by Nina Strych
Amy seemed surprised. “Movies? Why?”
Mike felt very uncomfortable talking about any client, but this one also made him sad. “Her husband got injured in the war.” He tapped his head to indicate where. “They used to go see scifi movies and then to a diner to talk about it. He can’t do that anymore. She’s not crazy. I don’t have to pretend I’m him or anything like that. I think she just misses that time with him. She hugs me when we’re done and that’s pretty much it.”
“That’s so sad,” Amy said, her eyes shining. “How horrible.”
He nodded, “That’s the sort of thing that escorts really do more often than not. A lot of them call for sex, yes, but a lot of them don’t. It’s not like you see on TV.”
“But you still have sex with women for money,” she said.
“I do. No, I did. Not anymore.”
“You’re going to quit, just like that? You can’t do that. That’s your job, how you pay your bills. I can’t be responsible for that,” Amy said, letting go of his hands.
Mike leaned forward and took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him. “I can do that and you’re not responsible…well, you are, but not that way.” He smiled and kissed her lightly on the lips. “I’ll go back to grafting rootstock and tending trees. The pay sucks, but it’s honest work. I’ll figure out the rest.”
How he would figure out the rest remained to be seen. It wasn’t just the land that needed to be paid for, there were the taxes too. And it wasn’t like he could just go and replant trees and be in the black. There were no producing trees left. He’d planted some, but he was installing root drip systems as he did, and that was expensive. He was years away from harvesting a salable crop. And since he wasn’t there to tend the trees, he couldn’t plant more. The part time man who came and tended the young trees was more than he could afford as it was.
But he would figure it out. Even if he had to sell, he would. It was hard to go back there and see the scorched blocks that were all that was left of the house he grew up in, to know what had happened there while he was camping with friends and having too much beer up north. His parents were gone and he was the last living co-owner, which made it his responsibility, but it didn’t mean he was chained to it forever.
The land was changing there, the long drought easing some, but sure to come again. Eventually, all the tree farmers there would have to start making decisions. Already groves were being bulldozed and planted in drought tolerant native plants. If this meant it was time for him to sell, then maybe it was simply for the best.
It would hurt though. No question.
It would also hurt to lose Amy and she wasn’t a tree that could be replanted with a new one. She was unique, a one-shot deal. She was worth it. His parents had loved to tell the story of how they met and that each had known the other was meant for them from the first hand-shake at a county agricultural fair.
Mike believed in love at first sight because his parents were examples of how lasting that could be. He just never thought it would happen to him. And it hadn’t…not really…because this wasn’t love yet, but it was going that direction and it was going there fast.
Totally worth it.
He waited for her answer, for her to decide, trying to keep calm and simply let her think. She gazed out to sea for a while, her hands in the sand and her fingers churning the fine grains as she thought. At last, she whipped off her shirt and tossed it down to the sand. She wiggled out of her shorts and then stood, pulling the butt of her swimsuit down with a snap.
She held out her hand to him and said, “Well, if we’re both jobless vagabonds now, then we should probably practice being beach bums.”
It was the best thing she could have possibly said to him.
Twenty-Four
Amy’s head had cleared by the time they made their way over the beach toward the hotel. Lunch was well underway and her stomach was growling after a morning of swimming and playing in the surf. It seemed so easy when she was out there, but there was a lot of physical effort involved in staying upright in a moving ocean.
Mike pressed his free hand to his washboard stomach as they walked and said, “My stomach is sucking in on my backbone, I’m so hungry.”
“Ditto,” she agreed. “I could eat a horse. Well, not literally.”
He laughed and tugged her closer, making their hips bump as she swerved his way. He let go of her hand only so that he could slide his arm around her waist and kiss the top of her head. She felt good like this, natural and at ease. When had that happened? When had that tense woman who was always thinking about everything been replaced by this?
It was good, though. Really good.
They ate far more than it seemed like they should, but the day attendant at the podium merely winked at them when they surfed the buffet for a second plate. She liked him for that.
As Mike finished the last bite of food on his plate, he sighed and patted his belly, leaning back in the chair like an old man who just had his fill. She laughed and said, “Me too.”
He grinned, then wiggled a little in his seat and said, “I’ve got sand in places that should not have sand.”
“Again, me too,” she said, laughing harder.
He looked around, then said, “Want to head up to my room? Shower only, I promise.” Then he wagged his eyebrows at her and added, “Unless you’re up for something more, that is.”
“If you keep this up, I’ll be walking like a cowboy.” She emphasized the comment by sticking her elbows out and rolling in her seat in an excellent imitation.
“Gotcha,” he said, and rose from his seat, quickly stepping over so he could pull her chair for her.
His room was nice. Not like the cottage, but very spacious and cleanly tropical. A yoga mat emblazoned with the resort’s name was rolled out on the floor and clothes were scattered on the bed. He swept up the mess of t-shirts and said, “I had a little trouble deciding what to wear.”
Pointing at the mat, she asked, “You like yoga?”
He nodded, rolling the edge of the mat up with his foot like someone who did that a lot. “I do. I’m very bad at it though. Any time I go to classes, they’re always correcting something. But, I like it anyway.”
He bustled about, pulling out another pair of those delightfully normal underwear and a pair of shorts. From the pile of tees, he pulled out an aqua green one. Amy plopped onto the bed and watched him as he did his thing. His dark hair was a hot mess after their swim, the slight waves disobedient with only the wind to dry them. It looked fantastic on him.
Turning on the shower, he popped back out of the bathroom and tossed his shirt at her. She caught it and then sucked in a sharp breath when he yanked down his shorts and swimsuit in one motion, kicking them aside. Even as she let her eyes travel the length of his body, his cock bounced a little as it came to life.
He put a hand over it, pushing it down and said, “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”
Oh, she wanted to change her mind alright, but the irritating sand in her swimsuit made it clear that she wouldn’t enjoy the friction at the moment. Even so, she got up and dropped the shirt, pushing away his hand so she could cup him the way he’d done her. He was warm and growing hard under her palm, the force of it pushing her hand away from him.
“Maybe later,” she said and squeezed a little. Then she let him go and smacked his ass with a sharp noise.
He eeped and jumped an inch, then grinned at her and grabbed her butt, pulling her to him tightly, pressing her against his length. He leaned down to bite her ear and said, “Aren’t we frisky? I might just have to make you pay for that later.”
She shivered and waved her hands like she was trying to surface from deep water. “Good grief. Go bathe! You’re killing me over here.”
His chuckle was low and very full of promise, but he let her go and asked, “You sure you don’t want to come in with me? I’ll be good. I’ll just wash you really, really well.”
“Nah. I don’t want to put
on sandy clothes again.” She looked at the clock on the bedside table and said, “And we’ve got to hustle if we’re going to see the ruins before it gets dark.”
They’d heard about some ruins of an old sugar mill that didn’t require a lot of hiking to get to. She could probably do something easy wearing just sneakers, but her feet were still bruised and sore, so this seemed ideal.
That said, it wasn’t well lit and they needed to be in and out before dark began to fall, and it was already past one. The days here in the tropics weren’t actually very long, more like spring back in North Carolina. It seemed odd, but it made sense when she considered how much closer they were to the equator where the day and night cycle was more equal.
Mike hummed as he showered and Amy did her best not to look too closely at his things. Of course she was curious, but she was also respectful of his privacy. His phone gave a low buzz, and then sounded out a “doomsday” tune like in the horror movies right before something hideous happened. She scrambled across the bed and grabbed it, hopping up to bring it to him when she saw the identity assigned to the number.
Work. That was all it said, but it was enough. She swallowed and stepped into the bathroom, holding out the phone, “Your phone is ringing.”
His head popped out of the shower, his hair full of shampoo suds. He frowned when he heard the tone. Taking the phone, he stabbed the button and then stepped out of the shower, putting a sudsy hand on her forearm to stop her when she tried to leave and give him privacy.
Holding up a finger for her to wait, he said, “Hello.”
He had it on speaker, so Amy pressed her lips together and crossed her arms. She did not want to hear whatever was going to happen next.
“Hey Blake, this is Missy. I’ve got two things for you. First, how is everything going? You didn’t check in yesterday.”
Amy felt her face flush at the idea of him checking in each day while he was with her. What did he say when he did?
“I’m fine,” he said, then quickly broke in when the girl on the line started to speak again. “I’m really fine and I’m also quitting. So, I quit.”
There was silence on the line for a long moment, then Missy asked, “Is everything really okay?”
“Absolutely,” he said. “I’m just quitting.”
Again, there was silence for a moment, then she said, “Ah, okay. I…uh…are you quitting right this minute?”
“I am,” Mike said, standing there and dripping water and shampoo all over the bathroom rug. It was actually really cute and Amy wanted to give a fist pump and start high fiving him.
“That’s too bad. I actually just got you a tentative booking right there at the resort. New client from Virginia who’s there. So weird, but she said she met you and wanted to book you. I thought you must have given her our number or something.”
Mike eyes widened and he stared at Amy. Holy fuck.
She mouthed, “That woman!”
He nodded at her, horrified. His lips pursed and his whole body tensed. “No. She’s a frigging drunk and I have no idea how she found out where I worked…or even that I worked. If she did this, then she’s scary too. She’s been stalking me around the place and embarrassing my client.”
Missy drew in a breath so loud that Amy could hear it over the phone. “Woah, not good. I’ll blackball her and tell her no. Is she why you’re quitting?”
“No, not really. It’s complicated.” He paused, looking at Amy like he had an idea, then said, “But you need to refund my client. This sort of crap is unacceptable.”
“Uh, well,” Missy started then trailed off.
“Okay, just refund her my portion then. It’s not cool. Gives us a bad rep.”
“If you’re sure?”
“I am. Gotta go. Take me off the books.”
“I will,” Missy said, her voice hesitant. “Whatever it is, I hope it’s a good thing.”
He smiled at Amy and said, “It is.”
Handing her the now soapy phone, he grew serious again, which was a hard thing for a man covered in shampoo to pull off believably. “I can’t believe this.”
Amy frowned and said, “Oh, I can.”
“How did she even figure it out? I mean, we’re a thousand miles away. How would she even know where to look?”
Amy shook her head, trying to imagine what she would do if she was intent on finding someone like that. “Well, we’re registered under our real names and my address in Raleigh is on the reservations. How many agencies…uh…you know, your kind of agencies…are there in the area?”
Mike smacked his forehead, slinging shampoo onto the shower curtain behind him. “One.”
“One?”
He nodded and said, “All the rest are women escorts only. And we service a big area, out-call to several states actually. The next big one is northern Virginia. There are plenty of guys in those creepy personal ad sites, but I don’t know anyone who uses those. Too dangerous.”
“So, it’s not such a stretch then,” Amy said. How vindictive do you have to be to do something like that? She actually felt sorry for the woman. And after hearing that fight on the beach that night, she now understood exactly who had been fighting and why. It was sad.
“But she actually tried to book me. That’s freaking weird, don’t you think? I mean, I made it very clear I was here with my girlfriend.”
Amy loved hearing him say it like that, like it was a given, a known bond between them. It might not be true yet, but she felt it coming. This thing between them was like the tide coming in: inevitable.
She thought back to that post-lunch lunch a few days ago. The woman had watched him—wine glass in hand, of course—and then watched them meet (again) at her table, him asking if he could sit, her trying to shake his hand, the little salute with the wine glass.
“I’m sure half the people on the patio knew we didn’t know each other that first day. She certainly knew it. That’s not girlfriend-boyfriend behavior,” Amy said.
The shampoo had started to dry on him and he scratched his arm. Amy waved him back into the shower and said, “Go, rinse. We have to go. Let’s just not think about it right now.”
She enjoyed the view of his ass flexing as he hopped back into the shower, then sighed and went back to flop out on his bed. The best they could do for now was simply avoid that woman. She might even be crazy. It was possible.
Maybe Amy could find another hotel? Rent a house? It’s not like either one of them needed to go back now. Or maybe he did. Amy still had no idea why he’d become an escort, only that he had figured out exactly how much longer he had to do it before he went home…wherever that was.
There was still so much to learn about him. But she had a feeling it would be very fun to get those lessons.
Twenty-Five
The ruins were interesting, in great shape and easy to get around in. It wasn’t a temple in Athens, but it was interesting and he was glad they saw them. The scenery was even better though and they stopped along the drive to watch as the sky changed color with the oncoming sunset.
It wasn’t a hard decision to make when they agreed to stay in her cottage for the night, at most going for a nighttime walk along the beach. Not that Mike wanted to get further from the bed than the bathroom. Now that the hunger in them had been fed, he was hungrier for her body than before.
Still, he tried to be good. Amy needed to eat—to keep up the energy that he fully intended on her using all night long—and he wanted to spend time talking to her too. The room service was excellent, but Mike felt even weirder about accepting her paying for things. The truth was, he simply couldn’t afford to be on this island.
She waved his concerns away and said, “What? Are you going to get chips from the nearest gas station? I dragged you here, I can feed you.”
“Then let’s at least get rid of my room. Will they let you do that?”
Amy leaned back against the window at that—they were eating on the seats that looked out onto the beach. She licked the but
ter off her fingers from the lobster rolls and said, “Probably, but who knows. This place is packed like nobody’s business this time of year. I’m pretty sure I bribed someone to get that room. I think they keep a few back for things like that.”
He coughed into his hand, bits of seafood flying out. “You bribed someone?”
“I’m not entirely sure, but I think so. It’s all very mysterious how things work. I’ve never bullied my way into a resort before. My usual accommodations are more Holiday Inn…the express ones.”
He winced at that, wondering if she’d just blown her life savings on a one week vacation. Maybe she had. Over the past year and a half, Mike had become familiar with the clothing of the wealthy. He wasn’t interested in it, but it was part of his job to know these things. And Amy didn’t wear those clothes. There were no subtly expensive pieces of jewelry, no designer labels.
It was entirely possible that she had done exactly that, spent her savings to get help for a problem too many women had. Sex was a big deal. When you couldn’t get anything out of it, it altered relationships and impacted all areas of life. Mike supposed he might do the same thing if he thought he could find a solution to a problem like that.
Of course, Mike was just guessing. For all he knew she might be a bagillionaire who simply didn’t dress it. He almost hoped not though. He wanted her and he wanted her to feel the same about him. Either way, getting rid of his room would chop some money off the growing bill for this week in a sandy, tropical heaven.
“Do you feel like trying anyway?” he asked.
She nodded and said, “Good idea. We should pack your stuff up in the morning then.”
“Or tonight,” he said, making sure she saw it when he glanced down between her legs.
She laughed and nearly upset the tray on the bench between them when she lifted her leg, offering him a view of the curve of her ass cheek beneath the beach dress she wore.
He caught their glasses before they could tumble and said, “Definitely tonight.”