Acquiesce

by CORY CYR

  This was the perfect place to finish my research for my book on sexuality. I’d been told by some reliable sources that older women weren't looking for love (most of them had it and lost it, divorced it, or didn't want to bother with it) so observing these next ten would be perfect. I had already published two books regarding the subject of sexuality and hopefully with my findings here I would finally be able to put the finishing chapters in my notebook and then start compiling the third and final book in the series.

  When I first approached Lorraina about staying at the brothel for a few months, she’d wanted me to work. I laughed and raised an eyebrow at this. Really, me at a brothel? Not a chance in hell was I fucking any woman with sagging skin, a celebrity's bad facelift, and over the age of twenty-five. We finally agreed, for appearance’s sake, I would be her cousin (this would be a stretch, considering she was French and I was of Russian decent). I was also made to sign a nondisclosure form, with added legal agreements about never disclosing names, places, etc. in any future publications. She would allow me to observe through a two-way mirror that was in one room so I could gather the necessary documentation for my research. Some of the male escorts knew what I was doing, but their guests wouldn't. This would be a “blind” study, not disclosing any personal information about the guests.

  It was actually quite interesting if you could get past the “age” factor. I have to admit there had been a few that looked quite put together for their age, no doubt thanks to a skilled surgeon. Nevertheless, they seemed to thirst for their escorts’ touch and they relished in every single act performed. I was sure there had been many that had never executed fellatio or had the act of cunnilingus performed on them.

  As I watched them, I took continual notes. Damn Lorraina for taking away my digital recorder, so writing down everything by hand had become necessary. The idea was to see if these women would want the same man for their entire stay or if they would want to use multiple partners. The ones that leaned toward their first encounter were in the throes of the chemical emotion of love or some response mirroring love. For the ones who sought out a different partner, it was just sexual release—those were the ones that interested me. I found it a nuisance being unable to question these particular women, but Lorraina would have had my head in a vise, or worse, my cock.

  I was enjoying my last few weeks of research and relaxation when a shadow clouded my sun.

  “Caspian.” I heard Lorraina's deep French accent as her toes swept lightly across the back of my thigh.

  I turned my head slightly, my eyes still closed beneath my sunglasses. “Don't call me that. Jesus, Lori, we talked about this. On the island, I’m just Cass.”

  I felt her press her toes down harder. Sighing, I flipped over. I heard a small hiss from her.

  “You've seen me nude before.” I chuckled as I rested my hands behind my head.

  “True, but it's been a long while. I can't believe you've been here almost four months and not once have you even tried to tempt me to your bed.”

  I sat up, brushing the sand from my body. “Lori, we're supposed to be cousins—not the kissing type,” I said, looking up at her. She was young and very beautiful, with a perfect set of tits on her slim, tanned body. “You and I had our time.”

  “That was years ago, Cass. Aren't you the least bit mal baisée?”

  “Really, come on now. Me, sexually frustrated? I think you know me better than that, Lori.”

  “Really, do not call me Lori. You know how I abhor what you Americans call nicknames. If you require me to call you Cass, then have the courtesy to call me Lorraina,” she grumbled. I could hear the sexual frustration in her voice.

  I stood, towering over her. I watched as her eyes drank me in from head to toe, slowly wandering back up to my cock. She reached out to touch me, but I stopped her mid-grasp, catching her by the wrist.

  “Lorraina, don't do this please. What we had was intense and quite pleasurable, but our time has passed—you know how I am.”

  “I could inspire you to want me,” she cooed.

  I shook my head as I pushed up my sunglasses. “I don't think so. I have a few weeks left here before I leave to start my book. I'm not here to fuck. I'm here to work.” I started walking past her toward the steps that led to the brothel. “Come with me, Lorraina, and tell me about the next crop of women. Is there anyone that will kindle my interest?”

  I waited for her at the bottom of the stairs, taking her hand when she reached me. I pressed a small kiss to her knuckles as I saw the discomfort in her face. At twenty-four, she could have any man she wanted. Her dark hair with rich chocolate-colored eyes had caught me instantly when I was younger. Lorraina was a perfect example of someone on the fence about emotions. The sex we had bordered on animalistic. There was no sexual act out of bounds with her. Our affair had been highly charged and emotionless, or so I thought. Three years had gone by. Then when I showed up here, her demeanor had changed. Maybe age had something to do with sudden emotional attachment. Whatever was going on, I was suddenly glad I only had weeks before my departure.

  2~Nicola

  “Baby, don't worry about me. I'm going to be fine. Dr. Lemand said so. Don't you believe me?”

  I looked down at my beautiful husband, his eyes brightly lit with the tiniest laugh lines framing them. Chris looked good for forty-five. Even with all the wires and hospital tubes, my heart swelled knowing we were only days away from celebrating our ten-year wedding anniversary. This had been the happiest ten years of my life. Even after all this time, I wondered how I got so lucky. True, Chris had been ridiculed and mocked by his peers because he was sixteen years older, but I never cared about the age difference.

  I met him while setting up a charity function; he was one of the donors. I was immediately captivated, and our love affair began immediately. He was handsome and kind. He gave me everything I ever wanted. I knew most of his friends thought I was after his money, but the truth was I had fallen in love with him before I even knew who he was, before I found out he owned three companies and was worth thirty million dollars. I never cared about that. I would have loved him and married him if he had been penniless.

  I'd never known any man until we met. I always knew I’d saved my virginity for someone, and that someone was Chris. There was no way we could have waited until the wedding night, but Chris had been patient and caring and let me set the pace regarding intimate relations. After five months and roughly four days, both of us finally caved. I would never forget our first time. Though painful, it had been my awakening with the man who was my soul mate.

  We had a beautiful home in Arizona, a penthouse in Los Angeles, as well as a loft in New York. Even though Chris spent long hours working, we took many trips. His plan was to show me the world, and for the most part, he had. We’d just come back from a two-week skiing trip in Aspen when he developed double vision. Chris laughed it off, saying it was stress, probably the wrong eyeglass prescription or maybe even just tired eyes. It did go away after a few weeks, and he seemed to forget about it, but I never did.

  Then four months later, the double vision returned and this time I made him go to a doctor. His ophthalmologist looked him over, then sent him to a neurologist. Chris tried to make trivial the doctor not finding anything, but fear niggled at me the entire time. By the time we went to the neurologist appointment, I was desperate for answers. Chris went through numerous tests for two weeks. After the tests were completed, Dr. Lemand had us come in to go over the results. My worst nightmare was beginning to unravel before me. My husband of almost ten years had a brain tumor. I lost it, sobbing uncontrollably, comforted by both Chris and Dr. Lemand.

  Once I’d calmed down, the doctor began going over the tests. The tumor was pressing on the optical nerve and most likely had been there for many years. Had it not been for the sudden onset of double vision, we might have not known about it. Dr. Lemand assured me, promised me, and guaranteed this was a simple fix—the surgery would be a piece of cake—and he urg
ed me not to worry. Easy for him to say. Chris had been in the premier of health, never even catching the flu or having colds, until now.

  Within four weeks, my entire world shattered, destroyed beyond anything I could have ever imagined. Chris had been my entire life, the reason for my existence—and in one moment, he’d been taken away from me. I’d only stepped out for five minutes to get some coffee, pressing a kiss to his lips before I left.

  “I want to make love to you so bad right now. Once we get home, we'll be in bed for a month.”

  “Promises, promises… You, mister, are a naughty boy. I think you better wait and see how you feel before you make me vows of ecstasy.”

  I had chuckled as I walked out of his room and made my way down to the cafeteria. I'd only been gone a few minutes… As the elevator doors opened, I saw nurses and doctors running everywhere. I heard the words code blue as my coffee cup dropped to the floor. I made a dash for Chris's room, only to be shoved out of the doorway by three nurses.

  “You can't be in here, Mrs. Barrington,” a nurse said as she pushed me back. My entire body began to shake as tears flooded my eyes and made trails down my face. This was not happening. This had to be a dream. THIS. IS. NOT. HAPPENING.

  “Nic, Jesus H. Christ, wake up. Nic.”

  I opened my eyes and let them focus in on my surroundings. Oh yeah. I was on a damn airplane, going to God knows where with my two best friends, who just might become my two ex-friends.

  “I guess I fell asleep. Lucky me,” I said, glaring at both Pru and Dee as I opened my purse to find tissue. Pru handed me a packet of Kleenex, her face a mask of sadness.

  “Nicola, are you all right? This trip is about R and R,” Pru said as she sat next to me.

  “I thought you mentioned something about rejuvenation for old ladies,” I muttered as I used the tissue to wipe my tearstained face.

  “Hey, speak for yourself, Ms. Just-about-to-turn-forty in what, eleven hours and about seventeen minutes?” Dee said as she sandwiched herself between Pru and me.

  “I may be turning the big four-O, but I'm still the youngest one here,” I said, groaning. I wanted nothing but to go back in time and forget my life—the one that ended eleven years ago. I was just skin covering a hollow shell. My heart was beating and I had a pulse, but inside I was void of emotion—I was dead. How I let my two best friends, well, my only friends, talk me into a vacation was beyond me. We'd only been on the plane for roughly five hours, and here I was already dreaming about Chris.

  Maybe I was never going to recover. Maybe I didn't want to. Losing him was unimaginable, yet it happened. Being sedated the first few months had helped and being on antianxiety medication for almost two years had been a blessing. The doctors finally forced me to go off the medication, stating the normal grief period was a year. Really, what did they know? I was convinced I would never get over the loss. He’d left me with all his wealth, but I would gladly give it all back rather than lose him.

  I couldn't even get out of bed for almost a year. I loved him so intensely that even now he was with me every day. I’d spent the last eleven years in our Sedona home, never leaving the house once. All of Chris's business dealings as well as the three companies I had given management decisions over to Chris's partners. All contracts and any other paperwork that required my signature was either faxed to me or sent by messenger.

  The only contact I allowed was with my staff, Pru, and Dee. Pru spent months attempting to coax me out of the house, and when that wouldn't work, she sent in Dee as backup. Dee would threaten me with institutionalization because she confused my depression with mental illness. I know they feared that even at twenty-nine, I might want to follow him. And there had been days I considered it. A world without Chris was a world I didn't want to exist in. Each day, I just went through the motions of existence, taking breaths, but never actually living.

  I spent my days swimming in the pool, wandering our property, shopping online, watching movies, and playing video games. I had plenty to keep me occupied. I never wanted for anything. The months had turned into years, and one week ago, I realized I'd been a recluse for eleven lonely years. Chris and I would have had children by now; we would have been a happily married old couple. I would have filled out and had the beginnings of laugh lines and possibly a few gray strands, and he would have been in his late fifties. He was my love, my soul mate, and my reason to go on. You only get that once—and my time had passed.

  ***

  “We should land in about another hour, and then we take a yacht to the island. So in about an hour, we'll be on the island,” Dee said as she tipped back her champagne glass. If there was one thing I could depend on, it was Dee, the absolute alcoholic.

  “How many is that, Dee? Go easy there. We still have a boat ride to contend with,” Pru chastised.

  “Silly bird, it's not a boat. It's a yacht. You think for one—”

  “Shut up, Dee. It's Nic's birthday gift. You never reveal the cost of a gift.” I looked at Pru as she gave Dee an icy glare.

  “Whatever. It's going to be interesting to say the least.” Dee tilted her glass toward Pru, returning the glare.

  Those two had never gotten along. Yes, we’d all been friends for fifteen years. I met them both through acquaintances at the many charity functions Chris and I had attended throughout our years together. Pru was a couple years older, and Dee was the eldest at forty-eight. Both were beautiful, wealthy, and slightly crazy. They’d spent the last three years coming up with every possible scheme to get me out of the house. I'd have to admit I was fairly set in my ways, so unless one or both of them were suddenly on fire, I’d never planned leaving my Sedona home.

  Two weeks ago, they came up with the brilliant idea of a vacation to celebrate my milestone. Seriously, how is turning forty a cause for celebration? I’d been adamant about saying no, and considering how many other times I’d said it to them, I just assumed they would take me at my word. Unfortunately, they had an alternate plan. They blackmailed me with the promise of that Chanel bag that wasn't available until late fall. Bitches. Even though I never left my home, I had a mad obsession for video games, shoes, and purses. Normally, I was somewhat frugal when it came to online purchases, but when I saw that purse, I knew I had to have it. If not for anything else but just to look at, smell, and touch. Damn, it was pretty. I would have bought it online, as I did with most things. Other times I just called the stores and had them deliver. Evidently, if you were wealthy, people would do anything you asked. But this particular bag I could not get a hold of, no matter what I tried—and believe me, I had tried everything. I had no idea how one of my friends was able to finagle that particular bag.

  To be fair, I shouldn't have allowed them to purchase such an extravagant gift. But I figured one hundred twenty thousand was fair considering they’d coerced me out of my home with the promise of that purse and a relaxing island vacation. Still, I wasn’t sure how de-stressing this retreat would be with both of them. After eleven years being virtually alone, except my staff and the periodic visits from these two, I would likely need a vacation after the vacation. At least I had my “toys” with me: laptop, tablet, phone, X-box, and my pretty new Chanel bag. I'm sure the girls choked when they saw my devices, but they’d been my constant companions through the last eleven years, and I wasn't going anywhere without them.

  I peeked out the window and saw nothing but teal-blue ocean and sky. Chris would have loved a Caribbean vacation. We had visited many countries, but never managed to make it to the Caribbean. I couldn't believe I would be celebrating my fortieth without him. My entire life was reduced to my memories. You only get one go around in your life to love someone. You only have one soul mate. When Chris and I exchanged vows, it was forever, and even though we said until death do us part, for me that meant eternity.

  ***

  Once we got our bags off the plane, we headed toward the yacht, and what a ship it was. We weren’t the only guests; there were seven other women who looked to
be well into their fifties, maybe even sixties. I supposed we weren't the only three looking to be “rejuvenated.”

  It was hot, and even with a base tan, I went to sit in the shade and apply sunscreen. Unlike Pru and Dee, I tended to freckle, everywhere.

  “Did you ever consider cutting off that braid and maybe getting a nice short and sassy hairstyle?” Pru asked as she handed me a champagne flute.

  I casually set down the glass and began slathering my skin with sunscreen.

  “I like my hair long, and I don't feel very sassy, so no, I won't be cutting off my hair anytime soon.” I sighed as I continued covering my body with lotion. Chris had loved my long hair, and I never once thought to cut it. I suppose for my age, having hair past my waist was unorthodox in our social circles, but since I wasn't part of the wealthy scene, it didn't matter. I never wore my hair loose or up, always in a long braid.

  I looked over at Dee, watching her as she spoke to a few other guests. She was the epitome of money—lots of it. She’d recently divorced her third, or maybe it was her fourth, husband. I could never keep track without a scorecard. Even at forty-eight, she was stunning and had an air about her that spoke regal. She was almost six feet, very thin, and had bright-red shoulder-length hair. Her eyes were so blue they almost matched the ocean water. With all her beauty and money, she was the most cynical person I'd ever known. It was hard for her to make friends because of her stoic nature, bad temper, and heavy drinking. We'd had many disagreements but had never gotten into a major fight in the fifteen years I'd known her, but she and Pru could go at it as if they were sisters.

  Pru was much more of a gentle soul. She was kind and sweet and had almost a childlike quality to her nature. Men adored her, probably because she was so gullible and easy to impress. Getting Pru to sleep with you was a simple task, one that required little skill. She too was tall and thin but with perfectly perky breasts, thanks to Dr. Wilkinson, one of the premiere plastic surgeons in New York. Unlike Dee, Pru's hair was swirls of different colors of brown with lots of natural curl, and her eyes dark; she was a natural beauty—well, minus the fake boobs.