Hedonism Box Set (BBW Menage Swinger Romance): All Five Cuddly Swinger Episodes In One Volume! (Cuddly Swingers Book 6)

by Mia Moore

  “Sure.”

  No questions of ‘where we going to go’ or ‘what are we going to do’ or ‘how long’, ‘how far’. Just ‘Sure’.

  Oh boy.

  The hair on the back of my neck stood up. This thing between us… it’s scary good.

  Chapter 3: Columbia Academy

  Jess

  When I said ‘Sure’, Steve nodded. And the back of my neck tingled.

  There’s something more going on here than two people hooking up at a resort. This was scary.

  He turned to Martin and said, “I’ll take it from here. You going to be able to get back to Negril okay?

  Martin nodded. “Yah. I’ll probably get something to eat inside then call a cab.”

  “Okay. Go to the front desk and ask for Kenneth. He’s the General Manager. Let him know who you are and how you’ve helped. He’ll comp you breakfast and probably have one of the hotel cars run you back to your office. I’ll bring the truck back tomorrow morning, is that alright?”

  “Sure.” They shook hands, and Martin gave him the keys to the truck and headed back inside.

  Steve looked over at me. “You got shotgun. It’s more than an hour drive, up into the hills, Jessy. If you need to pee, you might want to do it now.”

  I tilted my head. “Steve-O, how many kids do you have?”

  He chuckled. “Two. Twenty one and eighteen. It was that obvious?”

  “Yeah.”

  “And you?”

  I was taken aback. “Do I have any kids?” I shook my head. “No.” Then I looked directly at him. “Not yet.” I wasn’t going to ask about ex’s or wives. Yet.

  The moment hung in the air. With a little smile, he gave a small nod and said “Okay.” He walked around to the passenger side and opened my door. “So if you’re ready to go, let’s roll.”

  As I stepped up into the cab, he put his hand on my ass. I froze.

  Then I rolled my hips, stroking my butt across his hand, and climbed in the rest of the way.

  Looking back down at him as he closed the door, he had a big smile now, and was nodding to himself.

  I sat silently as he got in, started the truck and we drove off the grounds. My mind was racing with questions. I wanted to know where we were going, what were we going to do when we got there, how far away was this place, hell, where was this place? But I didn’t say anything about that.

  I’d just trust him and see where this goes.

  I gazed out the window watching Jamaica change before me.

  He drove north along the coast, and we passed resort after resort. I could see the hotels, tennis courts and sometimes the swimming pools as they drifted by. We passed through a sub division that was as nice as any back home. Cars in the driveways and small children playing outside, watched over by mothers or grandparents. Further down this street we passed an elementary school. It must have been recess because the schoolyard was filled with boys and girls, all in uniforms running and screeching in that way only little kids can do.

  I didn’t ask any details about what town we were in. I was simply taking in the scenery.

  We rode in silence. It wasn’t a cold silence though. Sometimes you can just be quiet with another person. You don’t need to chatter all the time. And sometimes, in the quiet you learn about them anyway. As I watched the landscape roll under us, I kept glancing over to Steve. Most of the time he was simply watching the road. Once I watched him for a count of ten, and he looked over at me before I got to five. He flashed me a smile and looked back to the road.

  He was comfortable in the silence between us too.

  The road surface changed from pavement to gravel. “It’s going to get a little bumpy from now on,” said Steve.

  “Okay.”

  We didn’t pass a railroad crossing, but as soon as we passed the next house, I knew we were now on the wrong side of the tracks.

  The first house was more shack than house. Weathered tar paper was stapled to dingy gray wood sheathing. The roof was rusting steel. Unlike the homes we passed earlier, this one didn’t have a fence around it. There were some chickens in an enclosure, scratching at the dirt.

  There was a clothesline and a woman was hanging out laundry. She was wearing a faded floral print housecoat and was barefoot. Our eyes met as the truck passed. She looked about my age, and she looked… well, tired. It was reminiscent of those photos from the Great Depression you see in history books.

  For the first time since I hit the lottery I felt guilty.

  The road had become quite rutted and we were going a lot slower. I don’t know why, but when I was directly across from her, she beamed me a smile, and holding a worn sheet against the clothesline with one hand, waved at me with the other.

  I smiled and waved back.

  I turned to Steve. “Okay, they’re pretty friendly back at the resort. I get that. But did you see that?”

  “What” he was watching the road.

  “That woman back there. When we drove by she smiled and waved at me.”

  “Oh. Yeah, that happens a lot. Especially in the countryside.” He shifted gears. “I don’t know exactly why, but I’ve found that people in general are friendlier the farther away from cities you get.”

  I need to get out more.

  We continued to drive down the country road, passing other shanty homes and farmers’ fields.

  “Well, here we are,” said Steve, pulling into a driveway. There was a series of two story buildings arranged in a semi circle around a small parking lot. Each one was about the size of a one family home and was painted white. They had peaked roofs, of that same corrugated steel I had seen on many of the houses we had passed by. These roofs though, weren’t rusted, they were painted a bright red. At the center of the semi circle was a sign held up by two posts that read ‘Columbia Academy’.

  At each end of these buildings were several more one story buildings, painted blue, and again with the red corrugated roofs. In front of each of these building were groups of Jamaican children ranging from about five years old through to teenagers. They were all wearing uniforms—brown pants and tan shirts on the boys and brown jumpers with tan blouses on the girls. Mixed in with the younger children were older ones, leading small groups. I watched on teenage boy leading a group of about fifteen six year olds in a game of what looked like Simon Says.

  Laughter and shrieks filled the air.

  I turned to Steve. “What is this, a school?”

  He turned off the truck. “More than just a school. These kids live there,” he pointed to the buildings in the semi circle. “This is their home.” He turned to me. “It’s an orphanage, Jessy.”

  I looked back out the windows of the cab from one end of the the complex to the other. I turned back to Steve. “You mean none of those kids have parents? No mommy and daddy?”

  He nodded.

  “What happened?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Was there some earthquake or something? Where did their parents go?” I looked out the window again. “Steve! There’s so damn many of them!” Holy shit.

  “Jess, this is just one of quite a few on the island.”

  “Quite a few?” I turned back to look at him. “What do you mean quite a few!”

  He sort of dropped his head and looked away for a moment. “The government alone runs eight or so, and there’s a bunch of others that are run by NGO’s, mostly churches, but concerned private citizens like Geoff.”

  “Who’s Geoff?”

  His face broke into a smile. “That’s Geoff.” He pointed out the window, “Let’s meet him.”

  I got out of the truck as a man about Steve’s age had exited one of the buildings and was walking up to the truck. He was stocky built and half bald. His mocha skin was a little darker than the tan shirt he was wearing. He was dressed the same way as the students. He had a broad smile and gleaming teeth as he extended his hand to Steve as I came around the side.

  When he glanced my way he froze. The expression o
n his face went from welcoming to shock. A whisper of fear stole across his face for an instant. His hand was still extended, but he gave his head a slight shake and took Steve’s outstretched hand.

  “Welcome Mister Steve!” Turning to me, he said, “And who, pray, is this beauty?”

  “Goeff Dixon, I’d like you to meet Jess Adams.”

  “My pleasure, madam,” said Geoff, taking the end of my hand and shaking it. He gave me a quizzical look again.

  “How do you do, Geoff. What’s the matter? You look like you saw a ghost or something.”

  He glanced from me to Steve, who had a neutral face, and back again to me. “I’m sorry, Miss Jess. It’s just that you bear a striking resemblance to a dear friend…” he shot another look to Steve and back to me. “You could be her sister, I think.”

  I smirked. “She must be a hell of a woman.”

  Geoff turned his head away from me, back to Steve. “She certainly was,” he said. Turning back to me, he said “And she would have been just as sassy as you, Jess!” He smiled and held out his hand again. This time, as I shook it, I glanced at Steve who was smiling to himself.

  The door Geoff had come out of flung open again and a young woman—or an older girl, she looked about 17 or so—came running out.

  “What you be comin’ in here so late Mister Steve! You in a lotta trouble you know!” She ran up to him and jumped into his arms, grasping him around his neck, hugging him fiercely. “I thoughta’ you a got hurt or somtin’ you bad bad man!”

  Like all the other people we’ve met so far, she was wearing a tan blouse and black pants. She was about my height, but svelte. Her hair was done in cornrows that hung to her shoulders. She was young, beautiful, exotic and full of life so naturally I resented her on sight.

  But when Steve wrapped his arms around her and spun in a circle, my resentment exploded to hatred. So fast it shocked me.

  “Now, now Princess, it ain’t a’ my fault—you be blamin’ de government before you be blaming ‘dis broken ol’ man!” He slipped into the patois of Jamaica like he grew up here. He set her down on her feet as a gi-nourmous young man followed the girl out the door. Looking up to him, Steve said, “Now Jacob, you be havin’ your woman mind her elders now!”

  Princess raised a fist in Steve’s direction. “I be no man’s woman, Jacob be my man!” The young guy, around 20 or so, came up next to her and put his arm around her waist. As they fit in so well, my jealousy vanished, thank God.

  The group of them was standing a few paces away from me. I wasn’t going to insinuate myself into this reunion, so I just stood there quietly.

  “Now, Princess, I’d like to introduce you to a good friend of mine,” said Steve, turning towards me.

  Princess looked in my direction, and let out a gasp, her hand flying to her chest. What the fuck is going on here? She walked towards me slowly, looking at me up and down. When she came up to me, her other hand slowly went up to my face and she softly cradled my cheek in her hand.

  “Oh… Auntie Pammy” she said softly.

  I covered her hand with my own. “My name is Jess, Princess.”

  The girl looked at me for a moment, pure love in her eyes. I hadn’t seen that kind of love since my own Mom. She gave a hesitating nod and bit her lower lip. “O’ course. Jess. O’ course you be Jess.” Tears began to fill her eyes. And mine too; why I don’t know. Yeah I did—I missed my Mom. I put my arms around this young colt and held her to me and she burst into tears. I cradled her in, hearing her snuffle into my neck and looked up to the others. I didn’t have a clue what was happening here this bright morning, but I wasn’t afraid. Confused as hell, but not afraid.

  Both Geoff and Steve were staring at the ground. The tall young guy was watching the two of us, a wistful look on his face.

  After a moment, Princess let go of me. She fished a tissue from a pocket and wiped her eyes. “Ya must be ‘tinkin’ I a crazy girl.”

  I looked up at the sky for a second before replying. “Nooo…” I looked back to her. “No… I don’t think so.” I nodded my head. “This is weird as hell, yeah, but I don’t think you’re crazy. No more than those guys,” I finished, gesturing at the men standing nearby.

  Steve turned to Geoff. “I thought it was just me, Geoff.” Geoff gave him a ‘you gotta be kidding’ look, and Steve said, “Well, I guess I was wrong.”

  “Yeah.”

  “What are you two talking about?” I kept my arm around Princess’ waist. “What’s going on here anyway?”

  Steve drew in his breath and exhaled. “You guys can unload this stuff, right?”

  “No problem, mon,” said Geoff. “You taking her to the Library then?”

  Steve nodded. Turning to me he reached out his hand. “Come on, Jessy, I think you need to see this.”

  Princess gently disengaged my arm at her waist and said, “Yes Auntie Jessy, you go along with Mister Steve now. We’ll be seeing you in the dining hall later on.”

  Chapter 4 Pammy’s Nook

  Jess

  He took my hand and we walked towards the buildings. We went through a corridor between two of them. There were classrooms in each of the buildings. As we passed, I looked in the windows. One class was very young, and the teacher was reading to them from a story book. The other classroom was older kids, and they were all busy with pencils and workbooks. On the blackboard the teacher was writing math problems.

  Coming through the breezeway, was a playing field. It was pretty big. There were two soccer nets set up and another class was running laps around the perimeter, led by a stout woman in a golf shirt and shorts. At the other end of the field was a weird sort of baseball field.

  Opposite the activity field was a wooded area with a large building. Where all the others on the grounds were constructed of cement block, this building was built of logs. It appeared older than the others. There was a sign above it that read ‘Pamela Doucet Library’. We crossed the playing fields towards it.

  “Steve…” I said.

  “Yeah. Hang in there. You’ll see.”

  “Okay. But I’m starting to feel a little weird.”

  He snorted. “You think it’s weird now…”

  The front entrance was the narrow side of the building, because when we walked in, it stretched out probably a hundred feet or more. Glass windows went down both walls to the back. It must have been thirty or forty feet wide, and was over two stories tall. I looked up to the roof to see cross beams with lights hanging from them.

  Book shelves ran the length of the building, and above the windows on the first floor was a wide catwalk, again lined with bookshelves. Reading tables were set up down the center, and one reading table had six computer work stations.

  Just inside the entranceway was a desk and another workstation. The librarian who was seated there gave a wave and smile to Steve. He crossed over and said hello with a peck on her cheek.

  “Come on,” he said. “It’s at the back.” We walked past the reading tables. Probably ten or twelve teenagers were busy working at the tables, and a couple was surfing online.

  At the back of the library were three conference rooms, all empty. “They do tutoring here in the evening for students falling behind.” He gave me a wink. “It’s also been known as a place where the older boys and girls sometimes meet, if you know what I mean.”

  The conference room at the far end had a plate on the door that said ‘Pammy’s Nook’. Steve took a key ring from his pocket and unlocked the door. We stepped in and he turned on the lights.

  Soft yellow lamps on a few tables illuminated the room. There was a wing back armchair and beanbags scattered about. Behind the armchair was a mantelpiece with photos on it. “This is what you need to see,” Steve said, walking over to it.

  The first photo was of Steve and I. My eyes flew open wide. Wait. It wasn’t me… but it was damn close. I turned back to look at him.

  He sighed. “That’s Pam. She was my wife. She passed away five years ago. That pic was taken
twelve years ago, when we first started to give a hand here to Geoff.”

  Pam had my build, same color hair, and the same oval face I have. She was looking right into the camera, and I’ve seen that same crinkle nose in a lot of photos taken of me. She was smiling, and had her arm around Steve. A young boy and girl were standing in front of them, and they were standing in front of this very building, years ago. A family portrait.

  “She got sick eight years ago, and passed away five years ago,” he said, putting a hand on my shoulder from behind me. “She discovered this place.” I turned around watching him gaze at the photo. “We were at Hedo, and she went on a day tour that got lost. They stopped here for directions and wound up staying for lunch.”

  He waved his arm around the room. “All that was here was this log building that Geoff Dixon built himself and maybe ten kids.” He looked back to the picture. “Pam got all fired up. She had two kids of her own, but couldn’t turn her back on the place. We took care of the college fund for our own kids, and she went all in raising money for this place.” He smiled. “We started coming down as a family, spending a week here every year.”

  He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Until she got sick. By then the new buildings were up and running, and Geoff was doing good running the place.” He sighed. “Pam came up with ideas to really help this place.” He squatted down and opened a cupboard under the shrine and pulled out a series of drawings.