by Jools Louise
Chapter Eight:
Stereotypes
My trip back to the guest village was filled with teasing banter. Max was his usual self, which was a relief. He made jokes about my appetites and I reciprocated with digs about his slacking abilities.
A brief stop on the way had us fucking hard and fast in a secluded area against a coconut palm. My ass now resembled a relief map of Europe, with bumps and creases and reddened areas covering both cheeks. Max couldn’t stop giggling at my discomfort. I had been the one to instigate our little sex attack. Now he wouldn’t let me forget it!
“I’m looking forward to you explaining friction burns from a coconut palm to Jackson!” Max chortled. I slapped his arm, moving restlessly on the hard seat of the trolley.
“What friction burns? What coconut palm?” I blushed furiously as I realised we had reached the compound. One of the students had asked the question, a ginger-haired woman in her early twenties or so. Her eyes twinkled a little and she grinned at me. She spoke with a lilting Irish accent, and her bright green eyes were the shade not unlike that of a shamrock.
“I had a slight…encounter with a coconut palm on the way here,” I told her, suppressing the urge to smack Max again as he laughed out loud.
She raised an eyebrow.
“Ah. Do I need to be worried about palm trees chasing me down the road? Or maybe leaping out in front of me and slapping me on the bum if I get too close?” Max fell off the seat, he was laughing so hard.
I did try to get back some dignity, but realised it was a losing battle, since the girl had a knowing glint in her eye which told me she suspected exactly how I came by a sore ass.
“That won’t be a problem, Miss…?” I tried to step off the trolley without wincing. I failed. My butt was pretty sore by now, and the last thing I wanted was to deal with a bunch of students. I wanted some soothing balm to rub on my posterior, but that would have to wait.
“Oh, I’m Kathleen O’Hara. You must be Jess. Caleb told us all about you.” She grinned again and I looked over to the café where Caleb was grinning back at me.
“I’m so glad!” I retorted drolly and Kathleen giggled.
“Nothing bad. He told us that you were the person to see about…well, anything, really. Our professor seems to have disappeared, so I guess we’ll just wait and see what happens next.”
My eyes met hers and I saw the slight worry there.
“Professor Wheaton had a…panic attack on the plane after it landed. Max was there to help him, and when I intervened, I realised he would need some…specialist help. He won’t be able to join you to conduct the research you need to do.”
Her eyes widened at my carefully worded explanation.
Another voice interrupted us before she could ask the question.
“A panic attack?” A young man, also early twenties, walked up beside Kathleen. “Wow! I didn’t think the professor had any emotions to speak of. He’s always so cold and distant with us students.”
I felt a little flutter in my nether regions at the sight of the attractively-put-together male. Down girl! Geez, the rum last night must be still in my system…that was my excuse, since I repeatedly told anyone who would listen that rum plus me equals nymphomaniac!
The man was about five foot ten, with perfectly styled dark-brown hair. Cut short at the sides with some weight on top, it stuck up in what looked like disarray. I knew it had taken quite a while to achieve the effect, however, since Max was somewhat of a style diva when he got going.
Going out for dinner with Max was a lesson in patience. When we ventured off the island to a city, I spent two hours waiting for him to choose an outfit, then another hour waiting for his hair to be “just right.” Sheesh.
This man’s outfit had the same casual chic, a fitted button-down short-sleeved shirt with two buttons open at the neck. The colour matched the pale blue of his eyes, which stood out like gems in his tanned face. Shorts of a dark charcoal hugged slim hips, riding low. Designer sandals fitted his feet.
He was also stunningly handsome, looking like he could model for Vogue or something.
“Yes, he’ll be indisposed for some time, I’m afraid. Mr…?” I asked.
“Oh, I’m Brett. I act as the professor’s assistant on these things. I can take over the study, then we’re not wasting our time here.” He sounded a little prissy and arrogant prat. My attraction for him was waning fast.
I shared a glance with Kathleen and Max. I did refrain from the eyeball thing. My glance spoke volumes. This young man obviously had delusions of leadership. Kathleen grinned.
“Brett, my lovely. This will be a team effort. We’ll vote on who gets to be team leader. Maybe we should take turns, then everyone gets a shot at it?” She sounded reasonable, unruffled and cheerful. “Bubbly” was the word I would use to describe her.
Brett did roll his eyes.
“Oh, sweetie, I’m obviously more qualified than any of you, since I’ve been the assistant more times. I think it’s probably better if I take over, don’t you?”
Kathleen laughed out loud, patting his cheek teasingly.
“There, there, darlin’. Your inner diva is showin’ again. Let’s get you a cocktail, ‘til she goes away!” I laughed at Kathleen’s response, her accent becoming more defined. She didn’t appear phased by his patronising attitude one bit. “I have four brothers. They all think they’re the dog’s bollocks, too. Best way to deal with them…treat them like everyone else!” And she dragged the reluctant Brett away.
I followed them to the café, Max in tow. His arm came around me briefly, giving me a light squeeze before letting go.
“If you think that’s going to save you from retaliation later, you’re sadly mistaken, young man!” I grinned at him as he smirked back.
“Just so long as you let me rub the ointment on your ass!” He lowered his voice to a whisper.
“Sweetie, you know I prefer your…!” His hand went over my mouth to stop the next words and I laughed.
Carefully, the hand was removed.
“…cream on my ass!” I finished, and he gave a snort, then started laughing hysterically at the low-voiced words.
“Slacking again, Max? Why am I not surprised?” Caleb spoke and Max snorted again.
“I’m not the one attacking coconut palms.” He gave a yelp as I swatted his backside before moving to the table where the rest of the students were sitting.
“Ladies and gentlemen. Hi, I’m Jess. You’ve already met Max and Caleb.” I got smiles and nods from the students. Well, except for Brett who muttered something sarcastic. Moron!
“You may have realised that Professor Wheaton has been delayed. He had a panic attack on landing, and is being evaluated by our resident psychotherapist. We’re quite happy to accommodate you here until we find out what’s happening. Raphael, one of the crew, will show you the nest site tomorrow, then you can work out how you want to continue your studies.” There was quite a bit of murmuring from the group before they quieted again. I continued.
“As you will appreciate, this island and the majority of our guests are in need of a quiet refuge to heal. Our guests do not expect all-night drinking parties or rowdy behaviour by the pool or guest areas. As resort manager, I will expect your respect to these people and the staff here. Do you have any questions?” I raised a brow, making eye-contact with each of the students in turn. Nodding, they all looked at me, wide-eyed.
“Enjoy your studies.” I smiled, turning to go.
“Wow, what a bitch! Must be premenstrual!” This was muttered sotto voce, but I heard the remark all too clearly. I recognised Brett’s dulcet tones, his inner diva having apparently not gone too far away.
I heard angry growls from both Max and Caleb, but gave them a speaking look before turning to confront the big-mouthed queen, Brett.
“My dear boy. This is me giving you all a friendly warning…Trust me, you haven’t seen me being bitchy just yet. If I was premenstrual you’d be doing a flying leap into the p
ool right about now! Lastly, my love, I get final say in who stays and who goes—and how! So if you don’t want to find yourself swimming back to New Zealand, just you and your diva, I would suggest you refrain from letting me see your bitchy attitude!” Brett’s face turned bright red and he ducked his head in embarrassment. I raised my brow at him haughtily, hearing the muffled laughter from his fellow students, who looked like they were enjoying the put-down.
“Well? Any more smart-ass remarks, or can you be trusted to behave yourself?”
“No, ma’am,” Brett said, then lifted his head. “I’m sorry, but you didn’t speak very nicely to us. We’re not idiots, you know.” He tilted his chin defiantly.
I smirked at him, lip curling.
“You’ll pardon me for having trust issues with students. The little experience I have with them is their inability to follow simple instructions, their inability to hold alcohol in their stomachs for very long, and their superior attitude to everyone who isn’t a student. Judging by your recent comments, I’ve seen nothing so far which leads me to change my opinion. I don’t prejudge if I can help it, but your smart mouth and insulting attitude do you no favours.” I was in full Queen Victoria mode by this time, having no time for supercilious snobs like this idiot.
I stared him straight in the eye, blinking as I saw the slight sheen of tears in his eyes. I throttled back on my rising anger, realising I was seriously overreacting.
“Brett,” I continued, softening my tone, “how about we come to an agreement? You contain the sarcasm and insults, and I’ll contain my bitchy attitude. How does that sound?” He paused for a moment, blinking quickly.
I smothered a grin as his chin came up again, the flaming diva only slightly restrained.
“Agreed. But if you’re nasty again, all bets are off.” His eyes met mine, and I saw the slightly teasing look in his eyes. I figured he was putting on a show for the other students and decided to go with the flow.
Winking at him, I patted his cheek in a patronising manner.
“Sweetie, you just need to learn when not to mess with me. Just ask Max here.”
Max snorted, relaxing.
“Brett, this woman has the absolute worst attitude before her morning coffee. I think perhaps we need to get her some quickly, or she’s liable to do anything!” Brett smirked, then laughed outright, his smile dazzling in his gorgeous face.
“Hey!” I yelped, slapping Max’s shoulder.
Caleb came around the counter, passing me a steaming mug of coffee, and I inhaled blissfully, giving him a light kiss on the cheek in thanks.
“Hey! How come I get slapped and he gets a kiss?” Max complained, pouting.
“Like you said, luv, without my coffee, I’m liable to do anything! Ciao!” I laughed as he stuck out his tongue at me, then I turned and left, heading for the admin building. Despite my recent experience, I still had a pile of work to do and I figured I’d change in the office.
As I walked, I noted Brett falling into step beside me and looked over at him.
“I’m sorry I made the comment, ma’am.” He said the words quietly and I did a rapid rethink of my judgment of him.
I stopped walking and turned to him.
“Apology accepted, Brett.”
“Er, I wanted to ask. Professor Wheaton? He didn’t have a panic attack, did he?” Brett looked at me. He blushed a little as I gave him a hard look, but held my gaze.
“I really don’t think it appropriate to comment on the professor’s actions at this stage, Brett.” I had my haughty tone back again…I think I missed my calling. Maybe I had royal blood in me!
“Geez, you sound like you’re about to have me executed!” Brett rolled his eyes, not particularly intimidated.
“Now there’s a thought!” I snickered as he gave a snort. I was beginning to like the brat. My eyes met his again, and I felt a zing of something between us. I backed off. Sheesh! I already had seven studs. Why was my libido suddenly going crazy over this kid? Except, he wasn’t a kid. He was a young man, in his early twenties. His actions suggested he was gay, but who was I to judge?
Labels are used to make it easier to pigeon-hole people. Gay, straight, black, white, Christian, atheist. People don’t always fit a particular mould, and labelling someone without knowing them is a road to disaster. Stereotyping. There’s this trend to put that label on someone, and think they can’t be anything more than that. A mother with two children is not just a mother. Throughout her life, she could be many things. Maybe she was a cheerleader in high school. Does that mean she has no brain? She maybe a single parent or a woman married for forty years to the same man…or woman. Labels are guidelines, not absolutes. Apparently, I come off like some bitchy-attitude queen…although that may not be too far from the truth right now. Who knew?
“Professor Wheaton has attacked people in the past. He’s not been convicted of anything that I know of since, rumour has it, he’s bought his victims off. He tried it with me, but I told him I’d out him to whoever would listen if he tried it again.” Brett moved closer, brushing a thumb across the small mark on my forehead and the bruise on my cheek.
I flinched a little, my eyes still locked with his.
“Hey, Jess! Any problem here?” Jackson. His voice caressed my eardrums, the husky timbre sending a little shiver up my spine.
I felt a hand at my waist, a thumb rubbing against the base of my spine. Wrenching my gaze away from Brett’s mesmerising one, I met Jackson’s knowing brown eyes.
“How are you, Brett?” Jackson put out a hand, shaking Brett’s firmly. Their eyes met, and it seemed they exchanged a wealth of meaning in the brief greeting. Brett smiled slightly.
“Wait. You know each other?” I asked the obvious question.
“I met Brett a little while ago. I counselled him for a while before I came here, about five years ago. He had an…episode which resulted in Brett needing hospital treatment.”
My eyes shot to Brett’s, seeing embarrassment and shame there.
“An episode?” I asked, not daring to try and guess.
“I came out as being bisexual to my parents. My dad went ballistic, my mum had a hysterical fit, and I tried to kill myself.” My eyes widened as the matter-of-fact tone belied the fact that this beautiful young man had felt so bad he tried to end his life.
“Holy shit!” Brett laughed a little at my response, despite the seriousness. I put my arms around him, giving him a hug.
“Have your parents come to terms with it, now?” His arms slowly went around me, head resting on my shoulder. He sighed.
“They sent me to a Christian summer camp to cure me. Apparently, God doesn’t like the LGBT community.” I hugged him tighter.
“Are you cured, then?” I asked teasingly, and he barked out a startled laugh, shoulders shaking.
“I don’t need to be cured. I just need to find someone to love,” he whispered, sighing again. I felt his warm breath on my cheek, closing my eyes as I inhaled the fresh scent of his skin mixed with a tang of clean sweat.
I stepped back from him, patting his arm.
“I’m sure it’ll happen, just when you don’t expect it.” I gave him a light kiss on the cheek, but just as my lips lowered, he turned his head. The zing of awareness was instant and I jerked back, startled.
I was perfectly happy with my crew. What was I thinking? They’d think I was cheating on them.
Blushing furiously, I stepped back again and muttered something about having to get back to work, practically running along the path to the admin building.
Geez, there must have been something in the coffee!
Having a stable full of studly males was one thing, but in two years, I had never thought to stray or add to our little group. In my head, I knew it would be cheating, despite the unorthodox ménage relationship I enjoyed here on El Santuario.
Chapter Nine:
One More Stud
I left the office, having caught up on every bit of paperwork I could find. I knew I wa
s deliberately stalling before returning to the main compound. I had concentrated solely on work rather than dwelling on my lascivious thoughts. Brett was gorgeous, feisty and a really good kisser, despite the very brief lip-lock earlier.
I felt myself getting all hot and bothered just thinking about that hard, lean body against mine. I shook my head, ridding myself of my naughty thoughts. Jess, I told myself, you really need to control yourself.
Since it was quite late, I heated up a bowl of soup at the café. Finishing it off with a slice of freshly made lemon meringue pie, I felt a little better.
The moon above my head shed its silvery light over the ocean, and the millions of stars glittered like diamonds on the gently moving swell. My path took me through the main compound, past the guest villas and along a shell-encrusted trail for about a mile. I could see glimpses of the ocean as I passed, and inhaled the deliciously spicy scent of the tropics. I loved this place. I’d been back to England once in the past two years and to Australia about five times. Each time I returned here, the place seeped into my skin like a soothing balm.
My villa was about a mile away, and I enjoyed walking along the quiet pathway. Crickets chirruped and the light breeze rustled through the palm trees surrounding me. I frowned a little as I spied something ahead which wasn’t usually there.
A sign.
Walking closer, my frown became a smile as I read the wording.
“Jess, you are cordially invited to attend our party…clothing optional. The Crew.”
An arrow pointed toward the villa and I laughed a little. Despite the fact I was halfway to the villa, there were new guests here, so I refrained from stripping just yet. I laughed again as another sign and a second arrow appeared.
“Jess, you must put on the blindfold provided and await further instructions. The Crew.”
A blindfold hung close to the sign and I shrugged, smiling a little as I put the thing on, feeling silly.
With my eyes covered, my other senses were overly sensitive. My ears were alert to every rustle of the leaves and the surge of the waves on the beach a few meters away.
