Tropical Fantasy

by Monica McKayhan

“Ha-ha, very funny,” said Sasha, who didn’t find his comment the least bit amusing.

  “It’s clear that you have a ting for each other,” said Clara. “I remember when I met my Roger. He was tall and handsome, and so full of life. I loved him instantly, but I didn’t want him to know that right away. I wanted him to work for it, ya know?”

  “And did he work for it?” Vince asked with a smile.

  “He most certainly did.” Clara smiled. “And thirty-five years later, there’s still plenty of love.”

  Vince pondered on Clara’s comments about her husband having to work for her love. He wondered how long and how hard he’d have to work to win Sasha’s heart. He watched her as she ran her fingertips across her damp hair, trying to make the best of it. He felt guilty for making her run in the rain and ruin her high-priced hairdo.

  Clara began to gather the soiled dishes and carry them over to the commercial sink. She filled the sink with hot soapy water and washed the dishes by hand.

  “Can we help?” asked Sasha.

  “No. You kids go do whatever it was you were on your way to do.”

  Sasha stood and looked for a clean, dry towel. She found two and tossed Vince one.

  “I’ll rinse and you dry,” she told Vince.

  “I don’t need any help,” Clara insisted.

  “It’s okay. We don’t mind,” said Sasha.

  Sasha and Vince laughed heartily as Clara told stories about growing up in Nassau and about her dysfunctional relatives. She told stories of her courtship with Roger, and on a more serious note, how he was dying of cancer. The doctors had already done all that they could do, and Roger had been sent home to spend his last days with those he loved the most—Clara and their golden retriever, Dixie. Clara was never able to give Roger any children, so Dixie had been the next-best thing. She’d been a part of their family for many years.

  When Clara realized that the discussion about Roger had left a feeling of gloom in the room, she changed the subject. “Well, you two better get going. The rain has eased a bit.”

  “Thank you for dinner, Miss Clara. It was delicious.” Vince kissed Clara’s cheek. “I would love the recipe for those peas and rice.”

  Clara pulled a small notepad and pen out of the pocket of her chef’s jacket. “Give me your address and I will mail it to you.”

  Vince took the notepad and jotted down his address. Clara reciprocated and wrote hers down, as well. “I expect an invitation to the wedding when the two of you get married.”

  “Us?” asked Sasha.

  “Yes, you.” Clara grinned and then walked over to the door and opened it. “Now, go. I have plenty of work to do. I can’t be bothered with you two all night.”

  Vince and Sasha walked toward the door. Sasha gave Clara a hug and then the two of them went out into the night. The huge door closed behind them.

  “She was nice,” said Sasha.

  “She was.” Vince grabbed her hand, intertwining his fingers with hers.

  Just as Clara knew instantly that she loved Roger, Vince knew he could possibly—very possibly—love Sasha.

  Chapter 6

  They returned to the condo, and as soon as the door closed, Vince pulled Sasha into his arms.

  He breathed in the smell of her perfume or bath oils. He wasn’t sure which, but he loved her scent. Her arms wrapped themselves around his neck and he hungrily kissed her lips. His fingertips caressed her neck and then danced across her shoulder. He palmed her round breast through her cotton shirt and stroked her nipple with the tips of his fingers. With one quick move he had lifted her shirt and unsnapped her bra. His hand caressed her bare breast. The sensation of touching her bare skin sent a wave of electricity through him. He couldn’t quite remember needing anyone so much.

  As jazz played on his iPod, he lifted Sasha and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He carried her to his bedroom and gently placed her on the bed. After softly running his fingertips over her stomach, he found his way down to unsnap her jeans, and he removed them too. He noticed the chill bumps that danced across her skin and wondered if she was cold or nervous—or both.

  “Are you okay?” he whispered.

  She silently nodded a yes.

  “Just relax,” he urged.

  Vince removed his shirt and tossed it onto the chair across the room. Sasha slowly caressed his chest with her soft hands. He removed his sweatpants and rested his heavy body on top of Sasha’s small frame.

  “I want you,” he stated softly but urgently, “but if you’re not ready, we can wait.”

  “I don’t want to wait,” Sasha whispered.

  And with that, Vince moved forward. He grabbed his wallet from the nightstand and searched for the condom that he’d placed inside for safekeeping. His lips found hers again, and he began to kiss her deeply. He planted a trail of kisses on her lips, her chin and then her neck. His lips traced the roundness of her breasts and then made their way down to her navel. When he kissed the insides of her thighs, Sasha moaned.

  His lips made their way back up to Sasha’s, and then he gently placed himself inside her. His hips moved to the sound of the music as the two of them made a song of their own. He found peace with her. His heart and body felt things that he couldn’t quite understand. Making love to this woman had him rethinking everything in his life; rearranging everything. He knew he wanted her in every possible way—physically, emotionally and intellectually.

  With her arms stretched wide and her palms facing the ceiling, he rested his hands in hers and collapsed on top of her. He didn’t want to move. He wanted to lie there forever—for as long as she’d allow him to. He’d been to the mountaintop and back and knew that she’d been there too. He could see it in her eyes—they told him everything he wanted to know. He rolled over and then pulled her close to him and wrapped his arms tightly around her.

  “That was amazing,” he said.

  “Better than the other night?” she asked.

  He was confused for a moment and then realized that she didn’t know the details of their first encounter. “I have a confession.” He smiled. “We didn’t do anything the other night.”

  “Really?” she asked.

  “You were too drunk. I took you to your room, undressed you and tucked you safely into bed.”

  “Then why were you in my bed?”

  “Because you insisted on it. You had no clothes on, and you wanted me to take mine off, too. Asked me to do all kinds of things, but I resisted. I was the perfect gentleman.”

  “The perfect gentleman, huh?”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “Why didn’t you? I mean, most men would have jumped at the chance to take advantage of a drunk, naked woman begging him to do all sorts of things to her body. Who could resist?”

  “I could resist. I wanted you to be aware of what you were doing. I wanted it to be consensual and beautiful.”

  “And was it consensual and beautiful this time?” Sasha’s voice cracked at the thought of him wanting their lovemaking to be beautiful. She thought it was the sweetest thing he’d said since they met.

  “More beautiful than anything I’ve experienced.”

  “Is this one of those vacation things...you know, woman meets this handsome man on a tropical island and he ravishes her. Like a tropical fantasy or something, where they hook up, hit it and never hook up again. Kinda like a ‘what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas’ sort of thing.”

  Vince grabbed Sasha’s chin and forced her to look at him. Staring into her eyes, he said, “This was definitely not a hookup. I’d like to think it was the beginning of something very special.”

  And with that, Sasha’s lips met his. Soon, her eyes grew heavy and began to close, and before long she was asleep. Vince watched as she took each quick breath, and then he held her close as s
he slept peacefully in his arms.

  Chapter 7

  The buffet table was a gorgeous tropical medley of orange tiger lilies, orchids, kale gingers and palm leaves. The presentation of pancakes, scrambled eggs, country sausage, grits and potatoes was grander than Sasha’s usual breakfast. She usually just enjoyed a bagel from the corner pastry shop downtown and a Frappuccino from Starbucks. There had to be a million calories on that table just waiting to attack her hips.

  She poured herself a tall glass of orange juice and contemplated grabbing a pancake or two—only because it had been so long since she’d indulged. She opted for the crepes instead, and a few potatoes.

  “What happened to you last night, girlie? I looked for you all night,” Bridget said as she approached her sister. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “I knocked on your door and called your room all night.”

  “I was, um...so tired.” Sasha caught a quick glance at Vince. Bridget’s friend Deja had him cornered near the bread table.

  Sasha subtly maneuvered her body so that Bridget was shielding her, and she hoped he didn’t see her. She hadn’t had much time to evaluate her unexpected tryst with him and wasn’t ready to discuss it. She was somewhat embarrassed, having given up the cookies so soon. It wasn’t her style to sleep with a man so quickly, but it had been so long. He had awakened things in her that made her anxious. She broke every dating rule she’d ever known. The minute that she’d collected her clothing from the floor and slipped from his room in the wee hours of the morning, she knew that she’d made a mistake.

  A conversation with him would be nothing less than awkward, she thought, as she attempted to hide behind her sister.

  “I’m sorry about your flight last night, Sasquatch. I heard that everything was canceled because of the storm,” said Bridget as she loaded her plate with more pancakes and potatoes than any one person should eat. “But selfishly...I’m kind of glad you’re still here.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Sasha had to admit. “It’s really beautiful here. And I needed a vacation, even though I didn’t want to admit it.”

  “You must’ve been really tired not to hear your mother banging on that door last night. I thought she was going to come unglued when you didn’t answer. She called my room in a panic.” Bridget giggled. “She’ll definitely be looking for you bright and early this morning, sister.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Sasha made a quick move toward the scrambled eggs when she saw Vince look her way.

  “You sure you’re okay? You’re acting really goofy, girl.”

  “I’m fine.” Sasha faked a smile and then changed the subject. “Did you have a good time with your new hubby last night?”

  Bridget breathed in deeply and lowered her voice. “I couldn’t even get into it.”

  Sasha hadn’t expected a candid response about her sister’s sexual escapades with her new husband. She was simply making conversation.

  “I was so cranky and bloated. I lied and told him I was on my period,” Bridget continued, despite the horrified look on Sasha’s face. “He was so mad! But like I told him, there will be plenty of time for sex another time.”

  “Bridget, it was your wedding night. You don’t get a chance to redo that one.”

  “There will be other special occasions...birthdays, anniversaries. It’s really not that serious.”

  “You’re a piece of work.” Sasha laughed. “My wedding night will be filled with fireworks and explosives!”

  “Wasn’t last night explosive enough?” Vince’s voice was suddenly in her ear. His tone shook her. “I mean with all the lightning and thunder that went on. The storm was pretty intense, huh?”

  “Yes it was,” said Bridget. “Had me about ready to hide underneath the bed.”

  “What about you, Sasha? Were you afraid too...of the storm?” Vince asked, a sexy grin on his face. He was a delightful sight for such an early morning.

  “No. I’ve, um...been in storms before. It was the usual...nothing to get all excited about.” She gave Vince a smirk. Two could play his game. “Bridget, I’ll chat with you later. I think I’m going to take my breakfast back to my room.”

  “Are you sure you want to do that?” asked Vince. “I have a table right over there on the terrace with an amazing view of the ocean. Why don’t you join me?”

  “I would love to, but I really have a lot of work to catch up on—a lot of emails to read. Maybe another time,” Sasha said. “Bridget, I’ll see you later.”

  “We’re all going to ride Jet Skis this afternoon, Sasha, if the weather permits. You have to join us,” said Bridget.

  “You’re getting on a Jet Ski?” Sasha asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “I might,” said Bridget, and then she remembered her condition. “And then again, I might not. But Paul’s going. So maybe you two can hook up.”

  “Doubtful.” Sasha gave her sister a half smile and then walked away.

  “Sasha, I want to see you at the beach at noon,” Bridget yelled.

  Sasha kept walking, hoping Vince wasn’t checking out her butt. She’d chosen a pair of khaki shorts that were a bit shorter than her usual taste. She’d purchased them on a whim—not truly intending on wearing them. But she had thrown them in her suitcase anyway. She felt sexy when she’d awakened this morning; felt more alive than she had in a long time. She couldn’t deny that her encounter with Vince had awakened every one of her senses and left her wondering what he thought of it—of her.

  * * *

  The beach was beautiful. It seemed as if there had never been a storm, as if the waves hadn’t collided against the shore with such fury. Jet Skis were revved up, and people were going out into the water in pairs. Dressed in bikinis, Bridget’s bridesmaids hopped onto the backs of watercraft with whichever groomsman they fancied. Sasha had chosen a fuchsia-colored bikini with a colorful sarong tied around her waist. She had no interest in climbing onto the back of anybody’s Jet Ski but thought she’d enjoy the beach anyway, maybe go for a swim. Perhaps she’d collect a few seashells hidden in the sand or relax on her beach towel while skimming through emails on her iPhone.

  She spread her beach towel across the warm sand and removed her sarong. Bridget and Derrick strolled along the beach, their fingers intertwined. To the casual eye, they looked like happy newlyweds, but Sasha recognized the strain on her sister’s face. They were arguing, probably about their wedding night failure. Sasha worried that her sister’s marriage was already in trouble before it was given half a chance. She worried that Bridget would lose Derrick if she wasn’t honest with him soon.

  When she saw Vince approach the beach, she quickly pulled her Essence magazine out of her bag and buried her face in the pages of it. He shared a laugh with one of the other groomsmen, and Sasha couldn’t help sneaking a peek every now and then. He wore black swimming trunks. His chest was bare and polished and his arms were a chiseled mass. She imagined those strong arms wrapped around her waist again, and those fingertips caressing every inch of her body as they had less than twenty-four hours before. His hands were soft and gentle, not calloused and rigid like those of most men she knew. She couldn’t seem to contain her attraction to him, her need to watch every movement he made along the sand.

  He looked her way and gave her a wink. She’d been caught staring and tried to play it off by sticking her nose in the magazine again. But it was too late. He was already making long strides in her direction. There wasn’t any time to gather her belongings and make a mad dash for her condo, so instead she lifted her eyes and gave him a weak smile.

  “Not doing the Jet Skis today?” He towered over her, blocking the sun from her eyes.

  “No, not today,” said Sasha.

  “Can I convince you to go for a spin with me?”

  “Hmm,” she said thoughtfully, “probably not
.”

  “Oh, come on. I’m a safe driver, and it would be so much fun.” He smiled and reached for her hand. “Please?”

  She placed her hand in his and he pulled her up. She dropped the magazine onto the beach towel. She followed Vince’s eyes as he took in the sight of her body in the bikini. He’d been so intent he hadn’t even noticed her watching him. As the two of them moved toward the water hand in hand, inquisitive eyes followed them. Sasha knew they’d be the talk of the wedding party before night’s end.

  She stood by as Vince paid the young Jet Ski owner and received instructions about safety in the water. Vince tightened his life jacket and then helped Sasha with hers. He was close enough to kiss her, and his touch excited her. After he snapped the life jacket snugly around her, she followed him into the water. She hopped onto the back of the watercraft and tightly held on to Vince’s waist. She took in the scent of his cologne and the feel of his back against her chest, even though they were wearing life jackets. She still felt comfortable there, as if their bodies belonged together. Before she could finish her thought, the Jet Ski barreled across the water at a high level of speed, and Sasha found herself holding on for dear life. The faster Vince drove the Jet Ski, the tighter she held on—her face smashed against him. As they climbed each wave, unintentional bursts of laughter escaped her and she wondered where they came from. She couldn’t help it. Laughter seemed to engulf her, and she couldn’t control herself. Riding on the back of a Jet Ski with Vince was the most fun she’d had in a long time. She didn’t even care that her hair was wet and windblown and she’d have to set aside extra prep time for the evening’s cocktail party. If she decided to go.

  In the middle of the ocean, Vince slowed the engine. He did small circles in the water, keeping the engine revved.

  “You want to go for a swim?” he asked.

  “Right now?”

  “Yeah. Isn’t that why you came to the beach? Or did you come just to lie on your beach towel and pretend to read your magazine?”

  “I’ll have you know I wasn’t pretending. I came to the beach to relax,” said Sasha. “And no, I do not want to go for a swim. I would actually like to go back to shore, if you don’t mind.”