by S. C. York
Blake walks in, and my mouth falls open again. Wearing a white suit with a baby blue, pinstriped dress shirt underneath, he looks like a Nordic god. His ash blond hair’s slicked back and with his deep tan and sapphire blue eyes he’s possibly the most striking man I’ve ever seen. Ryan catches me staring at his best friend and wraps an arm around my waist, “Stop looking, Vanessa, you are the one girl I could never share.”
“Eww, thanks for the reminder,” I shudder. Unhooking Ryan’s arm, I pick up two glasses of champagne from the tray Jen left and cross the table, handing one to Blake, “Hey, Ken,” I tell him.
He stares at me puzzled, “Did you get too much sun today, Vanessa?”
“No, Ken, I feel great.” Eva laughs, finally catching on to my joke.
“What am I missing here?” Blake smiles at Eva and me, not sure what we’re playing at.
“You’re a dead ringer for Ken, the male Barbie doll Eva and I used to play with.”
“In that crisp, white suit—Ken, for sure,” Eva says, kissing him.
“In that case, feel free to play with me later,” he says suggestively to Eva.
“Oh, I plan on it, babe,” she replies, smacking him on the ass.
“You girls are weird—fun but weird,” Blake laughs, making himself a glass of whiskey. “I’ve invited a lot of girls here over the years, but I have to hand it to you both, I’ve never enjoyed their company as much as I like having yours.” He raises his glass to us.
“Thanks, Blake; we’re having the best time with you both. Isn’t it funny how things turned out? When I met you at Esker, you were the infamous local legend, the guy my mom obsesses over in the magazines. Now I can consider you a friend, not just the area celebrity.”
“Wait, your mom is obsessed with me?” Blake is amused and holds a hand over his heart.
“Uh, kind of, yeah, pretty much.” I answer sheepishly, “It’s her birthday next month do you think—”
“Wait, hold on, no way, Chica, no way is Cindy ever getting near him.”
“Vanessa, you haven’t asked me to meet your parents and you were about to give Blake the invite? I’m hurt, babe,” Ryan says with mock devastation.
“Oh, I didn’t know we were already at the parent meet and greet stage.”
“Touché, chérie.”
“Huh?”
“Oh, I forgot it was my last girlfriend who spoke French.”
“What? I smack him on the arm.” Did he just infer that I’m his girlfriend?
“Is TJ going to join us?” I ask him.
Blake picks up his low-ball glass, “Nope and that’s why I am having a few tonight. Her Majesty is in good hands with him.”
“That’s moving awfully fast. Didn’t you guys just meet a few weeks ago?”
“Nah, Nessa, I’ve seen him around the yacht club. He has an excellent rep. I was thinking of hiring him at Foster sailing. He’s very knowledgeable and would be a great fit in a sales role.”
Jen comes back and asks us to sit for dinner. We dine on the fresh tuna the boys caught, cooked in a white wine and truffle sauce with risotto. I help myself to plenty of ice water; I want to keep a clear head for later.
“Should we head up to the sundeck to catch the fireworks?” Blake asks us. He reminds us to take our shoes off and opens the door that leads to the outer deck. Barefoot, I follow him out into my second Block Island night.
“This is a great song. I love Collie Budzz.”
“Thanks, his album is my summer anthem,” Blake tells me. Eva and I are dancing our way up to the sundeck to She gimme love. Ryan takes my hand and swings me around carrying me the rest of the way up.
This is surreal. I turn in a circle taking everything in. The gorgeous men who are our dates stand against the top deck rail, the sea behind them is crammed with sailboats, power boats, even a few canoes, all competing for spots to see the show. Her Majesty reigns over them all. I lean back into Ryan, feeling like Kate on the Titanic, invincible and full of conviction that I’ve found something special. He holds me against his front, his arms keeping me warm. As the fireworks start he whispers, “Happy Fourth of July, Vanessa,” into my ear.
“Happy Fourth, Ryan,” I answer, placing my arms over his. We watch the display until the last burst of color rains down.
“I feel like dancing,” Eva announces taking the controller from Blake. She hits a few buttons. “I love your taste in music, but I’m hijacking your playlist,” she tells him.
“Nice,” I tell her when Dangerous Woman blares out into the night. The sound system on this yacht would put an entire Best Buy store to shame. The fireworks are over but people are still celebrating, launching their own small rockets off into the night.
“Here we go,” I tell Eva and start dancing to the beat. We sexily sashay across the deck in our fancy gowns singing along. It’s only when the honking air horns blow, that I realize we have more than Blake and Ryan as an audience. Raising my hand, I wave to them all and take a short bow. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Eva using the deck railings like a stripper pole.
“Eva, don’t fall overboard,” I call out. Seriously, she has no shame or fear. She’s hoisted herself up on the top rail, dress hiked up and does a split with both legs spread out horizontally.
“Christ,” Blake mutters. He forcefully places his drink down and charges her. Picking her up off the rail, he carries her fireman-style down the stairs, and I’m guessing to the master stateroom.
Unlike Blake, Ryan places his drink down slowly. Walking toward me very slowly, very deliberately. He picks up the remote and his selection surprises me when the slower beat of Pillow Talk comes on.
“This song makes me think of me and you.”
He sings every line against my temple while holding me close. Smoke from the last embers of the fireworks blow across the bow. The wind changes direction and the night air is thick of it. He stops, pulls back and stares intensely into my eyes. His body stills, and my heart jolts when he pounces. He grabs me so fast I let out a small yelp. But before I can even form a word, his lips are on mine. He kisses mindlessly. Recklessly. The hoots from bystanders accompanied by air horns all fade into white noise; all I hear is this song in my head. He picks me up and carries me down. I know where we are going and I can’t wait to get there.
Cool air hits my skin as he opens the cabin door. I try not to think about how many other girls have been in here with him. The only light in the room comes from the small lamp on the bed table. He yanks off his bow tie. I stand, unable to move. All my bravery is gone.
He methodically unfastens every button from his shirt, revealing his muscled tan chest. He tosses it to the floor, holding out a hand to me.
I stare at it for a few seconds. This is my point of no return. His eyes burn dark and on pure instinct I place my hand in his. He jerks me flush against his body and takes one hand to push my hair slowly over my left shoulder. Bending down he slowly kisses the crook of my neck while unzipping my dress. It falls to the floor. I step out only wearing my white lace thong. He inhales sharply, and I fall back on the bed. He climbs over me, and I grab his belt buckle boldly, unlacing it and pushing down his pants.
“Holy shit, you were going commando all night, Mr. Stone?”
He laughs, opening the nightstand drawer taking out a condom. Climbing back over me he strips my panties off. Kissing his way up my body, his tongue draws circles on my stomach. He pulls himself up on his elbows and sucks one nipple deeply while playing with the other one. My body is on fire. I writhe on the bed arching my hips needing more, where it burns. He smiles against my skin and moves a hand down to relieve my ache.
“You’re so ready.”
“I haven’t been with anyone since Sean last fall,” I whisper into his hair.
“You’re not going to remember sex with anyone but me,” he swears then puts on the condom. Finding my wetness, he kisses me deeply then guides himself where we both want him to be.
The light streaming through the porthole
lands on my face. Groaning, I roll over and feel the gently swaying of the boat under me. Stretching, I feel the ache between my thighs, reminding me that last night wasn’t a dream after all. But I’m disappointed that he’s gone.
I pick up my phone, not believing it’s already mid-morning. I decide to ignore the text from my mom, I know she wouldn’t approve of what ended up happening this weekend. I shower and get dressed in my denim cut offs and a Newport, Rhode Island, tank top. Picking up the ship’s phone, I place my own coffee order. Walking up to the main deck, it’s a new morning on the Majesty and I know whatever happens, I’ll never forget last night.
“TJ, where have you been?” He grins, and sips his iced coffee. With his baseball cap on backward and a pair of Ray-Bans on, he looks happy despite being ditched.
“Nessa, more importantly, how has your weekend been so far?” I smack his arm, “I never kiss and tell. I’m sorry we ended up spending the entire weekend onboard, it wasn’t the original plan.”
“It’s fine, Nessa. I hardly had a pity party. Cruising on this baby for two days was like heaven for me, especially when Blake let me drive her.”
“Where are Blake and Ryan anyway?”
“They’re up in the wheel house looking at the navigation system. Eva’s still in bed.”
We both share an amused look. The mid-morning sun is hot but the cool breeze from the water tempers it. I stretch out on a chaise lounge with my latte and sigh, “I can’t believe I have to go back to work tomorrow. I want this weekend to last forever.”
“That good, huh?”
“A total dream.”
“Lucky girl, I’m happy for you, Nessa, I just hope it lasts.”
“Gee, thanks, TJ.”
“Nessa, I’ve always looked out for you. I told you the history of these guys. Don’t get me wrong, they’ve both been gracious hosts this weekend. But you know their legendary party history. As much as Blake’s dad has been on his ass, I just don’t see Blake Foster giving up his party lifestyle so quickly or letting his number one wingman go without a fight. Just watch your back.”
My happiness takes a nose dive, because I know he’s right. Things are never this perfect for me, ever. I’ve never been the girl to win in the end, but that never stops me from trying.
“Hey, beautiful,” Ryan and Blake walk down the stairs from the top deck, avoiding his eyes, I sip my latte. He comes over to me, bending down to give me a quick kiss.
“Everything okay?” he asks. I shrug, still not meeting his gaze.
“Just feeling a little shy,” I answer, feeling my cheeks burn.
“Don’t be. Last night was special,” he whispers into my hair. I want to believe him. Finally looking him in the eye, I give a small nod and agree, “Yes, it was.” Jen approaches announcing brunch will be served at noon and puts out a fresh carafe of coffee.
“I have some bad news for you and Eva,” Blake tells me, coming over.
“What’s that?” He has my full attention.
“I just called the harbormaster of New London. There’s too much traffic for them to accommodate docking the Majesty. A cruise ship is scheduled to come into port later and the ferries are making full runs between Block and Port Jeff. There’s no room for us at the pier. I’m sorry. You girls are going to have to take one of the ferries back home. I’ll take you ashore soon to catch the 3:15.”
What the hell? It’s not even noon yet and he’s kicking us off?
“Blake, that’s so sweet of you, but we still have our tickets for the 7:15. Don’t worry, we can go back to Dex’s or hang at Ballard’s since it’s not even ten yet.”
My face is red, and I know he can tell I’m pissed. It’s obvious he’s trying to dump us now that his night is over.
“I’ll go get Eva.” I move to excuse myself, but Ryan grabs my arm. He’s glaring at Blake who just walks back up to the top deck not caring. Guess we’ve been dismissed.
“Vanessa, I want to spend more time with you. I don’t care if Blake wants to blow off Eva, things are different with us.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I need to be in New York for a meeting tomorrow, so I couldn’t go back with you even if I wanted. Blake told me he would take the Majesty to Long Island and I could commute into the city from there.
I’m sorry. I don’t want the weekend to end like this, I have no idea what’s gotten into him. Come on, spend the day with me until your ferry leaves?”
“I’d like that. I was hoping to get a workout in. Are you up for a loop around New Harbor?”
“What’s that? Three miles?”
“Five,” I answer, challenging him.
“That’s nothing, sweetheart. I was captain of the rugby team in college.”
“So? You’re an old man now.”
“You didn’t think so last night.”
“Oh, my God, stop,” I say, smacking his arm.
“Vanessa, your cheeks are bright red, I think you need sunscreen,” Ryan says, laughing at my obvious embarrassment.
“Come on. Let’s go and get changed.” He takes my hand and leads me down to our cabin.
We jog side by side. I’m not a talker when I run, focusing on my breathing. Our sneakers pound the hot pavement, thank God for the sea breeze that blows across my sweaty skin.
Each house we pass by is prettier than the next. Old Victorian colonials line the small streets. We pass rows of blue hydrangeas and white picket fences that adorn lush green lawns. I take a deep breath inhaling the smell of the wild roses that have grown along the seawall, as we pass by the beach.
“I always sprint the last quarter mile, are you ready?”
“Bring it.” Ryan’s barely panting while I’m a hot, sticky mess. As we sprint down the beach, the sand makes my calves work harder. My legs feel like jelly, and I barely stop myself from falling over. Running in full sun in July probably wasn’t the smartest idea.
Pulling up my tank top to wipe my face, I feel Ryan’s finger tracing the line of sweat that trails down my stomach and under my shorts. My eyes follow his finger as he slowly lifts it to his mouth where he sucks on it, tasting my sweat.
Holy cow, he can even make working out sexy.
“Tastes good, but the salt from your skin just makes me thirstier.”
Before I know what’s happening, he kneels in front of me in the sand. His tongue licks in a circular pattern cleaning the sweat from my torso to just below my navel. He starts to dip down into my shorts, but I grab his head before he can continue.
What is it with him? We’re out in public.
“Water. I need water,” I tell him, firmly stepping back and adjusting my clothes.
“Yeah, you do. Your face is red again.”
“Ryan Stone, you are such a dirty pervert. There are little kids down the beach making sandcastles.”
“We should’ve stayed in my cabin all day. I could’ve given you a real workout.”
“Oh, my God,” I tell him shaking my head. I turn away and walk toward town. But I’m hit from behind and the sand rushes my face, I’m about to eat dirt.
Did he just friggin tackle me?
I’m down into the sand, being tickled everywhere he can get his hands.
“Yep, this old man still has some moves.” He lies on top of me, pressing me down into the hot sand. It sticks to my sweaty skin, coating the backs of my arms and legs, but when his lips meet mine, I don’t care.
I’m burning not from the sun, but from the heat I feel every time he touches me. Maybe I am into exhibitionism after all. When it’s just too much and it needs to stop before we get in trouble, I gently push him back. He grins down at me and rolls off.
We walk back to town hand in hand, neither of us feeling the need to talk, but just enjoying the moment. Once we reach Dodge Street, we cross over to Chapel. A crowd of tourists mill around the little nook of shops in the cobblestone square where Martha has her fudge shop.
“Ry, can we stop here for a minute?”
I lead him int
o the small candy store. Martha’s eyes light up when she sees me. She comes around the counter for a hug and I put my hand up trying to warn her, but she hugs my post-workout, sweat-stained self anyway.
“Vanessa, dear, I’m so happy to see you! Let me fix you up a nice box of chocolate walnut fudge, I know it’s your favorite.”
Ryan grabs a few bottles of water from the cooler and winks at me, handing me a twenty, he goes outside to sit on the small patio.
“So, dear, what’s new with you?”
“Well, I just accepted a job in New York City, so I’ll be moving soon.”
“Congratulations, honey, you deserve everything good in life.” Martha takes out a block of fudge and starts cutting it into small squares.
The smell of fudge and licorice is comforting. I notice she’s moving slower this year, and I know someday soon, this old store will probably close for good.
“So, who is the nice young man who came in with you?” she asks me.
“Oh, that’s Ryan.”
“Is he your boyfriend, dear?”
“I’m not sure, but I’m working on it.”
“Be careful with a man like that. But if it works out, you’ll be one lucky lady.”
“Don’t I know it,” I sigh and take the small box of fudge from her. I try to hand over the money, but she just smiles and pushes my hand away.
“It’s on the house, dear, now go out to your young man before some cougar comes along and tries to snare him. There was a whole pack out last night celebrating a divorce party. Can you believe that? A divorce party? Goodness, what is the world coming to these days? Donald Trump is the President and women are having divorce parties?”
I don’t dare respond because my dad loves Donald Trump and I want my fudge.