by Demi Alex
“No. Not really,” I whispered. No way I could tell them what I really wanted. How could I admit I wanted one of them, but I didn’t know which one?
“It’s done,” Mark said. “I’ve taken care of it. You’re officially off duty. You have tomorrow to pack. I’ll contact Bloomingdales so that you can shop on my account. See Ciara—I’ll have her wait for you at customer service. Check your email for the details. It’ll all be there in a few minutes. A car will be by to pick you up for your flight early Monday morning. You’ll have a great time.”
“This is crazy,” I breathed, rubbing my forehead.
“Not at all,” Luca said. “You deserve it.”
Chapter Two
Sitting cross-legged on my living room floor, I smacked the couch cushions and winced in pain when I jammed my finger. I knew I should have been basking in my good fortune, but I was steaming with frustration
My employers were great, caring, and accommodating guys who annoyed the crap out of me. They looked out for my comfort, paid me well, and even insisted on a luxury vacation to keep me happy and productive, but it just wasn’t enough. I wanted more. And the suckiest part of the dilemma was that they didn’t exclude the possibility. However, not one of them ever made a move for more with me.
And there was a new problem. Something I’d never had to deal with in the past. Over the past two weeks, they’d all been preoccupied with something they didn’t feel comfortable sharing with me. I could tell, because they’d been unusually quiet and stoic. I’d missed their warm smiles and occasional hugs.
We really were like family in the office. Mark met me as I came in every morning, with a perfect cup of coffee in hand. I savored every sip, mostly because I knew he’d made it for me. Jake always made me feel special by bringing fresh flowers for my desk every couple of days, doubling the size of the bouquet when freesias were in season. More than the flowers, I loved the fact that Jake knew how happy they made me. And I really looked forward to Luca’s sweet pecks on my cheek every time he’d pass my desk—every time, and regardless of who was in the office. The brush of his lips over my skin always left me flushed. Flushed and treasured.
Usually, all three welcomed my straightening their ties when needed and none of them shut their office doors when it was the four of us in the office. The only closed door was the conference room when they consulted with clients. But for the past two weeks, their doors may not have been latched shut, but they hadn't been wide open either.
And because of that distance in the office, the possibility of a personal relationship had drifted farther away. They’d avoided me for lunches, even avoided drinking their morning coffees with me, and now they were on their way to an annual vacation destination, probably to relax in the company of other women. Actually, they hadn’t uttered a word about the other women, but the images in my mind of that ‘sister’ resort they’d been to a couple of times said it all. Wild, crazy, ‘let it all hang out’ vacationing. And, they’d been there more than once. They obviously liked wild. Meanwhile, I was being shipped to a ‘safe’ resort that catered to nice families and piña colada massages on the beach.
Who could ask for more?
I could!
If I didn’t, I’d certainly go insane. Problem was that I just wasn’t sure what to ask for, who to ask, and how to do it. The reason I’d stayed ‘neutral’ with my feelings on the men was real simple. I didn’t want to lose any one of them. In a perfect and fairytale world, I wouldn’t have to choose. I could have all of them. If they were so close, such a perfect team, why did I have to choose?
After all, those happy women in the books I downloaded every other night were lucky enough to have more than one luscious man taking care of them. I wanted my own fairytale.
In the very least, I needed a man. I needed some physical activities to recharge my libido and my ego. Putting it simply, I had to get laid and blow off some steam. Damn, I’d never even had an orgasm that wasn’t self-induced. Oh yeah, that ex-fiancé-now-brother-in-law fucked like a rabbit and never gave me anything other than a headache in bed—a headache from my head banging against the headboard as he popped in and out mindlessly, with no concern for my desire. Actually, considering what she’d done, my sister deserved him and those damn headaches.
Bunching the hem of my t-shirt, I threaded it through the collar, just like I had on hot days many years ago. My apartment was so hot that turning the fan to high did nothing to improve my mood. I grabbed a tray of ice cubes—yes, I still used ice cube trays—and sat on the window seat overlooking the street.
At the café, there were many couples sipping their iced drinks and sharing desserts. A young family exited the corner grocery store, with the two little boys swinging plastic bags of what I assumed to be goodies as their parents intertwined their arms and strolled behind the kids. They all had a life. They all smiled and laughed—except for the two men who huddled on a table and reviewed some sort of document.
Me, I was sitting alone, in a hot apartment, on a Saturday night, stewing in my own sexual frustration.
I fisted my hands and dragged them down my face. My mother was right. I was stupid to ‘stay in my place’ and not show them how I felt. I should’ve made it obvious that I was interested. Then, maybe they wouldn’t ship me off to a sister resort. Alone.
“Screw it.” I stood and stomped over to my laptop. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” I breathed, not willing to add the ‘nothing lost’ portion of the statement. “I got this. I can do it.”
And I did.
Getting away and experiencing wild and crazy would give me the confidence to come back home and show them how I felt. All I needed was a little practice, some instructions, and tons of confidence. I knew the sister resort they’d referred to, and the resort on Montego Bay looked hedonistic enough. Opportunities would surely arise…I smirked at the intentional pun. At this point, I was willing to do anything to gain the courage to approach them as I craved. I was officially in man-hunt training and nothing was going to get in my way.
I signed on to my email, reviewed the reservation Mark had sent, and then called the toll free number and made the changes I desired. It was easy, and the resort was very accommodating, especially because Mark had spared no expense in making my flight and room arrangements. They easily swapped out the pricey accommodations in Aruba for standard ones in Jamaica.
I was going to Montego Bay. Since my bosses chose to ignore me, since they partied without me at an ultra-secret location, well, I’d just find someone else to spend time with and to gain the skills and courage to approach my heart’s desires. Then, I’d make my decision, formulate a plan, come back to the man I’d choose, and place my heart on the line. I’d wear the shorter skirts, display my cleavage, and even indulge in the peeking thongs. He’d be blind not to recognize my want. In my mind’s eye, I couldn’t see one of them standing alone. I saw all three. But by the time I returned to New York, I’d see him. I’d know which one.
The resort on Jamaica was not family-oriented and would be the perfect training ground for my plan. It was decadent and sultry, promising a week of ecstasy for anyone who chose it. And I was choosing it. I desperately needed some kind of resolution to all the pent up, no-sex, angst.
I’d get laid, and then I’d worry about the emotional stuff later.
I emailed Jake and told him I had a ride to the airport, and thanks for the offer, but I didn’t need the car. I didn’t bother to add that I was leaving the very next day from New York. After all, I had to familiarize myself with the place before I let loose and went wild. Plus, I wanted to return to the city before my bosses.
Spending an hour rummaging through my drawers and closet, I managed to put some sundresses, two pairs of sandals, and eight bra and panty sets into my suitcase. That was all I had that served my purpose. Figuring I’d splurge with the remainder of the credit at the gift shop and the beachside hut for the rest of my wardrobe, as the attendant who had rebooked my trip had suggested, I headed
into the shower, shaved my legs, and trimmed the other significant parts as well.
I was prepped and ready for my hedonistic adventure.
Risk. I was taking it. Determination, and just a bit of accomplishment, surged through my core, rooting me on and eventually lulling me to sleep.
I’d be a changed woman in one week.
Chapter Three
“This one is perfect,” the blonde-haired, blue-eyed, beauty exclaimed, dangling the strappy thong from her finger.
“Where is the rest of it?” I asked, glancing at my reflection in the changing room’s mirror, and knowing that the little piece, shaped like a shell, would hardly cover my private area.
“You have a rocking bod, sweets. You’ll own the beach.”
“What about the top?”
“Don’t waste your money,” she said in her attractive British accent. “Most the women on the beach go nude. They wear bottoms around the pool area. I think because the resort insists that a towel or some kind of layer is used on the lounges. You know, for sanitary reasons.”
“TMI,” I said, raising my hand and crinkling my nose.
“Seriously, sweets,” she insisted, stepping closer and tucking the bikini bottoms into my panties and showcasing them like Vanna White. “You don’t need the top. Your tits are some of the perkiest I’ve seen in a while, and your rosebud nipples look so freaking delicious, that you’ll be turning more than your share of heads.”
Coming around to face me, she stood between me and the mirror then skimmed her palms over my ribcage and up to my breasts. Her tiny hands cupped my full globes and she friskily strummed her thumbs over my nipples.
“Yum, they’re home-grown. You’re truly blessed, girly. Flaunt them,” she sang, bending and suckling each in for a quick kiss.
Stunned, I stood there, not knowing how to react. For some absurd reason, I allowed her to pull out my panties and examine my pubic area.
“I’ll schedule your wax, and then you’ll be all set.” Smiling, she brushed her lips over my mouth, and swept her tongue along the parched lips. “If you decide on some girl love, ask for Arlene. I would love to do you, or join you in doing others, sweets.”
Trapped in the headlights of her brazen sexual expression, I stared at the beautiful Arlene. She wanted to do me? Finally, after what seemed like forever, I breathed. “Uh…”
“It’s okay,” she said, twirling the bikini in the air. “From your reaction, I know you’re not familiar with a woman’s touch. But I can tell you from personal experience that even if you want some lad, there is nothing better than a woman preparing your beautiful cunny with a tongue-fuck. I’m offering my services. You let me know.” Arlene casually reached for my clothes and placed the bundled dress in my arms. “Okay?”
“Yea—yes,” I replied, clearing my throat. “Thank you.”
“Anytime. Well, as long as I’m not working. The resort doesn’t like to pay us to play. We have to do it on our own time.” She exited the fitting room and pulled the curtain. “I’ll wait for you by the register.”
Shit. My clit throbbed and my nipples glistened with the moisture from her mouth. I’d never considered a woman before, and I wasn’t too sure that I wanted to try. On the other hand, the pink blush spreading across my torso and the dampness between my thighs told me perhaps I should keep an open mind.
* * * *
Waxed within a sliver of my life, I applied the lotion they’d given me in the salon and slipped into my so-called bikini. Thankfully, Arlene had given in and let me buy a white camisole and a sarong for a casual look while at the bar. I wore them like a shield as I left my room and made my way to the beach.
Gorgeous bodies decorated the sand, delivering all the resort’s website had promised. It wasn’t too crowded, but the beach appeared to be a rather popular afternoon hangout. Smaller thatched-roof structures mimicked the large tiki huts that served as bars. Most of the guests gathered in the shade of the bars. I grabbed one of the few available lounge chairs, spread the towel provided by the resort on the rubber slots, and tucked my beach bag under the head of the chair.
The woman beside me slept like a baby, oblivious to the couple next to her that was getting hot and bothered—in a way that had nothing to do with the sun. On my other side, a very handsome man was propped on his elbows, obviously enjoying the scenery. His smooth, long and thick hard-on stood at attention, and it seemed to nod as he greeted me.
“Welcome,” he said, grinning and turning his erection my way. “You’re lucky to find a chair. The place is packed.”
“It’s not too bad,” I replied, trying not to stare at his dick. “The beaches back home are packed.”
“Where’s home?”
“New York. Long Island,” I explained, pulling my sunscreen from the bag. “Trust me, Jones Beach is crowded. At least here, I found more than a few inches of sand to sit my ass down on. Better yet, I have this lovely lounge chair.”
“That you do,” he agreed, stretching across the space between us and offering his hand. “I’m Gerald. Friends call me G for short.”
“Hello, G. I’m Lora.” I shook his hand, sensing a rapidly blooming friendship. I sighed.
“What’s wrong, Lora from Long Island? Something weighing on those beautiful shoulders of yours?”
Yeah, I wanted to say. The moment we touched, I felt nothing more than I would have felt shaking my cousin’s hand. “It’s just not fair.”
“What’s not fair?” G asked, combing his fingers through his thick sandy brown hair.
I should have been giddy at his naked attention. How was I going to get laid and break free from my self-imposed celibacy if I couldn’t get turned on by such a beautiful man?
Damn, the man was hot. But, nada. Nothing. No sexual stirring at all.
“Oh. The sun is strong. I’m worried I’m going to burn and look like a lobster,” I lied.
“Let me help you out,” he said, swinging tanned legs over the chair and standing by my side in his six-foot something naked glory. He held out his hand, palm up, and grinned. “Sun block, please.”
He didn’t allow for any objections. Instead, he pulled the tube from my grasp and flipped the top. “Nothing inappropriate,” he assured. “I’ll keep my hands in the safe zones.”
“I wasn’t thinking that you wouldn’t.” I practically choked as my lies grew too big to swallow. “I was—”
“You should,” he interjected. “You know where you are, right? This is one of the most hedonistic vacation spots in the world. Anything goes. With anyone. At any time. In any place.”
“That’s great. I’ve decided to let loose, for the first time ever, on my own,” I breathed.
“In that case, sexy lady, you need to relax a bit. All you have to do is want it, and you won’t be on your own for long.” G smothered the warm lotion on my shoulders and worked his way beneath the cami and down my back. “I would go for you in a heartbeat—if I wasn’t married to one of the most possessive men on the beach.”
Duhhhhh! No wonder touching him felt like touching my cousin. My cousin was into guys, too. He’d always argue with me over who was the hottest guy in the club. And, his idea of hot was way off my idea.
“Come on, you need to take the tank top off.” He tugged on the fitted top. “It’s not like it’s hiding those perky nips of yours or something.”
“What? My nipples show?” I crossed my arms over my chest, relegating my new friend’s sexual preference to the back burner.
“Yes, they do. And, they’re real pretty. Pretty like the ones in the museums. So take this dumb thing off, sexy. You’ll have ten men at your feet to choose from within minutes.” He tugged at the hem of the shirt.
Ten men?
At my feet?
I’d choose?
I nodded, raised my hands over my head and closed my eyes. G had a point. I was at the resort to have a good time and get some action. I didn’t need to sit around like a wallflower.
“Good girl.” Holdi
ng the shirt away from my body with both hands, he chuckled and pulled it over my head. “Welcome to Montego Bay.”
“Thanks,” I replied, taking the sunscreen from his hands. “I’ll certainly burn, if I don’t apply some lotion.”
“Like I said, I’d love to be of service, but this is Al’s turn to pick.” He cocked his head to the right, indicating a couple getting cozy in the surf.
“That’s your husband?”
“Two years and counting,” he said, holding up his left hand and flashing a gold wedding band. “We met on this very beach eight years ago.”
“And it doesn’t bother you that he’s…um…hitting on that woman?”
Between the gentle splashing in the water, Al ended a kiss with a busty blonde, twisted her to face away from him and snaked an arm around her, appearing to sprawl his palm over her belly, and ground his cock against her robust ass.
“Hell no!” G feathered his hand over his cock as he took in the scene. “I just wish he’d hurry up and introduce her properly.”
His husband didn’t look like he was about to exit the water any time soon, even if he did take a few sidesteps towards the shore. Instead, he pulled a large inner-tube close and positioned the blonde over the float, so that her ass rode high in the water. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure out why he moved behind her and the water splashed like mad between them. Al was fucking the woman in plain sight, and man, did he have some stamina.
My nipples hardened and my clit throbbed. Moisture wet the tiny piece of cloth fitted inside my folds. I couldn’t look away. I just couldn’t. My fingers worked the lotion onto my breasts, lingering a bit longer than I realized on my sensitive and starved-for-attention nipples.
“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” G asked.
I nodded, wriggling in my seat.
“He picked a nice one. He always does.” G returned to his seat and gathered a towel against his groin. “I’m dying to fuck those tits when she asks.”
