by S. J. Lewis
She squeezed another handful of lotion into her palm and started on her torso. Her belly felt nicely taut and toned under her fingers. When she came to her breasts, she cupped them in her hands for a moment, hefting the soft weights.
“Maybe I should have these done. What do you think?” she asked Amanda.
“Oh, please!” Amanda responded. “They’re quite big enough and damned near perfect as they are, and you know it. You’re just doing that to get attention.”
“Well, it works,” Sigrid chuckled nastily. She began applying the lotion to the tops of her breasts. She worked her way up from there to her shoulders and arms. The lotion felt cool at first, and then nicely warm as it absorbed the rays of the sun.
“You should try this,” she waved the plastic bottle at her companion. “It’s wonderful stuff. It should be, it’s so expensive.”
“No, thank you,” Amanda sighed, waving a hand. “You’re already darker than half of the people who live here. Aren’t you worried that when you’re older that lovely satin skin of yours will turn all dry and leathery?”
“Not in the least,” Sigrid grinned. She finished with her arms, then did her face. She adjusted the lounge chair so that she was lying flat on her back. “This is supposed to prevent that too.” She held the bottle out. “Do my back, would you?”
Amanda sighed and took the bottle. Sigrid turned over. Lying face down, she reached behind her and untied the knots that held her bikini top on. To a casual observer, she would seem to be topless. She felt Amanda squeeze a blob of the lotion on her back, right near the base of her spine and start to work it in with slim, strong fingers.
“Mmmmm,” Sigrid purred. “That feels wonderful, dear. I’d be happy to do the same for you, you know.”
“So you always say,” Amanda sighed again. “You know there’s no chance of having to do it. I’m about as tan as I want to be, thank you. And I don’t care what the doctor told you about this stuff. By the time you’re forty, your skin is going to look sixty.”
“Good afternoon, ladies,” the voice was deep and masculine and the words had a definite island lilt to them. Sigrid turned her head and pushed her sunglasses up to see who was interrupting them. He was tall, muscular, wide-shouldered and slim-hipped. He was also the exact shade as bittersweet chocolate, except for his big, friendly, white, toothy grin. Not only was he bald, but it looked as if he shaved his whole body as well. His skin fairly glistened in the sun. Was it sweat, or had he just climbed out of the pool? He looked into Sigrid’s eyes. “I’d be happy to help you with that,” he said.
“I don’t think…” Amanda began. Sigrid cut her short.
“Nonsense, dear,” she interrupted. “Let the nice man help. I know you really hate doing that anyway.”
“Suit yourself,” Amanda said with a little too much casualness. She handed over the bottle and flounced back into her chair; she picked up a book and began reading.
“Pleased to meet you, Ms…?”
“Call me Sigrid.” She half-turned towards him, holding her bikini top in place with one arm while she held out her other hand to him. His eyes flashed briefly to her barely-covered breasts, and she knew that he’d seen a hint of creamy white flesh, normally hidden by her bikini top, just as she’d intended.
“Charmed,” he nodded. He took her hand lightly in his and kissed it. “I am Paul Marengo. Please call me Paul.”
“Pleased to meet you, Paul,” Sigrid smiled at him and then settled back face down. She pillowed her head on her forearms as Paul Marengo set to work. His hands felt big and strong on her back. He used long, slow, seductive strokes.
“Mmmm…that feels wonderful, Paul,” Sigrid purred as he massaged the lotion into her shoulders. “Thank you,” she sighed happily. She was sure what he was hoping, and while she had every intention of dashing those hopes, it would be fun to lead him on anyway. A girl had to keep in practice.
“It is my pleasure,” he responded. “I have seen you and your friend before, but I have not had an opportunity to introduce myself until now.” His thumbs dug into the muscles at the base of her neck and Sigrid purred again and stirred under his hands.
“You’re staying at the hotel?” she asked.
“Yes, but only for a little while longer,” he answered. She heard him squirt out more lotion, and then his hands were on her ribs, stroking and kneading. “I am afraid that soon I must go back to my business in Miami.”
“Miami?” Sigrid stirred again. His fingertips were straying close to the sides of her breasts. She didn’t try to stop him. “You sound more like you’re from Jamaica.”
His laugh was deep. “Barbados, actually,” he said. “You have a very good ear.”
Now she was supposed to ask him what his business was, so he could impress her with how wealthy or important he was. Sigrid stirred once more and murmured sleepily as his fingers brushed against her breasts ever so gently and then she lay still. He kept rubbing in the lotion for a while, getting a little more daring with time. But when she didn’t move at all, he stopped.
“Sigrid?” he said quietly. “Sigrid?” She lay limply on the chair, unmoving.
“Excuse me, Ms…?”
“Yes? What is it?” Sigrid had her eyes closed but she could picture the look of annoyance on Amanda’s face.
“I’m sorry, but your friend seems to have fallen asleep. When she wakes, please tell her for me that it was a pleasure to finally meet her…and you.”
“I’ll be sure to do that,” Amanda replied a bit less coldly. “It was a pleasure for me to meet you as well, Mr. Marengo.”
Sigrid opened an eye no more than a slit, trusting to the dark sunglasses to conceal her move. As she expected, Paul was kissing Amanda’s hand as he had kissed hers earlier. Amanda didn’t seem to like it or dislike it. Paul bowed to her and then went away.
“He’s gone now,” Amanda muttered out of the side of her mouth as she picked her book back up.
“Attractive, would you say?” Sigrid whispered back.
“Maybe,” Amanda held the book up just enough to hide her mouth from possible spectators. “I wish you wouldn’t do that, though.”
“Do what, dear?” Sigrid feigned innocence.
“Lead them on like that,” Amanda hissed. “You like teasing them, don’t you?”
“I love it,” Sigrid murmured.
“It’s not a safe thing to do,” Amanda went on. “You heard him say he has a business in Miami. What if he’s a drug dealer?”
“And what if he’s an insurance salesman?” Sigrid shot back, still in a whisper. “I could have asked him what his business was, but I knew he’d lie about it anyway. Men always lie when they’re hoping to score.”
“At least he got a couple of cheap feels out of it,” Amanda sniffed.
“So he goes away feeling good about that and hoping to get more next time,” Sigrid responded. “He won’t, but that hope will keep him trying. It should be fun to watch.”
“Are you going to tell me how it’s like a matador playing a bull again? Let me remind you that some times, the bull wins.”
“Are you jealous, dear?” Sigrid teased. Amanda didn’t reply.
“Wake me when it’s time to turn over, would you, dear?” Sigrid asked.
“What do you want to do tonight?” Amanda asked quietly after a moment.
“I was thinking we could go to that charming little club we saw yesterday,” Sigrid yawned. The warmth of the sun was making her drowsy. “Lots of Europeans there, and I hear they have a casino. I’m sure they’d be only too happy to let a couple of pretty women in. I have a lovely backless sun dress I could wear.”
“The one that’s more like a blouse than a dress?” Amanda teased.
Sigrid chuckled. “Mister Marengo’s ministrations had a bit of an effect on me. I wouldn’t mind being seduced by some wealthy businessman tonight. How about you, dear?”
“I don’t know,” Amanda shrugged.
“Oh, come on,” Sigrid urged. “Look,
we have all that money to spend. Why don’t we do a little shopping before dinner, and then hit the club?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“We could find you a cute little outfit to wear. You don’t have to dress like a dowdy little executive secretary any more, you know.”
“Well… maybe.”
Chapter Two
“Oh, cheer up, dear,” Sigrid smiled at Amanda. “And try to smile. You look just fine.” She laid her fingertips on Amanda’s bare shoulder.
Amanda shifted away, up against the door of the little island taxi. She looked out of the window as the taxi driver wove his way through the marketplace. “I do not,” she said. “I look like a whore.”
“Nonsense,” Sigrid laughed. “You’re dressed far too expensively for that. At worst, you look like a courtesan.”
“That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“Dear, we picked that outfit out together,” Sigrid reminded her. “You thought it looked wonderful when you tried it on in the shop.”
“You talked me into it.”
“All I did was tell you how stunning you looked in it. Anyway, it’s too late to go back to the hotel and change now. We’re almost at the club.”
“You could go without me,” Amanda suggested. “I can have the cab take me back to the hotel.”
“And how could I enjoy myself knowing that you were moping around in our suite?” Sigrid asked. “I think you’re just a bit shy, dear. Please, come with me or I won’t enjoy myself at all.”
“You could at least have let me wear a bra,” Amanda said. “I did get one I could wear with this dress.”
“And it was more of a Medieval torture device than a bra,” Sigrid smiled. “Do you really want to spend the night with it strapped around you, all those wires poking at your…”
“All right!” Amanda snapped. “No, I couldn’t have stood it. But I feel very uncomfortable sitting here with no bra on at all.”
There was a yell from the street. The taxi swerved to avoid a pushcart and missed it by inches. The driver kept going, pursued by the curses of half a dozen people who had scattered away from the cart.
Sigrid chuckled. “Is our conversation distracting you, driver?”
“No, ma’am,” the driver shook his head vigorously. He was a wizened little brown character who could have been ninety years old. “It just be real busy out tonight. People don’t be lookin’ where dey be goin’.”
“It’s nothing, Amanda, really,” Sigrid turned back to her companion. “I can’t wear a bra with this dress either.”
Amanda looked at Sigrid’s silk dress. It was a riot of red, yellow and green in a tropical floral pattern. The neckline, if that’s what it could be called, ran from her right shoulder to under her left arm. It draped low on the right side. It had a small elastic band on the hem that went around the ankle. On the left, it climbed almost all the way up to her hip, showing all of her spectacular leg on that side. It clung tightly around her waist but billowed out above and below.
“Doesn’t it bother you when they jiggle?” Amanda asked.
“Should it?” Sigrid countered. “We’re in the Caribbean now, dear, not in a business office. Loosen up a little.”
The taxi shuddered to a stop. “We be here, ladies,” the driver announced.
“Coming?” Sigrid smiled at Amanda.
“Oh, all right,” Amanda gave in.
The taxi driver opened the door for them and offered his hand to help them exit. Sigrid gave him a flash of long, tanned thigh as she accepted his hand and got out. He smiled appreciatively. He smiled even more appreciatively when she gave him a generous tip on top of his fare. His white, white teeth stood out starkly against his dark brown wrinkled face.
“T’ank you very much, ma’am,” he said, touching the brim of his straw hat. “You be needin’ a ride again, you be sure you call me.” He gave Sigrid one last long look as he got back into his rattletrap cab, touched the brim of his straw hat again, and drove away.
“Well,” Amanda sighed. “Here we are.” She tugged at the top of her outfit. It was all in pure white, including the small purse she carried. The top circled her torso just below her breasts and stopped just above them. Off-the-shoulder half-sleeves were all that kept it from being a bandeau. The bottom half were cut like harem pants. They rode low on her hips, baring her midriff, her navel, and quite a bit of her belly below it. She did not look comfortable with her appearance.
Sigrid checked the straps of her high-heeled sandals while Amanda tried to find a way to cover more of herself than her outfit was designed to do. She could hear the music coming from the casino; she could hear the talk and laughter from the crowd inside. The building looked as if it had once been a big old wooden warehouse. Windows had been added to it, and a coat of white paint. The entrance looked like they had kept the original wide double doors. Those doors were fully opened now. Through them, she could see lights and color and people. She could hear music and laughter. Above the entrance hung a neon sign. It read: ‘L’ Entrepot’, with a funny little mark above the ‘o’. She remembered just enough from her high-school French to know that it meant ‘The Warehouse’.
“Oh, give it up, dear,” she snapped at Amanda. “That’s not a flannel gown. You look splendid.”
“I feel half-naked,” Amanda complained.
“That’s because you are, dear,” Sigrid smiled. “Stop worrying. The strategic areas are covered. You wear less when you go to the beach.”
“This isn’t the beach,” Amanda replied.
“Is it so hard for you to just enjoy yourself?” Sigrid asked. “Let’s go in. They seem to have dancing inside. You know you love to dance.”
“All right,” Amanda sighed. She fell in behind Sigrid as they walked towards the entrance. Wide as it was, it didn’t look as if just anyone could walk in. Two very large and muscular black men in white pants and black sleeveless t-shirts stood a little way out from the entrance. They scrutinized anyone trying to come in, and nodded or shook their heads at each one. One middle-aged man in an expensive suit tried to blow past them in spite of getting a ‘no’. Two more muscular white men in suits, lounging near the entrance quickly blocked his way. The middle-aged man tried to argue with them. One of them stepped very close to him and said something quietly. The middle-aged man backed up a step, then another, still arguing loudly. When the bouncer who’d spoken to him started to move towards him he abruptly shut up, turned, and slunk away. The two men in suits went back to their posts.
“Maybe we should have made reservations,” Amanda said nervously.
“Nonsense!” Sigrid smiled. “Why wouldn’t they let us in? You can never have too many attractive young women at a nightclub. Just act like we belong here, dear.” She kept walking towards the entrance. Amanda followed. The closer they got to the building the stronger the beat of the music inside washed over them.
“Please stop there, Miss,” one of the t-shirt bouncers held up a hand as they came near.
“What? Why?” Sigrid stopped. She turned her most dazzling smile on him and made sure that she was standing so that he could see all of her long, shapely left leg.
The bouncer smiled back at her, but he was unmoved. “This is a private club, Miss,” he said. “Invitation only.” He nodded past her at another young woman in a halter-top and jeans who glided past Sigrid and Amanda and on into the building.
“Really?” Sigrid’s smile grew coy. “No exceptions?”
“I’m afraid not, Miss,” the bouncer shook his head sadly. His voice was deep and rumbling. “You’ll have to go elsewhere.”
“But…” Sigrid began.
“Oh, let’s just go,” Amanda almost hissed in her ear. “You’re making a scene.”
Sigrid turned her head. Amanda looked even more embarrassed and uncomfortable than before. She started to turn back towards the bouncer, convinced that she could talk and flirt her way in when she heard an annoyingly familiar voice ring out over the music from
inside the club.
“Amanda! Sigrid! Hey, over here!”
“Oh, no…” Sigrid muttered under her breath. She put her smile back on before she was done turning. “Hope! I didn’t think we’d see you here!”
Hope hurried towards them. For once she didn’t look like an advertisement for strenuous outdoor activities. Instead of her usual swimsuit and flip-flops she was wearing elegant-looking low-heeled sandals and a short little black dress held up by spaghetti straps. The pleated skirt stopped only halfway down her thighs. It showed off her athletic legs very well, but it was completely the wrong color for her.
“I didn’t think I’d see you two here either,” Hope said a little breathlessly. “Who invited you?”
“We’ve only just found out that we had to be invited, I’m afraid,” Sigrid answered.
”What a pity. I suppose we’ll have to go elsewhere.”
“Nonsense!” Hope exclaimed. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in a jif.” She spun around and sped back into the club. She didn’t seem completely at ease in heels, even low heels, Sigrid thought.
“What are you doing?” Amanda whispered harshly. “I thought you didn’t like her.”
“I don’t,” Sigrid purred. “But she seems to like us, and she might be useful.”
“That’s terrible,” Amanda said.
“No, that’s smart,” Sigrid corrected her. “I want to go in there,” she nodded towards the club. “If dear Hope is the only way in, I can put up with her for a little while.”
“What if she expects us to keep her company?”
“I think it’s more likely…” Sigrid began. And then she heard Hope again.
“Hey, you guys!” Hope sounded annoyingly pleased with herself. “Look who I found!”
“Oh, look!” Amanda smiled nastily at Sigrid. “She found your friend Paul.”
“What?” Sigrid turned back towards the entrance. Hope was approaching them, with Paul Marengo in tow.
“Isn’t it nice, running into old friends?” Amanda chuckled.
“Shut up,” Sigrid muttered under her breath. She turned her smile on again. “Why, Mr. Marengo!” she exclaimed. “What a pleasant surprise!”