Beneath a Hot Tequila Sun

by Catelyn Cash

  Her leg muscles had begun to ache from the climb up from the river. Hand still moving over her sketch pad, she crossed her ankles and dropped down, then leaped smartly back to her feet with a squeal when her thighs touched the sunbaked stone. Next, she tried folding her shirt and sitting on that. Not ideal, but it would do.

  As she reached for her sketch pad, a shadow passed over her, and she glanced up to see the guard standing not a foot away. Shielding her eyes with the wide brim of her hat, she tipped her head back. She’d been right; he was tall. Unfortunately, with the sun behind him and his hat shading his face like a character in a spaghetti Western, she still couldn’t get a proper look at him.

  Wordlessly, he placed the white plastic chair down beside her and turned away.

  Kayla scrambled to her feet. “Thank you. That’s terribly kind. But I couldn’t possibly…”

  He ignored her. Moving back into the shade, he flopped down on what could well be a priceless altar. With his hat once more over his face, arms folded over his chest, he sighed loudly.

  “Thank you,” she called. “Gracias. That’s very kind of you.”

  He flicked his fingers in dismissive acknowledgement.

  When it became clear nothing more was forthcoming, Kayla perched on the edge of the chair and returned to her sketch of a woman being taken from behind as she knelt on quite possibly the exact same stone on which the guard now slept. To make things even more interesting, the woman sucked off a second man while masturbating a third. Kayla couldn’t tell which of the four seemed to be enjoying the action the most. She did know drawing them in minute detail brought her out in a flustered sweat.

  She would have given her eyeteeth to meet the artist who had created this masterpiece. The more she studied the images, the more convinced she became that the models had been real people, and the sex had happened exactly as depicted. The same faces turned up time and time again with different, often multiple, partners. Kayla had never been this close to an orgy in her life, and to put not too fine a point on things, she was getting more turned on by the minute.

  There was something intensely intimate about being this close to so many naked people all hell-bent on mutual pleasure. The more Kayla looked, the more she saw—secret smiles; intimate, affectionate touches. She couldn’t help wondering who these people had been, how they had known each other, and how they had come to be involved in an orgy.

  Again she itched to reach out and touch the carvings, and again she kept her hands firmly occupied with pencil and sketch pad. Behind her, the guard snored gently, his presence oddly soothing. The fact that he didn’t speak English probably helped her feel at ease.

  “Have you ever seen anything like this?” she said. “I mean, I know you might get bored looking at them every day, but trust me, this is incredible. Really special.”

  Kayla hadn’t expected any response, and she didn’t get one, other than that he stopped snoring.

  “I bet you’re wondering why I don’t simply take photos?”

  If he was indeed wondering that, he hid it well.

  “I’m a sculptor, you see. Well, I used to be. I haven’t done much lately, but I’m hoping to pick it up again now I’ve got more time. My ex didn’t really encourage my art—”

  She caught herself and sneaked a look at the guard, who thankfully seemed as disinterested as ever. “Sorry. I doubt you’re even remotely interested in my ex.”

  Though I’m sure he would be very interested in you. The unguarded thought brought a deep blush to her cheeks, and she hurried on. “I saw these murals in a book years ago, while I was still at art college, and I vowed that one day I’d come here and see them for myself. It took me a while, but here I am.”

  Another quick glance at the guard revealed no visible response.

  “Don’t you just love the idea that hundreds of years ago someone looked at this stone and saw these images come to life?” she continued. “To tell you the truth, if you weren’t here, I’d be all over these carvings like a rash.”

  She meant it too; she wanted to touch the images so badly her hands were cramping. “It’s incredibly vibrant, don’t you think? So full of life. Whoever created this knew these people. The artist either made love to the women, or he watched someone else making love to them.”

  She kept rabbiting on, but he seemed to be a good listener. And the language barrier meant she could say what she liked and not embarrass herself.

  “I’ve always been very tactile,” she told him. “I need to explore new objects with my hands before I really get to know them.”

  Actually not only with her hands. With her mouth too. Even her breasts might fit into some of those outstretched hands. In fact, given half a chance, she would be rubbing her entire body over the carvings, kissing some of those mouths. And the cocks. She might even strip naked to do it.

  Which was freaky, crazy thinking, right? Language barrier or not, she had the sense to keep those particular thoughts to herself.

  “The artist’s process and craft are all here in the stone. See there? That nipple? See where he worked it again and again to get it exactly right? Whereas there”—she indicated a rather magnificent penis—“his hand slipped, but he let the mistake go, which suggests to me he liked nipples more than he liked willies.”

  Kayla’s oversize hat offered some protection to her face while she worked, but it was past time for more sunscreen. After carefully placing her sketch pad out of the way of spills, she rummaged in her bag for the bottle of lotion and squeezed some into her hand, the coconut scent nicely appropriate in her exotic surroundings. Even with sunscreen, though, she would have to move into the shade soon.

  Looking up at the sky, she noticed that a few puffy clouds had begun to gather. Not a bad thing; a few more clouds meant less chance of burning. On the downside, clouds would change the light, which, right now, was perfect.

  Finishing her arms and shoulders, she sneaked another glance at the guard. Still asleep, thank goodness, so she quickly smeared lotion over her chest and the tops of her breasts. Applying suntan lotion was something she had done countless times before in public and never given it a moment’s thought. But today, with a potential audience of one sleeping man and a horde of cavorting nudes, she felt ridiculously self-conscious.

  Of course she knew why—being surrounded by so much in-your-face sex had left her so turned on her nipples were as hard as the stone ones she’d been drawing. And she suspected her dehydration had less to do with the heat and more to do with the fact that all the moisture in her body had drained south to dampen her shorts. Had she been alone, despite the sun, she might have stripped off her top and attempted to relieve the ache in her nipples with a quick rub of suntan lotion.

  Suspecting that raging sexual arousal was not appropriate atop an ancient monument, Kayla tried to cool her hormones by fixating on an image of a woman combing her long black hair while the man behind her rested his hand lightly on her shoulder. The scene was a picture of innocence compared to what was going on around them. Or it would have been if not for the mischief in the couple’s eyes. In fact, Kayla suspected that a moment later the man’s hand had slid down to the woman’s breast—

  Something touched Kayla’s shoulder, and she screamed.

  The guard stood less than a foot away, and she hadn’t even heard him move. Now he raised both hands, palms up, in a “backing off” gesture.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Kayla’s heart pounded.

  He pointed at the sun, pointed at the bottle of suntan lotion, then made a twirling motion with his hand.

  The international sign for “Let me do your back.”

  “No, thank you. I’m fine,” she said primly.

  He pushed his hat up, and for the first time she got a proper look at his face. Glory be, what a face! Strikingly handsome, strong, and very, very male. His five o’ clock shadow added to the air of masculinity but somehow also softened the overall effect. Clean-shaven, he would have been too good-looking, to
o perfect. The stubble made him sexy but approachable.

  Add the wry humor in his gray eyes, and Kayla had to wonder how many tourist photos he appeared in during the course of a normal day. Despite the sun, a shiver ran through her. A nice shiver.

  He pointed at the sun again and raised a dark eyebrow.

  She dithered. He was right; she would burn. On the other hand, allowing a strange man that kind of liberty in such an isolated spot might give him the wrong idea.

  The INAH logo on his shirt jumped out at her, reminding her that he was some kind of state employee. Surely these people were vetted? Of course they were. They’d have references and things. Which made it unlikely he was a serial killer.

  Unless he murdered the real guard and left his body where it would never be found…

  Get a grip! She drew a deep, steadying breath and asked herself what he could possibly have gained from killing a guard on top of a pyramid? A plastic chair and a cool box? Surely most serial killers set their goals higher.

  He waited for an answer.

  “Okay. But no funny business,” she warned, handing over the now greasy bottle.

  He took it and walked around behind her. Kayla swiveled her head like an owl, trying to keep him in sight, still not fully convinced he wouldn’t strangle her and add her body to the pile he may or may not have at the base of the pyramid.

  He winked, and she blushed, wondering if her thoughts were so transparent? Again he made that twirling motion and feeling vulnerable, she obeyed, lifting her ponytail out of the way. Her shoulders were so tense she suspected it would feel no different from rubbing suntan lotion over one of the carvings. Gradually, though, as his hands glided efficiently over her skin with not a single wrong move, she began to relax.

  And then, maybe because it was so long since she had been touched by a man, Kayla began to enjoy what he was doing. Immediately, she squirmed away.

  “Thanks. That should do,” she said briskly.

  Instead of backing off, he indicated he would do her legs next.

  She had a sudden, heated image of him kneeling at her feet, strong, tanned hands sweeping up her legs, his thumbs maybe grazing the frayed hem of her shorts…

  “Do you seriously think I’m going to let a total stranger loose on my legs?”

  Whether he thought that or not, she would never know because she had lost his attention. His eyebrows drew together in a frown as he looked at her sketch pad.

  Remembering her ex-husband’s sneering criticism of her drawings, Kayla snatched the pad away, ready to flip it shut. But glancing at the drawing, she too frowned. The man she had been drawing had a magnificent erection. However, the erection she had drawn was bigger. Much bigger. Monster-cock bigger.

  The guard’s eyes danced with humor as she snapped the pad shut. “It’s an interpretation, obviously,” she huffed. “I’m hardly going to do an exact copy, am I?” Her face burned as she said this because that was precisely what she had set out to do. Her interpretation would have come out later, in the clay.

  The guard squatted in front of her, lightly touched her calf, and raised an eyebrow in question.

  Kayla squinted at him. “Do you do things like this often?” she asked. “Seduce tourists on top of pyramids?”

  Seduce? She realized immediately what she had said and flushed, but his gaze didn’t waver, and she thanked whatever gods might still reside in the pyramid that he didn’t speak English. Because seduction was exactly what his touch felt like.

  “Okay. You can do my legs.” And then, because that sounded ungracious, she added, “Thank you.”

  With her hiking boot-clad foot cradled in his lap, he began to massage her calf, working out the knots she had acquired on her climb up from the river. His touch remained efficient and impersonal, and slowly, she began to relax. His hands only traveled as high as her knee, reducing the tightly knotted muscles to putty before starting on the other leg. And it did feel good. Within minutes Kayla was so limp she kept sliding down the plastic chair in a greasy, sweaty puddle. After a few ineffective attempts to push herself up, she gave in and simply slumped in the sun, anchoring herself with one booted foot on the ground while the other rested in his lap.

  Even with her eyes closed, the images of cavorting nudes still danced behind her lids. Had the models rubbed coconut oil onto each other? Probably, since coconuts were so abundant here. Kayla tried to put faces to some of the men she had recently drawn, but disturbingly, the only face she saw clearly was that of the guard. He would make a magnificent addition to her art project when she got home. Would it be wrong to put his face on one of her pieces?

  From that thought it was only a tiny step to picturing him naked, giving him a sweating, grunting, fully active role in the mural. Kayla’s imagination slipped into overdrive when, as if by accident, his hand swept past her knee and onto her thigh. The massaging action didn’t change, the pressure didn’t change, it was just…above the knee rather than below.

  Eyes still closed, she wondered at what point she should call a halt. Actually, she knew the point—roughly ten minutes ago. But his hands felt so good. Marc, her ex, as well as being her own personal art critic, hadn’t been into massage, not even in the early days of their marriage. Another clue I missed? Did normal couples massage each other? Kayla bet they did if it felt this good. She bet they massaged the hell out of each other.

  A moment later, his fingers grazed the frayed hem of her shorts, and she fought a sensuous shiver. Definitely high. Definitely pushing the boundaries of being helpful. What if he pushed those boundaries higher still? What would she do?

  She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to wriggle out of her shorts and let him massage all the way up to her hot-pink bikini.

  A shimmer of loneliness flashed through Kayla. What would it be like to be touched there by a man who wasn’t simply going through the motions? Whose desire for her matched hers for him?

  If we had a condom, this could get interesting, she thought, and only realized she had spoken aloud when she felt him draw away.

  Oh, crap. She’d shocked the sexy guard. Opening her eyes, shielding them from the sun, she prepared to apologize. Until she saw him holding up a condom.

  Chapter Three

  Kayla sat bolt upright. “You speak English? What kind of man would let me rabbit on like that without speaking up?”

  “The kind who wants to get laid?” the guard said hopefully.

  He didn’t just speak English. It was his mother tongue. “You’re American?” Kayla didn’t try to hide her affront. “I don’t believe this. You tricked me!”

  “I didn’t trick you. You assumed and I allowed it. Now, about that condom?” Again he held the foil packet aloft.

  “Not a chance!”

  His face fell. “Try to see it from my point of view. Letting on I understood you could have been risky. You might have talked about your nails, or your hair, or your favorite boy band. None of those are conversations I enjoy. But instead, you were interesting, so I kept quiet and listened. Aren’t women supposed to like men who listen?”

  Kayla wracked her brain, trying to remember everything she had said. She couldn’t remember every word, of course, but what she did recall mortified her.

  The guard kept talking. “I’d like to rewind to the bit where you said things could get interesting if I had a condom. Because as you can see, we’re in luck.” He waggled the foil packet so it caught the sun.

  “You seriously think you’re going to get to use that? I feel like a fool.”

  “You feel like silk,” he said simply.

  Wow.

  “And I know you’ll feel like liquid silk when I’m inside you.”

  Double wow. Arousal shot through her, and a sneaky peek at the front of his jeans showed she wasn’t the only one turned on. But she averted her gaze primly. “You do this often? Seduce women on top of pyramids?”

  “First time.”

  “But you carry condoms?”

  “First time
on top of a pyramid.” His eyes twinkled. “I confess to seducing women as often as I can. Which, I freely admit, isn’t nearly as often as I’d like. Would it help if I promised to be quick?”

  She fought a smile. “You think that’s a selling point?”

  “I can do slow too. Just maybe not the first time.”

  The first time. There could be more than one? Heat flared inside her again, and she glanced at the murals behind him, where women spread their legs eternally for men with ever-hard dicks. She looked at the guard, at the evidence of his erection straining against his jeans, and tried to remember the last time a hard cock had pointed her way.

  Which was when it dawned on her that she was actually considering his proposal. Kayla’s chest constricted so fast she could barely breathe.

  No way should she even consider this. She had enough drawings. She should grab her stuff and race down to the jetty to wait for the boat.

  That was what she should do.

  Or she could stay on top of the pyramid and have sex with the hot guard. The hot guard who wanted her and whom she would never see again.

  “Do you know,” she said hesitantly, “fast or slow, I don’t think I’d mind. I am so turned on right now, I’m tempted to sit on that stone penis over there.”

  The guard had his shirt off before she finished talking. Excitement and panic churned inside Kayla, but she strove for casual, I-do-this-all-the-time insouciance. “You’ll get sunburned,” she warned, though even as she said it she noticed a few more clouds in the sky and that the wind had started to pick up.

  “I’ll risk it. Truth is, there’s not a lot I wouldn’t risk to get laid right now. Any chance I can persuade you to take your top off?”

  She glanced down at her sleeveless top, quite probably ruined forever by suntan lotion. Her nipples were clearly outlined against the material, to the point where she looked practically naked anyway. “You could.” She licked her lips. “If you take your jeans off.”