This is a huge resort; it isn’t a bad idea to scope it out. Identifying the places I can and shouldn’t go is essential.
The first sign I stumble upon directs me straight ahead for the beach area. Perfect. I would love to feel the sand under my feet.
I reach the beach’s edge and bend down to remove my shoes.
“Taking a walk on the beach?” It’s that deep, smooth, southern voice again. Beau.
Tingles dance across my skin. I nibble my bottom lip to suppress the delight I feel. “Yeah. I’m too anxious to wait until tomorrow.”
“Mind if I join you?”
“I’d like that.”
Beau holds up a finger. “Give me a few minutes.”
He disappears and returns a few minutes later holding a drink in each hand. He holds out a cocktail for me. “Pineapple-coconut martini.”
“How did you pull this off?”
“Magic.”
I look around and spot a freestanding bar. “The only magical thing about this will be if I don’t have a huge hangover tomorrow.” I sip the fruity concoction. Yummy. “I believe you, Mr. Beau Emerson, are a bad influence.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that.”
“I bet not.”
“In case you’re unaware, there are two beaches. Planning to go nude or prude tomorrow?”
Those are my only options? “Choosing to cover my T&A doesn’t make me a prude.”
“Maybe not anywhere else in the world but it’s different here. Covering your tits and ass means you’re uptight.”
I haven’t been a goody-goody a day in my life, but it seems I could be labeled a saint by these standards. “I won’t be getting naked so show me the way to the prude side.”
“You got it.” Beau leads me down a path lined with glowing torches and trees. The overhead foliage is so heavy I can no longer see the sky or stars. It’s an odd sensation, like walking through a tropical labyrinth.
We come to the end of the maze where the path meets the beach. With shoes in one hand, and my martini in the other, I step into the sand. Beau stands with a hand in his pocket, unmoving. “Now who’s the prude? Roll your pants up and come with me.”
I advance toward the water, leaving him behind. I rake my toes through the sand. I close my eyes and listen to the rush of water. Its pattern is predictable. Anticipated. I like that.
Peace. Tranquility. Deliverance. This is what brought me to this place.
“I love the feel of sand at night. The sun has gone down, and it’s had time to cool. The deeper you dig your toes in, the cooler it gets.”
He plunges his toes in. “I’ve never given that any thought but you’re right.”
“Shh. Be still and listen for a moment.”
Beau stands beside me, shoes off, pant legs rolled to mid calves. Silent.
“I love this sound. I have a noise maker set to ocean waves, but the real thing is so much better.”
“Then we should listen for a while.” He lowers himself to sit in the sand.
I plop down to join him. Nothing graceful about it. The martinis have made my joints loose and turned my bones to gelatin. “We lived on the Mississippi coast until I was fifteen. Our house was across the street from the beach. I could look out my bedroom window and see the ocean until it dropped out of sight. My dad was still living then. My happiest memories are from when we lived there. Maybe that’s why I find the sound of the water so soothing. It feels like home.”
“I thought your Georgia peach accent was a little on the thick side. That explains it. You’re a transplant.”
“I’ve lived in Georgia for nine years but my Mississippi twang still pokes its head out to make its presence known. I’ll never shake it. Trust me. I’ve tried.”
“I like it.”
“Drake didn’t. He said it made me sound like a hick.”
“Your ex sounds like a real ass.”
“He is, but all the shit he did provided me a vacation in Jamaica. I can’t regret that part.” At least not yet.
“This is the right place to help you forget your troubles.”
I want to know what brought Beau here. “This conversation is one-sided. You never told me what it is you’re trying to forget.”
He doesn’t take the lead to talk so I backpedal. “We can talk about it . . . or we can get up and run into the ocean.”
“I vote for skinny-dipping.”
“I said run into the ocean. There was no mention of getting naked.” Just like a man to assume that.
“Go in your dress if you don’t want to take it off.”
I stand and use my contortion skills to lower my zipper down my back. “I love this dress. It would be a shame to ruin it.”
He watches me struggle. “Want me to get that for you?”
Letting a stranger unzip me doesn’t feel right. “Nah, I’m good. I got it up by myself. I can get it down.”
My brain is screaming that skinny-dipping with a stranger is a terrible idea, but the liquor I’ve consumed convinces me it’s brilliant plan.
Beau removes his button-down and pulls his undershirt over his head. He tosses both and reaches for the button of his gray trousers. He pushes them until they’re crumbled with his boxer briefs at his feet.
What I’m about to do suddenly becomes a little more surreal. I’m questioning my actions. I hold the front of my dress, thinking it over. It’s not too late to turn back.
“You’re not changing your mind?”
“I’ve skinny-dipped plenty of times but never with a stranger.”
“This was your idea. Not mine.” He’s standing completely bare, illuminated only by a sliver of the moon.
“I know.”
“Listen, Peach. I don’t have to get a girl like you liquored up and naked to score some ass.” He waves his hand toward the resort. “There are plenty of women up there who’d be more than happy to give me whatever I want, so let’s just forget this.”
Beau reaches for his clothes, and I realize him leaving is the last thing I want. “No. Don’t go.”
I let go of my dress. The top catches on my hips so I push it down until it drops on top of my feet. Since I went braless, I’m standing before him wearing only my panties. “You didn’t even have to buy me dinner to get me naked.”
“You’re not naked yet.” He turns his back on me and goes toward the water. I’m grateful. I didn’t want to wiggle out of my panties while he pretended to not ogle.
I bolt into the water. The temperature has dropped with the night, but I drudge through so I’ll have its coverage. “This is a helluva lot colder than I expected.”
“The sand isn’t the only thing to cool after the sun goes down.”
I go out far enough to submerge my breasts. The girls pull the buoyancy card and float so I go in a little deeper.
“You have great tits. It’s a damn shame you don’t plan to observe the clothing optional choice.”
Is he kidding me? “I’d call this clothing optional. I’m pretty sure I can’t get more naked.”
Beau cackles. “You have the coverage of night and water. Not the same thing.”
“You seem to have no problem checking them out by moonlight.”
“That’s because I have excellent night vision.”
“So do predatory animals.”
“You consider me a predator?”
“I don’t know what I consider you right now.”
He goes under the water, disappearing for longer than I’m comfortable with. “Come on, dude. Not funny.”
I spin around to see if he’s hiding behind me. “Beau.”
No answer. This is so not funny.
“Beau,” I call out louder.
I see nothing. Hear nothing. My heart takes off in a sprint. “Beau,” I scream.
He bobs up directly in front of me, after what feels like an eternity, and grabs my waist. “Miss me?”
I push at his shoulders, making him stumble backward. “Asshole.”
; He gains his footing and reaches for my midsection. “I’m sorry, Peach. Don’t go.”
My back is to him, but he holds my hips firmly. I imagine what it would be like if he took one step closer, maybe two, and our bodies touched.
Damn. It would feel so good to be touched again. It’s been so long.
This is crazy. Completely irresponsible. I’m showing no better judgment than the kids I teach.
“Why should I stay?”
“Because I like you. And I enjoy talking to you.”
“I think you like listening more than you like talking.”
Silence.
He doesn’t get to inquire about my personal life and spill nothing in return. “I think I should turn in for the evening. It was really nice to meet you.”
He releases his hold on me. I spin around to leave but stop when he calls out, “Her name is Erin.”
He has my attention. “And?”
“We were together for three years. Engaged for one. We were part of two separate polyamorous relationships over the last year and a half. Both went sour but the last one was the final nail in the coffin.”
Holy shit. He’s into poly relationships. I’m not sure about the ins and outs of what they do, but I know it’s the big time. It’s even too much for Meredith and Grayson. “Two women at once. I hear that’s every guy’s fantasy.”
“The sex part is a fantasy come true. Won’t lie. Being with two women was a sex fantasy realized. The relationship aspect, a total nightmare
I’m curious about this lifestyle. “How so?”
“What should have been a sexual partner in our bed quickly turned into a second woman in my life. She became a part of everything in and out of the bedroom.”
A triad relationship. I can’t begin to imagine how that works. Or maybe it doesn’t. He said it went bad.
“When I love, it’s wholeheartedly, and I demand the same in return. I have to be everything or nothing at all. I could never share. I’d be consumed with jealousy and tied in knots all the time.” I know firsthand from my experience with Drake’s infidelity.
“Erin was my primary and could be territorial when it suited her. Jealousy was an issue.”
I’m calling bullshit. “She couldn’t have been too territorial if she allowed you to bring another woman into your bed.”
“It wasn’t me. Erin’s the one who introduced Jenna into our lives.”
“Mind. Blown.” What kind of woman would do that? Maybe a bisexual one.
“It was great at first but then Erin’s job became more demanding. It consumed the majority of her time. Being alone with Jenna so often brought us closer.”
“Meaning more sex between you and Jenna without Erin.”
“Right. Erin despised us sharing something special that didn’t include her.” Sounds like she considered herself the hierarchy on the sex pyramid.
This is a no-brainer. “I can see where that would go over like a turd in a punchbowl.”
“You say some of the damnedest things.” Beau’s words are nearly drowned by his chuckles, and I’m reminded of how it feels to make a man laugh. No sneer. No smirk or cruel smile. Just a simple expression of amusement.
I spend the majority of my time with teenagers. After a while, a bit of their adolescent behavior tends to rub off. “I’m sorry. I sidetracked you. You were telling me about Jenna.”
“Right. Jenna was thinking long-term. She started talking about getting married and having children, so Erin forced her out of the relationship.”
That doesn’t explain the terrible thing Erin did. “But that wasn’t the end of it?”
“I thought it was. I expected to get married and put our poly life on the back burner for a while.”
I can see where this train wreck is going. “She brought another woman into your bed.”
“You’re half-right. It was a man the next time. Heath.”
If he didn’t already have my full attention, he’d damn sure has it now. “Dude-on-dude action. The plot thickens.”
“I don’t do dick. It’s pussy only for me.” Good grief. That mouth.
I don’t know jack shit about this multiple partner stuff, but I understand a scorned woman’s mind and how it works. “Heath was your punishment for growing close to Jenna.”
“That’s the understatement of the century. She sure gave me a taste of my own medicine.”
“I’m not sure that’s a fair statement since she’s the one who did the soliciting. But one thing’s for certain. Invite trouble inside and it will enter every time.”
“It gets so much worse.”
“You watched your fiancée have sex with another man. I can’t imagine it getting more unpleasant than that.”
“Erin was pregnant. It was mine. We know because the timing made it impossible for the baby to be Heath’s.”
I was wrong. It can get so much worse.
“I came home from work one day last month and Heath had taken her to the abortion clinic. The procedure was done before I knew about it. The kid was mine, and I didn’t get a say if it lived or not.”
He’s hurting, and I don’t know how to respond. Something inside me wants to comfort him, but to say “I’m sorry” feels so insignificant. So empty.
This man isn’t wounded over a woman. He’s grieving a loss sex won’t cure. “Are you sure you should be here?”
“I came to fuck ninety-nine different ways. This is definitely the place I need to be.”
He can’t fuck away this kind of pain. “How many of those ninety-nine ways have you gotten under your belt so far?”
“None yet. I just got here.”
That seems like an excessive amount of sex during a getaway. “How many days are you staying?”
“Nine.” Same as us.
“I’m no mathematician but you’re here nine days, counting today. That means you have to fuck eleven different ways per day if you’re going to squeeze in ninety-nine. You better get crackin’, sir.”
“There’s no hurry. There’ll be plenty of opportunities after midnight. That’s when things heat up.” I’ll definitely be safely tucked in my bed long before then.
I’m guessing I’ll be sick of this place by the end of nine days. It all seems so extreme. “Do you typically stay so long?”
“No. I’ve always done long weekends because of work.”
I recall the variety of people I’ve seen since my arrival. “Do you have standards for the people you have sex with or is a vagina the only requirement?”
He chuckles. “Of course I have standards. Don’t you?”
“Absolutely. High ones.”
“What does a girl like you look for?”
He’s lumped me into some kind of category. “A girl like me? What does that mean?”
“A vanilla girl.”
I am vanilla but I’ve not yet decided if I’m going to be pissed off about having that label placed on me. “Call me old-fashioned but I don’t long to be double penetrated.”
“You might like it if you tried it.”
I hate being judged. “You assume I haven’t.”
“You assume I have.” He totally has me there.
“You’re the one who was in a sexual triad involving two guys and a girl. Two dicks. One vagina. Three assholes. I already know you aren’t into dudes so my assumption was made by process of elimination.”
He laughs. “You sort of have a dirty mouth.”
“Not dirty. Innocent-challenged.” He hasn’t heard shit out of me yet. “I’m curious to know what you thought of it.”
“It feels great.”
I hear a silent but in there somewhere. “But you hated her being with another man?”
“Of course. She was going to be my wife. I loved her. Every time Heath came into our bed, it was a reminder I was never going to be enough to satisfy her.”
Does the poly want out?
“Be happy you figured it out before you married her instead of after.”
“My affec
tion for her slipped a little further away every time I saw them together. The love I had for her eventually drifted beyond my grasp. I tried but couldn’t get it back. She became nothing more than a body to me, an object I used for getting off.” I can believe that.
“Will your next relationship be polyamorous?”
“I have no idea. I only know I came here to fuck the two of them off my mind. That’s as far as I’ve gotten.”
Sex isn’t a fix for what’s going on in his head. And heart. But he has to figure that out for himself.
“I don’t want to talk about those fuckers anymore. I rather hear about your vanilla girl high standards.”
“I want true and beautiful.” I bet he thinks that’s unrealistic.
“Total myth. Doesn’t exist in today’s world.” Pessimist. He’s probably a glass half-empty kind of guy.
“It does. I saw it between my mother and father. The fairy tale is real, and I won’t settle for less.”
“This is a different generation. But I wish you the best of luck with that.”
“Tell me your standards since you have so little faith in love.”
“I could tell you but it would be so much easier to show you.”
My stomach flips; I don’t know what that means. “A verbal description would suffice.”
“Come on. It’ll be fun. You can help me choose my first of ninety-nine fucks.”
Oh. That’s not what I thought he meant. It’s a total wakeup call for what Beau likes. “I don’t think so. It was lovely meeting you but I think it’s time for me to go in for the evening.”
“Don’t go, Peach. It’s still early.” All the more reason for me to get back to my suite before things heat up around this place.
I leave the water and go to my dress and panties on the beach. I shake my dress before pulling it over my head.
He comes out of the water and is by my side stepping into his trousers. “Did I say something to upset you?”
“Nah. It’s all good.” I’ve enjoyed my non-hedonist time with Beau, but he’s ready to go on the hunt. It’s time for this to end.
Despite attempting to decline, Beau insists on walking me back to my room. Claims he wants to ensure I make it there safely. That may or may not be the truth but it doesn’t matter.
He’s a hedonist.
Hell, he’s poly.
I’m not.