by Ju Ephraime
Daphne dressed hurriedly in a body-fitting black strapless dress. It was very short and showed off her legs to perfection. Taking a quick glance in the full-length mirror, she thought she looked indecent. The fabric of the dress, soft and clingy, almost had her changing into something less revealing, but there was no time to make another selection.
She needed to get out of the room now. She grabbed her key, stepped into a pair of black strappy sandals, picked up her small clutch bag, and exited the room with a deep sigh. She made her way to a secluded table in the corner of the lounge and ordered her usual drink, Planter’s Punch. It was a sweet fruity drink, but it was very deceptive because the effect kicked in before she’d gone through a third of the glass. It gave her a buzz which helped loosen her up.
Tonight a new waiter was on duty, one she hadn’t seen before. He was a younger man who looked good enough to eat, but Daphne could tell he was aware of it by the way he carried himself. Anyway, he was too young for her. She didn’t like young men; she had an instant distrust of them. This one was very friendly with all the single women at the bar and in the dining room. He went from woman to woman, working the room like a professional.
The women laughed at whatever silly nonsense he relayed to them. It did nothing for Daphne, who was trying hard not to look bored with the whole episode. She just wanted to have her dinner, enjoy her drink, and find a nightclub where she could try her feet at dancing. Her goal was to get herself so exhausted she would sleep like the dead.
The drink had worked its magic and calmed her overstimulated body. She ate slowly because she planned to wait two hours before having a cab called. The nightclub she was going to was approximately forty-five minutes away. Her plan was to get there when the evening was in full swing. Tonight, she wanted to make an entrance, to be noticed. Tonight, her wanton half wanted to come out to play. She was going to have fun, even if she had to get a little drunk to do it.
So far, she had played it safe and stuck to the fruit cocktails. She thought she would have a scotch or a dry martini when she got to the club. She’d been wanting to try one for some time now.
The nightclub she’d chosen catered to the international crowd. The band played soul grooves, blues, jazz, dancehall, reggaeton, salsa, soka, zouk, and beguine. When the taxi brought her there, and she saw the crowd had spilled onto the street in front of the building, she'd almost turned tail and run, but when she turned, looking for the taxi that had brought her, it was long gone. So, it was either dance or run, and since she’d come to dance, she chose the former.
It took her a while to find her groove in the club. She stood in the corner observing everyone until an older gentleman approached her and asked her to dance. He looked safe enough, so she thought, why the hell not, and followed him onto the dance floor. Soon she had so many partners she couldn’t keep up. The music changed from one rhythm to the next, and the locals moved into the new rhythm without missing a step. It was like watching poetry in motion.
Daphne was good and loose after her first dry martini and tried to follow. It was much more difficult than it looked. After she’d gone through her fifth dry martini, she was beyond caring whether she followed any established set of dance steps. It took a lot of concentration just to remain on her feet, but she kept going. Daphne danced with everyone who asked her because she was too smashed to care. She’d set out to get smashed and did so. Had it not been for a couple from her hotel who recognized her and offered to share a cab, she had no idea what would have become of her.
She was barely able to make it to the bed before she passed out without even undressing. When her wake-up call came, she was dead to the world and didn’t hear it, so she overslept. When she woke at noon, Daphne felt as if someone was hammering nails in her head. She remained in her bed for the most part, dozing on and off, till four in the afternoon, but her head still hurt. She’d put off taking any aspirin—it had a tendency to upset her stomach—but there was no avoiding it; her headache was not going away. She finally took a couple and remained in bed until she felt well enough to shower. She felt better after she’d had coffee and eaten the toast she ordered from room service.
Since it was almost dinnertime, she got dressed, left the hotel, and took one of the cabs waiting at the front. She hoped he spoke English. She needed some directions.
“Bonne journée, monsieur,” she greeted him.
“Good afternoon, miss, where can I take you on this lovely afternoon?”
“I’d like to have dinner at a local restaurant. Can you recommend one?”
“Qui, yes, but of course. Would you like to remain close to the hotel or go a bit farther?”
“A bit farther sounds good.”
“A bit farther it is.” The taxi driver took her to a lovely restaurant on the outskirts of town that specialized in local cuisine. She enjoyed the drive and was so taken up with trying to take everything in that she lost track of the time.
“Would you like me to wait, mademoiselle?” he inquired.
“Oh, can you do that? How much will it cost for you to wait?”
“We charge a flat rate of seventy-five dollars U.S. for the entire evening or an hourly rate of fifteen dollars.” She opted for the flat rate because she wanted to relax and not rush back to her lonely hotel room.
The restaurant appeared to be very popular because a line extended all the way to the curb. The customers were mostly couples, and there was a longer wait. She had to wait only fifteen minutes for a table for one. She was seated at a small table toward the back of the dining area, which gave her a good view of the entire place. The decor was bright and colorful. There was a local band playing popular music. People were singing along with the band or getting up to dance next to their tables. It was a great, relaxed atmosphere.
Daphne sipped a passion fruit cocktail while she waited for her meal—appetizer, entrée, and dessert. She thought if she didn’t like the appetizer, then maybe the main course or dessert would do it.
The appetizer was accra—a fritter made with shrimp, fish, and vegetables. She didn’t have long to wait. The accra was just as she remembered from having had it once. The spicy flavor melted in her mouth, blending well with the cocktail she was drinking. Poulet boucané was the main dish, chicken smoked over sugar cane. The dessert of flan de coco, made with three milks, sugar, egg, and shredded coconut, was out of the world. The entire meal was fantastic. When she got the bill, she consoled herself with the thought: You only live once.
She was having a great time and was reluctant to leave. She was about to call her waiter over to order a long cold squash—she thought the combination of lime juice, sugar, and banana extract sounded wonderful with a hint of spiced rum—when she looked up and thought she saw someone familiar. Wolfe?
It was just a brief glimpse, and then the person disappeared into the crowd. But there was something very familiar about those shoulders and that head. She kept looking, but after fifteen minutes of no luck, she gave it up...Wolfe on the brain. What is wrong with me?
Wolfe was working the restaurant and had just gone to the lounge area to collect the day’s receipts when he felt as if someone was watching him. His accountant was waiting, though, so he continued on his way and didn’t return to the lounge. By the time the money was counted and entered into the day’s ledger, it was almost closing time. He had missed the opportunity to investigate the feeling of being watched.
His thoughts went to Daphne, but he dismissed it as fanciful. How could she be here in his restaurant? The closest hotel is twenty minutes away, and I can’t see her coming all this way alone.
Daphne had made an impression on him. She was charming and vivacious, with an air of untouched innocence that he found attractive. She had turned beet red when he’d confronted her with his monstrous hard-on, but he had to give her credit. She hadn’t run screaming as any sane woman would have. Obviously, she found him attractive.
He not only found her attractive, but he wanted her also. And he always go
t what he wanted. Some might find him egotistical, but it was just his single-minded pursuit of whatever he wanted that carried him through. He had not failed yet. Although to hear it told, he had the luck of the devil.
He admired the way she had literally stood up to him. He was curious to find out if she would stand up to all of him, considering what he wanted to do with her. He had a difficult time containing his disappointment when he returned from his swim today, and she had not been there. Did I scare her off? He doubted it; something told him he had not seen the last of Daphne. He had a surprise waiting for her, if, when she showed up again. He couldn’t wait to push her a bit.
Daphne sat back, enjoying her drink while watching people dance to reggaeton and the country and western music the band belted out. She was having a wonderful evening and did so hate to leave, but she could only entertain herself for so long. When she stepped outside the restaurant, several taxicabs were parked in front. She had difficulty identifying the one she had hired, but he had no such problem because he came up to her.
“Are you going back to your hotel, mademoiselle?” he asked. “Or do you want to go to a nightclub?”
“I’ll be going back to my hotel,” she replied. “Thanks for asking, and thanks for bringing me to this wonderful restaurant. I thoroughly enjoyed the meal.”
“No problem,” he replied. “This is a hotspot for both locals and tourists.”
The drive back appeared to be much quicker. He could have taken a shorter route because, in no time, they were pulling up in front of her hotel. She paid him, giving him a big tip, and made her way up to her room. She’d still not fully recovered from her night out, and she needed to sleep off the effects of the alcohol. So far, her vacation was going beautifully. All she needed was a taste of Wolfe to take the vacation from beautiful to superb!
F our
Wolfe had been thinking about Daphne as he made his rounds at the restaurant. He had been thinking about her a lot since the day after he noticed her behind the shrubbery. It had taken a lot of self-control not to confront her that first day. He’d walked away, and soon it became a test to see how long she would keep coming back. That day he’d confronted her, his curiosity had gotten the better of him. He wanted to see the woman who was so intrigued by him that she hid behind bushes to observe him taking a swim.
He was taken aback when he saw her. She was a very attractive young woman, with a hot body—curvaceous and generous in all the right places from what he could see displayed in her skimpy outfit. Her lips were pink and moist as if they had just been kissed, and her eyes had a slight upward slant, giving her an exotic appearance. Her hair was a glorious shade of deep auburn, and her complexion was a beautiful shade of honeyed milk. She had a very tiny waist, and her hips flared down to beautiful long legs, which were on full display in the very short shorts she had been wearing. She was all legs and breasts. The top of her bathing suit was barely able to cover her very generous breasts. He was a breast man, and those looked scrumptious.
He could tell she was a very sensual woman because of her endearing habit of constantly running the tip of her tongue over her lips, leaving them pink and moist, as if begging to be kissed. Yes, there was no mistaking the sensuality radiating in waves off that woman. She gave off some powerful pheromones, which gave her an intriguing smell, and it had messed with his head, literally. It called to the beast in him.
He’d walked away from her previously, but he could not help wondering how it would feel to have her gorgeous legs wrapped around him. He couldn’t explain his reaction to Daphne. She had an effect on him like no other woman before. After meeting her, he felt like a teenager after his first encounter with the opposite sex, filled with anticipation of all the possibilities he envisioned in his mind. He’d made his way from the beach back to his vehicle and got home just in time to get dressed for work. He ran two restaurants on the island, but he usually spent time at the one on the north end while his twin brother, Foxx, managed the one on the south end.
The restaurants, Petits Pois, had been in his family for over fifty years and managed by their father before them. They had stepped into the role after his dad retired five years ago.
Wolfe did not mind managing the restaurant, but his true love was cooking. He was much more comfortable in the kitchen than he was handling the paperwork that was involved in the daily upkeep of the restaurant. Foxx was much better at the paperwork. They shared roles, and things had been progressing nicely that way.
His encounter with Daphne had thrown his routine off, and he had to hurry the past three mornings so as not to be late for work. He’d floated too long in the water, trying to decide whether or not to approach her. He had his time scheduled down to the last second; meeting Daphne on the beach had been a diversion he had not factored in.
He was so consumed with thoughts of her that day he had finally met her he’d almost overshot the exit to his home. He had to force himself to concentrate on the immediate task before him, which was putting together menus for dinner that night. For now, the less he thought about Daphne, the better he hoped it would be. Yet he could not get over his reaction to her.
The beach where he swam belonged to his family, and everyone on the island knew that it was private property. Never before had he encountered a visitor to the island on that section of the beach. Tourists were usually interested in the beaches closer to the hotels or the more popular public beaches.
When he had first become aware of her, he was furious. He wanted to have her arrested, but something stopped him from going that route. But he was still furious to find her there. She had no business being on his property, spying on him, interrupting his swim.
When she continued to come back, day after day, he had deliberately returned from his swim with a monstrous hard-on, believing that would do the trick and scare her off. But it seemed to have had the opposite effect because she kept coming back for more. What he’d not anticipated was his reaction to her on finally meeting her… It was explosive.
He wondered what Foxx would say if he told him about his encounter with the woman on his property. He would keep the information from Foxx—she would be his secret, for now.
As Daphne undressed and stepped into the shower, she found herself thinking again of Wolfe. She wondered if he could have been the one she’d seen at the restaurant. She couldn’t get this man out of her head and it was much more difficult when she was in a state of undress. For whatever the reason, her connection with him was stronger then.
She kept imagining how it would feel to have all that male hardness inside her, doing things to her, loving her. Her imagination ran wild as she asked herself, would he be a great lover? She’d heard it said it was not the size of the instrument but the skill of the individual with the instrument that mattered. How good was Wolfe’s skill? She imagined him as being great, just from the way he carried himself. The fact that he appeared to be so comfortable with his body, in her opinion, was a testament to his skill.
After her hurried shower, she was still thinking about Wolfe’s skill as a lover. She was becoming obsessed with the entire thing. She wasn’t able to get to sleep; she needed something. She twisted and turned in the bed all night. She tried reading one of her sex-loaded novels, but that only aggravated the situation, so she gave up on that idea. Finally, in desperation, she placed a pillow between her thighs. This seemed to ease her problem slightly, but there was still a restless hunger in her.
She tried watching a movie, but every love scene made her hungrier. She’d never pleasured herself. Not from lack of trying, but from lack of experience. She wasn’t good at it. She’d never been able to concentrate enough to complete the act, and she really didn’t feel anything from placing her hands on her body in that way. This could explain her disappointed episodes with Michael.
She was so frustrated she wanted to howl. Her entire body seemed to have a life of its own. Everywhere she touched was tender and sensitive. Her breasts were swollen, and she couldn’t
even stand to feel the fabric of her nightgown rubbing against them. It was as if someone else had taken over her body. In the end, she stripped down and went to sleep, naked.
It’s that beach. That stupid beach is ruining my vacation! See if I go there again!
Finally, as the sun was creeping over the horizon, she fell into an exhausted sleep, and immediately, the dream began. She was again behind the shrubbery, and Wolfe came up out of the ocean. She ran to meet him, and they came together in a passionate embrace. However, instead of remaining on shore with her, he took her back into the ocean with him. She was laughing, telling him she couldn’t swim.
He answered her in that deep voice with his French accent.
“You won’t be swimming, ma cherie. Just put your legs around my waist; I’ll keep you afloat.”
She was a bit embarrassed because she could see the silken head of his engorged penis bobbing in the water. She tried holding on to it, but it slipped away. She was mindless with need and kept trying to position herself to feel him through her panties.
Just as she was about to ask him to allow her to remove her panties, she woke up from the dream. She was drenched between her thighs as if someone had poured soapy water between her legs. She’d no memory of being so wet down there before, and she’d no idea how it had happened.
She lay there trying to figure out the dream and willing herself to get back to sleep, so she could get back into the dream. She must have fallen asleep because, once again, she was on the beach. This time Wolfe came up from behind her and surprised her. He reached around and began caressing her breasts, removing them from the bra while he kept her tank top on. He alternated between squeezing her nipples and rolling them between his fingers, first the left, then the right. She felt his hands travelling down to the soft, downy curls that covered her pubic area. She leaned her head back to look up at him, and he claimed her lips in a kiss that was so hot she felt herself drowning in it.