Never Too Late

by Patricia Watters

  While Andrea slowly sipped, savoring the drink's fruity sweetness while enjoying the creeping effects of the alcohol, Alessandro stretched out beside her on the bed. "Yellow Bird, it's called," he said in a low, soft voice. A very appealing smile touched his nice masculine lips. "A Yellow Bird for my little South Carolina bird," he added, and gave her a little peck on the cheek.

  His little South Carolina bird. How sweet. Andrea took another sip, settled back and sighed. All the tension of the day seemed to be vanishing with the drink, and for the first time in months, she felt at ease. Not ready to strip off her clothes and roll around in bed with Alessandro though, but maybe she'd consent to a little cuddling if only to make her feel wanted, but not until after she'd finished the rest of the Yellow Bird, to help her relax.

  Alessandro sat up, took one of her feet in his hand, and began to massage it. His palm curved around her arch, and his thumb caressed her instep, as he said, in that incredibly soothing Italian accent, "Relax, cara mia. Let the tension of the day with your husband go. He'll be out of your life soon, and things will be fine."

  "Yes," Andrea said lazily, the alcoholic drink finding its way down, warming her all over, making her lethargic. "This is just what I need. Thank you, Alessandro."

  As Alessandro massaged first one foot, then the other, the drink began to make Andrea drowsy, and before long, her eyelids felt heavy. "You're tired, querida," he said. "Close your eyes and let your worries go. And rest. Tomorrow, when we dock on Andros Island, I'm taking you to a special place where only islanders go. A place for lovers..."

  "Umm..." Andrea said, dreamily, "A place for lovers..."

  ***

  Andrea awakened, confused. When she sat up, a pain shot through her head, which felt so heavy she wondered if her neck would be able to hold it up. And she realized she had a hangover. It never occurred to her that having a drink with rum and brandy and whatever Galliano was, on a near empty stomach, was a very bad idea, especially for someone who rarely drank. But last night it was exactly what she needed.

  She glanced around in the twilight of the stateroom then realized it was long past twilight. Looking at the clock on the bedstand, she saw that it was four in the morning. The bed was still made, and she was on top of the covers as she'd been when she fell asleep, but Alessandro was gone. She couldn't imagine what he must be thinking, his querida, his little South Carolina bird, falling asleep. She clicked on the light on the bedstand and saw a note pinned under the ash tray. Lifting it from the table, she read:

  You were very tired, querida, and I knew it was best to let you sleep, but I am in the casino. I look forward to our evening in Andros Town tomorrow, or perhaps it is tonight by now. I hope you are rested, my little South Carolina bird. Until tonight then. Alessandro.

  Andrea folded the note. She'd like to stay and apologize for falling asleep, but she wasn't ready for Jerry and the rest of the passengers to know she'd spent the night in Alessandro Cavallaro's stateroom, and what that implied.

  Standing, she waited a moment for the room to stop spinning, then straightened her clothes, slipped into her shoes, and reached for her handbag, finding it on the seat of the chair, which gave her pause. She was sure she'd hung it on the back of the chair. But then, the incident with Jerry before she left to join Alessandro had been so upsetting, she barely remembered anything once she stepped into Alessandro's stateroom and was welcomed by his warm smile, and sincere eyes, and sweet little kiss. And after he handed her the drink and began massaging her feet, everything just melted into bliss...

  She sighed dreamily while contemplating the evening ahead. Alessandro mentioned he'd be taking her to a place for lovers, but she'd fallen asleep before he could tell her anything about it. Although she was curious to know more, she'd wait and be surprised. She liked the idea of Alessandro simply announcing that he'd be taking her out, as if they were already lovers...

  …gigolos are waiting to play you for all you're worth...

  She dismissed Jerry's words. Alessandro was not that kind of man, she told herself, as she let herself out of his stateroom.

  She'd hoped to find the passageway vacant at four in the morning, but when she opened the door and peeked out, she saw a man at the far end of the passageway. She turned in the opposite direction and headed towards her stateroom. Seeing light under the door, she wondered what Val was doing up this early in the morning. To her surprise, when she entered the stateroom, Val was walking out of the bathroom, stark naked, and not seeming to care, while rubbing her hair vigorously with a towel.

  She smiled when she saw Andrea. "Good morning," she said. "I just got back a few minutes ago." She tossed the towel on the bed, pressed her hands to the small of her back and stretched. "That was one energetic night," she said. "But since I only have seven more nights to convince the man he needs a sugar baby, I wanted to give him a good sampling of what lies ahead. And I did. He was smiling like the cat that swallowed the canary when I left."

  Andrea looked at Val's sleek perfect body—small trim waist, gently tapering hips, silicone-filled breasts—and wondered if Jerry engaged in all the playful antics with her before having sex, or if he just got on with it. The thought of Jerry being playful with Val was disturbing. That had always been special to their marriage. None of her married friends talked about frolicking with their husbands, and she'd always felt a little sorry for them that they missed out on the fun of lovemaking. But however Jerry did it, she still couldn't imagine him having a sugar baby at all, knowing that if the girls found out, they'd be so disillusioned they'd never look at him with adoration again...

  "So, you got your night with Alessandro," Val mused, while slipping into what looked like a teddy from Victoria's Secret. She started brushing the tangles out of her hair. "I was wondering how long you'd hold out. He'd be one nice sugar pup if he was in the market, but with all his money he doesn't need a sugar mommy."

  Andrea eyed Val with uncertainty. "Then Alessandro really does have a villa in Majorca and a sixty-four-foot yacht?" she asked.

  Val bent over, brushing her hair toward the floor, and replied, "You'd better believe he does. And more. It's common knowledge. Every time he's been on one of these cruises he's always been dropped off and picked up by a chauffeur-driven limo. And you can tell it's not a rented job. The chauffeur knows him well. So he must have a home somewhere on the east coast too." She set the brush on the bedstand, winked at Andrea, and said, "So, after a night with Alessandro what did you think of him?"

  "I don't know," Andrea replied. "I fell asleep."

  "Honey, I'm talking about before you fell asleep, what you thought of that package of his."

  Andrea looked at her, baffled. "What package?"

  "It's spelled p-e-n-i-s. Alessandro's is king-size, a state-of-the-arts sex machine. I know. I got the honor of trying it on for size one night a couple of years back. Oh man, that was one nice ride." She sighed. "He would have been one amazing sugar daddy, but Alessandro isn't into the sugar bowl scene. Turned me down gently, and with Italian finesse." Brows gathered, she said, musingly, "I actually think Alessandro's looking for a wife. He never plays the field on these cruises, and he seems to gravitate toward the older women." She looked at Andrea then, and added, "Maybe you're finally the one."

  Andrea's mind shifted between the elation she felt that Jerry was wrong about Alessandro being a gigolo, and the uneasiness that, for Alessandro, this could be more than just a shipboard romance. "Well, like I said, nothing happened last night. He mixed me a drink, I lounged on the bed, he rubbed my feet, and the next thing I knew it was four in the morning and Alessandro was gone. But he left a note saying he was in the casino and would see me tonight. He's taking me to a place on Andros Island. A place for lovers."

  "That sounds very romantic and very Alessandro." Val gave her a wry smile. "But afterwards, I sincerely hope you won't fall asleep again, at least not until you check out his package. That's what lovers do."

  "We're not at that point," Andrea assured
her. "Relationships take time to build. We'll probably watch a movie and maybe cuddle a little," though that idea had lost its appeal.

  "Well, I'll give you a little head's up in case the cuddling leads to more," Val said. "Don't be shocked when you learn Alessandro wears a thong. It's not for flaunting it though, he's far too reserved, but he said it's comfortable and keeps it all contained but not in a straitjacket.

  Andrea stared at Val, shocked that Alessandro would wear such a thing. Jerry would in an instant if she bought him one, and she could imagine the style show that would inspire. But Alessandro...

  "Don't look so shocked," Val said. "Lots of men in the single scene wear thongs. But it's mostly for male enhancement, the kind of thong with a padded pouch that grabs the package and pushes it up so it looks bigger." She let out a little snigger. "One prospective sugar daddy I met at the fitness center looked like Adonis in his spandex gym shorts, but when the tie-died thong came off, he looked like Adonis with a peanut and a couple of grapes. That's not what you get with Alessandro though. But from what you told me about your ex, how he turned you off, I suspect he's a peanut and grape man."

  "Well, no, he's just fine the way he is... or was," Andrea corrected, though she really didn't know whether Jerry's package was king size or not. She'd never had any other man to compare him with. But what Jerry had seemed right for her. Although maybe it wasn't. Maybe king size was what she needed to finally feel satisfied enough to put sex behind and accept her lot as a sexless, middle-aged divorcee. Not such a bad idea, she realized. With Jerry and sex out of the picture, she'd be free to visit the girls more, get to really know the grandchildren, maybe even spend time visiting her parents and not be so testy with her father. She let out a little soft laugh. With Jerry out of her life she'd be daddy's little silver-spoon-fed-princess again.

  But then, maybe living in a villa in Italy wouldn't be so bad either. She could fly to South Carolina regularly on Alessandro's jet. Or if he didn't have one, she'd convince him to get one so she could visit the girls. But she'd also be stuck with nightly sex again, and she couldn't imagine that without the playfulness Jerry initiated before making love.

  Looking at Val, she said, curiously, "The night you were with Alessandro... Did he make it fun, maybe horse around with you a little before you had sex?"

  Val laughed. "Honey, when you're sitting on the bed and a hunk like Alessandro is standing in front of you wearing nothing but a fishnet thong, horsing around is the last thing on your mind. I gave him what he wanted and he sure as shit gave me what I wanted." She sighed. "That was one satisfying piece of equipment."

  Which meant, Jerry's wasn't. At least, not to Val, Andrea surmised. Which puzzled her. She couldn't imagine what it was about what Jerry had that a woman like Val couldn't find... well... exceptional. It was certainly responsive when things between them had been good. But she couldn't dwell on that right now. She woke up with a splitting headache, and all she could think of was crawling into bed and getting a couple of hours sleep before dressing and meeting Alessandro for their evening on Andros Island.

  A place for lovers, she mused. What does one wear to a place for lovers?

  With a man-of-the-world like Alessandro, it should be something classy and chic. Maybe she'd check out the little boutique shops on the ship. She'd seen some trendy outfits there. And beneath whatever she wore she'd be daring, even if Alessandro would never see what it was. So all she needed was to decide which set of bikini panties and bras she'd wear.

  A place for lovers...

  The black set with the peek-a-boo lace that barely covered her nipples...

  The image of her wearing the set for Jerry emerged...

  Her last thought before drifting off for her nap was of Jerry standing in a fishnet thong and his state-of-the-arts sex machine in the pouch. When things had been right with them, Jerry really did have one satisfying piece of equipment. Four children, and years of playful romping and passionate lovemaking proved it. But Jerry didn't need thongs with padded pouches. What he had was just right for her...

  She tried to imagine a passionate encounter with Alessandro, but the image of Jerry in the fishnet thong kept getting in the way...

  …a place for lovers...

  She wasn't so sure now. She was having trouble keeping the lovers straight...

  ***

  The sun was setting when the cruise ship dropped anchor at Andros Town on Andros Island. The stop was to include a short visit for passengers to see one of Andros Island's many blue holes—circular pits that plunge hundreds of feet through rock and coral into murky depths—and attend a feast where a wild boar would be roasted on a rotating spit and islanders would do a fire dance. The cruise ship would leave at ten o'clock that night, so passengers were expected to return to the ship by nine.

  While Jerry stood watching a circle of happily inebriated passengers taking their turns at attempting the limbo while waiting to disembark, he spotted Andrea standing across the deck from him. In head-to-toe Giorgio Armani—a crocodile-printed military jacket with crystals and sequins, and skin-tight black silk leggings paired with crystal-encrusted leather boots—she didn't look bad for a woman in her forties. Hell, she didn't look bad for a woman of any age. He'd never seen the outfit before, so she'd no doubt picked it up in one of the upscale shops on board to impress that gigolo, Cavallaro. She glanced at her watch then looked around, so he gathered she was waiting for the guy. Then she pursed her lips and folded her arms, and her fingers began tapping impatiently against her bicep. Her obvious annoyance gave him a Machiavellian sense of pleasure. She looked up and caught him watching.

  Deciding to ruffle her feathers a little more than they already were, he walked up to her, and said, "You look pissed. Is your lover keeping you waiting?"

  She looked at him indifferently, and said, "That's none of your business."

  "I know," he replied. "Just thought I'd initiate some polite conversation."

  "Now that you have, you can leave." She angled her body away from him.

  "By the way, you look like a million dollars."

  She looked at him with a start. "Then you like my outfit?"

  "No," he said, "but Cavallaro will."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because you also look like a woman who wants to get screwed." In past years he would have made that crack and be referring to himself, and Andrea would have followed up by seducing him and proving he was right. But the chic, spangled outfit he wanted to rip from her body for the sole purpose of hauling her off to bed, was not intended to please him, which she reaffirmed by saying with irony, "Then I've accomplished my goal."

  It bothered him that she sounded like she meant it. But what could he expect, after going to her stateroom and humiliating her by demanding she do her duty as a wife. And when she'd offered it all to him, but with mockery, his body failed him again. So she was going to a younger man who'd give her what she wanted. "When you do it," he said, wanting to get in one last dig, "be sure to move a little, let the guy know you're still alive. It helps a man's ego." A tiny flare of light came into her eyes, the kind she got before a clever comeback.

  "Alessandro will know I'm alive," Andrea assured him. "Incidentally, he wears a thong, says it's comfortable and keeps it all contained but not in a straightjacket. You might try one. They sell them in the little adult novelty shop on C Deck. Pick up a fishnet. It's a real turn on for a woman." She looked beyond him and smiled. "Well, here comes my lover," she said, "tight pants and all. If I didn't know better, I'd think he was wearing one of those thongs with the padded pouch that pushes the package up and makes it look bigger, but I know he's just glad to see me."

  Andrea saw Jerry's face harden and wondered if she'd gone too far this time. But he'd been so smug with his crass comments, and after learning Val spent the night proving to him, who knows how many times, that he needed a sugar baby, she couldn't resist.

  Alessandro, spotting her, walked directly to her, slipped an arm around her waist,
pulling her to him, and gave her a kiss on the forehead. "Sorry I'm late, querida," he said peering down at her. "Am I forgiven?" He gave her a smile that could melt an iceberg.

  "Of course," she said, gazing up at him, pretending Jerry wasn't there.

  "So now I'll take you to that place for lovers," he said, his words soft, seductive. "Are you ready?" Before she could reply, Alessandro glanced at Jerry, as if noticing him for the first time, and said, "Excuse me senor, I forgot my manners." He extended his hand. "I am Alessandro Cavallaro, and you are...?"

  "Your lover's husband," Jerry said, ignoring Alessandro's extended hand.

  Alessandro withdrew his hand. "So you must be Jerry. Andrea has talked a lot about you."

  "I'll just bet she has," Jerry said.

  Alessandro ignored the barb. "Then you'll loan me your wife for the evening. It's my understanding that the two of you are travelling as unattached."

  "What do you want with my wife, Cavallaro?" Jerry asked, pointedly.

  "Ah, the jealous husband." Alessandro said. "I want what any man would want with such a beautiful woman. Her enjoyable company for the evening."

  "Like hell you do. You're either after her money or her family's money."

  Andrea looked up at Alessandro, and said, "Please don't be offended by my husband, Alessandro. He's having trouble accepting the fact that there are men who might find a better use for me than just for verbal sparring."

  Alessandro let out a deep laugh, and said, while peering down at her, "I assure you, cara mia, what I have in mind for us after we return from the Pirate's Cove tonight will be anything but verbal sparring." He looked at Jerry. "So if you'll excuse us, senor..." He took Andrea's arm and ushered her toward the gangway where passengers were disembarking.

  Andrea resisted the urge to look back, because if she did, she might see the look of anger and disbelief on Jerry's face that came when she announced Alessandro wore a thong, and go rushing back to assure him that nothing happened between them, that she'd been passing on something Val told her because he was so sure Alessandro was only after her for her money. But by tomorrow, she might not be able to give him that assurance. It was clear what Alessandro had in mind for later, and if she returned to the ship in high-spirits from the effects of one or more tropical drinks, and Alessandro got a little playful the way Jerry once did, she might throw all her inhibitions to the wind and enjoy with Alessandro what she once enjoyed with Jerry...