Shameful Reckonings

by S. J. Lewis

  “It is indeed a pleasant surprise.” He smiled. He looked very prosperous in a dark tailored suit and open-necked white shirt. “Would you ladies care to enter the club as my invited guests?” His eyes lingered on Sigrid. She noted that he was taller than she had expected. Even in heels, she had to tilt her head up a little to look him in the eyes. Those eyes had a familiar look. Paul Marengo had hopes of getting his hands on her again, preferably without a bikini in the way.

  “You are a member of this club, Mr. Marengo?” Sigrid asked.

  “Certainly not!” he laughed. “I am one of the owners!” He offered his arm to Sigrid. She took it and smiled up at him warmly. If he was one of the owners, and had business interests elsewhere, he might be profitable temporary boyfriend material. She wondered how generous he was to his ladies. As they strolled past the bouncers and into the club, she pressed herself against him gently. It was nothing grossly overt, but it guaranteed that he could feel the soft warmth of her breast brushing up against his arm. She didn’t bother to see if Amanda and Hope were following.

  Most of the ground floor of ‘L’ Entrepot’ was taken up by one vast room. Over the heads of the crowd, Sigrid could see three separate bars and numerous alcoves along the walls. A bandstand was set against one wall. There was a band up there, banging out a loud calypso rhythm. In front of the bandstand, bouncing and gyrating dancers, men and women, filled the dance floor. The rest of the room was taken up by small round tables with more men and women sitting around them, drinking, talking and smoking. There didn’t seem to be any empty chairs left for the dancers if they ever wanted to stop dancing and sit down for a while.

  Paul Marengo steered her carefully through the crowd towards one of the alcoves. All of them were dimly lit and more in shadow than in light, but Sigrid could see two men dressed like Mr. Marengo sitting at the large table. One was black, one looked Latino and a little oily with his hair slicked back like that. They both looked ten or fifteen years older than the two young women sitting at the table with them. Sigrid sized them up as possible competition and smiled. The younger one seemed very young indeed. Long black tresses framed her pretty oval face. She had an exotic look with those delicate Eurasian features, but she looked like she was built like a twelve-year-old boy. The other woman eyed Sigrid as they neared the alcove. She had a lovely mocha complexion, hair cut so short that it was barely more than a cap on her head, and hard dark eyes. Big gold hoop earrings dangled from her ears and unlike the other woman she wore bracelets. She could be a little trouble. Sigrid made a point of smiling at her sweetly as she sat down at the table. Paul Marengo sat down next to her, close enough that their hips were in contact. Sigrid didn’t move away. The only place to go was closer to mocha-short-hair-hard-eyes, and she was already as close to her as she cared to get. She turned towards Mr. Marengo with another dazzling smile.

  “I’m very impressed, Mr. Marengo.” She had to speak up to be heard over the band and the din of the crowd. “This is a lovely club.”

  “Please, call me Paul,” he smiled back. “And may I call you Sigrid?”

  “Of course, Paul,” she turned the wattage on her smile up a notch. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Amanda and Hope sitting down at the opposite side of the table. The Latino seemed to be focusing on Amanda. Still smiling, she laid her hand on Paul’s. Give a man enough casual physical contact and he stopped thinking rationally. Paul’s smile widened. No doubt he thought that things were going very well.

  ***

  “How can you do it?” Amanda asked. It was mid-morning. She was still in her bed and didn’t seem to want to get out of it. She was watching through bleary eyes as Sigrid worked her way through her yoga routine.

  “How can I do what, dear?” Sigrid smiled.

  “What time did we leave that club?” Amanda groaned. “It was before sunrise, but I don’t think it was much before sunrise. I’m not even sure how we got back to the hotel.”

  Sigrid twisted into a new position. “That sweet Mr. Marengo had a limo take us back, dear,” she replied, huffing a little. She hated exercise, but she hated the idea of getting flabby and droopy even more. “I’m afraid you were just about sleepwalking by then.”

  Amanda groaned and stirred, but didn’t get up. “Could you order up some coffee from room service?” she asked plaintively. “I feel like I could drink a whole pot of it.”

  “I could,” Sigrid replied. “But I think it will help you to build character if you get up and do it yourself. Honestly, dear, just because a man is willing to buy you drinks is no reason to see how many you can down in one night.”

  “Not all of them were alcoholic,” Amanda protested. “How about you? That ‘sweet Mr. Marengo’ was plying you with liquor too.”

  “Yes, my dear,” Sigrid grunted as she had to stretch hard. “But you’d be surprised how much alcohol you can burn off by dancing. You hardly danced at all.”

  Amanda turned onto her other side and spoke towards the wall. “Senor Alvarez preferred the slow dances, and his hands had a tendency to wander. I think he left fingerprints on my ass.”

  Sigrid laughed. “He liked you, dear,” she said brightly.

  “I noticed Mr. Marengo had his hands on you fairly often.” Amanda sniffed.

  “Indeed he did,” Sigrid admitted cheerfully. “Now he knows that my skin is soft but firm, that I wasn’t wearing a bra, that my tits are real, and that they have nipples. I think he is very interested in learning more about me.”

  “And he’ll have to pay for the lessons,” Amanda said.

  “He seems to be a determined man, dear,” Sigrid chuckled. “He also seems to be a fairly wealthy one. I think he can afford the tuition.”

  “It’ll have to be a crash course,” Amanda sighed. “Didn’t he say he had to leave the island in a couple of days?”

  “Why, yes, now that you mention it, I believe he did say something like that yesterday,” Sigrid replied. “It will be interesting to see if he changes his plans.” She stretched her long legs out in a split and bent to touch her head to her knee, holding that position before turning to do the same to her other knee. She could feel her muscles straining.

  “Could you please order up some coffee?” Amanda whined.

  “I never interrupt my yoga routine, dear,” Sigrid answered. “You know that. If you want caffeine so badly, get your fingerprinted ass up and order it yourself. You’ll have to be getting up soon anyway.”

  “Why?” Amanda sounded suspicious.

  “You probably don’t remember,” Sigrid smiled. “Last night, Mr. Marengo invited us to come for a day cruise on his yacht. I believe he’s expecting us for lunch.”

  “What?!” Amanda sat bolt upright in her bed. “Why didn’t you tell me before?”

  “You looked so comfortable that I didn’t want to disturb you, dear,” Sigrid chuckled. “And rest easy. Senor Alvarez will not be there. He’s off on some business in Colombia, I think. Since Hope was with us when Mr. Marengo made the invitation, I believe she was invited too, but I can live with that. You can keep her company while Paul and I get to know each other better.”

  “So now it’s ‘Paul’?” Amanda sniffed. “You are a bitch, you know.”

  “Yes, indeed,” Sigrid chuckled. “And Paul will no doubt do his best to bring me into heat. He’s a determined man. I’m sure he’ll find a way, sooner or later.”

  Chapter Three

  “Ah. Here comes our ride,” Sigrid said. “Do you have everything, dear?”

  “Of course I do,” Amanda replied. She hefted the small beach bag she carried. “It’s not like there’s a lot now, is there? Swimsuit, sandals and sun block.” She sighed. “Mine and yours. Why do I have to carry it?”

  “You won’t have to carry it for much longer,” Sigrid said as she watched the long black limo pull up to the curb in front of their hotel. “The chauffeur will take your little bag and put it in the trunk. Let’s go, dear. Our carriage awaits.”

  They walked out of the hotel
and into the bright sunshine. It was a beautiful day, with just enough of a breeze coming in from the sea to keep things pleasantly warm instead of oppressively hot. The sky overhead was a vibrant blue, unmarred by clouds. Sigrid had taken great care and effort to look as if she had dressed very casually. A colorful blue and yellow silk sari was draped artfully over her body. She wore another pair of high-heeled sandals, and no jewelry. Her shoulder-length ash-blonde hair was pulled back into a short ponytail. Amanda was not dressed as casually. It had taken a lot of persuading from Sigrid for her to wear something other than what she might wear to work in an office. Amanda had finally agreed to khaki walking shorts and an oversized short-sleeved white blouse. Instead of sandals, she had opted for a pair of boat shoes. She had been obstinate on that, pointing out that they were more comfortable and safer on a boat than what Sigrid had chosen to wear.

  “What does footwear have to do with comfort or safety?” Sigrid had countered as she stretched out a leg, showing off her well-turned calf.“It’s about looking good.”

  The chauffeur got out of the limo as they approached. He was a surprisingly young man, slimly built and almost the same shade as Sigrid’s deep tan. He tipped his cap to the women and took the small bag that Amanda had been burdened with and stowed it in the trunk of the vehicle. He opened the passenger door with a flourish and helped both women in. Sigrid noticed that there was a privacy screen between the passenger compartment and the driver’s seat. It was made of some kind of opaque glass or plastic. It let light through, and she could see movement when their driver got behind the wheel, but it wasn’t possible to make out any kind of detail. She settled back comfortably on the wide leather seat. There was more than enough room for her to stretch out her legs. Amanda sat apart from her, looking out the window. She looked ill at ease.

  “What’s the matter, dear?” Sigrid asked. “You seem unhappy.”

  “What am I supposed to do on the boat?” Amanda looked at her. “You have your Mr. Marengo to play your games with. What am I going to do?”

  “If you’re not careful, you might enjoy yourself,” Sigrid replied. “There will be servants, and drinks, and food, and no doubt several attractive men who will find you interesting. And it’s a yacht, dear, not a boat.”

  “Sorry,” Amanda sighed as the limo began to move. “But I’m a little uneasy. I thought you said we’d keep a low profile for a while.”

  “Yes, I did,” Sigrid nodded, “but think of it this way, dear: Wouldn’t it look odd if two attractive women on vacation didn’t accept an invitation like this? Wouldn’t it draw attention to us if we tried very hard not to draw attention to us? There’s no chance of anyone coming here and recognizing us. I threw that black wig and the brown contacts into a dumpster in some dreary little town in Kentucky and you threw your blonde wig into a swamp, I believe. Just let yourself relax a little. We’re perfectly safe. In ten days we’ll be leaving this wonderful little island for that villa in Mexico.”

  “All right,” Amanda shrugged. She turned back to the window. The last of the town was slipping by and soon all that could be seen were green fields and palm trees.

  Sigrid turned her head to look out of her window. On her side there were no fields, only the tangled tropical growth that climbed up the hills on this side of the road. She was sure that dear Paul would find some pretext to be alone with her, no doubt in his cabin on his yacht. If he had been suitably generous ahead of time, she would almost certainly grant his wish. After that it had been a long time since she’d taken a lover, and last night had certainly been exciting. It wasn’t so much the club atmosphere that had done it. It had been pleasant to discover that Paul was a very good dancer, but it had been afterwards, when certain selected guests had gone upstairs to the semi-secret casino, that had gotten her juices flowing. She loved gambling. She loved it so much that she had learned early on that she should never indulge in it herself. Sooner or later, the house always won. Some people never learned that lesson. Still, she loved being around gambling: The electric feeling in the air composed of hope, fear, greed, expectation and despair was like a drug to her. The noise and bustle always got her excited. She never let herself go, of course. There was always that careful and calculating part of her mind that kept her safe, no matter how close she strayed to the dangerous, thrilling edge.

  The car sped past more fields and more overgrown hills.

  “Just how far away is this place?” Amanda asked after a while. “The island can’t be that big.”

  “It isn’t, dear,” Sigrid yawned. She was starting to feel the effects of a late night and an early rising. “Mr. Marengo’s house here is on the other side of the island. There are a lot of hills, so the road can’t run straight to it. Just have some patience… ah, it looks like we’re here.”

  The limo had rounded a curve, and now the women could see a long, wide slope running down to the sea. It looked like a postcard. The slope was broken up into small farms, with picturesque whitewashed little buildings. Down along the shoreline were much bigger buildings, most of them also white, but with red-tiled roofs instead of thatched ones. Just beyond them the sea was a pale blue-green. A small sailing boat was barely visible offshore.

  The road turned to dirt and gravel, but the limo’s ride remained smooth.

  “Your friend seems to live rather a long way from town,” Amanda observed.

  “It seems like quite a few people do,” Sigrid said. “There are half a dozen big houses over there.”

  The road proceeded down the slope, narrowed, and wound its way between fields of sugarcane. For the moment, it was impossible to see much of anything. Then the limo emerged onto a wider paved road and turned left. Sigrid noted that they seemed to be headed for the last house in the line. She smiled. It looked like the largest of the six, and it had a high privacy wall, just like all of the other houses that she could see clearly. This far away from the town, the walls might be as much for protection as for privacy. She was certain, without looking, that the tops of the walls had broken glass set in cement along the tops, or possibly razor wire. Her suspicion was heightened by the fact that she saw no trees growing close to any of the walls.

  The limo turned right and went through the open gate of the last house. Peering through the window, Sigrid saw that the ‘house’ was more like an estate. The main building was three stories high, the walls covered with pale tan stucco. The trim around the windows was white. There were smaller buildings attached to the main one. They looked like later additions, and none of them were more than two stories. The roadway had switched back to gravel. It didn’t affect the ride, but it made enough noise to be noticeable. The grounds around the house looked meticulously kept. There were flowerbeds close to the buildings and small gardens of shrubbery elsewhere. The chauffeur guided the limo around one side of the main building and through a freestanding archway. Sigrid caught a glimpse of green lawn sloping down to the beach and a tennis court off to one side. The limo began to slow. It came to a stop very near the shore.

  “I can see the boat,” Amanda said. She sounded a little excited.

  “It’s called a yacht, dear,” Sigrid corrected her.

  “It’s practically an aircraft carrier,” Amanda retorted. “You should see.”

  Sigrid restrained the urge to slide over to the other side of the limo. She would see the yacht soon enough. Then there was a man at her door, opening it for her just as another man opened Amanda’s door. Sigrid accepted his hand as she got out of the limo. He looked a little like one of the big black bouncers she’d seen at the club last night, but this man was impeccably dressed in a black suit, white shirt and red tie.

  “Thank you,” she smiled at him once she was out. She turned her head, ostensibly looking for Paul Marengo, but actually anxious for a look at the yacht. She saw it moored nearby. She knew enough about boats to recognize that it was a fifty-footer, and very, very expensive. It was much bigger than she’d expected, and that made her a little apprehensive. Paul Marengo ha
dn’t seemed that wealthy. How many nightclubs did he own, anyway?

  “Sigrid! Amanda! So good to see you!”

  Sigrid turned at the sound of Paul’s voice. He was walking towards them from the main building, accompanied by another muscular black man in a black suit, white shirt and red tie. Paul himself was wearing jeans and a Hawaiian shirt. Unlike his escort, he was smiling.

  “Why, hello, Paul!” Sigrid smiled back. “So good to see you also!” She looked around. “Is Hope here yet? We haven’t seen her since last night.”

  “I’m afraid Ms. Welles is indisposed this morning.” Paul shook his head sadly.

  “What a shame!” Sigrid managed not to smile. “We were so looking forward to seeing her.”

  “It can’t be helped, I’m afraid.” Paul shrugged. “Shall we go on board? The chef will have lunch ready soon.” He held out an arm for Sigrid.

  “That would be wonderful.” Sigrid smiled as she took the proffered arm. “It’s just too bad that Hope couldn’t make it.”

  “Yes, it is,” Amanda spoke up. “We’ll have to look in on her when we get back.” She smiled sweetly at Sigrid.

  “Ladies,” Paul offered his other arm to Amanda. “Let me show you my little boat.”

  ***

  “Oh, this is lovely!” Sigrid exclaimed as the yacht cut its way through the calm aquamarine sea. She was lounging with her back against the stern rail. The wind flattened her sari against her breasts. She’d foregone a bra today, and she saw that Paul had taken notice.

  “Lovely, indeed,” he smiled. “I am enjoying the view.”

  Sigrid laughed. “So I see,” she said playfully. “How can you afford such a beautiful yacht, Mr. Marengo? You must be very successful.”

  “I do well,” he shrugged. He put down his drink and came closer. He was still smiling, but the expression in his eyes had changed. “You are a very beautiful woman,” he said quietly.

  “Why, thank you,” Sigrid smiled at him. She’d seen that look in his eyes before. He was about to make a move, and she had just about decided to let him. It was still too soon to go with him to his cabin, though. He’d have to come up with a present for that to happen. She noticed one of the yacht’s crew approaching and hoped that Paul had better taste than to make his move with the man right there watching.