by Remi Wild
Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine doing anything this crazy.
We step into the ethnic style lobby and walk past several tall white columns, approaching the registration desk. I frown, noting that the desk clerk is a supermodel blonde wearing a silver bikini—all the clerks are wearing silver bikinis of varied styles. They’re all supermodels, too.
“Welcome to Desire by Design,” the blonde clerk says as she smiles brightly, genuinely. She points to a nametag which is barely hanging on to the strap of her bikini. “I’m Sierra. May I have your names, please?”
I remain mute, too chicken to speak, so Jess speaks for us. “I’m Jessica Rodriquez and this is Claire Winters. We should have separate but adjoining rooms.”
What? We’re not staying together? The idea of spending one second of this vacation on my own terrifies me. I clear my throat, indicating I have an issue with this.
Jess turns to me, smiles wickedly, and then turns back to Sierra.
Bitch!
I stare mutely at Sierra as she attaches a wristband to Jess. Sierra reaches out to me and I lift my arm to her so she can attach mine.
“Just scan your wristband to your door and you’re in—no keys to carry with you.”
I nod my understanding, dropping my arm to my side.
Next, Sierra holds up two large gift bags, one is pink and the other is black. Shaking the bags slightly, to entice excitement, she smiles and says, “These are your itineraries. One romance experience and one vanilla bondage experience.”
“What the fuck, Jess!” I blurt out, my voice screeching like a startled mouse. I’m ready to kill my bestie. No way am I participating in bondage! No way!
Jess laughs, turning to me. “Relax. Jeez. The romance package is for you.”
My body instantly relaxes. Thank God! Although, now I’m wondering what sort of sick shit my bestie is into. That aside, I could use a little romance—whatever that means.
Sierra stares at me like I'm a brainless twit. "You must wear the accessories so that other patrons know your desires. We wouldn't want a fetish seeker and romantic mixing without their knowledge. It just saves everyone from embarrassing mistakes.”
Accessories? Oh God!
I fear the contents of the bags.
I reach out and pinch the handle of my bag with my thumb and forefinger. Holding the bag out at arms distance, I glare at it, wondering what sort of nightmare goodies it has inside. I lower my arm defeated, the bag slaps against my bare legs, its cold paper reminding me that I am naked. I pull it up and hold the handle with both hands so that the bag covers my midsection.
"Now, I just need you to read and sign the waivers…”
“Whoa. What waivers?” I don’t like the sound of this.
Jess laughs, grabbing a pen and signing hers without even reading it. “Honestly, Claire. You’re acting like such a prude. Sign the damn paper!”
I shoot her a glare.
I am not a prude.
Jess rolls her eyes and says, “I read the terms online when we signed up. It basically states that you willingly signed up for this and that you have the right to refuse any of their services.”
“Nice. I didn’t want this,” I point out to Jess, who ignores my statement because she smugly knows that I have no choice but to sign the stupid waiver. I snatch the pen from the counter and scribble my indecipherable name across the contract.
“Great, your hosts will take you to your rooms, now," Sierra says, gesturing behind us.
I spin, following her line of sight as two tall, dark, and deliciously toned men make their way towards us. Delicious doesn’t really describe them. They’re wearing silver briefs. Not fair. Why do they get coverage?
Jess passes her bag off to the man in front of her, and he gives her an accepting nod-like bow. My host, stands before me, a hint of a smirk crossing his delicious lips. Just what the hell he thinks is so funny, I’d really like to know.
What exactly do our hosts do for us? My eyes bug open as I realize exactly what it is they are supposed to do for us.
Raising my hand in protest and question, I stare into my host’s sea-blue eyes and say, “Just what exactly are you going to do for us? Explain the role of host, please. Somebody?” My eyes scan from my host to Jess.
My host takes a step back, tilting his head to the side, confused. His unruly, dark wavy hair brushes against his forehead. “Don’t you know what we do? You did book a vacation here, didn’t you?”
I’m angry even though his gruff Australian accent sends my heart into rollercoaster mode. What girl isn’t a total sucker for that accent?
“No, I did not! I have no idea what any of this is!” I toss Jess a death stare laced with daggers. She grins, not at all bothered by it.
“Let me introduce myself, then. I am Mason Roberts. My role is to be your companion during your stay here. You have ordered the romance experience…” He stops, noting my pissed off, thrown-under-the-bus demeanor, and then clears his throat. “I mean the romance experience is what was paid for. What that means is, I will be your companion and provide you with all the romance you can possibly imagine. We do whatever you want. I am at your service…”
“So, basically you’re a prostitute. Great,” I say, shooting Jess another deadly look.
Mason stiffens, obviously trying not to lose his shit, but he fails. “No. I’m not a bloody prostitute!” He takes a quick calming breath and the anger is gone. “My job is romance. I’m not a prostitute, I’m more like a butler. I will also accompany you anywhere on the resort. You are free to explore on your own, but I am here for your safety. Single men can be rather frisky at times.”
So he is more like a butler but also a bodyguard. I concede. What else can I do? It’s not like I’m a bitch or anything, but I don’t know how else to react to all of this. I gaze into his blue eyes and falter. Spending a week in the company of a man that looks like Mason might not be so bad, but I am definitely not giving my v-card to my ‘butler’.
“Alright, Mason. Give it your best shot. I could use a little romance in my life.” I turn to Jess who is already sucking face with her host. Her hair is wrapped around his hand and he’s tugging her head back while kissing her. I blush, clearing my throat, and they pull apart.
Jess grins, barely trying to compose herself, and says, “This is Kyle Wilson…”
“Nice to meet you, Kyle,” I say, eying him suspiciously. I don’t like the way he handles Jess, but she obviously adores it. Ugh. I walk over to Kyle and look him straight in the eye. “This woman is my best friend, and although she is into some questionable shit, I will fuck you up if you hurt her…you know, aside from what she asks for.” I turn to Mason and smile sweetly. “Can you take us to our rooms, now?”
“Of course, this way.” He takes my carry-on and makes a sweeping gesture in the direction of a set of glass doors, leading to what looks like a tropical garden paradise.
Holding my pink goodie bag over my front bits, I hesitate, for a second, and then walk ahead. Might as well get used to people looking at my naked ass, and I’m okay if Mason looks, sort of.
The minute we exit the main lobby, a waft of floral scent and tropical heat hits us full force. It feels like Heaven—it smells like Heaven. Mason takes the lead and I follow, scanning the resort in awe. Multi-coloured buildings line the expansive tropical garden courtyard, boasting an elegant Spanish paradise. Naked people frolic in an enormous swimming pool with a waterfall, while more naked people sunbathe or chat casually at the tables. No one seems hung up on their bodies, nor do they stare at mine.
Several private cabanas with flowing crimson curtains are scattered around the pool. The beauty surrounding me can only be described as euphoric. The buildings are stunning works of architecture and everything appears to be clean, well-maintained, and stylish.
I realize that while I lost my shit on Mason, I might have come off as a bitch. I don’t want to be the only lame person here, and I’m definitely not a prude. Forcing myself to
relax, I drop my arms to the sides, and let my guard down.
No one seems to notice and I don’t drop dead from embarrassment—it’s not that bad.
Maybe I overreacted. I have a tendency to do that.
A triumphant smirk crosses my lips. I might be more comfortable with my body than I thought.
