Naughty and Nice

by Sarah J. Brooks

  “Your bill is on the house tonight,” he said. “And your next round is obviously on us. We take the comfort and, of course, safety of our guests very seriously.” He walked away to get us another round of pina coladas and Emma turned to me.

  “Well, that was pretty impressive,” she said. “Can you imagine that happening in Queens?”

  “Ha!” I exclaimed. “Right?” The sounds in the bar returned to normal once everyone realized that the scene had finished. Sammy brought us our round of drinks and we thanked him, insisting that comping them wasn’t necessary.

  “I wonder where Tom is,” Emma said, frustration in her voice. She had been checking her phone, but she hadn’t heard from him yet.

  “I’m sure they just got delayed on the dive. They’ll be back sometime tonight,” I said.

  We hung out at the bar far later than we should have, and I was feeling quite buzzed by the time we were ready to leave. We walked to the door of the bar and just missed walking smack dab into Tom.

  “I’m so glad we didn’t miss you!” he said to Emma. “The bus broke down on the way back from the dive. I didn’t think we had a chance in hell of making it, but we did. Marty is in the room, but I wanted to come straight here.”

  “Hey Tom,” I said easily, a slight slur in my voice.

  “Hey Cassie,” he responded, not taking his eyes from Emma’s.

  “I’m going to head to the beach for a bit,” I said. “Emma, I assume you’ll be here?”

  “We’ll be here,” Tom said. I grinned and walked out of the restaurant. The wind had picked up as the tide had come in, and I pulled my wrap around my shoulders. I took deep breaths of the amazing salt air, and thought once more how lucky I was to be on this beautiful island.

  “Hey there, sexy,” a gritty, dark voice said. I looked around, but I couldn’t see anyone.

  “Who’s there?” I asked. Anxiety spiked through me. I realized I’d walked far enough down the beach to be alone. Well, almost alone.

  “I’ve been waiting for you,” the man’s voice said. He stepped out of the shadows, and I saw it was the drunk man from earlier.

  “I told you, I’m not interested,” I said. “And I’m sure you got the message when Sammy told you as well.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “You’re not so tough without your bartender muscle around, are you?” He stumbled toward me and pressed his lips against mine.

  Suddenly, I felt his entire body lift away from my own and he grunted. “What the—”

  “The lady said no.” I looked behind the drunk and saw… well… in the moonlight and my pina colada haze, he looked a bit like Superman. At least six foot three, dark hair, olive skin, and blue eyes that stood out intensely from the rest of his dark features. “And, from what I’ve heard, it’s not the first time tonight. Go down to the dock. You’ll find a water taxi there to take you back to San Pedro, where you will stay. If you show up here again, you’ll be arrested. Do you understand?”

  I looked at Superman holding Drunk by his collar, the size difference between them comical enough that, had the situation not been so serious, I would have burst out laughing. The drunk man got the message this time and stumbled down the beach to the awaiting water taxi.

  “Are you okay?” the man came in closely to me, examining me with his eyes.

  “I’m fine,” I said shakily. “I just wasn’t expecting that.”

  “No reason you should have been; this island is incredibly safe. That guy isn’t a local. I think he must be staying at a hotel on the main island and thought he’d crash our party over here.”

  We began to walk back to the hotel. I introduced myself, and he told me his name was Brad.

  “Are you a guest?” I asked.

  “Something like that,” he said. “Can I buy you a drink for your trouble?”

  I began to decline, then I looked more closely at Brad in the moonlight. There wasn’t a chance in the world he was available; guys as good looking as him never were.

  “You’re not here with your wife, are you?” I asked.

  Brad burst out laughing, and I was treated to his smile, a wide, easy grin that showed off his perfectly straight, white teeth. “Hardly,” he said. “Unless you count being married to my job, I don’t have a wife.”

  “Then I’ll have a drink with you,” I said.

  One drink turned into several, and we closed down the bar. Sammy left us the rest of the pina coladas in the blender, but, once those were gone, we were on our own.

  “If you want some more, I have beer in my room,” Brad said. “We could go up there.”

  I hesitated. That was a pick up line if ever there was one. We had been laughing and our conversation had flowed from the moment we’d set foot in the restaurant. I tried to imagine myself dating him, then my logical mind intervened. You’re on vacation in Belize. You’ll never see him again. Why don’t you loosen up and enjoy yourself for once?

  “That could be fun,” I said finally. He smiled, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

  “Great,” he said. He held his hand out to me and I hopped off the bar stool. My hand was small in his, and I could feel the strength of his arm in his grip. He was built solid from head to toe, and his muscles bulged faintly through the loose fabric of his white shirt.

  We got to his room and, as promised, he had cold beer in his mini fridge.

  “Your suite is huge!” I exclaimed. “It’s, like, twice the size of mine.”

  “I do a lot of work when I travel,” Brad explained. “So, it’s important to me that wherever I stay is big enough for me to be able to sometimes not leave the suite for a day or so at a time.”

  “What do you do again?” I asked. I thought he’d probably told me, but my memories were fuzzy.

  “I’m a business man,” he said. “Do you want to sit outside on the deck?”

  I meant to ask him what type of business he was in, but, when we got out to the deck, my thoughts faded. He leaned in and kissed me. My body responded as if to say finally! and I kissed him back. His lips were full, salty, and I felt myself pressing toward him, though I had told myself I would try to restrain my attraction. My nipples were hard, pressing against the silk of my dress, and I knew that Brad could feel them. He brought his hands to my neck and held my jaw in his warm palms as he kissed me deeply. I put my hands on his broad chest and felt an immediate spike in my arousal.

  He reached behind my head and pulled the clip out of my hair; I felt my hair fall over my shoulders wildly, and he groaned.

  “You’re so beautiful, Cassie.” He pulled me to him and I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. I pressed my body to his, feeling his erection, impressive under his linen pants. I dropped my hand down to his cock and began to stroke it softly through the fabric. He responded by picking me up; I wrapped my legs around his waist and he carried me out of the moonlight and into his bedroom.

  He laid me down on the bed and kneeled over me, unbuttoning his shirt and gazing down at me. I smiled up at him, enjoying the view. His shirt off, he rolled me onto my back and unzipped my dress, exposing my back. He began to rub my back and kiss the line of my spine; I felt myself growing wetter and wetter, and I struggled out of my dress, then turned back over. I spread my legs and he moved between them. I held his cock in my hand and pressed it to my belly, stroking him between my hand and my stomach with one hand while I gently held his balls with my other. He strained and moaned, a look of pure pleasure on his face. His cock was gorgeous; the perfect size and shape, his head glistening with pre-cum. I wet my hand and began to stroke him faster, his cock responding by hardening even more, the skin straining and stretching until neither of us could stand any more, and, after slipping on a condom, he entered me.

  “Oh my God,” I groaned, feeling the magnitude of him filling me, stretching me open, and I spread my legs wider. I reached for my feet and gripped them; he pressed his hands to my ass and pulled me to an angle that my body had never experienced before. From that angle, he gave my clit mor
e attention than I’d ever believed possible, and, at the same time, fucked me deeply. He was, quite simply, the most impressive lover I’d ever had, and my orgasm, a slow build into an explosion of heat and cum, reflected nothing less.

  When he came, his body grew rigid and he growled, pounding into me in a motion that very nearly pulled me into a second orgasm; had I been sober, it most certainly would have, and possible a third. I laid back, sweating and breathless, as he rolled off of me.

  “My God,” he said. “You’re…” He began to laugh. “You’re fucking amazing.”

  Brad

  When I woke up the next morning, just a few hours after Cassie and I had finished certainly the best fucking I’d experienced in my lifetime, I looked at her sleeping peacefully for a few moments before I reluctantly got out of bed. I’d been hoping for a little morning delight, but the clock said I was already late to stat my day.

  I showered and dressed, then I left a note on my pillow letting Cassie know that she should enjoy the suite for as long as she wanted, and I would connect with her later in the day for lunch or dinner if she didn’t have plans. I included my number.

  Normally I would have done my work for the day in my suite, but, with Cassie there, I went instead to my office in the back of the lobby. I looked at my schedule for the day and sighed. I saw my four o’clock appointment with the journalist and I groaned out loud. I’d forgotten all about that, and I had absolutely no desire, especially today, to have to answer questions or, worse, dodge them. I thought for a moment about Cassie, still sleeping soundly in my bed, and I had the urge to tell my secretary to reschedule everything so I could go back to the room. But, that wouldn’t work, especially with what I had to do that day. I had to create a basement on a damn island.

  I called my builder, the one who knew everything and whom I trusted implicitly. He laughed. “You can’t dig any deeper than you already have,” he said. “This island is solid rock. Great for a hotel, but there’s no way you can hammer through it without destroying some of the structural integrity of the building that’s already there.

  “Okay, then tell me what I can do. I need a basement. What are our options?”

  “Is it storage or active work?” he asked, mirroring the exact same question I had asked Manuel Brown.

  “Storage,” I said. “From Columbia.”

  “Ah, okay. Well, we could do a vault. We could build it into your office. It would take up that entire room, but we can find you another office much more easily than we can build a basement.”

  “We’ll tell the employees that it’s for money and credit card receipts,” I said.

  “Yes,” he said. “That will work. I can build the face of it to reflect what most of them would consider a logical vault.”

  I sighed, looking around my office that would soon be a secretive storage facility. “Let’s do it. Can you start today?”

  “Yes, sir, no problem,” my builder said.

  “That’s why I keep you around,” I said, feeling, finally, like this whole arrangement might be possible. I thought of Legacy and everything it stood for. There was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect the things I held so dearly, things that couldn’t be contained in a vault.

  I worked throughout the afternoon to pack up and clear out my office. For the time being, I knew I could work easily out of my suite. The bulk of my work was all online anyway; it had to be in order for me to travel.

  “Mr. White?” my intercom crackled. I jumped at the startling interruption, then I smiled ruefully. I was definitely jumpier than usual, thanks to Manuel Brown’s orders.

  “Yes, Anna, what is it?”

  “The journalist that you said could interview you this afternoon has arrived. I reminded her that she has a maximum of twenty minutes with you. Are you available, or should I have her reschedule?”

  I sighed. I’d forgotten all about that appointment after I’d looked at my schedule that morning, and a fresh wave of dread rolled through me. I didn’t have time for it, but, the one thing I’d learned about reporters in my time as the owner of Legacy was that the longer you put them off, the hungrier they got. When they got starving, they started foraging for their own answers… and I couldn’t afford to have anyone sniffing around trying to dig up information I wasn’t ready to give.

  “Give me five minutes, then send her in,” I said. I quickly adjusted my packing plan to make it look like the office was at least somewhat occupied. I realized my running around had caused me to break into a sweat, though I knew part of the culprit was the thought of answering questions. I slammed a glass of water and wiped my forehead, then I sat down at my desk just in time to hear a knock at the door.

  “Come in,” I called.

  The door opened and I looked up, expecting to see an eager, nerdy young man with a tape recorder and a notebook. Instead, Cassie walked through the door. My heart and my cock both skipped a beat as they hopped to life.

  “Cassie!” I said. “What are you doing here?”

  Confusion was written all over her face, and she flushed red. “Um, I’m here to interview the owner of Legacy…?”

  “You’re…” I shook my head and began to laugh. “You’re the journalist?”

  Her eyes widened in understanding. “You’re the owner of Legacy?”

  Cassie

  “You’re the owner of Legacy?” I exclaimed, standing in the doorway of the office. I stared at Brad and felt my entire body flush in excitement and arousal at the memory of our night that had ended, really, just a few hours before.

  He shook his head, not in denial, but in incredulity. He stood up and walked around the desk to where I stood in the doorway.

  “Come in, please,” he said, guiding me in and closing the door behind me. He smiled as he gestured for me to take a seat.

  “I’m Bradley White, owner of Legacy Luxury Hotels and Resorts.”

  I stared at him until it dawned on me; he was going to treat this as a fully professional, first time encounter. I took a deep breath, and he waited for me to catch up with him.

  “Yes, of course,” I said. “My name is Cassandra Young. I’m a journalist with Destination magazine, and I want to first thank you for taking time out of your incredibly busy schedule to meet with me today.” I smiled at him and tried to ignore the blush I knew was continuing to rise on my cheeks. I cleared my throat and looked back down at my notebook, trying to find some stability and comfort in the list of questions I had prepared.

  “I’m glad this works out,” Brad said. “I’m rarely here, so this was quite a fortuitous meeting.”

  “Uh, yeah,” I said. “So, that kind of leads to my first question. First, though, do you mind if I record the interview?” I took my recorder out and set it on his desk.

  “Not at all,” he said, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands across his stomach. I had a flash of my lips on his stomach last night, and I looked back down at my notes.

  “Wonderful. So, my first question is, how many hotels do you have worldwide, and how do you go about managing them?”

  “Worldwide, we have nearly a thousand hotels as of today, with plans for another hundred and fifty before the end of next year.”

  “Impressive,” I said.

  “I manage them by employing not just people I know and trust as management, but also by hiring people who are local and who take pride in their community. The balance of my staffs is very carefully crafted, and it seems to be working. I also visit each hotel at least once a year.”

  “You visit all of them? That must mean you travel a lot. Do you have…” I paused, catching a stammer in my voice. “Um, do you have a wife? Children?”

  “I’m married to my work,” he said, and I flushed again, remembering when he’d said that exact thing to me last night. “It takes a lot of careful scheduling, but, again, I pride myself on being present for all of my hotel staffs. Treating the staff like family is the fundamental principle on which Legacy was built.”

  “And you don’
t have children,” I said. I asked the question again because I noticed a shift in his energy, almost imperceptible. Call it a journalistic instinct, but there was something there.

  “No,” he said sharply. “I have no children. No wife. No family.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said, “I didn’t mean to push that.”

  His face softened. “No problem. What’s your next question?”

  “Where was the first Legacy hotel built, and why did you decide that a luxury hotel chain was how you wanted to invest your money?”

  I watched him form his answer. As a journalist, I’ve seen a lot of people tell the truth, but I’ve seen even more people lie. When people lie, they do a couple of things. If they’re actively lying, of course, there’s research that suggests their eyes will shift a certain direction. But, that doesn’t account for people who believe their own lies. There are also people who are practiced liars. I knew immediately that the answer I was about to get from Brad was not the truth. His eyes shielded over, almost as if he’d dropped a veil between us, and he began to recite a story of wanting to learn about other cultures and give people the opportunity to experience luxury on a budget… I wrote down his answer nearly word for word, but I didn’t believe a word of it.

  I studied him, trying to figure out if I should press him on it. My instincts told me now.

  “That’s wonderful,” I said instead.

  I asked him a few more questions, and he answered them. Some he answered more directly than others, but I didn’t get the sense that he was lying like he had been when I’d asked him what had led him to investing in the hotel chain to begin with.

  “I think my twenty minutes are nearly up, Mr. White, so I wanted to ask, is there anything you’d like me to include in the article? Any words of wisdom, any upcoming events, anything that would be of interest to my readers?”

  Brad thought for a moment. I watched his jaw flex as he moved his tongue against his teeth. He stared at a spot on his desk, then he looked directly at me.

  “Appreciate each moment of your life, and don’t wait until tomorrow to do the things you love.”