The Cancun Trilogy, An Erotic Beach Romance

by Lena Malick

  “I’m going to the bathroom,” Terra told Vicky, who responded with a grunt.

  In the bathroom, Terra felt herself. She was wet. She was surprised. Shocked, really, like an adolescent who finds her first pimple.

  That afternoon, her and Vicky went for a walk in town to do some shopping. They were at an outdoor market, looking through a rack of colorful skirts and shirts. All the while, Terra couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was so close to kissing her. Kissed by a real man, she thought. Not like her old boyfriend, barely as tall as she was, with oily skin and bitten down fingernails. She kept reaching into her cargo pants and fingering the medallion.

  And his smell. Vicky was saying something, but Terra was having a hard time hearing her. Yes, his smell, that was the other thing, she thought. It was unfair. And his hands. When he wrapped his arms around me. Like he was enclosing me, pulling me into another world. His world. A magical world, where anything can happen. And those eyes… talk about unfair.

  “You okay?” Terra heard Vicky ask. She was standing there, looking at her, her forehead scrunched up.

  “Hum? Oh, yeah.”

  “Thinking about your love-errr,” Vicky teased.

  “No.”

  “Well, whatever you’re thinking about, share it with me because it looks like you’re about to have an orgasm. And stop playing with that thing in your pocket, it looks like you’re friggin’ yourself.” That was the thing with Vicky. She always looked like she wasn’t paying attention, but then she’d say something that made you realize she was aware of everything.

  Back at their cabana, Terra asked Vicky if she wanted to go back to the beach. “Nah, I think I’m cooked,” Vicky said. Terra took off her pants and shirt and went out to the deck in her bikini, figuring she’d at least get a little sun. She sat, fondling the medallion, looking out at the ocean. She’d planned to return the necklace on the way back from town, but forgot. At least that’s what she told herself.

  It was only two o’clock, but Terra had the feeling the day was done. She put her feet up on the railing and thought again of the near kiss. His green eyes. His soft but confident touch. His intoxicating smell.

  Vicky grabbed a beer and was about to join Terra on the deck when she glanced out the window. She stopped, watching Terra, who had her head back and her eyes closed, in some reverie as her fingers massaged the medallion. Vicky thought for a moment, then went back to the kitchen and put her beer back. She poked her head out the door to the deck.

  “Listen, Ter, I think I’m going to lay down. Sorry to leave you hangin’, but I don’t think I’ll be up for anything else today. I think I ate too much lunch. Or maybe it was the second margarita. Sorry.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ll find something to do.”

  “That Nik’s medallion thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thought you were going to return it.”

  “I was. Will. Am.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, I’m gonna lay down.”

  “Okay.”

  Vicky started to turn away, then stopped, searching for the right words. “Hey, Ter?” she said.

  “Um?”

  “You want some advice?”

  “Uh, okay.” She looked up at Vicky.

  “Call him. Trust me on this one. Even if you don’t trust yourself. Just remember, we have a flight tomorrow,” she said as she went back in.

  Terra stood up and went to the railing. She hoisted herself up, sitting with her feet dangling over the front. Looking out at the ocean, she tried to gauge how brave she was.

  Chapter 6

  Two hours later, he picked her up on his motorcycle. It was one of those that can go on highways and off-road, with the knobby tires. He got off the bike, but left the engine running. Terra slipped the medallion off her neck and put it over his head, resting it on his chest. He smiled, patting it. “It always work,” he said. “Whoever you give it to, they always come back.” He slipped off his jacket. “When you told me Vicky wasn’t well and no come, I told my friend no to come too. I hope this okay, yes?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” Terra shouted over the sound of the engine. She had promised Vicky that she’d text, and she had activated the tracking on her phone in case something happened and they needed to know where she was.

  He had on the jeans and t-shirt he wore the night before, and low-cut black boots. She wore jeans, sneakers and a sweater. “Take this backpack off,” he said. “Can be cold on open road.” He put his leather jacket on her, stepping in close as he zipped it up. It felt soft and heavy, still warm from the heat of his body. She put her backpack back on over the jacket. He got on the bike and motioned for her to get on behind him. She got on, sliding forward against him. “Put your feet on pegs and hold tight around this, my waist,” he said as he revved the engine. “And when I lean, you go lean too.”

  “Where are we going?” She tried not to sound nervous. “It no far,” he said, as if that was an answer to her question. He gunned the engine and took off.

  She’d never been on a motorcycle and had no idea how exhilarating it was. Straddling the bike, the vibrations throbbed through her. She wrapped her arms tightly around him and leaned into his back, letting the wind whip her hair back.

  They drove along the coast through long, winding roads, the ocean shimmering next to them. She noticed if she got close to the back of his neck, she could smell him. Eventually, the two-lane road became a one-lane road. They hadn’t passed a car for quite awhile when the road turned to dirt. They bumped along until he turned onto a trail leading in the direction of the ocean. Riding slowly, he maneuvered the bike around holes in the trail. They came to an old, falling down gate that blocked the path.

  An inkling of fear rose in Terra. She tried to remember when they last saw another person. It would be a car they passed on the road, about half an hour ago. As she realized how isolated they were, her heart began to pound and her throat started to constrict.

  Nik stopped the bike in front of the gate. He turned and motioned for her to get off as he killed the engine. She slid off the bike and stood, her butt and legs tingling. He leaned the bike against a tree and went to the gate and crouched. Her head was buzzing from the sound of the engine. He unlocked the gate and pulled it open. He came back and walked the bike through. She followed him.

  “Nik, I’m afraid I don’t feel safe being—”

  “Just a moment,” he said. “Hold bike up, please.” She held the bike as he went back and closed the gate behind them.”

  “I was starting to say—” she said when he came back. “Just a moment,” he said, getting back on the bike. “Here, get on and say to me.” She got on behind him and spoke into his ear, “I feel like this is not—” He started the engine and they took off, her words lost in the wind.

  “Hold on,” he yelled back. The road on the other side of the gate was smoother. He rode fast. She held him tight. The ocean got bigger and bigger over his shoulder. The path narrowed but stayed smooth until they came to a flat, grassy area that looked out over a shallow ledge. He pulled the bike up to the lip and killed the engine.

  The view was breathtaking. It was a wide bay, with white cliffs on one side dropping beyond vertical into the sea, and a broad, sugar sand beach in the middle, with tall palm trees scattered along the shoreline. On the other side of the bay was a wood pier, with a sailboat at the end.

  There was a structure on the beach; a small white house, where the pier met the land, as if the pier was built out of it. The water was as blue as a robins egg, smooth and glassy in the late afternoon light. Colorful birds, brilliant green, yellow and red, glided off the cliffs and drifted over the water. Terra had never seen anything like it. It was like a glimpse of what heaven might look like. She sat on the bike, her arms still wrapped around him, in awe.

  Growing up in the harsh Michigan winters and depressing, sweltering summers, she never imagined places like this actually existed.

  Terra’s fear and anxiety drifted aw
ay as she took it all in. Nik turned and watched her, more interested in her than the beauty before them.

  “It’s… It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” she said. He smiled. “Is anyone allowed down there? Is that someone’s house? I see a boat.”

  “That’s my boat,” he said. “And that’s my house. I built it.” He kicked the bike back to life.

  He rode slowly along the ridge, looking over the ledge that dropped into the bay. It looked too steep for the bike. “When we go over, stand up on the pegs and flex your knees,” he said, lifting off the seat in a crouch, demonstrating.

  “But…” she said, looking over the ledge. “Here we go,” he said, driving over the lip at an angle. She did as he said, gripping him so tight he thought she might crack his ribs. He followed a rough path down the embankment, the bike bouncing like mad beneath them. He switched back, following the path in a zigzag. She looked over a steep section, then squeezed her eyes shut and gripped him tighter.

  Finally, they made it to level ground. He pulled the bike into an area shaded by palm trees and turned off the engine.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as they got off.

  Here’s where I should say something, she thought. Take me back. I don’t feel comfortable. Something like that. But she searched, and couldn’t find any trace of the fear she felt before.

  “Yeah, I’m good,” she said, looking around.

  He took her hand and led her over some rough terrain until they were at the sand. He kept her hand in his as he guided her toward the water. The first thing she noticed was the silence. With no tourists, loud kids, or bar on the beach, it was completely serene. The quiet was like a presence.

  The sand was as fine as silk. As they passed a palm tree, the silence was broken by a loud screech. Terra was so startled she nearly jumped into Nik’s arms. He laughed. “Spider monkey,” he said, pointing up at the tree. Terra looked up. A monkey was running circles around the trunk of a palm, near the top, making an awful racket.

  Nik shouted up to the monkey. “Olla, Spidey. Ella es una amiga. Ella está conmigo.” The monkey stopped chattering. Nik turned back to Terra. “He is protective. Yes. Always must know what is happening. He’s like a… what do you say, a watch dog.”

  “You speak Spanish?” she asked. “Yes, among others,” he said. “Not many people here speak Greek.” The monkey eyed her suspiciously, but kept quiet.

  They stood at the shoreline and watched the birds skim the surface of the sea. The water was so clear that Terra could see the underwater pilings of the pier go into the sand. A huge bird with wings as wide as a car dove in the water and came up with a large fish in its bill. The monkey gave a squawk of approval.

  “Come,” he said, putting an arm around her and walking her toward the house.

  “Is that really your house?”

  “Yes. I do not own the land. Anna and myself spent two summers working with the Mexican government to open a dive sanctuary. Also will be research center. Here, in bay. They say I can build house and pier. Part of agreement.”

  “So this is—I mean—you actually live here?”

  “Yes. This is my home.” He walked her up some stairs that led from the sand to a deck that faced the ocean. The house was much bigger than it looked from the bluff. The whole front had roll-away doors that were open. Gauzy fabrics dropping from the high ceilings.

  He walked her inside. The house was open and airy, with sanded wood surfaces and soft white furniture. A huge kitchen opened up to the front room, which lead seamlessly to the deck. A wide bowl filled with colorful flowers sat on a low table in the center of the room, filling the place with a fresh floral scent. She saw other feminine touches that told her Anna likely had a hand in the decorating.

  “Your home is gorgeous,” Terra said as she looked around. “It’s really beautiful. Is it just you here?”

  “Yes. For now, while Anna gone. I build all expecting to feed lots of hungry divers. Soon, I hope. Have a lot of building to do.” He went into the kitchen and dug in the refrigerator. Terra looked at the bookshelves that went floor to ceiling along one of the walls as Nik opened a bottle of wine. The books were in multiple languages; French, Italian, some even in Latin.

  She felt grimy from the ride. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” she asked.

  “No, of course no. It’s there. Through there,” he pointed.

  The bathroom was about the size of Terra’s entire dorm room, with an open shower and a large, claw-foot tub. A half wall opened to the outside so you could see the ocean. A breeze came through, bringing in the smell of the ocean. Terra was so overwhelmed by the beauty of it all that she was shocked when she looked in the mirror. It was as if she expected her own image to take on some of the beauty around her. But her face looked blotchy from the wind. Her blue sweater looked sad and needed a washing. No makeup. Boy tennis shoes. Her hair was a mess from the wind. She signed in the mirror, shaking her head, angry that she didn’t at least bring a hairbrush.

  He was waiting for her in the living room, a glass of wine in each hand. How is it possible that he looked so perfect? Like he’d been kept on ice. “Do you drink wine?”

  “Yes, thank you.” He handed her a glass and they walked out to the deck, where he’d set out some food. He looked out at the ocean. She noticed he always seemed to face the ocean, as if drawn to it. His whole house was built to face the water. They looked out as the setting sun cast a warm, orange glow on the calm surface of the sea. She sipped the chilled white wine. It tasted like heaven.

  “I’m glad you came,” he said. On the table was a breadboard with cheese, olives, and big chunks of fresh bread. He cut off a piece of cheese and held it out to her on the end of the knife. “Me too,” she said, drawn again to his eyes, lit by the soft, fading sun. He tore a piece of bread and handed it to her.

  They ate, watching the water. He held an olive up to the light. “These are good olives,” he said, admiring it. “For here. But in Greece, I grew up eating olives fresh, right off tree, and big as kiwis. I miss that.” He handed her the olive. She didn’t take it. He held the olive to her mouth. She looked at him and opened her mouth. He put the olive on her tongue, his fingertips lingering for a second, brushing her wet lips. She closed her mouth, her lips briefly closing on his fingertips as she looked up into his eyes.

  He put his wine down and ran his hands down the side of her face. He looked at her eyes, then at her mouth. He’s going to kiss me, she thought as she set her glass down. She could feel it. She wanted him to. She wanted him to so bad she could hardly stand it.

  He ran his hands down her back and pulled her in close. She tilted her face up to him, trying to close the gap. He pushed hair out of her face and leaned down, his nose brushing hers. He paused, breathing her in. She pressed against him, feeling the warmth of his body. She could feel his growing excitement pressed against her belly.

  “We’ll go for a dive, yeah?” he said.

  What?! “What? Now?”

  “Yes,” he said, breaking their embrace.

  “But—but, it’s almost dark.”

  “Yes, best time. Trust me, it like nothing you ever see.”

  Her heart sank. Maybe he doesn’t want to kiss me. Maybe he just needed someone to keep him company since his sister went away. She looked down at the deck, picking up her glass of wine. No wonder, I look like a disaster.

  “Come on,” he said. “Bring your wine. Everything’s on the boat.”

  The boat?

  Chapter 7

  The sailboat was also bigger than it looked from the bluff. It was old, but had been completely restored. Brass fixtures glowed in the fading light. Being on board felt like stepping back in time, to some bygone romantic era.

  “This boat was my first project, even before house. I bought it for almost nothing and spend two years living on it while I restore.” The care he’d taken in restoring it was evident. She noticed there was no wheel. He steered with an old fashioned tiller.


  “Have you named it?” she asked, running her hand along the mahogany and ash inlays that ran along the sideboards.

  “No. That is American thing. You don’t name your heart.”

  At this point, Terra figured he was just taking her out for a ride. Diving didn’t seem like an option as she looked at the darkening water. He tacked the boat around the white cliffs, moving parallel to the coast. They came around a bend to a wide bay with an island in the center. He steered the boat toward it. When they were just a few yards from the shore of the island, he threw an anchor over.

  It was nearly dark now. The island had a sandy beach, with a tree line about twenty yards from the water. In the fading light, it looked raw and wild, with the call of birds and animals coming from the trees.

  The idea of going ashore felt ominous. Just as she was thinking that, a huge light went on. There was a floodlight attached to the sail shaft. Nik turned on a second light, instantly turning the island into a brightly lit, inviting, mystical place. Birds squawked. Terra could make out their bright colors fluttering in the trees, as if they were coming out to greet them.

  Nik opened a storage cabinet on the bow and pulled out additional lights. He took off his jeans and shirt, stripping down to his red swimsuit. He hopped off the boat, into the waist deep water. He took one of the lights and dove under water, swimming off shore. He came up and got another light and went back under, then did it again.

  Terra watched him, unsure what he was doing. He took a deep breath and dove down again. One of the lights went on. It was anchored to the sand about six feet below the surface. She could see him swim to the next light, which he turned on. Then the third. He swam up and broke the surface, treading the water, watching her.