What She Needs

by Lacey Alexander

  “Maybe I care about you,” she shot back at him.

  Shit. “Don’t go there, Jenna,” he warned.

  “What? Why?”

  So he’d have to explain this, too, huh? Fine. “Because that was my exact fear all along. It’s why a guide should not take part in your fantasies. And I fucked up a lot more by . . . by all this talking and getting to know you. You’re not supposed to care about me.”

  She spoke more softly. “What if it’s too late for that?”

  His chest tightened. He’d been trying to ignore the ramifications of getting close to her, trying to just ride it out like she’d said—and that’s exactly what he was going to keep doing now. “You need to push it aside,” he told her unequivocally. “Just like all the other emotions you’ve needed to push aside this week to free yourself sexually.”

  She let out a sigh, pursed her lips, and said, “What if I . . . haven’t really pushed them aside very much?”

  Hell. He had no choice. He had to lower the boom here, once and for all. He didn’t want to hurt her, so he spoke gently—but the words would still wound her. “Jenna, let me say this plainly. I’ve enjoyed being with you this week, and yeah, I’ve taken some special satisfaction in helping you overcome your issues. But I never should have talked so openly with you. And I shouldn’t have you in my bed right now. Because despite enjoying your company a great deal, this is still my job.”

  She looked tougher than he might have expected—more challenged than hurt. “Right now?” she asked. “Having me in your bed is your job?”

  “Kind of. Because you needed extra attention, extra prodding—you know that. Getting closer to you helped me find out what you needed.”

  “Oh,” she said, her voice coming out too soft. It made his stomach pinch, but he had to ignore that and go on.

  “And, if you recall, you would only consent to going through with the fantasies if I took part in them. So I didn’t exactly have a choice if I wanted to help you.”

  Next to him, she bit her lip and looked down, clearly embarrassed to remember that part.

  And shit—he felt like an ass. “Don’t be mad at me,” he said. “This doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”

  “Friends,” she repeated, as if the word were ridiculous.

  And she was right—it was. Hell.

  So he flashed an irritated look of concession. “Okay, yes, damn it, I care for you, too—but . . . I can’t care in a way that goes beyond this, right here, this island. Because this is my world, my life, what I do. And in a few days, you’re going back to the world you know, the world where you belong. All this will, I hope,” he said gently, “be a pleasant memory, for us both.”

  It relieved him when she nodded and said quietly, “Yes, it will be.”

  “I’m sorry,” he told her then, “if everything I just said hurt you. I don’t mean to be harsh. I just needed you to know.”

  “It’s all right,” she said, her voice soft but stronger now.

  Good. Maybe they could get back to normal here. “Now—can we cut out all the damn psychoanalyzing for a while and just fuck?”

  She blinked. “You still want to—after all this? You aren’t going to suddenly . . . push me away? Worry that I can’t handle it or something?”

  He shook his head and spoke the truth. “I wouldn’t do that. I want this to be . . . what it’s been up to now—a good, satisfying thing for us both. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Now, come here,” he said, “and let me nibble on your pretty tits.”

  And nibble he did, while she purred and sighed—but the whole while he knew with brand-new certainty that things had to change here. She’d left him no choice—she’d shown him there was no riding this out on its current course.

  He’d meant what he said—he wouldn’t suddenly abandon her; he’d continue to be her guide and her lover. And he’d probably continue to feel way too much while he was doing it. But plain and simple, he’d have to make it so that her sexual world no longer revolved around him.

  The conversation had left Jenna stunned. To find out Brent’s first and only love had died so tragically was heartbreaking. And to further discover that the event had—in effect—trapped Brent here for fifteen years? Wow. She had felt presumptuous playing psychologist with him, but it had seemed so obvious once she knew the facts.

  As for what had followed, about his relationship with her, the things he’d said had hurt her, but they hadn’t surprised her.

  In fact, what had surprised her was how . . . normal things felt afterward. They’d had slow sex, him moving in her deeply, making her feel connected to him all the more. They’d slept snuggled together beneath the sheets and woken with the sun. He’d seemed happy to see her, kissing her good morning with a drowsy smile, then asking if she wanted Cheerios.

  “You’re a charmer in the breakfast department, Powers,” she’d teased him. “Do all your other overnight guests put up with Cheerios and bagels?”

  He’d just shrugged, looking as if there was something he wasn’t saying.

  “Well?” she prodded.

  “There aren’t all that many, sunshine,” he said matter-of-factly, shocking the hell out of her.

  “Um, why?” She’d assumed his bungalow would be worthy of a revolving door.

  “Think about it. I don’t get sexually involved with guests outside of their fantasies.”

  “Except me,” she pointed out.

  He ignored that. “So that leaves Hotel Erotique employees.”

  “Of which there are plenty. And they’re gorgeous. And I’m sure they’re happy to share your bed.”

  He shrugged again. “I used to indulge in that more when I was younger than I do now.”

  “Why?”

  “Guess it got old,” he said shortly. Then changed the subject. “Come on, or I might eat the last bowl of cereal and then where would you be?”

  Over breakfast, Brent had told her she wouldn’t be having a fantasy today. And, of course, that had disappointed her, but she understood—last night’s had been a doozie, and the night before that had been a double dose for them both. And even though she still wanted to soak up all the sex with him she could, maybe a day off to absorb everything she’d learned last night wasn’t a bad idea. Since she couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  “I scheduled you a seaside massage, though,” he said. “Two o’clock.”

  “Seaside?”

  “Just outside the spa—under an awning—with a view of the ocean,” he explained. “It’s nice—you’ll like it.”

  Now she lay on a massage table on her stomach, resting her chin on her hands to take in the scenery until the massage began. The bamboo awning sported four stone arches emerging from the soft lawn—and the only sound was the rolling tide in the distance. Brent was right—while the spa was luxurious and serene inside, for Jenna nothing beat the tranquility of being outdoors in a peaceful setting. She hadn’t spent much time thinking of the Hotel Erotique as peaceful, but her time sunbathing at the beach had indeed been that, the perfect contrast with all the wild sex. And today, it provided a nice sense of calm, offsetting the shocking new facts of Brent’s life that still swirled in her head.

  “Hi, I’m Courtney.”

  Jenna looked over her shoulder to see a tall, Norwegian-looking blonde in a white spa coat. “Oh, hi. No Rhoda today?”

  “No Rhoda,” the girl said with a smile. “Her day off, so you’re stuck with me.”

  Jenna returned the friendly smile. “Oh, that’s fine. I just assumed—since I had Rhoda a few days ago.”

  “Well, I promise to take good care of you,” Courtney said. Then she reached for a bottle of massage oil on a teakwood cart. “You can rest your head in the headrest or enjoy the view, whichever you like. Just let me know if the pressure is good, or too hard, or if anything I do feels uncomfortable.”

  Jenna nodded, then settled in for relaxation. She sighed in pleasure as Courtney massaged warm, fruit-scented oil into her s
houlders, which had gotten a little sore lately—maybe from the times her arms had been bound. “Mmm, that’s nice,” Jenna told her.

  “Good,” Courtney replied. “People often get more of a workout here than they expect, so a few massages during your stay can keep you limber and comfortable during recreation.” She said it as smoothly as if Jenna had come here to play tennis.

  Courtney proceeded working her magic slowly down Jenna’s back, and eventually folded down the white sheet covering her to begin kneading her ass. Rhoda hadn’t done that. But it felt nice, so Jenna didn’t protest.

  The massage progressed down her legs to her feet, and then back up—to her ass again. She bit her lip as she began to feel the response in her pussy and anal area. Was she supposed to be feeling it there?

  Up to now, the massage had truly relaxed Jenna, and despite the new sensations, she remained mostly relaxed, so she decided to go with the flow—for now anyway.

  As Courtney’s skilled hands worked, her fingers seeming to stretch closer and closer to Jenna’s cunt, she asked, “Does everything I’m doing feel good?”

  Jenna didn’t lie. “Yes.”

  “Do you want to turn over?”

  Oh. Okay. Now Jenna got it. This was just like at the Grotto—another unannounced fantasy. Maybe it was a fantasy meant to relax as well as titillate her, or maybe Brent was stuck on convincing her she liked sex with girls as much as with guys. Either way, knowing he was somewhere watching, as he’d been at the Grotto, instantly increased her arousal, and her sense of adventure.

  “Sure,” Jenna replied easily now that she understood the situation. As she carefully shifted to lie on her back, she found herself peeking around the area beyond the awning, wondering where Brent might be. She didn’t see him, but for all she knew, he was doing a better job of hiding this time, with binoculars—or maybe even watching through a secret video camera somewhere.

  The move left her uncovered by the sheet, naked and exposed on the table. Courtney smiled easily down at her, the same as if this were a normal massage, and said, “Shall I take my coat off? I’m wearing pretty lingerie underneath.”

  “All right,” Jenna said.

  And Courtney smoothly pulled at the placket, undoing all the snaps at once, then let it fall to the ground behind her. She wore a lacy bra and thong in a pale shade of peach. Her body was predictably thin, her breasts medium and high, and a tattoo of an elaborate, multicolored butterfly decorated the skin just below her navel.

  “I’ll take off more if you like,” Courtney offered in a friendly manner when she saw Jenna checking her out.

  But Jenna wasn’t in the mood for a full-blown lesbian encounter today—not even for Brent—so in just as pleasant a tone, she replied, “No, the lingerie is good, thanks.”

  Courtney nodded in response, then squeezed more oil into her hands. “Relax,” she breathed as she bent over Jenna, firmly yet gently massaging Jenna’s tits. Jenna closed her eyes and sucked in her breath, allowing herself to feel the pleasure spreading through her. She thought of Brent watching somewhere and let out a soft, “Mmm . . . ,” both content and aroused.

  Courtney worked the warm oil into Jenna’s breasts for a long while, until Jenna’s pussy had turned equally as heated. Finally, her firm, kneading touches moved down over Jenna’s belly and onto her hips. Jenna bit her lip when Courtney reached her upper thighs—she felt that part of the massage deep in her cunt, soon releasing a small moan.

  When she opened her eyes, Courtney smiled gently down on her, still moving her palms over Jenna’s legs. She found herself smiling back as a light, salty breeze washed over her. It was shockingly easy to let Courtney make her feel good, mostly because . . . she could so easily imagine Brent’s gaze on her. Just like at the Grotto, just like every other fantasy where someone else had been touching her or fucking her. If Brent wasn’t the one directly pleasuring her with his hands or cock, he pleasured her in another way—with his eyes.

  Courtney continued the deep yet tender massage, and Jenna didn’t hide her physical response—as Courtney’s touch echoed between her legs, Jenna moaned appreciatively and envisioned how hard Brent was getting.

  When Courtney’s kneading edged its way down onto her inner thighs, Jenna let her legs part. Her moans came louder as her pussy began to pulse. She felt open to the experience because Brent had taught her to be, and because she knew he was enjoying this, probably even more than she was.

  Courtney turned away from the table to return a few seconds later with a vibrator the color of orange sherbet. Like the one Brent had sent her, it was shaped like a penis, only it also came complete with balls, and the bump near the base designed for clit stimulation was larger and more protruding.

  Jenna thought Courtney would insert the toy in her cunt, but instead, after turning it on to create a light buzzing noise, she ran it in a circle over one of Jenna’s breasts.

  “Oh, it’s warm,” Jenna said, surprised.

  Courtney’s expression stayed as calm and pleasant as before. “It’s been heated.”

  “Mmm,” Jenna purred at the strange sensation as Courtney rubbed the vibrator over Jenna’s other tit.

  Soon, she glided the vibrating phallus slowly down Jenna’s stomach—and then she pulled it away, squeezing oil onto it and rubbing it in with her free hand. “Remember, it’ll feel warm,” Courtney cautioned—then she smoothly slid the fake cock into Jenna’s pussy.

  It went in with slick ease and Jenna gasped at the sudden fullness, along with the promised warmth. Heat spread through her cheeks as she adjusted to the size as well as the riveting vibrations.

  “Good?” Courtney checked.

  “Mmm hmm,” Jenna breathed, but it came out sounding a bit excited.

  When Courtney began to slip the toy in and out of Jenna’s wetness, Jenna’s arousal grew, and soon she was biting her lower lip, softly meeting each warm thrust. She shut her eyes, wondering about Brent’s exact view—could he easily see the vibrator moving in her pink folds?—as she grew aware of the fake balls pressing against her perineum, as well as that pronounced bump jutting into her clit with each inward drive. It was hard to believe this was her, Jenna Banks, letting another woman fuck her with a vibrator—but Brent had truly transformed her.

  She loved knowing he was witnessing her pleasure—which increased quickly, given the angle of that naughty nub against her clit. Her body began to meet Courtney’s plunging toy harder, harder, needing it deeper, her clit longing for still more firm pressure. Until soon Courtney switched motions—no longer sliding the vibrator inward but instead inserting it to the hilt and simply grinding the bump against Jenna’s needy clit. Mmm, yes, that was good—and she realized she’d ended up using a similar action with the toy from Brent when she’d videotaped herself.

  Her breath came labored, shakier, as she neared climax. And then she heard herself moaning—lightly, but then louder—and then the orgasm struck, and she fucked the humming toy in Courtney’s hand, aware that the soft, gentle pleasure from moments before had turned raw and intense and completely unrestrained. She gripped both edges of the massage table as she propelled her torso against the toy cock with abandon, her body urging her to absorb every ounce of hot delight.

  When finally she went still, she felt a bit strange. It was over, and where was Brent? Even at the grotto, when she’d come, she’d known exactly where he was. Without him right here, she suffered an unsettling loneliness—but she had to push that away.

  Because she was at the Hotel Erotique where sex was an emotionless sport. And because Brent was watching, experiencing this with her, even if she couldn’t see him.

  Courtney extracted the vibrator, turned it off, then smiled down at Jenna—looking more aroused to her now than she had before. “I hope that was as enjoyable as it looked.”

  Jenna felt numb, still coming down from the orgasm in what suddenly felt like a foreign environment without Brent. “It was,” she managed honestly. “Thank you.”

  Courtney lea
ned over her closely then, her breasts nearly spilling from her bra as she said, “It was truly my pleasure. If there’s anything else I can do to please you, I’m happy to. Anything. Just name it.”

  Courtney was pretty, and clearly excited now. Jenna knew she could prolong the game, lengthen the fantasy, if she desired. Part of her was tempted. Having turned Courtney on left her feeling hot, and a little bit curious where such an invitation might lead. And yet, again . . . where was Brent? If she could see him right now, she’d gladly move forward with this.

  But because he was the necessary ingredient here, she mainly felt the need to find him. See his reaction. Maybe fuck his brains out.

  “That’s an enticing offer,” Jenna admitted to her newest Hotel Erotique playmate, “but I’ll have to decline.”

  Courtney looked disappointed even as she kept her pleasant expression. “Are you sure? I thought we were getting along so well.”

  “We were—are,” Jenna promised. “And you’re beautiful. But . . . I have to go now.”

  A few minutes later, Jenna exited the spa in a pair of her new Hotel Erotique shorts and a cami. She found herself watching for Brent at every step, waiting and hoping for him to appear from behind a potted plant or a palm tree. When she’d arrived at the main pool with still no sign of him, she reached in her bag and pulled out her cell phone, dialing the same number to which she’d sent her naughty video.

  “Hello?” he answered, sounding totally casual. Not like a man who was . . . well, fighting a massive hard-on or anything.

  “It’s Jenna. Where are you?”

  “Uh, home.”

  “Home?” she asked. She couldn’t have been more surprised.

  “Yeah, I’m working from my home office this afternoon, going over the profile of a guest arriving in a few days. Why?”

  Jenna sank onto the nearest available lounge chair. All around her, people luxuriated in the sun, bartenders mixed drinks in the nearby tiki bar, and music played, but she felt . . . isolated, as if she were suddenly somewhere very far away from it all, completely alone. “You’re working right now?” she managed.