“Chase,” I start to protest with a little shake of my head.
“I’m not taking no on this, Lila. We only had a week in Vegas with my issues with the house and Denise, and now we’re back here with your stresses of your apartment, best friend leaving and lack of job prospects. Let’s go someplace where the only baggage we take with us is whatever we can store under the plane.”
“I don’t know, it seems irresponsible of me to go somewhere when I don’t even have a job. I sent out a bunch of resumes this week, what if one of them calls me back?”
“If it’s that important to you, we’ll only be a flight away. We can come back if your dream job calls.”
“But-”
“Lila, trust me. Let’s do this. I want to go somewhere with you.”
I let out a long heavy breath. There’s no point arguing with him. He’s right. There’s no reason for me to stay here, and we both know my dream job isn’t going to be calling. I didn’t even apply to anywhere this week that I really even want to work at. “Where would we go?” I finally relent.
“Well,” he says, a smile splitting across his face, “we’re in Canada, so why not take advantage of it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Ever been to Cuba?”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Saying goodbye to Evelyn had been a tearful affair, and although we both promised we would still see each other as often as possible, and of course keep in touch via phone calls and texts, I wonder how realistic it is. She’ll be working for the CEO of a billion dollar company, likely putting in long hours and unable to get a lot of vacation. And I still have no job or prospects, so weekend trips to Chicago seem very unlikely. Of course, Chase was quick to offer to help with that, but I can’t keep asking for handouts from him.
I’m already feeling guilty enough for agreeing to go on this trip. It’s too late for second thoughts now, though, given that the pilot just announced that we’ve begun our descent. Chase reaches over and gives my hand a little squeeze, his eyes still focused on the magazine he’s reading. He’s given me the window seat, and I can already see the little green island looming larger by the minute.
If I don’t include Vegas as a vacation, this is really the first one I’ve been on in years. Not since Evelyn and I took a spring break trip to Cancun during our first year of University. I might be feeling a little bit guilty about going away when I’m broke and jobless, having my wealthy new boyfriend pay for me, but I’d be lying if I don’t admit to a little excitement as well. I’ve never been to Cuba, but more importantly, I’m looking forward to spending some time with Chase where both of us are out of our own comfort zones, completely left to ourselves in an unfamiliar world.
Unfamiliar to me, anyway. Chase told me he’s been here a couple of times, usually as a quick forbidden vacation after playing a tournament in Niagara Falls. The man loves to bend the rules whenever he can, but I can hardly fault him. I’ve never really understood the whole American embargo thing, and I’m glad that lately the rules seem to finally be loosening. Chase seems to think it will be a while before travel is completely free and unrestricted. I wonder if, when it is, he’ll no longer be interested in coming here.
I watch the plane curve over the lush green hills and trees that are sparely dotted with small houses all built deliberately close to the Atlantic. It’s already beautiful, and my misgivings about coming are quickly fading. I slip my hand out from under Chase’s and put it on top, giving his a squeeze of thanks. I catch his eye and smile at him.
“It’s starting to rain,” he notes. It’s true, there are light drops on my window. “Don’t worry, though. It never lasts long.”
By the time we land and disembark, the shower is already over and the sun is shining through the windows of the small terminal. It’s already very hot as we wait in line to pass through customs.
“You can go through first,” he motions as our turn arrives. There’s a small door in front of our line that I have to go through, but the man behind the counter seems pleasant enough. He gives my passport and tourist card a stamp, and then I’m through and waiting for Chase.
He comes through the door right after me and speaks to the official. When he hands him his passport and card, though, I see that he also slips some paper money along with them. He exchanges words with the official and then gets his documents back before joining me.
“Why did you give him money?” I ask, as we walk toward the baggage carousel.
“It can cause complications when I go back home if I have a Cuban stamp on my passport,” he replies.
“So that was a bribe?”
“I prefer to think of it more as a thank you for not stamping my passport.”
I give him a little sidelong glance and he winks at me. “I thought restrictions were easing for you guys. Do they still care about that?”
“I don’t know,” he admits with a shrug. “But why take the chance. Besides, everyone here can use a little something extra anyway. I don’t mind.”
I’ve heard that, and in fact, despite the fact that Chase didn’t bring a lot of clothes of his own since he hadn’t packed for Cuba initially, he brought two big suitcases on the trip after filling one entirely with hundreds of dollars’ worth of sundry items he picked up at the dollar and drugstore. I was happy to see him do that. It’s common knowledge in Canada that Cubans have very little and what is available to them is very expensive, so travelers often bring toiletries or clothes to hand out to the locals, but I didn’t know if Chase was aware of that custom.
Within minutes we have our bags and are outside the airport looking for a taxi.
“Look at these cars,” I gasp in surprise. All of a sudden I have a weird feeling like I’ve been transported into a movie from the 1950s. There seems to be classic cars everywhere and all of them in amazingly good shape. No signs of rust or dents, polished and washed as if they’d just come off the showroom floor.
Chase laughs and leads me to one of them. A dark and weathered man smiles at us and opens his trunk before grabbing our bags and putting them in.
I give Chase a questioning look.
“This is our taxi,” he grins.
The man opens the door and Chase says something to him quickly in Spanish before we both get in. “This is a taxi?” It’s odd that a people that have so little would use expensive classic cars as taxis.
“The embargo started around 1960,” Chase explains as the driver makes his way around the front of the car to his still open door. “Before that, Cuba would import lots of cars from the US. But since then, they’ve had nothing new. They have to just maintain everything they already had.”
“But… how do they get parts to keep them running?” I ask. The car seems to be in great shape for something more than 60 years old.
“They have to make them. There aren’t really any junkyards filled with old cars in Cuba. Everything is reused and rebuilt by hand. You will see newer cars here, but not from the States.”
He’s right. As we drive, there are other cars. Some from Europe, many from Asia. I see a lot of Hyundais. But at the same time, we also pass plenty of horse drawn carts. It’s an odd contrast to see the mix of classic American cars, newer Asia ones, and then horse powered wagons all being used at the same time for day to day activities.
I stare out the window in wonder as we drive. I’ve never seen so much green.
“What do they grow here?”
“Lots of stuff. Sugar cane used to be their primary industry. It’s still their biggest export. Canada and China are their biggest trading partners these days.”
“You said it used to be their primary industry? What is it now?”
“Tourism. At this point it employs more workers than sugar cane.”
We drive for a little while and I’m in awe at the surrounding countryside. “It’s beautiful,” I breathe.
“It really is. The resort we’re going to is beautiful as well, it’s made for tourists. I booked us there because I though
t it would be nice to have a getaway where we can be pampered, but I do want to take you off resort to see the real Cuba.”
“Definitely,” I nod.
We finally pull through tall gates with the driver stopping only briefly to say something to the guard before pulling us through. He pulls around to an open front desk and we get out while he brings our bags around to us. Chase hands him a few bills and thanks him in Spanish before leading us to the smiling faces of the hotel staff. They greet us with drinks and I sit down on a comfortable couch while Chase checks us in. Within ten minutes we’re standing in front of a small, private, beachfront cabana. As soon as Chase opens the door I can tell it’s perfect. The walls are white, and sunlight is streaming through the curtains onto a big king size bed that is covered in rose petals. There’s a bottle of champagne on ice on the nightstand next to it.
“What do you think?” he asks. It’s a stupid question, so I don’t waste time answering it. Instead, I spin on my heel and pull him towards me and into a kiss as I continue to back up until I feel the edge of the bed behind me. My only concern is making sure that Chase’s body lands firmly on top of me as I fall backwards amongst the red petals.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
I don’t even remember taking off our clothes but all of a sudden both of us are naked and Chase’s lips have left a wet trail of goose bumps down the side of my neck right to the tops of my breasts where he is now focusing. His kisses are warm and it seems as if they must be leaving a visible trail for him, because I don’t think he’s missed touching even a centimeter of my breasts with his lips. When they finally find my aching nipples I can’t stop myself from arching my back, pressing them further into his mouth and wrapping an arm around his head to ensure he doesn’t stop until I’m ready.
As his mouth continues to pull me in, one of his hands glides down my thigh, tickling me lightly as it runs across my skin. I know instinctively where he’s headed, but even still I let out a gasp as soon as his fingers make contact with my folds. They’re already wet with anticipation, greedily accepting his fingers as they dip inside. He’s tentative at first, but his boldness increases as he begins to probe deeper. I grind my ass into the bed in response and let out a low moan.
“Fuck you’re so hot and wet,” he says, lifting his head from my nipple to speak. My arm loosens my grip on him now as I realize that holding him at my breast is no longer serving the need I desire most. I say nothing as I push my palm against the top of his head.
He takes my hint, flashing me a smile as he turns his lips back to my skin, beginning to kiss a new trail down my stomach and across my belly button. His fingers only slide out of me when he’s low enough that he has to change positions. Swinging his body up and over me, Chase palms the sides of my hips and squeezes them as he lowers himself to my core.
My body is tense with anticipation as I wait for his tongue to touch my center, but I have no immediate release as he teases me first. He starts by kissing the inside of my thigh, first on the left, then the right. As his head turns from one side to the other, I feel a gust of hot breathe against my pussy, the only stimulation he’s giving me at the moment and I revel in it as I wait for something more.
More kisses frame my damp lips as he makes circles around me. His nose brushes through the sparse patch of hair I have above my sex, and then down again, just along the outside of my labia. I can barely stand it anymore. “Please,” I beg, my voice barely above a tortured whisper. I don’t need to say anything more than that. He knows what I’m asking for.
He pauses, his lips pressed against the flesh just above my swollen clit. He finally completes the kiss and then pulls away. I wait, still tight with tension as I silently pray for him to give me the release I so desperately need.
When his tongue finally touches me, I feel both relief and frustration as he isn’t centered along the insides of my folds, but the outside. He draws a trail of saliva up and down the outside of my lips and along the top, just above my clit. I let out a little whimper, but he already knows what he’s doing to me and I suspect that’s part of his game.
It’s like an itch that I can’t scratch, each flick of his tongue so maddeningly close to where I need it to be that I want to howl in frustration. Just as I’m about to grab a fistful of his blond hair and yank his head into position he stops his tease. His tongue finally touches my sensitive nub, just a flick, but I’m so pent up that it sends a spark through me that causes my whole body to jerk in response.
And then he’s upon me.
His firm hands slide under my ass, pulling me forward as his mouth fastens against my folds, hot tongue diving between them and mixing his moisture with my own. I cry out now, my whimper becoming a roar of pleasure as my knees pull up alongside his head and then clamp down against his ears, holding him in place. Now that he’s finally where I want him to be, he’s not getting away.
Chase’s fingernails dig into the cheeks of my ass as he holds onto me tightly, his tongue a blur of action as it runs up and down my wet lips, pausing at my clit only briefly at each pass to circle it a few times until I answer his attention with a little shudder before he dives back down again to bury himself inside of me.
So much anticipation leading up to this moment means an orgasm is upon me almost before he’s really begun, but I’m not holding anything back. I feel myself contract and pull Chase’s face harder against me with my knees as my body quivers with pent up release. A shrill scream escapes my mouth, and by the time it’s faded I’m gasping with handfuls of bed sheet between my clenched fists.
“Fuck me,” I pant. “Now. Chase.”
I watch in tense anticipation as he fumbles with a condom wrapper before finally sheathing himself, and I don’t wait a second before I open my legs and lean forward to grab him under the arm, practically dragging him along my sweat soaked chest until I feel his cock touch my entrance. “Fuck me,” I repeat. My hands reach down to grab his ass and I pull him forward, urging him to fill me completely and immediately. He doesn’t disappoint.
With one mighty thrust, Chase slams his hips against mine as his body invades me. The scream touches my lips again, but it’s cut off this time by an urgent kiss. I can feel the stubble of a travel day’s worth of beard rub against my chin, distracting me only slightly from the pleasure between my legs.
“Fuck me,” I repeat unnecessarily. I’m almost in a trance now, lost to all reason as Chase’s hips slide back and forth at an ever increasing pace. The pleasure between my legs has gone past the point of a simple orgasm now. Each thrust and draw of his cock just sparks a new level of bliss that rolls through my body like a tidal wave of pure pleasure.
I can barely hear the roar that Chase lets loose as his own pleasure overtakes him, so lost am I to my own.
“Fuck me,” I whisper, barely aware that he’s done and now resting heavily on my chest. His body rises and falls as both of us continue to breath heavily. Our bodies are stuck together by a film of sweat and heat that may as well be glue, but I don’t want him to move anyway. He’s exactly where I want him to be.
Within a few moments his breathing becomes more regular, and I know he’s fallen asleep. Sleep is tugging at my consciousness as well, but there’s one more thought on my lips. One more thing I need to whisper to this man who I have known for barely two weeks, but who has already become so entwined in my life that the mere thought of his leaving makes my chest hurt.
It has taken me days to say it, and I know I’m a coward for waiting until he’s asleep, but it’s taken me this long to realize the truth of it.
“I love you, too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
The ride into town takes over an hour, with many of the roads bumpy enough that I’m happy I hadn’t spent all morning drinking mojitos like we’d been doing for the past couple of days. Chase has been promising since we got here to show me the real Cuba. Spending time on the resort is great, of course, and I have enjoyed the relaxation, but I know how insulated a five star hotel is f
rom real life in a country like this, and I’m curious to see how Cuban people really live.
After paying and tipping the driver enough for him to want to stick around town for the day to take us back again, Chase leads me through the brightly painted center of the little town.
“Welcome to Viñales,” he says.
“Wow, it’s beautiful.” It really is. Many houses are painted the bright colors common in the Caribbean, pinks, greens, yellows, but mixed in with those are bigger, more historical looking buildings which have their own character. The architecture of many of them seems almost colonial.
“Careful,” Chase’s hand eases me out of the way of a cart being drawn by a couple of animals. In the back are a few weathered men who look to be in their 40’s.
“What are those? Horses?”
“Oxen,” he replies. “They’re likely on the way to the fields. Farmers here grow some of the best tobacco in the world.”
The men smile at me as they pass and I wave back. Everyone seems very happy.
We continue to walk through the town and each time we pass a local, Chase greets them in Spanish and they say something back. I wish I could understand what they are saying, but the extent of my Spanish knowledge is from my trip to Mexico years ago with Evelyn. Dos cervezas, por favor. I don’t think asking politely for a couple of beers is going to get me very far. Especially since most of the locals he is stopping to talk to are children. Each time he meets one, Chase reaches into his backpack and pulls out something he picked up back in Canada, handing it to them along with a few dollars. The smiles on their faces almost bring a tear to my eye.
“Do you come to this town often when you’re here?”
Chase shrugs. “Believe it or not, this is actually one of the touristy towns.” As small as it is, I have actually noticed a number of faces in the town which clearly don’t belong. “I usually go to different places, smaller ones, but still in this general area of the country. But there’s a good mix of things to see here so I thought it would work for us today.”
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