chapter 6
Before I even open my eyes, panic hits me “Carlos!?” I shriek, my eyes flying open.
“I’m here, I’m here” he soothes, stroking my face.
“Oh Carlos” I cry, clinging to his hand. We are moving, but it takes me a while to click that I am on a stretcher headed for an ambulance out the front of the hotel. “You’ve got a bad gash to your head so you’re going to hospital to get it stitched up” Carlos explains.
“Are you coming with me?” the panic starts rising in my chest again.
“Yes I’ll be here every step of the way”
The hospital is small, but clean and well equipped and under Carlos’s instructions we are seen in next to no time. It transpires that I have a two inch cut across from the centre of my hairline diagonally towards my right temple; I only need five stitches, but they insist that I stay for at least an hour under observation, on account of me losing consciousness.
Once we are alone Carlos finally questions me, “So what happened, did you fall?”
I shake my head sullenly, causing shooting pains through my skull.
“No, it was Jake” his face drops at the mere mention of his name, but he waits silently for me to embellish, “he came round this morning, we got into an argument, about you and I don’t know he just flipped, grabbed me and flung me into the wall and then left. I’ve never seen him like that.”
“I’ll kill him” he swears under his breath, his cheeks burning red, wringing his hands together in his lap, anger seeping from every pore in his body.
“Please Carlos, no” he looks up sharply at me, taken aback by my protest. “You should have seen him, I really believe he’s lost his mind. And besides I’ve had enough violence for one day, can we just leave it. I just want to forget about it.” On any other day I would put my money on Carlos no questions, but right now,I just couldn’t bare him being hurt at all, even if Jake still came off worse.
“Well I’m getting him banned from the resort as soon as we get back, I’m not having that maniac any where near you. In fact, I’m going to call the police and have him removed right now!” he stands and starts patting his pockets looking for his phone. I put my arm up to stop him, “Just call the hotel and get security to deal with it” I command.
“Kate…” he starts to argue.
“Carlos, if we call the police I’ll just have to go down there and give statements and I’d be obliged to contact his parents and let them know what’s going on, it’s just prolonging the agony. Please, I just want this over with now” I’m so tired of explaining myself, I wish for once people would just do what I say, no questions asked.
“OK, then that’s what I’ll do” he accepts, planting a gentle kiss on my nose, “but I’m doing it for you, not him” he re-iterates.
“I know, thank you” I say pulling him down to sit on the edge of my bed and snuggling into his chest.
It takes him two minutes on the phone to have it organised, he leaves the room, but I can see him through the window into the hall, his faced screwed up as he rushes through the instructions with the security team.
Walking back into the room, he slips his phone back into his top pocket, “they will call me when it’s done” he states flatly, “we may as well wait here until they do” he says, sitting back down on the bed and taking my hand in his.
It’s a full nerve wracking two hours before they call again. We make small talk, the occasional unfunny joke to lighten the mood, but we are both stressed to the max. If he’s made a run for it already, there is no guarantee that he won’t be able to get back in at a later date. The gate is heavily guarded but all they will have to work on is a description from me, and if he keeps his issued wrist strap they will let him in pretty much no questions asked.
I suppose I could call Caz and get her to email me a picture to give them, but that means explaining the whole sorry mess to her; I know it comes from a good place, but I just don’t have the energy to survive her tirade of questions.
And then if they do catch him, can I really trust that he won’t be ruffed up by Carlos’s heavies? But then do I really care if he does, after all he put me in the hospital; surely he deserves some retribution for that?
For some reason though, the thought of it makes me sick with worry. I know he’s hurt me, emotionallyand physically now, but if anything, I feel sorry for him, he made a mistake, an unforgivable one, but he is clearly paying the price for it already.
I will never be able to forget all he’s done to me, but it doesn’t change the fact that I cared for him, loved him even, for ten years of my life. However wrong it may be, somewhere buried down in the deepest depths, he will always hold a piece of my heart.
My conflicting emotions are steadily becoming too much to bare, I hate him, but I care about him, I want him as far away from me as possible, but I don’t want him hurt.
That’s when the call comes in; Carlos walks out of the room again before answering it, all I can see is him nodding intermittently as he paces the hall.
Entering the room again, he looks relieved, “He was still in the resort, but not in his room, so it took a while to track him down. He must have known they would be coming for him because he was hiding in a bush when they finally caught up with him.”
“Umm…..did they hurt him?” the words come out as a whisper, I don’t know if I even want to know the answer.
“He put up a fight when they tried to restrain him. He got a little hurt, but nothing serious. They wanted to call the police, but I had instructed them not to, so they did what they had to, to get him out of there.” His voice is low, quiet; I can’t read him when he’s like this.
“I’m sorry” my default response, “it’s hard you know, he was my husband, this whole experience has just been harrowing, I don’t know how to feel?”
He looks up at me, his brow furrowed in a pained expression, “do you still love him?” he asks softly.
“NO! God no! Carlos, please believe me. I want nothing to do with him. EVER. But you need to understand, he was my husband, we were together for ten years! I can’t just erase that part of my life, it happened. Look at it this way, you don’t get on with your sister, but you wouldn’t want anything to happen to her right? It’s kind of like that” I’m clutching at straws, but it’s the closest thing I can think of that might explain my feelings.
“It’s not really the same thing” he sulks, “but yeah, I know what you’re getting at” he admits sullenly.
“Carlos,” I reach to him, putting my arms around him, “I will never be able to put into words how special this last week has been for me, and how in such a short time you have come to mean so much to me. I literally never thought it was possible to fall for someone as hard and fast as I’m falling for you.” The tears now coursing down my cheeks as I cling to him as if my life depended on it; I never wanted to bare my soul like this, but a mixture of strong painkillers, a bump to the head and the lost look in his eyes just broke down the wall I’d put up long ago, with one swift kick.
“Oh, Kate” he chokes back, returning my desperate embrace with equal force, “I’m so happy you feel that way, you’re the only person I……”he breaks off shaking his head and pulling me in tighter.
We stay in this position for an age, until my ribs start to ache under the pressure. I ease back, but keep my hands rested on his upper arms, anxious to maintain physical contact with him.
“What were you going to say? I’m the only person that what?” I prompt him gently.
He looks down, his hands rested on my lap, and clears his throat s if mentally preparing himself, “I’ve never got close to anyone. I don’t know why, I’ve had a pretty perfect life really; but I could never bring myself to commit in anyway to another person. I thought I was sick or something.” He pauses, still not meeting me gaze, I stay silent for fear that any interruption might stop him in his tracks, “My family tease me about it and to begin with it was all just a big joke, but my friends all started to settle down and I tried, I really tried, but I just couldn’t trust them; just couldn’t bring myself to let my guard down, so eventually I just gave up trying. And then you came along.” He finally looks up at me shyly.
“You changed everything, when I first saw you I just wanted you, but then the more time I’ve spent with you, the more I can’t stand being away from you. I’ve never pined for anyone until I met you; even right now I miss you, I actually miss you, I can’t get enough of you, I want you in my arms every minute of every day.”
Fresh tears start to fall again, as he lifts me into his lap and wipes them from my face. In my head I’m screaming out loud,‘I love you, I love you Carlos. It was love at first sight’ but the words won’t form in my throat, instead I lean in, locking my lips with his, hoping he will sense my unspoken words.
It’s gone 14.00 by the time we get back to the resort, as soon as we step into the lobby we are approached by the head of security who gives Carlos a more detailed run down of the mornings events since we’ve been away. He speaks in Spanish so I don’t understand and Carlos does not reveal anything after, so I trust that it’s something I do not want to know.
We walk hand in hand out towards the apartments, but as I turn to head to my room, he stops, “I was thinking, after all this, maybe you would move into my place?” he asks, suddenly seeming so unsure of himself.
“Really?” I’m taken aback, “but I’ve never even been there? I was starting to think you didn’t really live here?” I tease, making him smile.
“Well I do, so what do you think?”
“I think that would be perfect, I just need to pack up my things though” I say, turning again towards my room, I find myself stopped by his hold still.
“There’s no need, Mari has already done it and had it delivered to my place” he says, with a sly grin.
“What? But you didn’t even know I’d agree to it?”
“I know, I’m sorry, but after what happened to you, I wasn’t planning on giving you a choice” he says tenderly, wrapping me in his arms.
“Well when you put it like that…..” moving to tip toes I give him a lighthearted smooch, formally sealing the deal.
His home is behind the guest blocks, shielded from view by a line of tall trees, the front of the house facing away from the resort. It is a modest house on two levels, with a balcony leading out from one of the upstairs rooms. Sand coloured walls, with a terracotta tiled roof and a patio area to the left side of the building.
“Do you share this with anyone?” I ask, assuming he lives with some of the staff.
“Nope, just little old me, apart from my family, you will be the first other person to step foot in the place.”
I smile inwardly, a warmth spreading through me, knowing how huge this must be for him, and it’s all just for me.
He opens the door, letting me proceed into the house first, the room is vast, with an open kitchen at the far end. It is typically Mexican with a bright red tiled floor and yellow walls adorned with various colourful wall hangings and paintings.
The furniture is a stark contrast however, very minimal and cold, the walls invite you in to a warm family home, but the furniture warns you not to make yourself comfortable.
The kitchen is equally sparse, black shiny cupboards, with smooth surfaces and no discernible way of opening them. A harsh, stainless steel sink sits amongst black marble surfaces, clear from any clutter.
“What do you think?” he asks, before I’ve quite formulated my thoughts on the place.
“Erm…..it’s…..different” is the best I can manage.
His face falls “You don’t like it, do you?”
I instantly regret it and attempt to back peddle, “I do like it, it’s just a bit of an odd mixture, the décor and the furniture are both so different, it just surprised me that’s all.” He seems mildly placated by this, “I’m in the middle of re-decorating, the kitchen is new, and some of the furniture” he explains, apparently over it.
“Let me show you upstairs, nothing has been changed there yet, so you’ll see why I’m changing it” he grabs my hand excitedly and leads me through a glass door on the left, to the stairs. It's the first time I notice it, but the left wall is all glass; from about halfway along, to where the kitchen starts at the back is glass, so you can see the stairs. It's another odd design choice, but I guess I don't know what the end product will look like, so maybe it will make more sense once it's finished.
At the top of the stairs there is a large window with views out over fields as far as you can see, the hall then leads down to the left of the stairs with three closed doors; the first door leads to the main bedroom, it’s a good sized double room, the floor tiled the same as downstairs, but the walls in here are a burnt orange colour. There is a large but simple timber framed bed against the far wall with a standard matching wardrobe, a small bedside table on the right and another door to the left. The right wall is taken up with French doors which open up onto the impressive balcony; it runs the length of the room, but stretches about 3 meters wide with a beautiful stone wall around the edge. The views are stunning, uninterrupted countryside in every direction.
“I could spend the rest of my holiday just sitting here staring at the views”
“I guess I’m used to it, I hardly ever come out here” Carlos admits, “but if that’s where you will be, then that’s where I will be.” He states giving me a squeeze.
Walking back into the room, I notice my suitcase in the corner behind the door, nodding towards it “you weren’t kidding about it being here already” I laugh.
“Nope, my house is your house Ms. Mavers.” He replies leading me to the door next to the wardrobe, it opens up into the bathroom, which separates the two bedrooms. Inside there is what looks like a Jacuzzi bath in one corner and a power shower in the other, with a sink carved from stone. “Untouched upstairs huh?” I ask, questioning the obvious lack of simple Mexican style that was apparent in the bedroom. “well almost untouched” he relents. There is not another door on the otherside into the other bedroom, so we leave by the door which opens onto the hall; I have a quick peak into the other bedroom, it’s a shade of bright red and has two single beds, but no other furniture. “Love the colour” I joke.
“I was wondering what colour to paint my room, so maybe I will do it like this and start calling it ‘the boudoir’” he says it with a heavy French accent, “And maybe mount a mirror on the ceiling and invest in some silk sheets?”
“Oh yes, that’s just my kind of bedroom” I giggle.
“On that note, Mari came across a little bag of goodies you’ve been keeping from me” he says cryptically, I have no idea what he means, a bag of goodies?
“Now where did she say she put it?” he says returning to the main bedroom and scanning the area, “Ah yes!” he walks to the wardrobe, flinging open the doors and retrieves a bag from the top shelf, turning towards me I recognise it instantly. “She gave me a rough idea of what was in here, but lets see” he says, grinning from ear to ear. My face heats, turning the same colour as the second bedroom as I scoot across the tiled floor, almost knocking him over, “No, no, no” I screech, grabbing it off him, leaving him with a look of utter despair.
“It’s a surprise! I bought it for you when I went to town, but then with everything that happened since I’d completely forgotten!” he seems suitably happy with this answer, but tries his luck all the same, “Aw, come on, give us a sneak preview” he says, fingering the top of the bag, I whip it behind my back, “No! You can see it later tonight” I promise, but his face drops, “what’s wrong?” I ask concerned.
“If it’s what I think it is” he begins, looking me up and down suggestively, “then I’m afraid I have bad news. The doctor said that you are not to partake in any…. ‘strenuous activity’ for the next couple of days.” He puts it diplomatically.
I look at him quizzically, surely that can’t be right. But his somber nod confirms it.
“Well that sucks” I proclaim.
“That it does”
We spend the rest of the day lazing about at his place, he called his parents, they are due back early evening so can take over the running of the resort then; by all accounts they completely understand why he will be out of action, work wise, for the next few days, to look after me.
I spend a lot of time insisting it is unnecessary, but he still won’t let me out of his sight.
If I’m completely honest, I love the attention and it’s a great excuse to spend every second with Carlos. We lay out in the sun, on the patio, kissing. We float about in the swimming pool he has, kissing. We put together an early dinner, with a miss match of bits he has in, kissing every time we pass in the kitchen.
A couple of times I have let myself get caught up in the moment, pushing deeper into the kiss and running my hands through his hair, just baiting him to take advantage; but he holds firm, pulling away, shaking his head tutting and giving me a smack on the bottom as he walks away, leaving me to sulk.
If I stand up too fast, or turn my head quickly, it throbs badly for a couple of minutes, but past that I feel ok. Most of the bruises from the bike crash three days ago are starting to fade, the grazes healing up nicely too, all things considered, I’m not in too bad a state.
Even if I don’t manage to break him tonight, I’m sure I will by tomorrow, every time I try it on, it’s a fraction longer before he pushes me away, it’s cruel to tease him like that, but it’s cruel of him to withhold sex from me, when I have insisted I’m feeling fine.
At 19.00 I suggest going to the bar, Carlos gives me an entirely unimpressed look, “Oh come on grandpa! No Dancing, or drinking I swear, it will just be a quiet evening, listening to music, please?” I want to prove to him that I’m not made of glass.
“Fine, but just an hour alright?”
“Alright” I say rolling my eyes at him, but skipping off towards ‘our’ bedroom to get changed.
I go for a smart, casual look, with skinny jeans, killer heels and a black jumper with a little sequin details on the shoulder. I brush my hair and tie it back, leaving some strands loose at the front that I smooth across my forehead, hoping to cover the plaster there.
I finish the look with a little mascara, drawing attention to my eyes and away from the corner of white plaster still clearly visible and I’m good to go.
Standing up I’m hit with a wave of nausea, the room sways around me, I reach out and steady myself on the wall and wait for it to subside.
“Kate? Are you ready?” Carlos shouts from downstairs.
“Yeah, I’m just coming”
I manage to get to the top of the stairs, my legs are shaking, but with my hand on the wall I’m balanced enough to make it down them.
As I reach the bottom it’s like the whole house is spinning around me and my legs go to jelly, collapsing from under me. Carlos leaps in and catches me before I hit the floor. “Kate!” for a moment I loose my vision, but it returns gradually, “I’m OK” I manage to say back.
“Will you stop saying that! You are clearly not 'OK'!”
I try to stand, but my legs have other ideas, dropping me straight back down, “alright, I’m not OK” I admit.
Carlos bends down scooping me into his arms and deposits me on the black couch, “I’ll get you some water. Stay there!” he is irritated by my stubborn nature.
“Thanks, I’m sorry” I say sheepishly, handing me the water he softens slightly, “You don’t have to be sorry, just admit you’re not 100% better and stop making things worse for yourself” he pleads placing his hand on my head to check my temperature; I reach up and wrap my fingers around his, bringing them to my lips, “I will, I’m sorry, shall we just stay in and watch a movie tonight?” I compromise with a safer option.
“That’s the best idea you’ve had all day” he smiles, leaving the room; he returns ten minutes later, with a thick fleece blanket and a selection of DVD’s, mostly action films, but a couple of soppy ROM-COM’s he claims are his sisters.
While he was out of the room he called through for some room service and just as the opening credits start we are delivered a selection of ice cream and amaretto biscuits.
“I wouldn’t have thought you get room service if you live here?” I ask skeptically.
“I don’t, I called in a favour” he winks at me, “but I am the boss’s son, so I could, but I work with these people so I try not to, unless it’s an emergency” he explains.
“Oh yes, a real emergency” I say sarcastically, poking fun at his blatant abuse of power.
“Shh! It’s about to start” he shuts me up with a biscuit covered in mint ice cream. “Mmmmm”
“Shh!” he repeats cockily, earning him a poke in the side.
Snuggling under the covers, he puts one arm around my shoulders as I slip mine round his waist and we take it in turns to feed each other sweet mouthfuls with our free hands as the movie begins.
The next morning we wake, still curled on the sofa, I think I dropped off somewhere in the middle of the second film; I chose a girly film to start, so on his turn to pick he went for some action thriller, which promptly bored me to sleep, he would never admit it, but clearly it had the same affect on him, else we’d be waking up in bed right now.
“I love waking up next to you sweetness” he murmurs to me, still half asleep.
“Right back at ya, sexy” the word slips from my half asleep lips before I can stop it, his eyes open fully, an amused look on his face, “Sexy huh?” he drools back at me.
“Yeah” I say nonchalantly, “I’m going to jump in the shower, so how’s about you get that sexy ass in the kitchen and make me some breakfast?” well I’ve started now, so I may as well take full advantage; I hear him scoff, clearly shocked by my new show of confidence, as I trott up the stairs, but seconds later I hear him clattering about in there so it obviously had the desired affect.
Stepping out of the bathroom wrapped in a towel, I find him in the bedroom, “Your breakfast is downstairs, would it please Madam if I was to take a shower now?” he asks giving me a little bow.
Now it’s my turn to scoff, “You are clearly well trained, I think I will speak to you like that more often, sexy” I say biting my lip as he pulls his t-shirt off, exposing his sculpted torso. He gives me a little shrug and a cheeky grin, “whatever turns you on sweet” he chirps closing the bathroom door behind him.
Knowing he will be in the shower for at least the next ten minutes I discard the towel and hunt around for my strapless beach dress; I know I had it yesterday, but I can’t find it anywhere. I pull on some pants and keep checking, it has built in support so you can go bra-less and has got to be the comfiest item of clothing I have.
“Carlos, do you know where my dress is from yesterday?” I shout through to him.
“I think it’s still downstairs, you took it off when we got in the pool”
Oh yes, he’s right. I scamper downstairs, I’m so relieved Carlos lives on his own, it means as long as I know where he is, I can get away with prancing round naked, should I feel the need to.
I’m halfway across the cold tiled floor when I see it, draped over the back of the chair next to the front door. As my finger tips come into contact with the material, I hear the scream; jumping back away from the sound I now see a middle aged couple stood just inside the front door, mouths agape, I instantly scream back, grabbing the dress and holding it to my front.
My screech jolts them out of their frozen stances and they fluster about looking in every direction but mine, the woman is first to speak, “We’re sorry, we came to see Carlos, we had not idea he was…entertaining guests, or we wouldn’t have just come in, is he in, Carlos?” she’s been caught off guard as much as I have, she has a faint hint of an American accent, and that’s when it hits me, they must be Carlos’s parents. Oh ground swallow me now, of all the ways to meet the parents, why does it have to happen in a state of undress that not even Carlos has seen me in yet! That’s got to be irony?
“I’ll just get him” I squeak, turning and running back upstairs, my promise to take it easy thrown with force out of the nearest window.
Bursting back into the room Carlos is just pulling on his trousers, “what the…”
“Your parents!” I pant, he bursts out laughing, “They saw you like that?” he asks.
“They saw me without the dress!” I cry dismayed, causing him to fall into hysterics, “It’s not funny!” I warn.
“No, of course not, I’ll go see to them” he says, struggling to keep a straight face.
“Just go” I push him towards the door as he coughs to cover another giggle.
Once he leaves I struggle into my dress, but I can’t bare going downstairs to face his parents again, so I wait, straining to hear what’s being said in my absence.
Carlos comes back in fifteen minutes later, considerably more composed than when he left, “they’ve gone” he assures me.
“I’m mortified” I complain.
“Its fine, they understand. If it helps I think they were more mortified than you, my dad was dumbstruck” the smile creeps back across his lips and I throw a pillow at him, now starting to giggle myself.
“I can’t believe your dad has seen me more naked than you have” I laugh.
“I hadn’t thought of it like that, I best have words with him” he says sweeping me into his arms, “so, other than flashing my parents, what do you want to do today?”
“Oh my god!” I laugh, dropping my head onto his chest.
We decide to go and check out some of the Mayan Ruins, I didn’t know there were any around here. I had done a little research before I came and it had seemed like I was smack bang in the middle of no-where.
Carlos is maintaining tight lips and refuses to give away any details of our day trip, it’s all very suspicious.
He calls ahead for a private car to drive us there, letting slip that our destination is only an hour away; I wrack my brains to try and recall the map I had poured over extensively at home, searching for any image from my memory that might provide a hint to the surprise, but I draw a blank.
We arrive out the front of the lobby to be met by a sparkling, silver Bentley. My jaw drops to the floor, “Wow” I gasp, I had no idea he had this kind of money.
“It’s a Flying Spur.” He tells me, as if the name would mean something to me, “just a company hired car, we use them to ferry the family and more exquisite guests around. We get a pretty good deal with them” he explains it away.
“Still, Wow!” I don’t care what he says, hired or not, it’s still lush.
As Carlos opens the door for me the chauffeur jumps out to close it, once he has slid in next to me.
You can smell the plush leather as soon as you enter; with veneer wood paneling throughout. It’s so spacious and comfy, I would be happy to just be driven round in this all day, rather than see the Ruins.
Outside we pass numerous tin shack villages, and roadside stalls littered with brightly coloured rugs and hammocks, contrasting against the barren scenery; away from the coast, it’s very dry and dusty, the hot sun scorching any life out of the ground. There are some trees and foliage in places, but I cannot fathom how it survives in this drought.
All too soon we turn off the main road, I start scanning our surroundings and notice a sign depicting ‘Fausto Vega Santander Airport’ I look towards Carlos who’s grinning inanely at me.
“The airport?”
“Yep” is his only reply, he is infuriating.
When we come to a standstill the chauffeur again jumps out and opens my door for me, offering his hand to assist me out. We are right out on the runway next to a small private plane.
“We have a share in this with some of the other Hotel owners around Mexico, but most of them hardly ever use it, so I thought we may as well make use of it, as you want to see the Ruins.” Again he subtly down plays the amazing fact that he has access to a private plane.
It’s a small plane, with only about ten seats, but it’s still impressive. We sit for about twenty minutes, while the pilot does his checks, then we take to the skies; I’m transfixed by the views, my face pressed against the window for the whole ninety minute flight. We are served refreshments by a quiet and noticeably uncomfortable young man, I imagine working on here he has to put up with a lot of rich, pompous ass’s so when he sees me, a rooky, clearly awed by the whole thing he relaxes considerably and even pops an extra olive in my Martini.
I barely have time to finish the drink, because I spend the entire flight glued to the window, with occasional outbursts of ‘wow look at that’ and ‘isn’t that beautiful!’ in Carlos’s direction. He laughs at my childish glee, but lets me revel in it.
The landing is a little bumpy, but all in all it’s an awesome experience, I’ve never been in any kind of private plane before, hell I’ve never even traveled in first class before!
Grasping Carlos’s hand I squeeze tightly, “that was so exciting!”
He gives me a suspicious look, as if no one can really be that excited by flying in a small plane, but then shrugs it off and gives me a quick peck on the lips before we depart.
As we descend onto the runway in Cancun, what appears to be the same Bentley that dropped us off in Fausto Vega, is awaiting us, “Isn’t it a fifteen hour drive to get here?” I ask perplexed. Carlos lets out a surprised laugh, giving me that same, ‘you can’t be serious look’. “It’s a different car” he says it slowly, as if he is still unsure if I have actually just said something that naïve.
I realise then just how stupid I was, I was all hyped up and not thinking straight; I got out of a silver Bentley and on to a plane, I left the plane and there was a silver Bentley waiting, I put two and two together and got ten!
“Oh yeah, of course not” I say bumping the heel of my hand against my forehead, as if trying to knock the sense back in.
Fortunately he seems amused by my oversight, as he ushers me in to silver Bentley number 1’s twin brother.
“Right so where do you want to go?” he asks, starting to list off increasingly bizarre words “Coba, Tulum, Xel-Ha, Chichen Itza, Dzibilchaltun? Did you have an area in mind?”
I look at him blankly; he is both figuratively and literally speaking another language.
“Shall I pick?” he offers.
“Yes! Please do” I say relieved.
He thinks for a moment while I study his face; when he concentrates he gets a small crease between his eyebrows and a far-away look about him. Letting my gaze rest on is eyebrows, I’ve never noticed it before, but they seem almost shaped. They are thick set and dark like his hair, but they follow a perfect line, with not one out of place, he doesn’t seem to be the type to get his eye brows professionally shaped, but then again, no one can have brows naturally that perfect.
“Ok, I think Coba, it’s close by, it’s not the biggest, but it’s not so touristy which is nice and you can still climb up to the top, which they’ve stopped you doing with a lot of the more famous ones” he speaks, breaking my intense concentration on his possible beauty regimes.
“Do you pluck your eyebrows?” I just have to know.
“What?”
“Your eye brows” I repeat pointing my finger at them, “it looks like you pluck them”
He ponders this for a minute before speaking “I don’t personally no”
“What does that mean?” I push him.
“Lauria at the Spa does them, although I’ll have to have a word with her, it’s not meant to be noticeable” he says, running his fingers across them.
“It’s not noticeable, it’s just when you really look at them they’re too perfect to be au-natural”
“You’ve been studying them?” he asks with a chuckle.
“No” I lie, “I’m just very astute”
“Oh yes, Ms. Mavers, that you are” he says sarcastically, silencing any argument I might have with a kiss.
It’s about a forty-five minute drive, but in the luxury of the hire car it goes by quickly; before I know it, we are exiting the car and heading to the entrance. Carlos insists on paying for our entry, I argue the point hard, as so far, he has provided two expensive hire cars and a private flight, but he has none of it. I settle with insisting that I pay for our lunch.
The site itself is stunning, reading through the brochure its also huge, eighty square foot to be exact. We decide just to do one of the routes, rather than the whole place, and head toward the main pyramid, the Nohoch Mul.
White dirt roads weave through the thick forest, branching off on occasion to clearings that house temples and buildings, in various stages of decay.
To his credit, Carlos humours me, exploring every tiny path way, almost hidden by over grown plants, and climbs every one so we can take photos of us together at the top.
Living here, he must have done this all before, but he matches my excitement the whole way round.
We come across an archway with a tree growing out the top, it’s roots exposed, entangled with the stone of the arch; standing at the opening Carlos wraps one arm around me and stoops to kiss me. I’m expecting a little smooch, but he pushes his lips hard against mine, then parts his own, giving his tongue open access to my own. Just as I’m returning his vigour he pulls away smirking.
“What are you smirking about?” I ask. He brings his arm down and turns the camera so he can look at his handiwork. Giggling he turns it for me to see; the picture has caught a perfect angle, you can see the top of the arch, the tree roots flowing down each side, the sunlight streaming through in magical sparkling streams, and us, framed between them. My arms are locked around his neck, one hand grabbing his hair, and his spare hand can just be seen firmly planted on my bum.
“Nice, you have a real knack for this”
“For taking pictures or for kissing?” he asks, now snaking both arms around my hips.
“Hmmmmm….” I pretend to have to think over my answer, “Both” I finally answer him.
We fall into a softer, more sensual kiss which makes me wish we had just stayed in bed today. He slips his hand masterfully up my leg, under my dress, making me squeal, “What are you up to?” I whisper, my eyes darting round to see if we have been spotted making this very public display of affection.
“There’s no-one here, we could just have a little fun” he suggests, running the tip of his nose up my neck and kissing my jaw line.
“Are you serious?” I breathe, shocked by his proposal for blatant outdoor pursuits. He nods eagerly, his trademark impish grin spread across his face.
“What about me taking it easy? Thought I wasn’t allowed to partake in any strenuous activity?” I tease, knowing full well I am more desperate for this, than he is.
“I’ll be doing all the work sweetness, you can just enjoy the ride” God he’s smooth!
I quickly take another scan around, confirming that there isn’t a soul in sight, then nod, accepting his advances.
Crouching down in front of me, he runs his hands up the outside of my thighs, hitching my dress up with his fingers as he does; when he reaches my pants he hooks his two little fingers into the elastic and gently tugs them free, sliding them down my legs so I can step out of them. He then casually throws them over his shoulder to the ground, beaming up at me. Leaning forward he begins to kiss and lick his way up my inner thigh; on occasion he stops and sucks an area, flicking his tongue over my flesh, then bares his teeth and nips me. It’s not hard, doesn’t even leave a mark, but the mix of sensations, soft lips, wet tongue, pain, rushing across my skin, lights a fuse inside of me, I’m already raring to go. I bend my knees bringing him closer to the prize, but he is intent on taking his sweet time.
A Rustle in the bushes to my left, catches my attention, Carlos does not seem to notice, or care, as he continues to tease me; I scan the area, but all I can see is dense forest. There could potentially be any number of people just inside watching us. My concern is instantly lost when he pushes his tongue into me; swirling it around then moving up and sucking on my *, my hands are in his hair, pulling to guide his mouth where I want it, my legs spreading further apart for maximum thrills.
All I can hear now is my own rapid breathing and the thump of my pulse in my ears. I hold his head still and rock my hips back and forth over his tongue, pausing at my lips so he can bite and suck them, before plunging forward and letting his tongue roam inside me again. This time I’m in control, it’s as though I am playing with myself, only with the help of his luscious mouth.
“You’re so wet” he murmurs into me.
“Then come here” I say back, pulling his hair gently upwards.
He stands instantly grabbing my buttocks and lifting me off the ground. I part my legs so they are either side of him; the arch we are under is just the right size so I can rest my feet on the opposite wall, allowing me to take at least some of my weight.
He enters me slowly, by his erection it’s obvious that he’s enjoying our open air session, without me even touching him it stands to full attention, filling me inch by inch as he pushes in.
Locking my legs out straight I can pin myself to the wall, my back pressed firmly against the smooth stone, so Carlos is free to thrust at will.
He doesn’t take it slow for long, quickly upping the pace, my hands on his chest, his hands still fondling my ass, as he slams into me over and over.
Moving one of his hands he slips it down his side, so it’s on the inside of my leg and grasps my knee, pushing it up until my leg drapes over his shoulder. This new position lets him go even deeper, I want to scream my ecstasy out loud, but I know I have to keep quiet, so I bite down hard on my lip.
Suddenly he pulls my one straight leg up to match the first on his other shoulder, I no longer have any control, “Put your arms around my neck” he says hurriedly, I immediately comply. Keeping one hand beneath me and wrapping the other around my back, he steps away from the wall and lowers us both to the floor.
“I couldn’t stand not kissing you” he explains, letting my legs slip off his shoulders, so I can re-position them to be locked around his waist, he leans down and kisses me longingly. At this angle we can both thrust, finding our rhythm and building up speed, his lips never leaving mine. I can feel every sensation intensify and I know what’s coming “I’m going to cum” Carlos warns.
“Yes baby” is all I can put into words.
He just makes it before me, but the feel of him cuming inside me brings me to orgasm. We lie together trembling in the aftermath, letting our muscles relax and recover; Carlos stroking my hair and leaning in to kiss the tip of my nose, enjoying the peaceful afterglow of sex.
Luckily we hear the commotion before we see anyone, I have just enough time to jump up and snatch my knickers off the ground and push them into Carlos’s pocket before the group emerges round the corner. My dress is askew and I’m covered in sandy dust from the floor. If Carlos is anything to go by we both look flustered, sweaty and overall guilty; but we saunter away through the slowly forming crowd and make our escape back onto the main path before collapsing in hysterics.
“My heart is racing!”
“I’m sorry; I do have that effect on women” Carlos jokes back.
“That was so close; you bring out the worst in me Mr. Johnson” I say giving him a playful shove. Taking my hand in his and placing a kiss on my knuckles, “I bring out thebest in you” he murmurs seductively.
It takes another hour to reach Nohoch Mul, its forty-two metres tall which makes it the highest in the Yucatan peninsula according to the leaflet. Standing at the bottom it could be a hundred meters tall for all I know, it looks as though the summit literally touches the clear blue sky above it.
We start a slow, steady ascent; the steps are uneven and polished from years of being trampled by tourists; the only support being a weathered piece of rope, attached to the top then laid out down the steps to the bottom. It is little, to no use as far as Health and Safety is concerned, in a way it is a refreshing change to back home, but as far as me versus death goes, it is of no consolation.
Halfway up we stop for a rest, this is my Everest! Clearly our earlier shenanigans have worn me out more than I thought. Resting my head on Carlos’s shoulder we sit in comfortable silence surveying the view for a few minutes.
“Are you ready to go again?” he asks too soon. If I was on my own I probably would have just given up and gone back down by now, but I don’t want to seem outdone so we stand and carry on up.
At the top I’m so glad I persevered, it’s truly stunning. In every direction, as far as you can see is dense forest. You can faintly make out the tops of some of the other monuments poking through the tree tops, the only audible sound is the wind and the only other living things with us are the birds soaring high above our heads.
There is a small square room, empty apart from the dust, but roped off to the public, other than that it is just us and the view. Standing on the edge Carlos wraps his arm around my shoulders and holds the camera up, taking a panoramic picture to capture the expanse of forest surrounding us.
It’s a beautiful picture, with Carlos on my left I have my right hand wresting on his stomach, his head slightly cocked towards mine; if you didn’t know better you would think it was a honeymoon picture, a couple openly affectionate with each other, standing alone together, just them against the whole world.
The thought sends a wave of sadness over me; I suddenly feel a crushing pain at the loss of my life with Jake. By the end it was all but over anyway, but we started out this way, where did it all go so badly wrong to end up like this? I try to think back, to remember any warning signs, only ever seen in hindsight, that might suggest it was doomed from the start, but it’s futile. We were happy once, I can’t deny that, but maybe the years just changed us too much to salvage what small flame might have been left between us.
“Hey, you alright?” Carlos asks, concerned at my sudden melancholy. I shake the gloom from my thoughts and plaster on a smile, “I’m wonderful, thank you for this, it really is a beautiful picture” I say sincerely, desperate to re-kindle our lighthearted, happy atmosphere.
“Come on, let’s get down off this death trap, I’m starving” I say taking his hand and tugging him back to the steps. Looking down them now though they seem far steeper than on the way up, each slippery surface about a foot in height down from the last, but most are less than a shoe length in width.
The wind now seems fierce, making us even more unstable, clinging to Carlos’s hand I ask, “So, how are we going to do this?”
“Um, maybe hold on to the rope?” he offers, I throw him a skeptical look, “That rope doesn’t look like it could hold a feather, let alone the two of us”
“Yeah, you’re probably right, let’s just take it slow”
Holding tightly on to each other we take the first shaky step, as expected the surface has no grip and for one wobbly second I’m convinced we are both going to tumble head first down the whole thing. At the last second I sit on the top step, dragging Carlos down with me.
“Well that’s not going to work” I state, “I think I’m just going to bump down on my bum, it’s got to be the safest way?”
Carlos looks less than impressed with my idea, but equally agrees that walking down is not an option; to save some face he decides to climb down backwards, facing the steps, his hands holding on while his feet walk down slowly.
The group from before has caught up by now and are slowly leaking onto the bottom steps. I know we look like idiots because on the way up it doesn’t seem so bad, but they will see once they get to the top. Thankfully by about two thirds of the way down the steps become wider and shorter so we scramble to our feet and make it to the bottom with a little dignity.
It takes another forty-five minutes to walk back to the entrance, by which time I’m so hungry I would eat Carlos’s arm if I thought I could get away with it. “I’m soooooo hungry” I whine.
“Me too, there’s a street vendor down the road, with roasted corn, have you tried it?”
I want to scoff at him; of course I haven’t bought any food from a road-side stall, who in their right mind would? There’s no hygiene and what ever they make stands out in the sweltering heat, no thank you! But I don’t want to offend him, so it looks like I’m going to have to break my personal rule of never eating anything from someone who hasn’t washed.
I shake my head and he leads me down the road and round the corner to shaded area. It’s a large open space with a canopy of multicoloured fabric hitched up in billowing waves above your head and a dusty tiled floor, scattered around are numerous stalls all offering an array of foods, sweet and savoury, as well as hot and cold drinks. Every step you take fills your nostrils with new exotic smells, each more mouth watering than the last.
Best of all, every one of the stall owners are well groomed, the men are mostly in Hawaiian style shirts, ¾ length shorts and sandals, while the women wear, loose dresses or jeans and t-shirts.
Sitting me down on one of the benches Carlos scampers about gathering a feast for us. When he returns he explains each dish to me, Roasted corn with lime and chilli powder, pork ribs in Guajillo sauce, chicken wings in a spicy peanut sauce and for after, churros sprinkled in sugar and cinnamon and dipped in melted chocolate.
I am glad we are in the shade, along with the light breeze makes it the perfect temperature to enjoy the food warm, if we were in the sun it would have been unbearable to even think about spicy or hot food.
We spend a good hour gorging ourselves and chatting to the locals, for people who rely on this trade to live, they are unbelievably cheerful considering the lack of tourists, joking with each other, dancing and singing along to a joyful tune one of them is playing on a banjo.
A man pulls up with a mobile fridge, producing coconuts from inside; he approaches us signalling for us to purchase them, “Why would we purchase a cold coconut?” I ask Carlos who laughs at me.
“He puts a hole in the shell and then you drink the milk” he explains.
I manage to persuade him to let me buy one, he says it’s a waste of money considering we could pick a coconut up off the floor and take it back to the resort and put it in the fridge for free; much to the vendors delight I call him a spoil sport and hand over the cash without the slightest hint at a haggle.
As it transpires, Coconut milk, even cooled, is unpleasant, but I argued my point to get it, so I choke it down quickly, the neon green straw he poked through the hole he made in the shell makes it easier.
Once we are done we meander back to the Bentley which has seemingly waited for us the entire time and start the long journey home.