by Rachel Woods
Icarus led me to the main building, through the opulent foyer, and down the steps of the front entrance where several limousines were parked.
Walking toward the car, we passed two women who seemed to be leaving. Standing on the sidewalk, they waited, watching as their luggage was placed in the trunk. The women couldn’t have appeared more different. One was tall and corpulent, dressed in what looked like a flowing, flowery tent, with blonde curls trailing down her back. The other woman was small and thin, in an expensive business suit, with her hair yanked back from her forehead and coiled in a slick knot at the nape of her neck. And yet, they both wore the same expression—slightly dazed, sullen, and a bit forlorn. I couldn’t help wondering if they were sad to be leaving or upset and regretful they’d come to the Heliconia. Had their experiences been worth every penny? Or had the fantasies cost them more than they’d realized?
Up ahead, a woman got out of the limo parked in front of my limo, stumbling and laughing. She seemed a bit tipsy, and from the half-lidded stare she gave her driver as she allowed him to guide her up the stairs, I had a feeling she’d had the “hidden beach spa bungalow” delight, as well, and had also enjoyed it immensely. She was unabashedly advertising her enjoyment while I had tried my best to make sure no one would be able to guess what had happened on the way to the hotel.
They didn’t need to guess, I realized now. I was sure the entire hotel staff knew what happened during the limousine rides to and from the airport.
At the limo, Icarus opened the door and helped me inside. He climbed in with me and closed the door. Immediately, my heart started pounding again. Although, honestly, it had never really stopped. His presence was overwhelming, and intoxicating, permeating my senses. I feared I might do something ridiculous, like crawl into his lap, throw my arms around him, and—
“Do you need anything while we wait for Jessie?” Icarus asked.
I stared at him, dumbstruck by his question. Or, lust-struck, rather, because I wanted to say you. I need you. But that was ridiculous, because I didn’t need him. I wanted him, maybe. I didn’t need him.
“No, thank you,” I said, as polite as possible.
“You sure?” he asked, his gaze intense and a little unfathomable, making me wonder if maybe I’d given him the wrong answer. Maybe he’d wanted me to tell him that I needed … what? Him? No, that couldn’t be right. I had to be misinterpreting his looks, misreading him. Most likely, he was just giving me good customer service. Liberada had said he was trying to be more congenial and accommodating.
There was a knock on the window.
Icarus said, “That’s probably Jessie.” He opened the door, got out, and exchanged morning pleasantries with the tour guide, who turned out to be a cute, young St. Matean girl with a warm, engaging smile. She got into the back of the limo, introduced herself, and then launched into her spiel, telling me about the historical sites we were scheduled to visit.
Barely listening, I was too busy peering through the darkened windows as Icarus strode to the front of the limo. His confident stride caused an intense fluttering below my navel, and I desperately wanted another fantasy experience with him.
Something Lisa had said sobered me, though, like ice water in my face. You paid for that fantasy.
The experience with Icarus hadn’t really been a fantasy. It had been business. The business of fooling women into believing their sexual wishes were coming true. The hotel was selling wet dreams at top dollar. The worst part was, I’d bought into the illusion, and I had a feeling it would cost me more than the money I’d paid.
Chapter Six
“So, how was the tour?” Liberada asked later that afternoon, around two p.m.
Looking pretty and professional in her aqua silk blouse and slim white pencil skirt, she’d sailed into the living room of my suite, announcing she had stopped by to make sure I’d been satisfied with the historical tour.
Sitting next to her on the couch, I assured her that I’d found the tour to be a very interesting introduction to St. Matean culture and history. “And I enjoyed the chocolate and coffee samples, as well.”
“And was Jessie to your liking?” Liberada asked, in a sly way, as though her mind was in the gutter.
“Jessie was a great guide,” I said. “Very informative with a good personality.”
Nodding and smiling, Liberada scribbled on a piece of unlined paper in an aqua-colored portfolio made of ostrich. Notes about Jessie’s performance, I assumed.
Thinking about Jessie’s performance, during the tour, I kept wondering if the tour guide would take me off and try to have her way with me, but she made no advances, neither overt nor subtle. Her smiles were always sincere, not seductive or suggestive, and I figured she really was a tour guide and not part of the fantasies.
For some reason, I was glad. I had never been with a woman before, and I had never desired or fantasized about a sexual experience with another female, so I wasn’t sure what I would have done if she would have made a move.
Even if Jessie had been a guy, I would have rebuffed him. I wouldn’t have felt comfortable with Icarus driving while another guy and I were getting it on in the back seat, separated only by the partition, which may or may not have drowned out my moaning. I wouldn’t have liked wondering what Icarus would think about me, spreading my legs so easily for anyone the hotel offered. And yet, wasn’t that why I was there? To have as much mind-blowing sex with as many men as possible? Wasn’t earth-shattering sex supposed to cure my anxiety?
But, wasn’t I fooling myself? Really, how the hell could multiple orgasms revive my dying career?
“And did Icarus mind his manners?” Liberada asked, a little of that mischief in her gaze.
For his part, Icarus was just my driver, and I realized his role had been significant but limited.
He was polite and professional, and though he smiled at me from time to time, there was no indication he remembered our encounter. I tried to resign myself to his polite aloofness, but it was disheartening, knowing he wasn’t willing to share a secret glance with me. Our encounter had meant nothing to him. But why should it? My stay at the Heliconia was nothing more than an enhanced fantasy where I was supposed to have encounters with lots of different men. Icarus was one of many. He obviously knew, and had accepted, I was at the hotel to be with lots of different guys like the other guests.
“Icarus was very, uh …” I stopped for a moment, struggling for the right word, and finally managed to say “he was very mannerly.”
Liberada’s gaze was both cunning and clever, as though she knew some naughty secret about me I wasn’t aware of—yet. I cautioned myself not to overanalyze, especially since my ability to analyze was iffy these days.
“So, I do have another reason for visiting you,” she said, smiling brightly, like she was about to tell me I was the winner of some billion-dollar lottery. “I am not sure if you are aware of this or not, but the Palmchat Islands—and St. Mateo, in particular—are known for their breathtaking, magnificent waterfalls, and we happen to have our very own waterfall here on the grounds of the Heliconia Hotel.”
“Really?” I said. “I didn’t know that.”
“The falls are spectacular,” Liberada gushed. “And this is the best time of the day to visit them. The midafternoon sun sparkles on the water like diamonds as it rushes over the cliffs.”
“That does sound lovely,” I said.
“So, I was thinking you could go and see them now,” she said. “And then you can come back and have a nice bath and a nap, sounds good?”
“Yes, but how do I get to the falls?” I asked.
Liberada smiled and opened her ostrich portfolio. “I have a map for you.”
I took the piece of paper she handed me and stared at it, frowning. The map was crudely drawn, as though by some kindergarten child. “Do you have a better map than this one?”
Liberada shook her head and gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry we don’t. But don’t worry, if you get l
ost, I’m sure you’ll come across someone to help you find your way.”
“Well, if you think so,” I said, wary of the sassiness in her gaze.
“Have a great time,” she said and then left my suite.
Thirty minutes later, dressed in khaki shorts, a pink tank top, and hiking sandals, I headed down a wide path through the rainforest behind the hotel. Staring at the map, I tried to make sense of the vague markings and evasive instructions. Turn left by the bird of paradise. Turn right by the bamboo tree. Well, which damn bamboo tree? The forest was littered with bamboo. And banana trees. And bird of paradise and heliconia and dozens of other shrubs, low-lying branches, and hanging vines.
Even though I probably wasn’t going to find my way to the falls, I found the tropical scenery peaceful. Birds chirped and called and sang. The sun winked through the canopy of broad leaves high above me.
Another twenty minutes passed and I stopped to get a bottle of water from my bag. After a few generous sips, I was contemplating giving up the search for the falls when I heard a branch snap, somewhere behind me. Heart slamming, I spun around, praying it wasn’t one of those wild pigs I’d read about during my research of the islands.
Nothing was behind me, however. Worried, I tried to peer between the jumble of leaves, imagining I could see the crazed black eyes of a rabid boar, ready to come charging out of the bushes and—
“Excuse me.”
Gasping loudly, I turned to the left, in the direction of the voice, stumbling slightly.
“Whoa, you okay?” The guy caught my arm, helping me stay on my feet.
“I’m fine,” I said and looked up at him. He was very handsome, tall, with lean muscles, like those of a champion swimmer. Not the thick solid heavyweight prizefighter build like Icarus but—
Why the hell was I comparing Icarus to this random stranger? Why was I even thinking about Icarus?
“Didn’t mean to scare you,” the good-looking stranger said and gave me a smile, which was nice in a sort of male model posing for an ad campaign way.
“That’s okay.”
“I’m kind of lost,” he said.
“Where are you trying to go?”
“I was supposed to meet my friends at some waterfall near the Heliconia,” he said. “My friends heard about the waterfall on the hotel’s property. Apparently, it’s only for the enjoyment of the hotel’s guests, but my friends said people sneak onto the property all the time. Problem is, it’s hard to find the falls without a map, which the hotel has, but for guests only.”
I laughed and then said, “I don’t think you could find it with the map the hotel gives you. At least, I haven’t been able to find it.”
“You’re staying at the hotel?”
I stared at him, slightly suspicious, suddenly aware that I was out in the middle of the rainforest, maybe miles away from the hotel.
There was no telling what could happen to me. There was no telling if the guy was telling the truth. Maybe he wasn’t really going to the waterfalls. Maybe he was some local guy, aware of the hotel’s secret purpose, who stalked the rainforest, looking for female guests to attack.
Sure, I had my cell phone, but the good-looking stranger could probably grab it and knock me over the head with it before I got a chance to call the hotel.
And yet as I stared at those amber eyes, I got a flash of discernment. I remembered Liberada saying I would find someone to help me if I got lost. Recalling her sly gaze, I realized I was in the middle of another fantasy.
The stranger was too gorgeous and sexy to just be some random guy who was trespassing.
I decided to play along. “Yes, I’m staying at the hotel, and actually, I was on my way to see the waterfalls. They gave me a map, but I can’t figure it out. You want to see it?”
“Sure,” he said. I pulled the map from my bag and gave it to him. He made a show of studying it, and he furrowed his brow as he turned the paper this way and that way, as if he really needed a map to get to the falls. I would have bet he had taken lots of women to the waterfalls before, playing the role of the lost hiker in this premium deluxe fantasy.
After a moment, he declared that I was right, the map sucked, but he thought it might give us some assistance.
“Okay,” I said, still playing along, trying not to snicker. “I’ll follow you.”
I figured he’d lead me right to the falls, but to his credit, he made a few wrong turns. Eventually, we were able to hear the falls, and after a few more turns, we pushed through a wall of tall hibiscus and came to a large clearing.
The scene before me wasn’t quite as majestic as the hidden beach I’d seen when Icarus had pushed past the elephant leaves. The falls were beautiful, just as Liberada had promised. Framed by the blue sky above and the surrounding rainforest, it was like a private, secret oasis. The water rushed over a cliff and plunged into a clear turquoise pool that shimmered in the midafternoon sunlight. From the edge of the tropical forest, we stepped onto a bank of white sand, which angled down to the water.
Laughter rang out beneath the rushing roar of the water, and then the handsome stranger called out, “Hercules! Hermes!”
Hercules and Hermes, I thought, rolling my eyes at the kitsch of the names—which I didn’t believe for one minute were real names—when two good-looking, well-built guys emerged from behind the waterfalls, walking toward us, shirtless, the clear water lapping around toned, tight abs, I understood why they’d been given the names of Greek gods.
They stopped in the middle of the pool, calling back to the stranger, telling him that the water was nice and he should come on in.
“Who’s your friend?” the taller one asked. He was buff and dark with dark curly hair, closely cropped. The guy standing next to him was just slightly shorter but a bit more muscular and with a more olive complexion.
“I’m not sure. We just met.” He turned to me, smiled, and then asked, “What’s your name?”
“Quinn,” I said, no longer wary, convinced that all three guys were part of this waterfalls fantasy.
Less convincing, however, was my resolve to live it out, my willingness to go through with it. I knew the fantasy would involve sex, but I wasn’t sure which one, if any of them, I wanted to be with. My body still craved Icarus, but maybe sex with another man would help to dampen my desire. Last thing I wanted to do was fall for him.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Apollo,” he said.
“Apollo …” I repeated, trying not to giggle. Of course, his name was Apollo. Another island Greek god.
“So, Quinn,” Apollo said and started to take off his shirt. “You wanna go in?”
“I don’t have a swimsuit,” I said, my heart pounding with worry and excitement.
“Quinn doesn’t have a swimsuit,” Apollo said and dropped his T-shirt, revealing an abundance of glistening, rock-hard muscles. Around his neck, there was a thin, gold chain, and hanging from it was a medallion. About the size of a silver dollar, it was positioned between the swell of his hard pecs.
“No clothes allowed!” the water gods called out.
Panic sizzled through me, settling in my stomach and then quickly dropping lower, below my navel, and then even lower, where it turned to desire and propelled me toward a decision I knew I would regret.
And yet, I felt trapped in the grip of some kind of obsessive compulsion, or compulsive obsession, I wasn’t sure. I only knew that the feeling was overwhelming, and I couldn’t stop myself from stepping out of my hiking sandals and then taking off my pink tank top and my khaki shorts.
Standing in my underwear, though, that “ice water in my face” sobering feeling returned. The feverish desire waned and the panic intensified. What the hell was I doing? Was I really about to strip naked in front of three guys I didn’t even know? Was I actually going to skinny dip?
Apollo moved to stand in front of me. Heart thudding, I stared up at him. His lusty, half-lidded gaze turned the panic back to desire. Reaching out, Apollo u
nfastened the clip holding the two demi-cups of my bra together and then pushed the cups back, exposing my breasts. My nipples hardened as he slipped the straps off my shoulders. The other two watched as Apollo undressed me. Aware of their gazes, I felt something primal within me roaring louder than the falls, something intoxicating. When Apollo tugged my panties down, I didn’t protest …
I wanted them off. I wanted to be naked and wild and wicked. A breeze danced across my nipples. Gasping in delight, I rushed into the water, laughing and splashing.
In the water, they surrounded me like a trio of hunky water gods, kissing every inch of my body, quick pecks, teasing me. Dipping beneath the water, they taunted me with fingers that brushed lightly but never lingered, enough to send me into a frenzy of intense longing and need. The balmy water was like liquid silk, but it didn’t feel nearly as good as the hands exploring my body, the fingers everywhere at the same time.
It was all so decadent, for me, at least. Maybe old hat, or boring and blasé, for some girls, but the combination of water and hands all over my body was delicious and wicked. They stroked slightly, fingertips near my opening but never going inside. Tongues darted quickly against my nipples. Moaning, I slid my own hands beneath the water, determined to take care of myself if they weren’t in the mood to please me.
But one of them grabbed my hands and brought them out of the water and behind my back.
Apollo wrapped his arms around my waist, pressing me against his hard erection. “Are you ready, Quinn?”
Unable to speak, I was desperate to grind against him, anxious for release, and yet I wasn’t really sure. Was I ready? Could I really have a foursome with three guys? Did I want to do that? Was that really my fantasy?
“Quinn?” Apollo prodded, his gaze uncertain.
“No, I don’t want to …” I shook my head, pushing away from Apollo, my heart slamming, fear and shame battling within me. “I’m sorry. I thought I did, but …”
“Bitch, are you serious?” Hercules scowled at me. “Do you know what kind of hotel you came to?”