by SJ Cavaletti
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Your love means more to me than a million stars,” he said.
“Does it?”
“Oh indeed. I think you’re the one, Ana,” he said.
We kissed again, delicately. I put myself against his giant chest and felt his body breathing. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the moment.
When I opened them, I saw a couple at another table and the woman stared at me. She was in her sixties, elegant, dressed in sequins and draped in gemstones. She was old school money. And, she didn’t seem to like me. She felt no shame in keeping eye contact, her stare barging in openly on our moment. We held eyes for a few seconds, then she turned to her husband and said something to him. He turned to look as well. They sported synchronized eye raising and then turned back to their food.
Suddenly self-conscious, I sat up straight. What did their eyebrows mean to say? Was it the PDA? Was it me being so much younger than Carlos… the questions started to snowball and suddenly, in my mind, the lap, the rich man, the environment… we were in the Club. It made me feel cheap.
Saved by the waiter, our dessert arrived. Naturally, I sat back in my seat to eat and enjoy it. But the mood had changed.
We both stared at our plates in awe and dexterously lifted portions of the masterpiece into our mouths. I tried to concentrate on my food… but the couple next to us made it taste bitter.
“Ana… are you ok?” Carlos asked.
“Yeah… it’s just,” I lowered my voice to a murmur, “The couple next to us were staring and just kind of, you know, gave a nasty look.”
He waited several beats and then looked over. He smiled and laughed lightly.
“Those old money Monaco types,” he grabbed my hand from across the table, “They don’t know what they’re missing.”
Arriving back at the yacht after dinner, we were quite tipsy, or at least I was, and the night shift deck hand welcomed us warmly.
“Would you two lovers like another drink? A nightcap perhaps?”
Carlos held me firmly, his arm snuggled my body to keep out the gentle nip of the nighttime chill.
I had to take this opportunity. “How about going in the hot tub?”
“Naked?” He joked. Or did he?
I allowed myself to appear to think about it for a moment but it wasn’t long before a drunken voice spoke on my behalf, “Is there any other way?”
The deckhand said graciously and without skipping a beat, “I’ll leave you to it. There is already some champagne on ice next to the hot tub if you decide you’d like it.”
We walked up a set of stairs to the top deck which was beautifully lit by candles in deep vases that I hadn’t noticed before. Also new were fairy lights strewn from one side of the boat to the other. They twinkled in the darkness. Carlos must have orchestrated this romantic symphony before we left. Although he had expected it, he too marveled at the glowing scene.
“The staff always outdo themselves,” he said, and pointed to rose petals on the shiny, wood floor.
Carlos turned me toward him. The seriousness in his gaze made mine shy away. He lifted my chin, forcing our visual connection. His fingers ran through my hair and he replaced a few strands that had blown out of place, following the Mediterranean breeze. Carlos kissed my forehead then rubbed his hand through my hair, pulling my head close to him, he rested his cheek on my forehead. His hand grabbed a tuft of hair, a gentle tug and then he let go. My pulse boomed, though his intention was quiet when he plucked the zipper of my little black dress from the nape of my neck and drew it down along my spine. The cool air oozed inside the fabric and around my core as the dress loosened, my stomach prickled goosebumps and my nipples tightened.
My dress dropped to the floor, exposing the matching black lace bra and panties I brought here just for him.
Carlos took a step back so he could see me more clearly. He ran a finger down my neck and along my décolleté, my chest rose to meet his touch, my breast wishing to be met by his warmth. Again, he drew me in for a kiss and my exposed skin met with that beautiful suit, willing it nevertheless to be gone.
Kissing Carlos was never hasty. He pulled back and I whispered, “Are you getting in like that?”
“I wasn’t going to. Help me?”
Nose to nose I breathed him in. He smelled like the delicious, sweet tobacco of a cigar. Fragrant and earthy. Pulling back, I knew he wanted me to undress him. With my heels still on, I could reach his broad shoulder, I peeled back the blazer and let it drop to the floor. My hand reached to his front.
“I don’t know how to untie a tie,” I said.
Silently, he single handedly loosened the silky, paisley fabric and undid it with a side to side motion. I took to his buttons and he said softly, “You have a lot more work than I did.”
I smiled and took my time. The last button undone, I revealed his tanned, tone shoulder and I kissed it. Pressing my body closer, I reached down and undid his belt and pants, they cooperated and fell to the floor obediently. I had dreamed of what his body looked like under those expensive suits and stiff dress shirts. Now, before me, tall and slender but with gloriously defined pecs and hip curves carving out two perfectly symmetrical trails into his underwear, he was a man that took care of himself for sure. Where he found the time to burn off the fois gras, I didn’t know.
He pulled me closer and the heat of our bodies met. Skin to skin, he clutched me, my breasts pushing hard against him, the sensation turned it up a notch. Suddenly, Carlos pulled back and in one big swoop picked me up off the ground. Somehow, he balanced me in one of his burly arms as he slipped my shoes off with his free hand.
“You’re good.”
“You make me good.”
He walked us over to the hot tub and lowered me in, I found a ledge to sit on and he came in next to me.
Carlos reached to the wine bucket the stewards had left for us and pulled out the champagne to uncork it. He set to pouring our bubbly.
“So what happened to naked?” I asked, moving close to him and putting my hand on his hard, tight thigh. He had me wound up.
“Ah,” he said, handing me a glass of champagne, “I might have been leading you on. I don’t do anything like that in front of the stewards. Returning staff is hard to find without them having to deal with perverts.”
Carlos was the epitome of class. I should have known he was too upscale to be nude in public. Sometimes his level of sophistication was more than I thought I could keep up with. Unfortunately, for us both, this pause in momentum got me caught up in my head again.
When we clinked our glasses, I could only wonder how many other women he had brought here. But my questions didn’t stop a thing. We kissed and touched and spoke of our pasts and planned the future. Though I knew every inch of his body by the morning, we never had sex that night. I was pretty sure it was me who stopped it from happening though I couldn’t tell if he made advances. Carlos was quintessentially polite, and I, so scared to feel the vulnerability that would come visit after Carlos and I went the distance. And worse than vulnerability was the consistent creeping feeling that I might just be arm candy. And so, that evening, and every evening thereafter on that beautiful holiday, our romantic evenings faded to black. Lots of kissing. Lots of touching. Zero penetration.
Before I could blink, the dream was over. I was on a plane heading back to San Francisco, almost reduced to tears thinking about when he told me he loved me on the parasail swing.
“Love does not consist in gazing at each other but in looking outward in the same direction.” St-Exupery. The quote had been floating around on repeat in my brain since parasailing. By the end of our exploits in Monte-Carlo I came to realize that Carlos was my Fox.
The Little Prince is a children’s story written for adults. The Prince visits many planets and comes across characters that each teach him a valuable life lesson. The Fox’s lessons go like this: one can only see correctly with the heart; time away from things we love makes us grow fonder
and love entails responsibility. My love for Carlos was blind to my physical eyes, he had aged beyond me but was wildly attractive nevertheless. Every moment we spent apart made me want to be nearer to him and as for the last point… what did that mean? I questioned whether it was responsible for us to be together. Responsible. Where does that come into the love equation?
Somehow the point of responsibility and the true legitimacy of us having a future together did not allow me to go the full distance with him physically. When I sat in my First Class recliner, alone and on my way back to San Francisco, it was hard to believe that after a romantic five days in Monaco, we had done everything but have sex.
What’s Love Got to Do With It?
“That’s just strange,” Angelica said, after I confessed the truth about our celibate holiday.
We sat in our usual seats at the upstairs bar waiting for our shots of tequila. Me, Jamie and Angelica. The three amigos.
“I mean, you can’t possibly like this guy. Or maybe you just like him as a friend or something but seriously… it is NOT normal to NOT fuck a guy that you love after five days in paradise,” she said.
Jamie chimed in, “Yeah, I’m sorry but I’ve got to agree here. I mean, are you not attracted to him?”
“Yes of course I am. It’s sort of weird but even though he’s older… I find him absolutely gorgeous. I don’t even notice his age. I mean, he’s like one of those timeless movie stars that seem to be able to play the love interest even when they’re fifty,” I said.
“Love blindness. Like beer goggles,” Jamie said, “But still, it’s really a bit freaky.”
“You shared the same bed?” asked Angelica.
“Yup.”
“And were drunk and half naked a lot of the time?”
“Yep.”
“Well,” said Angelica, “It’s safe to say HE’S in love with YOU since he’s still willing to still call you after having blue balls for five days. Or… maybe he has a small dick. Or can’t get it up anymore.”
She cackled. But I winced at the probable idea.
“Look,” I said, “It isn’t normal. Unless you’re some die hard Catholic, I’ll be the first person to confess it. But it all seemed to be fine with him. We did other things…”
“Like what? Unless your going to tell me it was ass sex I can’t possibly believe he was satisfied,” Angelica said.
“Ugh. No. Not for me really… I mean, I have nothing against it but nothing for it either… anyway, maybe you’re right. Maybe he’s disappointed,” I said.
Jamie spoke up, “Look. He ain’t a spring chicken. He probably doesn’t expect to hop on and ride every girl he meets.”
“But he IS rich,” Angelica interrupted, “You’re telling me he doesn’t get laid?”
The thought of Carlos galavanting around with young gold diggers was hurtful.
“I was going to say,” Jamie continued, “That he has more in his life than just fucking. I mean, he’s got a hectic job, he probably has loads of shit to do and gets tired and stressed… stress is a libido killer you know.”
“And, there is one other thing,” I said, hesitantly, “He has four kids and an ex-wife that he still lives with.”
“Shut the fuck up!” They shouted in unison.
“I mean, the kid thing… fine. And kind of have to expect it with a man his age but why does he still live with his wife?” Jamie asked, “Did they just split?”
“No, they’ve been split for years. They just wanted to both be around for the kids and not make them have to cope with adjusting to two different homes. One home, one set of parents…”
The girls looked at me aghast.
I justified, “I mean, he said there are like, two wings in his house… he doesn’t like, live live in the same house…”
“So that makes it better? You’re happy to be a married woman living in the west wing of a house of the ex-wife’s mansion?” Jamie asked.
“Well… I hadn’t really thought that far ahead. I mean, we’ve only been on a couple dates,” I said.
“Yeah right… those weren’t dates. They were honeymoons,” Angelica cooed.
“Ok fine they were a bit beyond the ‘date’ classification but still…” I said.
“Still what?” Jamie chimed back in, “Dude, you cannot live in the wing of a house with Carlos and his ex-wife one day. Something’s gotta give at some point. This is a helluva lot of baggage.”
“At least Moneybags is packed in Louis Vuitton suitcases…” Angelica the joker pretended to be the airline check-in counter, “Mr. Carlos did you pack your own bags? Any sharp objects? Guns or Firearms? Explosives? Ex-Wives?…”
She teased and waved her finger across my face, “Ana, you’re checking these ALL in.”
“Ok, ok guys… I get it isn’t exactly perfect. I get that. But, what IS perfect? I could probably do a psychological dissection on your relationship,” I retorted with the sassy finger wave.
“This is true,” Angelica conceded graciously.
“Look, you’re right,” Jamie said, “Nothing is perfect. And whatever, if you love him, you love him. You can’t change that. Might as well go with it. Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all…”
“Well, I was rather hoping not to do the losing part,” I joked.
But the girls weren’t joking. They both looked at the sky with pursed lips, holding back the cynicism.
“What? You guys think I should just dump him?” I asked.
“Shit no,’ Angelica exclaimed, “It isn’t every day you meet a guy that owns airplanes. I’m just saying enjoy it for what it’s worth now because the future smells of trouble.”
“I don’t know,” Jamie said, “I kind of always said a guy with kids was a no-no. I don’t really want to be a stepmom. Yuck. Just the sound of the word… stepmom. Sounds bitchy, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah… a little bit,” I said. “Well, whatever. I’ll just see what happens and try not to overthink it. Just go with the flow.”
They accepted my surfer dude philosophy but deep inside I was feeling anything but. My mind was reeling trying to calculate the chances of succeeding in this relationship. And it was also wondering how I would ever integrate Carlos into my life right now. These friends… with their attitudes and approaches to life. How would that all work? Would I just ditch them and become a lady who lunches with Carlos’ ex-wife Lissy??
Time to get my head on straight. With the binge holiday shopping I had done and the week off, I was two and a half grand behind in my monthly budgeting with only two more shifts left til the money orders needed buying and mailing… ugh. Get your game face on, Ana…
“I’m going to get to work guys. I have taken too many days off this month to sit around and gossip,” I said.
“You don’t have any worries,” Angelica said, “I’m sure if you can’t make rent Carlos would sort you out.”
This time I hit back. I had been letting the digs go but seeing as she continued to escalate looking for a response I gave her a simple one, “I would NEVER ask him for money. EVER.”
“Ok, you don’t have to get snarky about it,” she said.
“I just want to make it clear,” I said, “Just because Carlos is rich doesn’t mean I am. It’s a dating situation like any other. Ok?”
Angelica shrugged it all off with laughter as if she had never meant to poke and prod. Then she said she was off to the bathroom.
As soon as she was out of sight, Jamie said, “I think she’s just a bit jealous because she saw Carlos first.”
“What? That’s ridiculous. We were working… it’s not like I stole her boyfriend,” I said.
“I know but like, it’s kind of embarrassing or something that this really perfect, rich guy didn’t want her. You know she’s kind of… what’s the word,” Jamie thought.
“Mercenary?”
“Um… I don’t really know what that means but you know, she’s kind of greedy,’” Jamie said.
“Yeah…
that’s what I was saying, only trying to be a little less direct.”
“She’s just, you know, she isn’t that happy with her guy and she’d probably love it if Daddy Warbucks would sweep her off her feet.”
“But she can’t be any more annoyed because it’s a wealthy dude than if a guy out in the bar hit on me instead of her? So it’s all about money? She wouldn’t be annoyed if Carlos was just a normal guy?”
“Yup, pretty much. Ana, you’ve got to admit that him being rich is part of the draw. I mean… it’s fine. You’re only human.”
Jamie made me doubt all my principles at that moment. I didn’t think it was naturally human to want wealth. I thought that was capitalistic. Humans wanted comfort, health, security… water, food. The basics, right? All I knew was that a conceptual argument with Jamie about the ownership of economic production was not a good idea.
Jamie wrapped it up well, “She’ll have to get over it. Shit happens.”
Then we stood up, she put her arm through mine and we sashayed to the staircase to see what had trickled in off the street. The Club was already heaving. I saw Teddy at the edge of the floor.
“Wow, it’s pretty busy right now,” I said to him.
“Yeah, Patrick (the manager) has two friends getting married this month so these are his customers; should be good spenders since he let them all in for free… already sold $2500 Gold Bucks to the group so there’s definitely some cash floating about.”
Great. Targets assessed and determined. Jamie and I headed into the group that had the energy of a babbling brook. Time to get the party started.
Jamie usually went for the guy most her type. Anybody that was not white was on her radar. I had told Jamie that approaching men she’s attracted to was her biggest hindrance to making more money but she ignored me. It goes without saying that she, even though it wasn’t her preference, still thought the Club was an okay place to meet a mate. I guess my own advice in that area was now to be regarded as controversial.
She found a nice looking guy, early forties of middle-eastern or maybe Indian descent and plopped herself on his lap. I lingered behind her and scanned the group. I needed to make some serious cash tonight. Because it was still early, there weren’t that many other dancers milling about, many of them not ready to pounce feeling that the group still needed to warm up.