by JD Hawkins
I guide the car down a narrow path through the vineyards, and when we round a corner, Jessie gasps as the retreat we’ll be staying at comes into view.
“Pretty nice,” I say, slowing the car down as the path widens into the forecourt.
“Pretty nice?” Jessie exclaims, almost like she’s offended. “This place is gorgeous.”
I don’t say anything – she’s right. Even I’m a little taken aback as I bring the car to a stop in front of it. The building’s three floors are set against the gentle curve of the hill, all red-tiled roofs, sun-faded terracotta, and vines of bougainvillea that coil themselves around columns and dangle from arbors. It looks perfectly cohesive with the nature around it, as if its multiple terraces, balconies, and aged colors sprouted out from the ground as organically as the dense fauna around it.
We step out of the car and grab our bags, a valet running over towards us. I hand him my keys, and he drives my car away like he’s just committed a robbery, leaving us standing there in the awesome presence of the place.
“Shall we, Tessa?”
Jessie turns to look at me in confusion, then quickly smiles when she realizes.
“Sure, booboo.”
“What?”
“Booboo, it’s a pet name. Nothing screams authentic couple like a saccharine and infantile pet name.”
“Sure,” I say, seeing the point but not really liking it. “But ‘booboo’?”
“I’m sure you’d prefer something like ‘big boy’ or ‘studmuffin,’ but I’m not giving you that.”
“Okay, then I should get to call you something.”
“Sure, take your pick,” Jessie says, nonchalantly.
I try to think of all the pet names I could call Jessie, and make the stupid decision to look at her for inspiration. My eyes go straight to the soft curves hiding beneath the thin fabric of her tank top, and suddenly all the things I can think of to call her wouldn’t be suitable outside a sound-proofed bedroom.
“Um…‘cutie’?”
“Aww!” Jessie says, smiling broadly as she presses the warmth of her taut body against me and puts her arm through mine. I feel the sudden, throbbing power in my groin of a man who hasn’t had sex in years, and realize it’s going to take a lot of cold showers to get through this weekend without doing something stupid. Again.
Arm-in-arm, we walk up the steps to the giant porch of the retreat, waving breezy hellos to the people sipping wine on the tables off to the side as if we’re an actual couple here on vacation. Maybe this won’t be so difficult after all.
The second we step through the large, open entrance, the hot aromas of the vineyards give way to the cool atmosphere of luxury. The large hallway feels more like a hippie mansion than a lobby, full of wicker chairs, aged wood furniture, and overgrown potted plants. We step past a few other couples and look for some kind of check-in desk.
“What are we supposed to do?” Jessie leans in and whispers in my ear, the heat of her breath sending a little shiver down my back.
“I don’t really know. This is my first time here, and I guess they’re used to regulars.”
We take a few more steps into the middle of the lobby before I feel a smack on my back like a boulder just dropped on me.
“Nate!” comes the threateningly friendly voice of Robinson. I turn around to face him. “I’ve been waiting for you all morning!”
It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Robinson not dressed like he’s attending a Viennese opera in the eighteenth century, but it’s still one hell of an outfit. As if his loose, cream, linen trousers and his untucked, half-buttoned cotton shirt didn’t complete his ‘turn-of-the-century colonialist’ look, he went and added a safari hat. It works. He looks like Hemingway shaved his beard and lost a few pounds.
“Ah, well it’s my first time finding the place,” I say, as we shake hands with out-of-office vigor.
“Won’t be your last, though,” Robinson winks, before turning his attention to Jessie. “It’s wonderful to see you again, Tessa,” he says, taking her hand so gently for a second I almost feel like he’s about to kiss it.
“Yes,” Jessie replies, with so much composure in her voice it feels like she’s doing an impression. “I’m sorry if I came across a bit curt last time, I was just a little anxious about Nate doing so much running around that day. You know how he’s always trying to do it all.” She punches me fake-affectionately on the bicep and I grit my teeth and smile.
Robinson furrows his brow like a strict schoolmaster.
“That’s no good, Nate. I like a hard worker, but a family emergency is a family emergency, and your loved ones should always come first. Speaking of which.”
Robinson turns around to get somebody’s attention and I use the opportunity to look at Jessie, casting a quick expression at her that says what are you doing? She quickly replies with a shrug that I interpret as you wanted me to schmooze, didn’t you?
“This is my wife, Alexandra,” Robinson says, puffing his chest out with pride as he steps aside to reveal the woman approaching.
Suddenly Robinson’s obsession with ‘loved ones’ makes a whole new level of sense.
To call Alexandra a woman in her fifties would be deceitful fact – she has the kind of ageless, graceful beauty that’s far too remarkable to let a few wrinkles stand in its way. Her outfit stands out just as much as Robinson’s – but for entirely different reasons. With her grey, knee-length dress, tightened around her hour-glass figure by a white belt, she’s straight out of the Jackie Onassis look-book circa sixty-one. Hepburn shades below Bardot hair. On any other woman you would call it a ‘look;’ on her it’s like meeting a Truffaut femme fatale in the flesh.
“A pleasure to meet you,” I say, gently taking her extended hand.
“Likewise,” she replies, in a silk-wrapped voice, before turning to Jessie. “Welcome.”
“Well,” Robinson says, clapping his hands and waking me out of Alexandra’s spell, “I’m sure you’re tired, and want to get acquainted with the place.” He gestures to a nearby porter. “We’ll be having dinner by the pool tonight – should be a rather interesting affair, I’ve got quite a few people to introduce you to.”
“Thank you very much for having us,” Jessie says through a home-baked, wholegrain smile. She pushes herself up against me, arm around my waist, head pressed against my shoulder. I know it’s meant to show us off as the clean-cut happy couple, but the fact I can feel the softness of her breast against my chest makes my thoughts anything but clean.
Robinson grins widely at her, impressed and delighted.
“The pleasure’s mine. See you this evening.”
After the four of us nod gracious farewells, Robinson and Alexandra walk away. Jessie and I exchange a quick sigh and allow the porter to take our bags and lead us between the paintings and pottery that adorn every corner of the retreat.
“That was pretty good, Jess- Tessa. I think Robinson liked you. Keep it up.”
Jessie frowns at me.
“What did you expect me to do? Tell him a dirty joke or something?”
“No! You weren’t going to, were you?”
“Jesus! How clueless do you think I am, Nate? Just because I goof around with you doesn’t mean I’m a complete clown.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry.”
Jessie smiles her forgiveness. “Besides, if you want to worry about coming across maturely, you might want to stop giving your boss’s wife the ‘eyes.’”
“I wasn’t giving her the eyes.”
“Ha! You definitely were. You were smoldering at her.”
“Smoldering? I wasn’t smoldering.”
“You do it every time you find someone attractive. You can’t help it.”
I stop dead in my tracks, and run a hand across my eyes in bemusement, before starting to walk again.
“What the hell does that even mean? I wouldn’t even know how to ‘smolder’!”
“Sure you do,” Jessie says, enjoying my confusion. �
��You lower your head a bit…narrow your eyes…press your lips together to get all those lines in your jaw working. Like this,” she says, casting her version of it in my direction.
“Whoa! I do not do that.”
Jessie’s laughing so much now she can barely get words out. “You do, Nate. It’s like you’re auditioning for a cologne ad. You’ve done that look for as long as I’ve known you.”
“Your room,” the porter says, interrupting politely as he gestures to the door.
After staring doubtingly at Jessie’s broad smile for another second I wave the conversation away and step through the door.
“Oh my God,” Jessie gasps.
The place is even nicer than our expectations. Light, wood-paneled walls and flooring, accented with the big white puffiness of the couch cushions and bed, all of it accented by the soft, pale gold sunlight that pours in from the large balcony alongside the room. All of it looks almost too perfect, too clean and wonderful to actually use.
“I guess this is what the hotel rooms in heaven look like.”
“I know, right?” Jessie says through an awe-struck smile.
“Will that be all?” the porter asks behind us.
“Oh, yes. Thank you very much,” Jessie replies. “Wait. What’s your name?”
A flash of surprise appears on the porter’s face.
“Me? Um…Jason.”
“I’m Tessa. This is Nate.”
The porter glances at me, then back at Jessie, before nodding awkwardly. I turn to look at Jessie, a weird sense of jealousy tightening my glare at the slightly lingering look between the two of them.
“Nice to meet you,” Jason says, forcing a feeble smile.
“You too,” Jessie says, as he turns away. She looks at me and notices my ever-so-slightly jealous gaze. “What?” she says, shrugging. “The guy wheeled our bags here, the least you can do is know his name.”
“I’m not complaining. I think it’s very cool.”
She moves across the room, and I completely forget about the interior decorating – no room in the world could distract me from a body like hers. The athleticism and sexiness of her movements, the pleasing way the fabric of her top stretches over her breasts. Somewhere inside of me a beast roars, a volcano rumbles. I feel a hunger that goes way deeper than the desire to bite and suck on her lips. My hands itch at the prospect of tracing the lines of her lower back, my body edgy with the need to press her tight against me.
“There’s only one bed,” I say, pretending that I’m not keenly focused on Jessie’s reaction.
“That’s cool,” she says, still gazing around the room like it’s a museum. “I can sleep on the couch.”
Before I can tell her I don’t mind sharing she walks out onto the balcony, the open air seeming to highlight every cock-pulling curve, every blood-warming movement of her body. She leans over the railing, her ass rolling backward, and I almost start panting. My imagination runs wild as I visualize myself moving towards her, towards it. Cupping her ass in my hands, pressing the unbearable sweetness of her rear against me, taking my time as I run my hands up her top and lean in to—
“Oh my God, Nate! You have to check out this view! Nate? Are you okay?”
“Uh…yeah,” I mumble, as she reenters the room. “Just feeling a little hot.”
I slide off my jacket and toss it to the side as I go to my bag, forcing myself not to look at her.
“Really? I think it’s really nice and cool in here. Should I turn on the a/c?”
“Maybe I just need a drink.”
“I’m sure they have a well-stocked bar downstairs. Ooh! And fancy cocktails!”
Her excitement is contagious in a way that makes me wanna take her in my arms and give her something else to squeal about, so I force myself to look away. “I would think so.”
“Awesome. Let’s go before dinner. I’ll go take a shower now.”
Does she realize what she’s doing to me?
“Sure. I’ll take one after you.”
I carry on pretending to unpack my bag as she grabs a change of clothes and goes into the bathroom, oohing and ahhing from inside, until she eventually closes the door.
I let out a long, slow breath, suddenly realizing how tense my muscles are. This is going to be harder than I imagined. What the hell is happening to me? It’s Jessie, for fuck’s sake. I grew up with her, she’s one of the few people I can actually call a friend, and yet here I am feeling full of a fire that only she can put out.
Without realizing, I start pacing around the room, shaking my arms and rolling my neck to get rid of the tense desire I’m feeling.
It’s just time, that’s all. That has to be it. It’s been four days since I slept with a woman – it’s not a record, but it’s bordering on one. Being here, having to go through the façade of pretending she’s my girlfriend – I just need to relieve some stress.
Suddenly I hear the shower turn on, and amid the rush of water hear the shower door slide closed, slightly muffling the hiss. Now all I’m thinking about is the hot streams running down Jessie’s body. How she might be rolling her fingers down her neck, around her breasts. My own hand finds its way down to the waistband of my jeans, the excruciating hardness inside. I think of how she’ll arch her back and raise her head like she’s moaning, her fingers following the flow of water down her front to the suppleness of her inner thighs—
Fuck! I move away from the bathroom door, far enough that she won’t be able to hear me if I keep my voice low enough, tearing apart my shirt so quickly a button pops, then pulling my phone from my pocket. I angle the camera towards my abs, and press record.
This is gonna be a weird one - one I bet you never thought I’d make. Tonight I wanna talk about not fucking, about holding back, about restraint. Keeping all of your urges in check even when there’s someone so absurdly hot, so extremely, unbelievably, exceptionally fucking beautiful that you feel like exploding just knowing they’re nearby…
8
Nate
After a long, cold shower (and a little self-relief) I’m just about able to control myself around Jessie again. Helped a little by the fact that she’s wearing a loose-fitting, light-blue knee-length skirt that’s just a little short of devastating if I look at her head-on…though her thin-strapped yellow top still outlines enough of her teardrop breasts to magnetize my line of sight.
“You ready?” she says, stepping out of the bathroom.
I look up from my phone.
“Very nice. You hiding a hairdresser in there?”
“Shut up.”
“I mean it,” I say sincerely. Her hair falls about her face in thick, black waves, lending her looks a little of the exotic.
“Well…thank you.”
I stand up and offer Jessie my arm.
“Shall we?”
“Sure, booboo,” she smiles, linking her arm with mine.
After wandering around the retreat for a while, we finally find the bar by moving towards the noisiest, busiest part – it turns out we’re not the only ones seeking a pre-dinner cocktail. There are around thirty people, though the area is so spacious it doesn’t seem as much. Most of them are casually milling around the bar, or moving between those sitting cross-legged on lounge chairs, glasses held loosely in hand.
“Do you recognize anyone here?” Jessie asks, leaning towards me.
“A couple of faces. Clients…competitors.”
“Wait, is that Michael Stross?”
I turn to cast a surprised look at Jessie. “How do you know him?”
Now it’s Jessie who’s registering surprise. “Don’t you remember that summer the three of us went to all the midnight showings of his cheesy sci-fi flicks? They had a marathon. We saw all of them twice.”
The memory comes to me quickly. “Oh yeah. Good times.”
We stroll towards the bar, exchanging a few nods to the strangers who notice us – possibly more than most due to the fact that we seem to be the youngest people there. After orde
ring our drinks – a single malt for me and a colorful concoction for Jessie after she asks the barman to ‘surprise’ her – we raise them towards each other, and take a sip.
Before I can even ask how Jessie’s drink tastes, the sound of laughter and chatter enters the room, followed by a group of about a dozen men and women, with Robinson at the forefront. Like a squadron of birds they quickly form around us at the bar, to the sound of alpha-male jokes and sassy female ripostes rapidly firing. We find ourselves next to Robinson and Alexandra, and adjust our position to face them.
“Nate! Just the guy I want to see!” Robinson booms even more loudly than usual. “Here, let me give you a quick guide to these rascals.”
“Arthur,” Alexandra says in a voice so droll and slinky it’s like her lips are next to my ear, “isn’t it a little early to start talking business?”
“It’s Nate’s first time! The quicker he starts learning some names, the quicker he can start pulling those moves he’s gained a reputation for.”
Alexandra rolls her eyes and smiles wryly, and I already know the gesture’s going to be planted in my memory for a long time.
“Well, if you insist, then I’m going to take my drink to the pool.” She shifts her feet as if to go, then smiles at Jessie. “Unless you enjoy watching men perform rituals only a little less primal than apes, I suggest you join me.”
Jessie laughs and picks up her drink. “Sure. Anthropology was never my best subject.”
Before she follows the swaying frame of Alexandra, she places a gentle hand on my shoulder, and plants a kiss on my cheek. For the next two minutes, well after she’s left, the feeling of her lips against my cheek, a lock of her hair brushing against my brow, lingers like a sweet bruise. Robinson carries on talking, pulling a couple of the men beside him into the conversation, and I somehow go through the motions of shaking their hands, smiling, replying. But all I can think about is Jessie’s lips, so close to mine.