by Karl Tutt
Chapter 5
I finished my Evan and made for the boat. I wanted plenty of time to get beautiful . . . and sexy. I pulled out that red dress I told you about. I could still fill it out nicely. Very hot shower. Lots of stuff that smelled real girly. I might have gone a bit overboard with the makeup, but hey, it was to be a super classy evening. I slipped on the stilettos and checked myself in the mirror. If he didn’t like this package, he had gone over to the dark side and, based on our last midnight encounter, I didn’t think that was likely.
At 4:30, I heard a knock on the hull. He stood on the dock in all of his macho splendor; beige silk slacks, a stunning white polo and a black linen sport coat, $700 alligators on his feet. His thick blond locks dropped casually over one ice blue eye. Every inch of his muscular 6” 4’ frame dazzled in its own special way.
“Come on. We have to hurry to catch the plane. And by the way, you look absolutely spectacular.”
I handed him my overnight and padded off GREAT GESTURE barefoot. I slipped on the stilettoes at the end of the dock. He held the door to the Jag for me and we were off.
“So what’s this airport stuff.”
“Just be patient. It’s a surprise. Dinner with a couple of clients, but plenty of time for other types of recreation.” I hoped I knew what kind of recreation he was talking about.
It was a small Cessna. We were in the air in minutes and in less than an hour, we landed at the Marsh Harbor airport on Great Abaco. A black Jeep was waiting for us on the runway. We had a quick visit with a burly customs agent. Then the driver whisked us over to Harbour View Marina where we boarded RUMDUM, the Hinckley jet boat they use as a taxi. The captain raced us over the flat water to Baker’s Bay. I’d heard about the place, but I’d never been there. Exclusive resort on Great Guana Cay. It faces the Atlantic Ocean to the east and the Sea of Abaco to the west. The only way to get there is by boat. Lots for six mil, and that doesn’t include the requisite mansion. Lots of European investors and celebrities who treasure their privacy. Just the place for a disreputable private eye with a decidedly shady past. Oh yeah . . . that would be me.
A uniformed dockhand in starched whites gathered the lines and the small cases of luggage. S handed him a twenty. He gave my gallant escort a robust smile and a sincere “thank you.”
The restaurant was quiet and elegant, ivory linen tablecloths and waiters in burgundy waistcoats with towels draped over their arms. Our table overlooked the crystal Bahamian depths. The sun was low in the western sky and the blue green was flecked with ripples of diamonds and gold.
Sterling ordered a couple of bottles of some ridiculously expensive champagne I’d never heard of. Our server had barely poured us a glass when two enormous men approached our table. As they came closer, I recognized ‘Big Trip’ Jones and Davon ‘the Skyhawk’ Alton, two of the cogs in that last Miami Heat Championship. Sterling never talked much about his business. I knew he was a sports agent, but I didn’t know he had clients like this.
Training camp was about to begin. They discussed the prospects for another trip to the NBA finals and the two giants kidded each other. They’d been rivals in college at Duke and North Carolina. It was all too cool. These guys obviously liked each other and definitely trusted Sterling. The champagne went down all too easy. I was getting a little woozy when they got up to catch the jet boat back to Harbor View.
Sterling signed the check, then cradled my hand and smiled. A driver in a golf cart took us to a private condominium. It was decked out in Bahamian chic with a deck overlooking the quiet Atlantic. We talked for a couple of hours, mostly about nothing. A gentle touch here and there, but nothing too heavy.
I can’t tell you what happened next in a family publication, only that it was rated triple X. When it was over, there was no part of my being that hadn’t been explored by his tongue. He could say the same for me. But this was only part of why I was in love. It was quiet, but intense . . . and it was real. I was hooked. I believed he was, too . . . and I didn’t see any way it would change any time soon.
The next morning came way too quickly. We showered together and had a final meeting of minds, spirits, and bodies. Then it was back to the airport and ultimately, the grind. S kept his word. We were back at noon. I went to the boat and changed into a pair of navy slacks and a willowy white top with a blue blazer. It was time for business and mine was protecting a boy with a mother who adored him and no father to nurture him and teach him to be a man.