chapter 4
After a brief chat with Carlos I have established a second date, he won’t let on what his idea is, saying only to wear something I can move in, preferably with heels, the two requests sadly contradict each other.
He’s not picking me up until 18.30 tonight, but I start going through my suitcase now to find something appropriate. Following numerous changes in front of the mirror, I settle on a white gypsy style skirt the hangs to just below the knee, a deep red camisole with a lace trim and some crimson peep-toe sandals, with a wedge heel, so I will be somewhat steady on my feet.
I’m too nervous to eat, I force down the fruit and yoghurt then deposit the remainder outside.
The sunshine looks stunning and is heating up something crazy already, but the thought of going out and bumping into Carols again sends the butterflies roaring into action in my belly. It’s still too new and the excitement mixed with nerves I feel when I see him, teeters dangerously close to nausea; so I think for today I will take advantage of my private Jacuzzi and maybe find some time to email an update to everyone later, Jacuzzi first though.
It’s not too hard to figure out, there’s a mains switch on the wall just inside of the balcony then various switches and dials around the actual tub which vary the temperature and air jets.
While it warms up I slip into my bikini bottoms, forgoing the top because with all the recent thrills of late I’m feeling rather frisky. Routing through my wash-bag I locate the packet of mud face-pack that’s been in there since Christmas; tearing open the pack I smear it generously over my face, it’s not an attractive look for me, but today is all about DIY pampering and this is the best I’ve got.
Stepping out onto the balcony, a towel covering my nudity, I slip down into the hot, soothing water, settling into the seat that provides maximum massage potential. Chucking my towel over the side, within close distance for easy retrieval later, I close my eyes and let the jets do their thing.
It’s not long before my mind wanders straight back to the bank of images I’ve stored of last night; I still can’t believe my own confidence, I know I could have done more, but never in a million years did I think I would, I could even, have any other man that intimate with me. It’s true he didn’t exactly see me naked, all at once, but with that foreplay, he’s essentially seen the worst possible part of me, as close as it gets!
I can’t help replaying every second of it, over and over, his hands desperately probing at my body, his tongue insatiably exploring inside me; just the thought of it brings my libido springing into action. Opening my eyes I survey my surroundings, the Jacuzzi sides are high blocking all but my head from view and if I sit in the opposite corner all I can see is the gap between the roofs of two buildings; happy that I’m out of view I relax into my new position, noting the powerful upward water jet, placed just right for what I have in mind.
Closing my eyes again I instantly conjure up our sex scene, leaning my head back, I spread my fingers across my neck and slowly run them down, pausing above the water line for a fraction of a second, before plunging in. I’m seeing in my minds eye, Carlos’s hands tracing my body, doing what I’m doing to myself; as I pinch my nipple it swells up beneath my fingers, pushing my backside against the wall of the Jacuzzi and arching my back, sends the jets shooting into me, gasping at the force I start to rotate my hips, spreading the concentration. It feels amazing, how have I never done this in a Jacuzzi before?
Thoughts of Carlos’s expert touch flood my head, spurring me on, moving away from my erect nipple, my hand travels down and I slip it inside my bikini bottoms, my fingers frantically finding my *oris; rubbing across from left to right and back again, picking up speed as I picture Carlos bearing down on me, his hips thrusting his hard cock inside of me.
It’s too much to bare “Oh Carlos” I exclaim as my body is consumed by another glorious orgasm.
The afternoon drags by after that, I went out for a walk to try and get my thoughts straight, I tell myself logically I cannot be falling for him so soon. It’s just his looks and the orgasms clouding my judgment. As I walk past ‘our spot’ on the beach I make a firm decision, I will see him tonight, but then I will act aloof for a few days; depending on how I feel after that I may go on one more date, but then I have to break it off.
I was told, by a promiscuous girl I roomed with in college, about the Three Time Rule “you may sleep with a guy casually on three separate occasions, but after that, one or the other of the involved partyalwaysdevelops feelings” she had explained assuredly “but the number of times sex occurs per session, is optional and limitless” she had added with a wink.
So to ensure I do not return home in a worse state than I left I will endeavour to stick to that premise.
Mind made up I meandered back to my room, stopping for and ice cream on route, all in all, it has been an average day.
I’ve spent around three hours getting ready tonight; I am buffed, bronzed, moisturised, brushed and styled, my nails are perfectly manicured and polished. I have handpicked a statement, chunky, gold and red necklace and a delicate anklet with tiny rubies hanging from it, to add some glam to my otherwise demure outfit.
Fastening the buckle of my wedge heels around each ankle, carefully so not to chip the nail varnish; a final squirt of perfume and I am ready, with time to spare!
I don’t want to sit because it will crease my perfectly ironed skirt, but I don’t want to stand and use up what little stamina I have for surviving in heels. I compromise by perching on the edge of a chair in front of the vanity mirror and start to preen further at my already styled hair. I have scraped it over to one side, painstakingly smoothing out the kinks and making every hair lie in its rightful place across my head. I have then secured it firmly just below my right ear, bunching the ends in to a large bun shape and securing all the escaping bits under with hair grips. It took an hour to complete and was then masterfully drowned in hair spray, in a vain hope that that will keep it contained, who am I kidding?
Clipping in my trusty fabric flower clip just above the knot of hair I survey the addition. It looks good, very Spanishy and the white flower ties in with the skirt and pulls the whole ensemble together, lovely.
I’m just sizing up a pair of gold hoop earrings, holding them up next to my face to establish whether they are too much, when the knock comes.
Sod it, I’ll have to leave the earrings, I think they were over the top anyway. Skipping to the door I open it up, smiling broadly, I feel ready tonight, composed and relaxed; my decision earlier has made everything clearer, simpler, I no longer feel swept away and out of control. I am in control, I choose how this goes, I have the power, the power over this beautiful, hot stud stood before me, ‘Oh Yes!’ I say to myself.
He is leaning carelessly against the door frame, in his custom open collar shirt, black trousers and light jacket, his full, soft lips puckering as he leans his face into mine. I happily oblige him, draping my arms around his neck and deepening his casual offering.
When I pull back he’s licking his lips, “I’m early, so we have some time, if…” he trails off jerking his head towards the bed behind me. I’m filled with a confidence I’ve never experienced before, it must be my sultry senorita look influencing me. Grabbing his hand I practically drag him into the room, spinning him around and pushing him onto the bed…
It’s not long before we are re-dressing, he did warn me briefly, between the throws of my attack on him, that it would only be a quick one as we had a place to be shortly. He was true to his word, but it was satisfying all the same, turns out I thrive from being the boss in the bedroom, who’d have known?
Just as I am bent down fastening my shoe buckle back up, Carlos rains down a smarting smack on my backside. Shrieking I jump up turning to glower at him, “sorry I couldn’t help it” he shrugs, “if you’re going to wave that peachy derriere around in front of my face, you’ve got to expect a cheeky spanking!?” he says as though it’s common knowledge.
“Well I’ll have to remember that” I say back smiling at this revelation. Jake had occasionally given me a soft pat in passing, but never in the way Carlos just did and it certainly never inspired me to rip off his clothes and ravish him like I’m contemplating doing right now.
“I know that look Kate, don’t even think about it, I want to show you what I’ve got planned tonight, not get distracted by you like last time” he stands wrapping his arms around me and kissing me longingly, “you’re insatiable” he finishes. Taking my hand in his he leads me to the door, I never knew I had ‘a look’ but he was spot on, so I guess I must do.
Walking along the weaving paths towards the main square of the resort which houses all of the restaurants, I realise I don’t know how old Carlos is. I had just assumed he was my age, but looking up at his profile now I’m not so convinced, there is not a wrinkle in sight, his skin is still tight and his complexion impeccable. Plus his vigour in the bedroom speaks volumes, from the age of thirty Jakes sex drive took a nose dive, of course that could just be down to our problems at home, but from speaking to Caz there does seem to be a pattern; Her sex life is still quite active, but nothing compared to what it was in their twenties.
“Carlos?” I start, his eyes instantly locking on to mine, “how old are you?” I ask already concerned about his answer.
“Twenty seven, why how old are you?” damn it, he is young, I should have known it, there is no way he could be my age, but five years younger! The thought makes me feel a bit dirty, almost as if I’m taking advantage
Nudging me with his shoulder he looks at me expectantly, “well?” he reiterates. How do I answer this without letting on that I’ve suddenly become a ‘cougar’, Yuk, I hate that word. “I’m…….not twenty seven” I answer coyly.
“Oh come on” he complains, “I told you mine” he says giving me a pout with puppy dog eyes.
“Yours was nothing to worry about!” I defend, but his hurt face remains until I crack, “I’m 32” I mumble under my breath.
“I didn’t hear that” he says grinning at me squirming.
“I’m 32” I say loud and clear this time, glancing down embarrassed.
“Oh well that changes everything” he says flatly, letting go of my hand and taking a step back; instantly my world crumbles, I didn’t think it would be this much of a problem, I’m instantly back to feeling old and repulsive.
In one step he has me in his arms laughing “don’t be stupid!” he admonishes me, “that’s nothing, from your reaction I thought you were going to say fifty or something” he says still laughing. I’m rushed with relief, catching his infectious smile and giving him a playful punch in the arm.
“Oh thanks very much” I laugh back at him.
“Come on you” he says pulling me back into step beside him, “if we don’t hurry up I’ll end up having to fetch you a walking stick before we finish our date!” scoffing my reply I give him another punch, to which he fakes injury before putting his arm round my shoulders and pulling me close as we continue on.
We are approaching a large hall, with high windows running the length of the walls, I can just make out the tops of peoples heads bobbing around within. I can hear muffled music coming from inside, mainly a frenzied beat marking out the foundations of the tune, but as we approach I start to pick out tones from a piano and possibly a trumpet alongside the rhythmic clapping of hands. Reaching the white double doors there is a poster with red letters depicting ‘Salsa Class’. My face lights up, “Salsa!” I exclaim, overjoyed.
“I thought you knew, what with your clothes, you are the image of Salsa” he replies confused.
“Nope, just a happy co-incidence” I smile as I hug his arm, barely able to contain my excitement.
When he opens the door for me, the music blares out, as I step into the room I can feel the beat rising through my shoes and up my legs making my hips impulsively start swaying.
After a few minutes where we mingle and chat with the other people choosing to take the class, mostly novices like myself thankfully, a stern looking, but stunning woman marches in; the music comes to an abrupt stop and she commands the attention of the entire room with a single flick of her wrist.
She is intimidating, but you cannot take your eyes off her, her clothes stick to her body as if merely painted on to her skin, a split in the side of her skirt rises dangerously high on her defined thigh. She not only walks, but demonstrates each move faultlessly in sky high heels; she isthe goddess of Salsa!
In a deep sultry purr, she explains that Salsa is within us all, it is the very beat of your heart; Salsa resides in all of us, hidden in the very depth of our souls until the time comes when it is released, at which point it envelopes our being entirely.
I have never heard anyone so impassioned by a dance style, but I find myself hanging off her every word; determined to experience the apparent intensity this dance demands.
I am surprised to find that even in her company, Carlos’s eyes never leave my body, trained on my swishing hips, even when my footing falters, he catches me before I have a chance to even try and catch myself. I feel so protected in his embrace and so lusted after against his grinding hips.
As a group, we vaguely pick up the basic steps Kristina painstakingly shows us repeatedly and in turn we mimic her badly, of course except for Carlos who seems unsurprisingly expert in the ways of Salsa.
After an exhausting hour Kristina abandons us to our own devices with just these last words “Remember, Salsa is about connecting with your partner, feeling their energy, don’t think with your mind, instead you must respond to them with only your body”.
When she steps out of the room the music starts up with a slow and luxurious beat; Carlos pulls me close and forgetting our lesson entirely we simply move against each other to the music.
His hands rest on to my hips, moving them to mirror his own, our bodies pressed together; we shift like this, never breaking contact through two songs; Carlos intermittently placing his hand on the small of my back and leaning into me so that I lay back, letting him support me as he turns my body in a half circle in front of him before running his hand up to my shoulders and straightening me against him once more. I can feel his breath on my neck, his cheek against my own; our fingers locked together on one side, while our free hands can explore each-others bodies.
Kristina was right about one thing, when you let go and concentrate solely on the other person, you start to move as one. There is no question of which direction we go, or what step should come next, it just happens.
Carlos leads and I follow, reacting subconsciously to every minuscule movement he makes, being so connected with him that I can even feel his heart beating in time with my own.
My legs are aching, my feet reaching their breaking point for being on tip toes, but the lure of being in close contact with Carlos, feeling his erection pushing against my groin is too captivating to stop.
Eventually the music ceases, we stop moving but stay glued to each other, staring into one another’s eyes, as what’s remaining of the class politely clap there appreciation for the band.
Finally as the crowd disperses, we reluctantly break apart and follow, with me tucked protectively under Carlos’s arm, but compared to the emotionally charged last hour, even this feels somehow disconnected from him.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m starving” he says as we step out into the warm evening air.
“Me too” I agree, “but where ever we go can it be close by, because my feet are killing me!?” I almost beg.
“Why didn’t you say?” he asks, grasping my wrists and lifting them above my head he swings me up and around so that I land on his back; placing my arms around his shoulders, I pull my legs up to rest over his hips, grateful that the hem of my skirt is loose enough to accommodate him between my legs. Once I’m in place he moves his hands to support me by my thighs and I lay my head on his shoulder. “I don’t think I will ever get used to you throwing me about like a rag doll Mr. Johnson” I whisper into his ear, as if it was a challenge he bumps me further up his back, making me giggle with secret delight, I actually love how easy he makes it seem.
We settle in a dark, cozy corner of the bar, cuddling together sharing a large bowl of chips and a jug of unnamed cocktail.
“So are you suitably impressed with my choice of date?” he asks mid chew.
“I am, it was wonderful, I’ve always wanted to try Salsa and as rubbish as I am, rubbing up against you made all my errors worth while” I gush back at him. He tilts my head back and places a soft kiss on my lips, reaching into the bowl he follows his kiss by popping a chip into my mouth while my eyes are still closed, making me laugh at the unexpected intruder, invading my taste-buds.
We while the night away, laughing and kissing, fondling beneath the table and getting steadily drunk, I lost count of how many cocktails I’ve had after the third jug.
The bar is bustling and there is live music playing, a woman sings blues in dulcet tones, as I lay with my head on his lap, we watch her singing out her heartbreak with the most angelic voice.
The music lulls my eyes closed and the alcohol dulls the pain in my toes and eventually blurs all my thoughts into oblivion.
I awake the next day, groggy, my head pounding, I tenderly open my eyes, the shutters are drawn saving me from being blinded by the morning sun, the clock on the wall opposite stating 6.30am. I take a few moments to establish my where abouts and what happened to bring me here. I remember dancing and drinking, far too much, but then it’s a blank. I have snippets of memory, Carlos being here at some point, but it could just have easily been a dream.
I become aware of the fact that I am naked, then I spot my clothes neatly folded on the chair, Carlos must have been here, I know that I certainly was in no fit state to do it myself.
Oh God, I hope I didn’t do anything gross like vomit on him, or worse still let slip how much I like him!
Searching my surroundings I spot his usual note, today on the bedside table. I quickly reach out to it, forgetting my delicate state and instantly regretting such a hasty move, as a thumping pain in my head starts up and my stomach twists into a knot.
I lay back down waiting patiently for the symptoms to subside before very slowly trying for the note again; I manage it this time with limited discomfort.
‘It was a pleasure putting you to bed Ms. Mavers, next time hopefully I will be joining you!
Give me a call when you wake,
Carlos x x x’
My lips twitch into a small smile, but even that tiny movement sends a wave of nausea over me again. I want to call him right now, but first things first, I’m going to have to find a way to cure this hangover!
I crawl pathetically into the bathroom, urging constantly, barely holding it in; once I arrive I sit up, stretching to turn on the shower without having to stand up properly. The water bursts from the shower head, ice cold, if this doesn’t do it I don’t know what will; still on hands and knees I edge into the cubicle and submerge myself in the freezing waterfall. “AH!” I scream, it’s SO cold, each cascading stream stingy my flesh. I stick my head under, letting my hair take the brunt of it until it is soaked through, then rub my hands over my limbs vigorously until I can stand no more.
Exiting the shower I wrap myself up in one of the giant, fluffy towels they provide, it has been nicely warming on the heated rail. I feel so much better, the nausea has lifted and I’m wide awake, there is still a niggling ache at the pit of my stomach, but hopefully it’s nothing that some food and a coffee won’t fix.
Padding through to my bedroom, now wrapped in both the towel and dressing gown, if it weren’t for the air-con I would be sweltering, but as it goes, I am refreshed and comfy in all my towel based attire.
Picking up the phone I request Room 442 from the receptionist, who has taken to asking how I am and addressing me by name, I must remember to find out her name so I can extend the same courtesy.
Carlos answers breezy as ever “Hey sweetness, how you feeling today?” Sweetness? This is new, “I’m a little worse for wear, but I’ll survive” I answer, down playing my war wounds, “thanks for being such a gentleman and escorting me back to my room, I am forever indebted to you” I joke.
“Escorting you?” he asks in turn, “sweet, I carried you! You passed out in the bar so I figured the least I could do is put you to bed, don’t you remember any of it?” there’s a hint of knowing in his voice, oh no, I did do something stupid!
“Umm…well no, I remember being at the bar, but it all gets a little vague after that” I admit, “did I do anything embarrassing?” I ask unconvinced that I want to hear the answer.
“Err…..” I can tell he is weighing up whether to tell me or not, this is bad. “No not embarrassing exactly, it was nothing really” Oh God, if it was nothing he would just come out and say it, the more I hassle him for information, the more he proves reluctant to give any details.
“Look Carlos” I say assertively, “you’ve made such a big deal about not telling me that I’m really worried now, so you have to put me out of my misery, or I’m just going to obsess about it constantly, so come on, spill!” I play my last card.
“Ok, ok” he finally relents, “but it’s really not a big deal ok? I was putting you to bed and I kissed your forehead, you rolled over, smacked me in the face as you did and then mumbled something about leaving you alone” that’s not so bad at all, I don’t know why he didn’t want to say that, I wish I hadn’t walloped him, but in fairness you should always be cautious about disturbing a passed out drunk girl, “and you called me Jake” he finishes. Oh. I don’t know what to say to that, I didn’t think he had been on my mind, I mean I know the thought popped up when I first met Carlos, but after that I’ve been so swept up with him I’ve barely had time to think of anything else. Clearly though, my subconscious has had other ideas.
“Really?” I ask in a choked whisper.
“Yes, but like I said it’s no big deal, I mean if you had begged him to come to bed with you, then I would have been offended, but like I say you batted me away and told me to leave you alone, for that sentiment I can except a slap in the face on his behalf” he tries to make light of the situation.
“I’m sorry” is all I can think to say.
“You have nothing to be sorry about, really, it’s fine” his voice sounds genuine, “I would love to see you again, but I’m going away for a few days, my sister is getting married, but can I see you when I get back?” my stomach does a back flip, he wants to see me again; I know I planned on playing it cool, but in hindsight that was never going to happen.
“I didn’t know you had a sister, you’ve never mentioned her before?” I question, “We don’t always see eye to eye, but I figure I should make an effort for her wedding,” he explains, “you met her, she was the one with me when I saw you before our first date.” so that’s who the mystery woman was, now I can see the resemblance, they are both dark featured beauties.
“Oh yeah,” I try and sound flippant, not letting on the raging jealousy I had felt when I saw her, “so when will you be back?” I ask changing the subject back to us.
“I should be back by Monday” he offers, my shoulders drop, Monday is five days away, what am I going to do with myself for five long Carlos free days?
“Monday, Ok” I try but fail to keep the disappointment from my voice.
“I feel the same way” he says in response to my tone, “if I didn’t have to go I wouldn’t, I’d much rather be spending the time with you, especially as I think you owe me something special after assaulting me last night!” he says giggling away. I can’t help but laugh, his giggle is contagious “Oh you do, do you? Well in that case I’m glad I have five days to come up with something good, I’ve got somebig shoes to fill following your act” I say, pun intended.
“Yeah you do” he avidly agrees, “I’m going to miss your delectable company Ms. Mavers” I want to say I will miss him, but I’m not sure if that’s too much? He only expressed a sadness for the loss of my company, not me specifically, I chicken out, “You can always call me while you’re away?” I offer as consolation instead.
“I will call you every day” he states without hesitation.
With that we say our goodbyes, him promising to call me later tonight. As I put the phone down my stomach ache is replaced by giddy excitement. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this way about anyone; in a long term relationship you quickly loose the fire of those first few months, settling into a mundane routine all too soon and unless you really make the effort to keep that spark alive, it’s so easy to forget that original enthusiasm that first drew you both together.
My mind settles on an image of Jake, our own ‘honeymoon period’ is little more than a faded memory now, I assume we must have gone through it, the same as every new relationship, but it’s joy has long since been dampened by the sorrow that followed.
Carlos however is all too real, in the here and now, I long to see him again, to hear his voice, to touch him every second of the day, I know I’m in too deep with him already, but I don’t care, I’m addicted to the emotional buzz he gives me, even if it only lasts three weeks I want to drink up as much of him as I can while it lasts and screw the consequences.
I decide that a spot of shopping is going to be the order of today. Throwing on a bikini then a light, paisley, polyester maxi dress, I head out. First I fill up at the breakfast bar, sampling their whole bean coffee for the first time, I must say it is delicious and along with a bacon sandwich it does wonders for the last of the lingering tummy ache that has been following me around all morning.
I head to the lobby and ask the receptionist where I can go locally, she explains that in an hour, at 9am, there is a coach trip leaving for the city and I can join them, it’s almost full but there is a couple of places left if I want to put my name down now. I accept her offer, noting the name on her badge, Mari; as I give my name she looks up smiling “Ahhh, Ms. Mavers” she says, putting my face to the name she has become used to. Outstretching my hand across the desk we shake, introducing ourselves at last “please, call me Kate” I say pleasantly to her.
“Thank you, I am Mari” she replies, the silence that follows is slightly awkward, eventually I excuse myself under the pretence of getting ready for the trip, although I have my purse so there is really nothing more I need to do.
I saunter around in the morning sun for about forty minutes before joining the group of people congregating in front of the lobby building. I make small talk with a chatty American couple, Blair and John; they are here on a second honeymoon, ten years of marriage and still as much in love as they were when they first set eyes on each other. High school sweethearts they tell me, taking it in turns to gush about their perfect love. It’s enchanting sure, but considering the recent break up of my shitty marriage I can’t help but feel they are figuratively kicking me in the face.
I give them a brief rundown of my cheating husband, broken heart and destroyed life, in the vain hope that they abandon me, for fear of my bad luck somehow rubbing off on their perfect lives; but to the contrary they immediately take me under their wing with ‘coo’s’ and chorus’s of ‘poor soul’, their unconditional sympathy so heartwarming that I find myself telling them of my own fairytale blossoming romance (leaving out the more intimate details of course).
They are quickly back to gushing, but this time about me, they seem legitimately over the moon for me, pestering me for every last detail, insisting that I join them for the day. Blair admits that John is only coming to keep her company and after a quick debate he decides to stay behind in return for me accompanying her.
As he heads back into the resort, relieved to have escaped a day of girly shopping, we discuss our plan of attack; she has been to this area before so she knows all the good spots for bargains, divulging in stories of how, on her first trip, she had paid well over the odds on some trinkets, not being so adept in haggling as she is now.
Once we are on the bus I explain that I need to find something special for Carlos and the reason why. Her eyes widen at the mention of his name “Not Carlos Johnson?” she asks surprised.
“Yes” I reply warily.
Her face lights up and she becomes impossibly excited “The Carlos Johnson, his parents own the resort!?” she screeches, looking around I notice some of the other passengers turning interested, towards her raised voice.
“Yes, that’s the one” I say lowering my voice in the hope that she will mirror me. “Oh my Gosh, that’s amazing, he is a hunk! What are you going to get him?” she thankfully speaks in a reduced volume.
“That’s the problem, I have no idea” I admit.
“Well that’s OK, I have plenty of ideas” she says a playful grin spreading across her lips.
I had no idea we were going so far from the resort when I signed up for the this trip; the bus comes to a shaky halt four hours later in Calle Virgilio a quaint little shopping area with narrow winding streets. We all disembark and no sooner than my feet hit the pavement, Blair has grabbed my hand and is dragging me off towards one of the side alleys leading away from the main square. “It’s just down here” she says weaving me through little back streets, practically colliding with every other pedestrian we cross, in a mad dash to whatever “it” is.
She stops abruptly causing me to bang into her with force, unaware she was no longer moving until it was too late. We start giggling, her vivacious nature is catching, you just can’t help but be happy when you’re near her.
Turning to look at where we have arrived, my gaze is met by a tiny boutique, the window chocked full of lacy bodices and frilly knickers.
I stare at Blair open mouthed, her wide cheeky grin making her eyes sparkle. “Blair! This is your idea?” I asked shocked, I would never have thought of her as risqué.
“Come on” she says pulling me in. Once inside she sparks up a flamboyant conversation in Spanish with the sales assistant, waving her hands around dramatically emphasising her point.
The sales assistant nods along, ‘mmmm’ing’ and ‘ahhh’ing’ intermittently, before turning towards me. I feel like a rabbit caught in headlights, I did not understand a word they said and now they are surveying me with knowing looks, pointing out parts of me amongst foreign comments and nodding in agreement with each other.
Suddenly she turns on her heel and scuttles into the back room. Blair is jumping up and down on the spot clapping her hands, “what are you doing?” I ask, “what is she getting?”
Blair gives me a wink, “just you wait and see!” she says cryptically.
“I didn’t know you spoke Spanish, very impressive” I say to keep my mind off the impending ‘surprise’ she has in store for me.
“Spanish, French, Italian, a little German, I just love the European languages, they simply roll off your tongue, it’s a pleasure to speak them” she says playing down her obvious talents; I never would have had her pegged as a linguist, she is full of surprises.
Out of nowhere the Sales assistant re-appears clutching something small and red, thrusting it towards me she ushers me into a small dressing room and closes the curtain behind me. “Come out and show us when you’ve got it on” Blair commands from the other side of the curtain.
Now I’m alone I look at the sexy little number in my hand. It is a deep red corset, with a ruffle of black lace stitched around the top and bottom; it is teamed with a pair of satin panties in the same shade of red, off the bottom of the corset hangs four straps which clip onto the top of black stockings.
Tugging it on I spend a considerable amount of time hitching my boobs into place, to begin with they were practically up around my ears, but after some stuffing and re-adjusting how tight the corset is I’m finally happy. I have to admit its divine, hand sewn with care, it fits like a very snug glove; synching in my waist, flattening my stomach and magnifying my cleavage. I love it.
“Are you done yet?” comes Blair’s impatient voice, “you’re taking forever!” she whines.
“I’m done” I say as I draw back the curtain, standing on tip toes to mimic the heels I would wear with this and giving her my best bedroom pout. She’s screeching again, this girl sure loves to scream when she’s happy!
“Oh my gosh, it’s perfect! Don’t you think?” she squeals at me.
“It kinda is” I laugh back.
At the checkout I brace myself for the price, “one thousand and fifty peso” Blair translates for me, from a rough calculation I work it out at being around £50, that’s not bad, as I reach for my purse Blair puts a hand on my arm “no, no, no you never pay the first price” she explains. Turning back to the woman she starts bantering with her. I catch the some of the prices she offers, 300peso, countered with 800 I think, after that they get faster and I lose any handle on the conversation. Finally they settle, Blair turns back to me “six hundred and twenty five” she states, my mouth drops £30! That is a fraction of what this would cost back home, it seems so mean to pay so little when I could easily have afforded the full asking price, but when I look up at the sales assistant she is smiling, seemingly happy with the arrangement; shaking my head in disbelief I hand over the cash, carefully removing it from my purse so not to flaunt the 4000 peso I have on me.
We leave the boutique arm in arm, me and my new best friend, you just can’t help but love Blair.
“I’m starving” she announces, “I know this wonderful little Italian restaurant just five minutes away” She leads me back in to the more mainstream streets towards Parque Lincoln, near one of the main shopping districts of Mexico City.
Just off the main road we reach Prego Ristorante, it doesn’t look like anything special, but after the unexpected long haul on the coach and then prancing around as a lingerie model, I am in desperate need of some carbs and there’s no better place for that than an Italian restaurant.
Inside it’s nice enough, numerous small, slightly rickety tables, laden with white tablecloths and vases of plastic flowers to spruce them up. They are framed with simple wooden chairs, which do the job, but fail to add any flare; there are exposed varnished beams across the ceiling and the walls are roughly plastered then painted a sandy yellow, with various Mexican looking wall hangings and paintings, no doubt to appeal to the tourists.
We are seated in a quiet corner, there are a few people milling about, but it’s not packed out by any means.
Blair suggests we share an antipasti platter of cured meats, olives, mozzarella and assorted breads; every piece is a burst of flavour, somehow so much more than the same things in England. We polish it off with ease, taking it in turns to talk about my plan of attack when Carlos returns.
For my main I go for a simple pasta dish with an abundance of cream, cheese, onion and white truffle or more romantically‘Tagliatelle Alfredo e Tartufo Nero’ as it states on the menu, it’s going to take one hell of a gym session to work that bad boy off but it was worth every minute. The pasta is homemade and cooked al dente, while the creamy sauce melts in your mouth, creating a dining experience that is nothing short of orgasmic.
Blair opts for lasagne and a huge side salad, I have no idea how she maintains her tiny figure, chowing down like that, she all but licks the plate once she’s finished.
We pass on desert both now slumped back in our chairs bloated and happy, Blair orders two espresso’s explaining we still have a lot of shops to see before we board the bus again at 18.00. It’s going to be one long day!
We wander through the park after lunch admiring the art, the sculptures are striking but yet complimenting to the landscape. Next we head to Polanco, there are various market stalls selling handcrafted fares, painted bowls and decorative blown glass. Blair explains that it is all made by local poorer families, the prices are quite high by Mexico standards, but they are all open to a little soft bargaining; she suggests starting at about 20% under the asking price and avoiding the more hard sell approach she demonstrated earlier.
I’m glad Blair is with me as the locals really put the pressure on you, but she takes none of it, powering on through and only stopping for potential purchases. We pick up a few token gifts for friends and family back home; I mostly wait until Blair is caught up in debate with one of the stall holders, before sneakily paying full price for my pieces, I’m just not cut out for haggling with people that really need all they can get.
We spend the last hour popping into as many of the main street jewellery and clothes shops as we can, I’m starting to flag, but each purchase just spurs Blair on to the next, her ability to spend money is second to none.
We arrive back at the coach at ten to six licking the ice-creams we picked up on route back. Laden with bags, Blair more so than me, we are relieved to finally take a load off, even if it is for a four hour coach journey back.
We spend the time re-examining everything we bought, complimenting each others tastes, it was a great day but I’m so glad it’s over now, Blair however can’t wait to drag John out here on the same trip in a few days; he will be bitterly disappointed that he has not in fact got away with avoiding this, I think to myself.
Blair is so over excited about my next date with Carlos, she practically invites herself along, already desperate to know what his reaction will be to my saucy new outfit. She starts making possible shocked faces he might sport, from a wide eyed jaw drop, to a leery grin accompanied with groping hand movements in front of my breasts, sending us into fits of giggles.
“He will not be like that” I laugh at her.
“You never know, it might be enough to send him to the dark side of letchy men” she warns.
“Well now you mention it…..” I sarcastically humour her, earning me a playful jab in the ribs with her elbow.
We eventually roll up at the resort at about half past ten, my arms and legs ache from schlepping around shops with heavy bags all day and my face and chest hurt from laughing non stop, Blair has an uncanny ability to make you feel ten years younger, right up until your body collapses and reminds you that you are in fact as old as you feel!
We hug goodbye and swap room numbers, promising to go for dinner together in the next few days.
When I’m walking to my room it feels as though it’s a million miles away, the usual five minute jaunt drags by with each painful step. Once I reach my room I drop the bags off my arms and collapse on to the bed, I’m asleep even before my head hits the pillow.
I’m woken by a shrill noise, opening my eyes the room is pitch black, the noise happens a couple more times before I realise it’s the phone. Struggling up I pick it up still not quite awake, “hello?” I croak sleepily.
“Hey sweet, sorry did I wake you?” Carlos’s voice soothes me, I had completely forgotten he was calling me tonight.
“Oh hi, yeah I must have crashed when I got in, but don’t worry, hearing your voice is a lovely way to wake up”
“I called earlier but Mari said you had gone on the shopping trip and it never normally gets back until about now” he explains his late night interruption. Looking at the clock on the wall it’s only 11pm, it had felt like I had been sleeping for much longer.
I give him the run down of my day, letting him know that I have bought him a present, but not giving any clues as to what it is. To begin with he is full of refusal, I shouldn’t have, he was only joking when he said I owed him, but I soon halted his protests when I explained that he was going to love it and that it was kind of a present for me too.
By all accounts his day was dull, the usual family re-unions, meeting his sisters, soon to be, family in-laws and general polite conversation. He had snuck off to his room early in the hope of spending all afternoon on the phone to me, only to be saddened to find I was going to be out until late (if I wasn’t already laying down I may just have swooned at that admission).
“The wedding is on Friday, so if it’s like this I might just try and come back straight after” he says, toying with my emotions as I find myself instantly praying that he will.
We chat on mindlessly for another half an hour, talking about nothing in particular, but both reluctant to end the call. Ultimately having to admit to running out of conversation, so forcing us to end the call, “Goodnight sweet, I’ll call again tomorrow” he whispers.
“Can’t wait, night you” I reply dreamily.
Rolling over I find that I’m now far too thrilled by his eagerness to speak to me, to get any sleep; instead I boil the kettle and pick out a chamomile bag from the box of assorted herbal teas and switch on the T.V, skipping through channels until I happen across a mushy Romantic Comedy starting in ten minutes, ideal entertainment for my fairy tale romantic life.
Noticing that I am still dressed I strip off and pull on some comfy pj’s, routing through the well stocked mini-bar I come up trumps with a small box of chocolates; snuggling down into bed, pulling the plush duvet up high and hugging my steaming mug of tea, I pop the first chocolate in my mouth just as the opening credits start.
I don’t remember how far I was through the movie before my eyes became heavy and I succumbed to sleep, I had put the half finished tea on the bedside table, but awoke with a chocolate melted to my cheek and the T.V still on.
I have a long shower and muse over my plan for today, I could call Blair, but I don’t want to come across as needy and as much as we had a blast yesterday, this is her 2 honeymoon so I’m sure she won’t want me hanging around her constantly like a lost puppy.
I could check out some of the other activities they offer, I massively pigged out yesterday so I could do with doing something active, especially if Carlos does come back early; I would be mortified if I couldn’t get into the corset I bought by the time he returns.
Already dreading physically exerting myself, I mentally argue that it will be slightly cooler in the afternoon, so really I should relax poolside this morning, maybe go for a leisurely swim to ease myself into the idea of exercise, then see what I can join in on later.
Mind made up I finish my shower, taking the time to cleanse and moisturise my face and body, leaving my skin supple and glittering and even make the effort to style my hair; I allow it to be its naturally wavy self, blow drying it, but using the brush only minimally. Once it’s dry I smooth in some shine spray to make it look glossy and somewhat more controlled, then leave it to do it’s own thing.
It’s amazing how much I don’t mind preening myself, when I’m not rushing to get up early and get to work on time.
Throwing on a one piece swimsuit today, the sides are cut out leaving only a strip down the middle, it’s navy blue with tiny red hearts dotted about, it’s new (as is almost everything I have with me) but judging my appearance in the full length mirror, I’m relatively happy with it.
Adding a white sarong with tiny pearls marking out swirly patterns in the material, and I’m ready to go.
I resist the urge to eat everything at the breakfast bar, telling myself an apple will sufficiently quench my hunger and peruse the activity poster in the bar quickly to distract from the temptation of a room full of food. There is a two hour bike ride from three this afternoon, it goes up into the hills surrounding the resort which sounds strenuous, but it claims to only require a medium fitness level, so I will give it a go. I sign up at the lobby, stopping to pass the time of day with Mari, who is becoming increasingly curious about my relationship with the apparently infamous Carlos. She tells me that he has never spent more than one night with a girl that she knows of, his family believing that he would never settle down, until I came along. I am shocked to hear that everyone seems to know so much about it, but I guess if you live and work at your parents hotel, not much is going to get passed them.
I flush pink, suddenly worried about just how much they do know about our times together!?
I try to sound casual about it to Mari, not wanting to give away any further details, but desperate to hear more about the insight she has into my mysterious Carlos.
It is a fruitless endeavour, her not willingly forthcoming with anything else and me not wanting to give anything away by questioning her; I give in for now and head to the pool.
I arrive just as a couple are leaving two of the prime location sun loungers; whipping a towel off the stand, I sprint to one before it is snatched up by someone else. Laying out on the lounger I eat my apple, I’m bored, as much as I enjoy sunbathing, it loses a certain something when you aren’t surrounded by friends; I’m all dressed up with no one to lounge with.
I start fiddling with the pearls on my sarong, it’s not really entertaining, but it gives my hands something to do. This is Karma punishing me for being lazy and not going on the bike ride this morning, damn Karma.
I get up frustrated, leaving my towel and flip flops to reserve my seat and head to the bar; I can’t get wasted, but a cheeky Strawberry Daiquiri never did anyone any harm.
It is presented by the barman, as what is essentially, a strawberry slushy with a dash of rum, I’ve had a few in my time, but I’m inclined to say that this is, by far, my favourite version.
Returning to my seat I am met with a few glares from families waiting at the side lines for a good spot to open up, shocked at my audacity to save me seat while going to the bar. Now, I know there is an unspoken rule of no savies, but surely that doesn’t count if you are just going to the bar?
Oh well, I’ve done it now, so screw ‘em! I’m going to sit here sipping my Daiquiri, pretending to enjoy every second, even though I’m bored brainless, just because you gave me the evil eye, for getting a drink.
I take a victory sip through the straw, sucking a little too hard and consequently suffering painful brain freeze, Karma is really riding me today; I try and hide my discomfort behind a smile so that Mr. and Mrs. Glare-a-lot don’t get any satisfaction.
When the pain subsides and I can finally un-scrunch my eyes, I look around, perhaps a little bit of people watching will pass the time. I spot a cute little old couple sat side by side, both with matching dark brown leathery skin, it looks gross, but I can’t help but grin at the idea of them growing old together until they finally morph into tan leather sofas.
Then a young couple having a lovers spat, hissing abuse at each other in hushed tones, clearly trying and failing, not to cause a scene; she has a mane of fiery red hair and appears to be the main antagonist, jabbing her finger at him, while he lies back feigning ignorance about whatever they are fighting over.
I avert my eyes before I’m caught staring, settling on a man in faded jeans and a black t-shirt walking towards the pool area. He is turning to look at every person he passes, as if he is searching for someone, clearly flustered, but that could just be down to his ridiculous clothing; who wears jeans and dark t-shirt in 35degree heat?
There is something familiar about his stance, but he is still some way away and the sun is so bright that I can’t see him clearly enough to work out who he reminds me of.
As he reaches the other side of the pool I can make out his hair and establish roughly how tall he is, I can see it now, he reminds me of Jake. Eugh! That’s all I need a Jake look-alike running around the place. Why does Karma hate me so much today?
Shaking my head to scramble the image, I lay back and close my eyes, conjuring up pictures of Carlos instead; there, that’s much better.
I’m overjoyed at the prospect of him coming back early and now I have my new sexy underwear, I’m feeling much more confident that I can compete with his skill in the bedroom department; well improve on my lack of effort from the last times at least. He has definitely had the control so far and I feel a little guilty that it has all been about me; not that I haven’t loved every second of it, but still, it’s time to give something back.
Just as I’m playing through kinky scenarios in my head, I hear it, “Kate?” the scenario freezes, but I’m too afraid to open my eyes, I know that voice, I know it well. It’s Jake.