Mai Tai for Two

by Delphine Dryden

  * * *

  “I got a little too much sun,” Amanda claimed, as a reason to beg off eating lunch with Julie. “I think I’ll just get a smoothie or something on the way back to the room, take a nap, maybe hit the spa later.”

  Alan noticed that Jeremy remained silent during the exchange and looked pointedly in the other direction.

  They’re totally gonna go do it.

  “Oh, are you sure?” Julie frowned and put a hand on the back of Amanda’s neck. “You probably need some water. Or I could find you a sports drink? A cool bath might be good, too.”

  Not necessary, Jules. You’re just cockblocking here.

  He joined Jeremy in studying the florid red blooms on the bush next to them. They were the giant flowers the hula dancers sometimes wore in their hair. Alan’s mom also liked some tea with that kind of flower in it, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what they were called.

  “Nice flowers,” he finally said, trying to tune out the girls’ conversation so he wouldn’t be tempted to chime in. Of course he couldn’t ask Jeremy the real question on his mind—What the hell’s the deal with you showing up here?

  Jeremy nodded. “Yeah. Hibiscus.”

  “Hibiscus! I couldn’t remember the name. Thanks, man, it was driving me nuts.”

  “Heh. You know the joke where the pirate walks into a bar, with a ship’s steering wheel tied to his crotch?”

  “No. God, no.” But he was about to know, obviously.

  “Bartender says, ‘Nice steering wheel you got there.’ The pirate says, ‘Yaaaarrrr, it’s drivin’ me nuts!’”

  Alan snickered despite his sincere intention not to. “That’s terrible.”

  “Yep. The limo driver also liked it. I told it to him after he put this string of nuts and junk on me.”

  “You got one of those, too, huh?”

  Jeremy nodded, running a hand over his close-cropped hair. “Oh, sure. It’s cultural. You know.”

  “Yeah. I do.” After another few seconds of horticultural admiration, he came up with, “So...Seattle, huh? How’s that working out?”

  “Really well, actually,” Jeremy replied, sounding almost apologetic about it.

  Alan could see where the guy might be conflicted. Success in Seattle was great, but it only deepened his connection to the city where his girl was not. “That’s cool.”

  “You guys should come up sometime and check it out. It’s a great town, and I’m definitely not above luring good people away from the Silicon Valley to come work for me. I’ve forked over several moving bonuses this year.”

  Naturally, that was the line the ladies heard as they turned back to Alan and Jeremy to bring them into the lunch discussion. Amanda’s lips tightened, the reminder of the two-city conflict clearly unwelcome.

  Dang.

  Alan grinned too broadly at them. “Hey, so, Jules, are you starving? I’m starving.” Starving for a different conversation to be in. “Are we ready to go chow down?”

  “I guess so. But you promise to get some fluids before your nap, Amanda, and text me if you need anything, right?”

  “Of course. But I’ll be fine, you don’t need to worry about me. Go eat, have fun.”

  Jeremy put a tentative arm around Amanda’s shoulders. “I’ll make sure she’s hydrated and rested.”

  The guy had one hell of a poker face—Alan had to give him props for that. “Great. Okay, honey?”

  Julie shot him a look. It wasn’t a good look. “Honey? Really?”

  Oh God, and this morning started out so promising. Why did any of us have to open our mouths, ever? She’s right about the freaking turtles, and I bet their secret to happiness and longevity is they never developed speech. Speech is the single greatest cause of clusterfucks.

  Chapter Nine

  The trouble with spending the morning kayaking and hiking, Julie decided, was that it was exhausting. She was almost too tired to eat lunch. Almost. Every restaurant at the resort—and there were many—seemed to feature irresistible food and intriguing, unique cocktails. Burgers and steaks from local grass-fed cattle, and fish so fresh it was practically jumping off the plate. Macadamia everything. She felt like she’d gained five pounds just reading the menus.

  And fortunately—or perhaps unfortunately—most of it was available through room service, albeit for a premium.

  “We should at least text and offer to eat dinner with them. It seems like the polite thing to do.” She selected another grilled shrimp from the plate next to her on Alan’s bed, sinking her teeth into the savory al dente morsel with a hum of happiness.

  “Does it?” Alan picked up his giant burger and contemplated it, apparently planning his next attack. The thing was only half gone and he was already slowing down on it. “I mean, there are so many things going on in this situation, I can’t imagine not making at least one giant etiquette breach before dessert. The only thing that saved us this morning was the separate kayaks. We couldn’t really talk to them that much.”

  “Do you think that’s why the turtles are happy like they are? They can’t talk and screw things up?”

  “Yes. I was thinking that earlier, in fact. Not talking has worked really well for them. You’re right, we could learn a thing or two.” He took a bite that could choke a horse, and echoed Julie’s happy-mouth sound.

  “I hope Amanda’s okay.” She hadn’t liked the look on her friend’s face as they’d parted company. Sure, Amanda was a big girl and could take care of herself, but Julie hated to see her unhappy.

  It took Alan a few seconds to swallow his bite of burger so he could answer. “I’m sure she’ll be fine. She just needs some water. Or something.”

  Julie looked over at him, smiling wryly. “I meant emotionally. Pretty sure the whole too-much-sun thing started out as an excuse to sneak off for a nooner. At least until Jeremy started talking about people moving to Seattle. Such poor timing.”

  “Then why were you fussing over her like that? If you knew it was a ruse?”

  “To give her an out if she wanted one, I guess. Making it so she’d have a reasonable basis for actually coming to lunch to reassure me, or really going to the room for a nap if she wanted some time alone. Just in case.”

  He nodded. “Do you want an excuse to spend some time—you know, not with me?”

  “No,” she blurted, before she stopped to think that maybe Alan was angling for time for himself. She wasn’t sure who was monopolizing who. “I wasn’t trying to suggest that. I’d say, if I did. Or you could tell me if you did.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Oh. Well, it’s different with Amanda and Jeremy because of all the history, and since he came all this way. She might feel obligated.”

  “History. Yeah, there is that.”

  His tone was slightly bitter, and his next bite of hamburger seemed almost hostile. Too late, Julie considered that she and Alan had a history of their own, though not a romantic one. He might be offended that she’d suggested their situation was different. Talking was definitely the problem here. Talking and probably thinking too much. But she was stuck in a loop of those things. The vicious cycle included kicking herself.

  “I like spending time with you,” she reassured him.

  “Yeah, but do you like like it? Don’t answer that right now, please. It’ll keep.”

  “Like the kiss?”

  “Oh yeah, I did have one of those saved up. Or maybe not. You kinda shut me down about it earlier.”

  And you called me honey like we’d been married for years.

  And she decided she wasn’t ready to go there. Anxiety would ruin her entire vacation if she let it. Best to stop thinking and just enjoy the rest of the trip. It was a fling, a few crazy days disconnected from their actual lives. The other stuff could be sorted out later. All those and many more rationalizations marched through Julie’s mind, trampling her concerns.

  “I was being paranoid that Amanda might overhear or something. It was stupid of me. Forget I said it, okay?�
��

  He didn’t look like he was buying it, but after a few seconds he shrugged. “Okay, if you say so. Hey, you know what else?”

  “What?”

  “Motherfucking turtle!”

  She lasted long enough to add, “And children!” before the giggles overcame her.

  Alan held it together enough to gather up Julie’s mostly empty plate and place it securely on the table before joining her on the bed.

  “Help me out. I want to test a theory.”

  “Science? All right, you’ve piqued my interest.” She adjusted a pillow so she could lean back against the headboard, then folded her hands in her lap like an apt pupil. She’d always been fond of science.

  Alan followed her example, stretching his legs out alongside hers and reaching a foot over so their pinky toes touched. “Until last night I wasn’t too sure, but now I’m about ninety percent certain this has to be an elaborate dream.”

  “The sex?”

  “The whole trip. The door prize, everything. The fact that I got to have sex with you only confirmed that this is all way too good to be true. The trip itself I could barely believe, but last night put it over the top.”

  “Wow. You’re good.” Fling or not, she was flattered. She wondered if this was Alan’s standard patter, or something special he’d come up with especially for her. It was cheesy but undeniably effective.

  “You are, too.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Too good. Another reason to think I’m dreaming it all.”

  Julie sighed and shook her head. “It isn’t a dream. You pinched me, remember? Hard. It left a mark.”

  “I never said it was your dream.” He bent his head and kissed her shoulder in the approximate location of the pinch. “Mmm, salty. Tastes like ocean.”

  They were both still salt-encrusted and mildly sandy from the morning’s excursion. “I could use a shower.”

  “In the shower works for me.”

  “What is this theory, anyway?”

  “Well, now that I know it’s a dream, I figure if I get really close to coming I’ll wake up right before it happens. I always have, even as a kid.”

  “That sounds frustrating. Why would you want to risk it?” She had every intention of doing him, of course, but she wanted to hear his entire rationale first. It sounded like he’d put some effort into contriving it. “And why wouldn’t you have woken up last night? Or the other time last night, or that time that was technically this morning?”

  He was ready for the question. “But I wasn’t aware beforehand. So maybe I didn’t even really have those orgasms. They were figments of my imagination. That’s my theory. But there’s really only one way to be sure. Help me—”

  “Oh don’t, that’s not sexy—”

  “Obi-Wan Kenobi, you’re my only hnnggpp! Nnngh.”

  Julie held her hand over his mouth and stared him down. “If this is about to turn into cosplay I am so out of here.”

  He licked her palm. Because she wasn’t twelve, she kept her hand right where it was.

  Alan tried to make Bambi eyes. “Mmm?”

  “Do you promise to behave?”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  She let go, uncovering a smirk. “No more Star Wars.”

  “Got it. But admit it.” He got up suddenly, rounding the bed and taking her hand in his. He looked down at her intently. Julie knew what was coming, and tried not to laugh. “You like me because I’m a scoundrel.”

  “No! Not gonna say it.”

  “‘There aren’t enough scoundrels in your—’”

  “You agreed, no more!”

  “No more Star Wars. That was The Empire Strikes Back. Your favorite scene, too.” He pulled her up and off the bed, leading her toward the bathroom.

  “Is not.” It totally was. And he’d known that, even though she couldn’t recall ever stating it definitively.

  “When we had that marathon watch-through last year for May the fourth, you were mouthing along with the dialog. Every word.”

  He dropped her hand and turned on the sybaritic shower, leaving off the side jets so only the overhead rain spray was on. Julie’s favorite, too. She thought of it as romantic, even when showering alone. Like walking in the rain, or bathing near the edge of a waterfall.

  Alan slipped his shorts off and stepped into the spray, leaving her to catch up. She had to pry her attention away from the compelling view of water sluicing down his back, over the curves of his butt. The backs of his thighs were ogle-worthy, too. After a few seconds, she remembered she could be fondling all that stuff, not just admiring it, and stripped off so she could join him.

  The voyeurism had worked her up, a good state of mind and body to focus on the physical rather than the emotional. She decided that complete sensory overload was the best goal, and with that in mind she stepped into the shower and filled her hands with Alan’s ass. It was perfect, all taut muscles under smooth skin, and she could have spent days learning the feel of the hollows toward his hips.

  Smoothing her hands up his sides, she explored his back, the feathered muscles over his rib cage, his shoulders that were better defined than they looked in clothes. He’d braced his arms against the shower wall and let his head drop forward, and she traced a finger up to his nape, diverting the stream of water that trickled down from his hair. In this humbled stance, standing so still, Alan seemed oddly vulnerable.

  She didn’t want vulnerable. Too much thinking involved, too many implications and chances for them both to get hurt.

  Fling.

  Reaching her other hand around his hip, Julie worked her way through textures. The firm, warm skin of Alan’s haunch, the almost silky hairs trailing down the center of his abdomen. The hair grew coarser, more resistant against her fingers, as she went lower. But they gave way to the smoothest skin on his body, the deceptively soft skin encasing a distinctly hard erection. When she slid her hand around it, Alan sighed, breath hissing through his teeth.

  Julie pressed her lips to the back of his neck, leaning in to feel his entire body against hers. “You’re shaking.”

  “Your hand feels so much better than mine.”

  “It’s the novelty.” She felt a surge a pride, though. Accomplishment. That was physiological imperative talking, she suspected. She wasn’t really old enough for the biological clock to be ticking yet, because that was really more a social convention, but the human body had ways of circumventing the brain. The body could be tricky, with its hormones and dopamine, and feeling rewarded for stroking a guy’s dick was definitely one of those tricks.

  If she was going to let her body call the shots, she might as well do the thing right. She let go and took a step back. “Hey. Turn around.”

  As he did, she knelt down, keeping her gaze on his face to see his expression change. Absolutely gratifying. His wholesome smile was gone, replaced by lewd anticipation. She had half expected him to say something nice, tell her she didn’t have to, or ask if she was sure. He didn’t. Instead, he gripped the soap dish edge with one hand, and reached the other out to stroke her hair. When she bent closer, he skimmed them to the back of her head, wrapping his fingers around the base of her ponytail and sending shivers down her spine.

  Brushing her lips against his hip to hold her place, Julie reached back and took the elastic out of her hair with impatient, jerky movements. She dropped it once it was free, gave a fleeting thought to the danger that it would get stuck in the drain somehow, then forgot all about it. Skin under her tongue and hands was much more interesting. Enthralling, even. She bent all her attention to the task of teasing Alan to the point of insanity, letting her cheek or fingers brush his stiff erection in passing as she licked and nibbled everything else in the vicinity. Finally, when he was practically whimpering, she slid her tongue from his balls to the underside of his cock, working her way slowly up to the tip and slipping her lips over the head for only a second or two. Long enough to pull that sound from him, that hybrid grunt-moan sex noise that she had loved from the first time she
heard it. It made her wet, left her tingling between the legs. Aching for more.

  On the second pass, she took him in, as far as she could. His hands tightened in her hair, and his thighs trembled under her hands. Julie was good at this, or so she’d always had reason to believe. For a moment she got into the fact that she was good at it, that she could impress him by this somehow. She hit a rhythm, did a few tricks, things guaranteed to get a favorable response. A calculated squeeze here, a careful application of fingernails there. But it was a routine, and the problem with that was she didn’t really have to think too hard about it. Her mind was freed up to contemplate other things, and in this case it decided to ponder sexual ethics (topical) and the way she sometimes felt like sex was essentially masturbatory (sorta relevant).

  Yes, she liked giving the occasional blow job. Got a kick out of it, in fact. But in this case, she was using the oral to show off, to demonstrate what she could do. Making it about herself, because she was too scared to make it about Alan. It felt like a lie, like a failure to allow herself to be vulnerable enough for a real relationship. Taking control instead of taking a risk.

  Because again, this was Alan. This blow job should feel different than all the others. Better. More mutual. Intimate. Instead, it felt like she was objectifying Alan, and protecting herself. By going down.

  She was giving a sad blow job.

  Pulling away, she whispered, “Oh my God.”

  “Oh my God,” Alan echoed, taking her hands and pulling her up. “Now you turn around.”

  He nudged her shoulders until she turned around, palms to the wall. Julie spread her legs, anticipating. Even through the melancholy haze, she wanted him inside her. “Are you planning to frisk me?”

  “Oh, I’m planning a full body search, all right. I’ll find whatever you’re hiding.”

  She almost insisted she wasn’t hiding anything, remembering just in time that he hadn’t been talking about her feelings. Only about feeling her up. She was all in favor of that. Anything was better than the sad blow job.