by Sophie Lark
Marco changed into his own swimsuit—a pair of tight European briefs that left little to the imagination. He grinned at Anika when he caught her eyes lingering over his taut brown stomach. He took her hand again as they walked across the powder-soft sand to the ocean.
It had been years since Anika had been snorkeling, but luckily it came back quickly once she donned her fins and mask and slipped beneath the water. She remembered at once how it was like dropping into a completely separate world—cool, dim, quiet, with a slower sense of time and movement.
Marco swam confidently out into the open water toward the reef, beckoning for Anika to follow. He was an excellent swimmer. He had told her that spent summers at his grandfather’s house on the ocean. Anika was not particularly practiced at swimming, but many of the same muscles used for running were applicable here, and she kicked her legs hard to follow him.
The water deepened quickly, the sandy ocean floor dropping in and out of sight beneath them. The farther they swam, the more fish began to cluster around them. A few of the more common types Anika recognized: angelfish, blue tangs, triggerfish. Others were a mystery to her.
She wondered if any were similar to what Marco would have seen off the coast of Italy. But there was no talking under the water—it was more like dancing together once more, following each other’s movements as they avoided long strands of kelp, or dived down to take a closer look at a patch of brilliant coral.
Marco grabbed her arm, turning her around to see a large sea turtle floating behind them. It was massive, the biggest Anika had ever seen. It was so incredibly graceful under the water, nothing at all like its progress on land. It flapped its huge, paddle-like fins, stroking through the water faster than she and Marco could follow. They trailed it anyway, its dappled green shell utterly beautiful in the cool blue light. It looked majestic, ageless—this was its world, they were only visitors. It bobbed its head up through the surface to take a breath, then dove down deep again.
When they reached the reef at last, they found themselves surrounded by hundreds of fish, crabs, even a few eels. At one point, while Marco was trying to coax a rock lobster out of its den, a massive ray swam beneath Anika’s feet, so close that her dangling toes almost skimmed its back. It was gone before she could point it out to Marco.
They didn’t see any sharks, thankfully. Anika knew that many of her friends had dived with sharks, and that reef sharks in particular weren’t supposed to pose a threat, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to be so nonchalant.
They swam for almost three hours. When they finally paddled back to the beach and dragged themselves out of the water, Anika was ravenous. It was late afternoon now. Marco suggested that they return to the hotel to shower and change, then head out for dinner.
Marco drove them back to an absolutely gorgeous resort. The verdant roadways and gardens alone, leading up to the elegant old building, would have been worth the flight.
They were welcomed at the door by a host of friendly porters dressed in impeccable white uniforms. A young man took their car, and a young woman directed them to the front desk to check in. When Marco gave his name, they were shown to their suite without delay.
Anika opened the door to their room with some nervousness. She realized that she had made a sort of tacit agreement by getting on the plane with Marco, yet somehow, she still dreaded the sight of single king-sized bed and what that would imply. But as an attendant showed them around the suite, she saw that Marco, like a gentleman, had booked a place with two separate rooms, two bathrooms, and a large living area. There was also a deck with its own soaking tub and outdoor shower, and a small private garden complete with a hammock and two lounge chairs.
Relieved, Anika retired to her own room to shower and change clothes. Her suitcase was already waiting for her on the bed—the attendants must have sprinted to bring it up in the few moments it took to check in. She unzipped it to lay out the clothes that Hannah had selected.
Hannah really had thought of everything. Anika found swimsuits, several sets of underwear, a few outfits in appropriately breezy and lightweight fabrics, a set of cotton pajamas, and two lovely evening dresses. One was made of a white, gauzy, floaty sort of material, the other of a thin green silk with a botanical print. Anika laid out the latter and headed for the shower.
Once she had washed off all the ocean salt, she dried off and slipped into the dress. It was one-shouldered, fitted at the waist and loosely flowing around the legs, with a slit on one side. The rich emerald color looked lovely against her skin now that she had gotten a little color from an afternoon in the Aruba sun. She didn’t have to do much to her hair—it had waved up nicely from the humidity. But she did apply some makeup, even going so far as to line her eyes with a smoky kohl.
Marco was waiting in the living area, already dressed in gray slacks and a white linen shirt. He didn’t seem bothered in the least by the heat—he was probably used to it.
“You look absolutely stunning,” he said.
“Thanks,” Anika said.
She felt oddly shy around him. They had been alone before, a few times now, but generally in public places like restaurants, galleries, and so forth.
Marco seemed to sense her nervousness. He gave her space, let her get her bearings in the lovely, airy room which smelled of honeysuckle and freesia.
He took her for dinner at a little restaurant right on the water. She could see the waves crashing on the dark, empty beach from their table. They ate under the golden light of dozens of tiny lanterns strung over their heads. The waiter brought fresh lobster and crab legs, grilled grouper, and a decadent chocolate mousse for dessert.
Marco talked about some of the best museums he had visited, his favorite works of art that one had to see in person to appreciate. Anika was no philistine—she had been to the Musée d’Orsay and the Louvre, The Prado, the Rijksmuseum and the Vasa, the British museum and even the Galleria dell’Accademia in Florence, which Marco of course held in particular regard. She was quite ready to debate him when he tried to place Michelangelo above Rodin in the pantheon of sculptors, or when he denigrated the Dutch masters as rigid and gloomy.
Anika could have happily stayed on this subject for hours, but she did notice that when she made a passing comment in relation to Bennet Knight (“My father has some Warhols outside his office, I’m sure you’ve seen them), Marco quickly steered the conversation away again. She didn’t mind if he wanted to make this a true vacation, with no talk of work, but she did feel a slight discomfort in the way that Marco seemed to be erecting a wall around which she wasn’t supposed to see.
In her first and most formative relationship with James, their bond had been characterized by complete openness. There was nothing they couldn’t say to one another. To her, love had always meant a full and complete knowledge of the other person. And though she found herself charmed by Marco, there were moments when she perceived distance between them that made her wonder if she could really fully love him.
“What are you thinking about?” Marco asked her, as she grew quiet.
“Nothing!” Anika said, shaking her head. “I was just thinking how beautiful it is here.”
Now that it was a little cooler, the breeze blowing off the water felt like a caressing hand against her skin. She could see the stars over the dark water, the strings of lights around the palm trees on the beach.
Marco placed his hand over hers and looked into her eyes.
“In New York, I thought that you made the city look dingy by comparison to yourself. But now that we’re here, I realize that no place I take you could possibly compare to you, Anika.”
She flushed and looked down at the linen tablecloth. She didn’t quite know how to respond.
“Thank you,” she said, “for bringing me.”
Marco lifted her hand and pressed it gently to his lips.
“I want to take you all over the world. I think I’m falling in love with you, Anika.”
“Marco! Be serious.”
“I’ve never been more serious. I told you, I came to New York to make a new life for myself. To become the man I wanted to be. I had already begun that change, and then when I met you, I realized that you were the perfect partner for that man. You’re intelligent, you’re kind, and most of all, you have integrity. You’ve lived in the same world that I have, with the same people—the sort of circumstances that try to make you shallow and vapid and obsessed with everything material and empty. But none of it has a hold on you. You float above it like an angel.”
“I’m not perfect,” Anika said. “Don’t put me on a pedestal.”
“I don’t,” Marco said. “I won’t. But you are perfect, Anika, perfect for me.”
He leaned across the table again to press his full lips against hers. They were warm and slightly salty from the ocean air.
He took her back to their suite. As soon as he opened the door, she could see that he had made arrangements in their absence. Candles were lit all around, soft music played. The doors to the balcony were open to let in the starlight and the ocean breeze.
Anika walked toward the balcony to see if there was any moon, but before she had taken more than a step or two, Marco put his hands on her shoulders and turned her around.
“I’ve been waiting for this for too long,” he said.
He kissed her again, harder than he had at the restaurant. He pushed her tongue between her lips, wrapping his hand in her hair so he could tilt her head back. He trailed his lips down the length of her long, slender throat and back up to her mouth again, crushing her against his body.
With his other hand, the one not wrapped tight in her hair, he pulled at the single strap of her dress. The material tore, and the bodice of the dress fell down to her waist, leaving her breasts bare.
“The dress...” Anika gasped.
“I’ll buy you a hundred more,” Marco said fiercely.
He cupped her breasts in his hands, and Anika couldn’t help moaning. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for this, but on the other hand, it had been too long since she’d been with anyone. Every place he touched her was on fire, and her heart was racing like mad. Though her mind wasn’t certain, her body wanted it badly.
Marco dropped down to his knees in front of her. He grabbed the skirt of her dress of either side of the slit and tore upwards. The thin silk parted easily, splitting all the way up to her waist. Pulling her panties to the side, Marco put his face between her legs.
Anika cried out, and her legs buckled.
With her thighs over his shoulders, Marco picked her up easily and carried her to his bed. He dropped her on top of the covers and knelt between her legs again. Within minutes he had brought her to climax, Anika crying out so loudly she was sure they would hear her halfway across the hotel. She didn’t know if it was his cosmopolitan upbringing, or simply the number of women Marco had been with, but he certainly knew what he was doing.
Without giving her a moment to recover, Marco unfastened of his pants and climbed on top of her. Ferociously kissing her, he thrust inside of her. She was still so sensitive that she could barely stand it, but Marco seemed determined to take her through every position in the Kama Sutra.
He was a skillful lover, determined to tease every ounce of pleasure out of her body. And he was handsome, his dark wavy hair loose around his face, and his richly tanned skin gleaming in the candlelight.
But it was strange, Anika almost felt as if she were watching herself be ravaged on the bed from a distance. She knew Marco was attractive, and she knew he was making her body feel good, but she never quite lost herself in the moment.
This was a problem she had experienced before, with the other lovers she’d had since James. She knew it wasn’t fair to compare men to each other. Especially not when she was comparing them to her first love. Probably she was idealizing her experiences with James – sex couldn’t possibly be as all-encompassing, as transcendent as she remembered it.
It wasn’t fair to expect that of anyone.
Still, as Marco pulled her on top of him, Anika couldn’t help closing her eyes and remembering a different day, a long time ago.
It was winter. She had stayed on campus over Thanksgiving break, because Bennet and Stella had gone to Morocco, and she didn’t want to join them. The dorms had been mostly empty. The heat had gone out on her floor.
She’d thought about staying in a hotel instead, but she didn’t want to pack up all her textbooks. So she just wrapped herself up in a blanket with a pair of fingerless gloves on her hands, so she could still turn the pages of her biology book.
James had gone home to see his family. He had invited her to join him, and she soon wished that she’d tagged along – it was lonely in the empty dorms. But she really did have a lot of work to do.
Immersed in the paragraph she was reading, she was startled by a tap on the window. She knew at once that it had to be James. He often scaled the fire escape instead of waiting to be buzzed in.
She saw his face, red with cold and grinning on the other side of the glass.
She was so surprised and happy that she could hardly speak. She’d pushed open the window to let him inside. It was horrible weather out, the snow blowing in onto her bed. James was half frozen.
“What are you doing here?” she’d cried,
He shrugged.
‘I just missed you too much.”
She’d stripped off his coat, which was stiff with sleet. Soon they were stripping off all their clothes, kissing and touching every inch of each other. And Anika had climbed on top of him. She’d forgotten to close the window. The snow drifted in, settling on her bare skin. But there was so much heat between her and James that they didn’t even notice it.
It was the worst possible circumstances. A dank, ugly dorm room. A narrow, hard bed. The wind howling and snow blowing in the window.
Contrast that to a gorgeous hotel suite in Aruba, with a soft sea breeze and elegant candlelight.
It shouldn’t have been difficult for Anika to stay in the present. To focus on the handsome man in her bed.
Yet she kept closing her eyes, allowing herself to drift back to another time and place.
And that’s what she was thinking about when the next climax rolled over her, as powerful and relentless as a November storm in New York. She was thinking about a different man underneath of her, a different set of hands locked tight around her waist.
And then she was back to Aruba again. Marco was tensing and shuddering beneath her, his hands gripping her hips. He groaned, and released her.
Anika lay next to him in the luxurious bed, their heads on down pillows, their bodies wrapped in twelve-hundred thread-count sheets.
“God, that was incredible,” Marco said.
“Yes,” Anika agreed.
She tried not to think about dorm rooms and snowflakes melting on hot flesh.
She tried to focus on the sea breeze blowing in from the balcony, and the handsome man lying next to her.
Eventually, if she kept trying, she would have to forgot.
Those memories couldn’t torment her forever.
14
The next morning, Anika awoke to a gentle tap on the door. A waiter was delivering the coffee, fruit, and pastries Marco had ordered the night before. Anika put on a robe to open the door for him, and when she returned to the bedroom, she saw that Marco had done the same.
“Good morning,” he said, kissing her gently on the cheek.
Anika felt slightly shy as they seated themselves at the outdoor table where the waiter had arranged the various plates, carafes, and cups on a fresh white cloth. Marco didn’t show any discomfort whatsoever—he looked perfectly happy and satisfied. And he didn’t seem to feel any need to discuss what had happened between them.
“Today I wanted to take you to a place I found a long time ago,” he said. “Are you up for a little hike?”
“Of course,” Anika said, sipping her coffee.
They showered in their separate room
s, and Anika dressed in a loose sleeveless top and shorts selected by Hannah, along with a pair of canvas sneakers. They weren’t proper hiking shoes, but Marco had said the path wasn’t too difficult.
He drove her to the east end of the island where they parked next to a trail marked only by a weathered wooden stake.
“Are you sure this is it?” Anika asked, as they began to ascend the faintly worn pathway.
“Definitely,” Marco said. “I came here many times, I wouldn’t forget it.”
It was only a mile or two as he had said, without much elevation gain. Anika wondered if it was entirely safe to be out in a tropical forest alone, but Marco had been here before, by himself and only a teenager at the time. She began to hear their destination long before they came to it. Once they reached the end of the trail, she was glad she had followed him.
They were at the base of a waterfall—not particularly tall, but pure white in color, falling in a single smooth swoop down the rock face into a deep green pool. The pool was surrounded on three sides with steep black stone, covered over in places by mats of velvety moss.
Aside from the roar of the water, the pool was utterly silent and private. Toward the edges, away from the turbulence at the base of the fall, the water lay smooth as glass.
“Come get in,” Marco said, stripping off his clothes.
Assuming they would go to the beach again at some point, Anika had worn her swimsuit beneath her clothes. She undressed, following Marco to the edge of the rocks. It was some distance down to the water, too far to slide in comfortably.
“How do we get in?” she asked.
“You can dive—it’s as deep as a well, no rocks underneath.”
Marco demonstrating, executing a clean swan dive into the water. Anika plunged in after him. It was cold, colder than the ocean had been the day before. Under the water, Marco pulled her into his arms, kissing her. As they surfaced, he continued to kiss her, pulling at the knot of her bikini top. He undid the string, throwing the top out of the pool, up onto the rocks.