it open for her.
“Thanks,” she replied, entering the bathroom.
Her eyes fell on my Dopp kit, a small, simple thing that I’d taken ‘round the world, and then on the various men’s grooming products I’d brought. Working in fashion means I have enough shaving cream to last me a lifetime.
She picked one of them up, then another, then another. It was strange, to be sure, but I wasn’t about to stop Poppy from doing anything so harmless as touching my soaps. Besides, maybe she’d leave her distinct smell on them.
“These are super bad for the environment,” she said finally.
I shrugged. “I get them for free from different companies so–”
She shook her head emphatically. “It’s worth paying for products that save the planet.”
“Poppy, dear, I’m never going to be able to live up to your level of do-goodness. You’re just a better person than me.”
Her mouth plopped open with surprise. “I’m hardly a saint, Finn. But making a little effort can create big changes. You just gotta start somewhere.”
“That’s a touch condescending,” I retorted. Who does she think she is, trying to turn me into a good Christian boy? That’s one thing I’m not.
“Saving the planet isn’t condescending.”
God, she both irked and delighted me. Her unflagging belief in other people’s goodness is exhausting, especially when I wouldn’t consider myself to be a particularly wonderful guy. I’m respectful, sure, but I know I’m a cad, that I’ll leave a girl high and dry at the drop of a hat. I’ve sleep around, I booze, I’m flighty. I didn’t need another woman to remind me how off-putting, how antithetical to partnership that is. Heard plenty of that.
“Let’s call it a draw, hm?” I replied before continuing my routine. Poppy watched, then rolled her eyes before refocusing on her own routine.
Within the next fifteen minutes or so, Poppy and I finished up, grabbed our gear – my camera, her travel bag – and met the models downstairs. They were lazing about, mostly undressed and taking pictures of one another.
“Hey girls,” Poppy said. “You ready for an awesome day?”
Bebe and Kareen smiled at her, the picture of friendliness, but Chrissy snorted and made a face in my direction, not a subtle one, either, as if to say, ‘can you believe this cow?’
Luckily, Poppy missed the look and continued on. “Great, so Ms. Totelle said I’d be in charge of this itinerary, so today, we’re going to a local market, where I’m going to source ingredients and products for the coming shoots.”
I raised my hand. “And I’ll be taking photos of you in the market.”
All the models, even Chrissy, nodded at this. In a different time, models would’ve complained about not having hair and make-up with them. Now, they’d become accustomed to being photographed at any moment of the day, so they did their own look in the mornings.
“All right,” Poppy said, her excitement contagious. “Let’s get on the road.”
Our little posse shuffled out of the villa, and two of the girls forgot things and had to double back before we finally got in the car. Almost needless to say, BeYou Magazine had secured us a driver for the week. Poppy and I piled in the back, while the models took the front seats. I stole a glance in her direction and saw that she was vibrating with energy and happiness. It had been ages since I’d seen someone not try to play it cool and appear unaffected by awesome surroundings. Her openness moved me. Plus, she looked pretty hot when she was taking command of the group, laying out our schedule like a general.
It didn’t take long to reach the small market Poppy spoke of. After all, from the bottom of the island to the top was less than a forty-five minute drive, so everything was close together.
We got out of the car and were greeted by a spate of tiny wooden stalls, all staffed by at least one person, usually a whole family. It stood in such stark opposition to the “markets” in NYC, where each stall was corporate sponsored and accepted credit cards as payments. Good thing BeYou Magazine had given us local currency, or I reckon we wouldn’t have been able to do shit.
All of the girls plunged into the market and I lingered behind, putting a different lens on my camera. This would make a great spot for shooting them – certainly a far cry from my usual silky backdrops – and if we were here for a bit, I could even get in some pictures of my own. The thought made my heart warm.
As I trailed the girls, I saw that Poppy had already stopped at a stall, and was leaning over a case of what appeared to be local coconut oil. She was engaged in animated conversation with the vendor. They were both smiling widely, even laughing. I’d left her alone for a minute and she’d already made a friend.
I couldn’t resist. I lifted up my camera, and took a picture of her.
Her head whipped to mine. “Did you just–”
“Take a photo of you?” I finished. “Yup. Had to.”
“For the magazine?”
“Just for art, writ large.”
She blushed, and the vendor looked back and forth between us. With a grin, he said, “Beautiful couple.”
Poppy raced to clarify, “Oh no, no we’re not–”
“Beautiful couple,” he reiterated, evidently closing the case.
Poppy sighed, looking distressed but not about to fight a stranger, and I realized that hearing us referred to as a couple didn’t make me sick with dread, as that word usually did. What the fuck was going on in that daft head of mine?
After Poppy purchased some of the vendor’s oil – either because it was good, or out of sheer embarrassment, I couldn’t tell – she moved away, heading to another stall, skirt flaring out behind her. I raised my camera. In for a penny, in for a pound. I took another photo.
Poppy stopped in her tracks, and whirled on me. “Okay,” she said with a huff. “If you’re gonna be taking all these photos, let me at least see them.”
“Gladly,” I replied, and held out my camera for her to scour.
She examined the photos, her body closer to mine than it ever had been. Although it was hot, I could almost feel the temperature raise as she stood beside me. My body felt desperate for any validity of her presence. She then whispered, “They’re beautiful.”
“I can hardly take the credit,” I replied in a low voice.
Poppy looked up into my eyes and an inscrutable expression morphed her features. And then, as quickly as she’d been vulnerable, she was once again a closed book.
As she handed me back the camera, she remarked, “That’s probably the first time you’ve ever shot a plus-size woman.”
Well, that was out of line. “Hey, come on,” I began. “I have a job–”
“Yeah, I know,” she replied, and I could see that she was arming herself with reasons to keep me out, like she was building a wall before my very eyes. “A job that hates women like me. Some dang job.”
I was left speechless as Poppy turned on a heel and walked to the next stall.
On the one hand, she was being wildly unfair. I didn’t choose my job. Or, well, I did, but I’d been younger and I needed the money. And it wasn’t my fault that the fashion industry, lingerie specifically, favored thin women.
On the o
ther hand… on the other hand, maybe she had a point. Maybe I was a part of the vaster thing that oppressed gorgeous women who looked like her. Even if I had taken the job for money, I was benefitting from ridiculous, antiquated beauty standards.
Jesus. I didn’t want to be this constantly challenged, not by her, not by anyone. I wasn’t a good guy, and I’d made my peace with that. My life had been hard, and now? Now I just wanted it to be easy, if only for a little while. Is it so wrong to not want to have to think, to just move from your gut and punch out and hope for the best?
Poppy had done a number and a half on me. As the calls of the vendors rang in my ears, so did her words: That’s probably the first time you’ve ever shot a plus-size woman.
It was true. It was the first time, but with Poppy in my life – at least for the next week – it most certainly wouldn’t be the last.
Chapter 12
POPPY
THE REST of the time in the market, I tried to concentrate on all the products on display, desperately needing to cull some for the upcoming shoot. I managed quite a haul of goodies, but I’d need to get back to the villa to see if they were actually worth it.
All because I’d been unable to focus, thinking of my sharp words to Finn. They’d been honest, but I wondered if I wasn’t lashing about because I was so frustrated by my feelings concerning him. He was a hunk of a man, but certainly not the kind I could even let myself get slightly romantic about. He was no Christian, of that much I was sure. We, as a theoretical couple, were a dead end.
And yet…
Anyways.
After the market, I herded the team, Finn and all, back into the van and we drove on to our next destination. I could feel a distinct chill radiating off his arms, which were bare – even Finn had been forced to ditch the leather jacket in this weather. Whatever, I wasn’t about to apologize for being right. Normally, apologies pour out of my mouth like I’ve just snorted milk, but something about Finn made me far more stubborn and way less pliant than usual.
We were pulling up to the next stop before I could get too deep into my thoughts. I’d decided we’d go to a dolphin sanctuary on the island, not so much for organic sourcing, but because according to my research, the sanctuary was making really positive impacts within the community and on the environment.
