by Amy Brent
Film at eleven…
But when I opened my eyes and looked in the mirror I saw her smiling back at me. Her mouth was hanging open. Her tongue was out. She was panting like a dog. Her face was drenched in sweat. And she was smiling like the Cheshire Cat.
She blew a strand of hair out of her face, wiggled her plump ass against me, and said the two words I needed to hear most at that moment.
“The best….”
The best.
It was the kindest compliment I’d been given in a very long time.
That was a year ago. Since then Lois and I had had sex in that restroom five or six times, in the front seat of her car, in the back of my car, in the alley out back of the bar with her back pressed against the brick wall and her legs around me, and once inside the bar itself in a dark corner while a dozen other patrons milled around without even giving us a second look. I sat back in a chair and took out my hard cock and she pushed her miniskirt up and her thong to the side and rode me to the rhythm of What’s Love Got to Do With It coming from the jukebox. It was very nearly the best sex of my life and gave rise to a new-found respect for the music of Miss Tina Turner.
The downside to it all was that I could only get an erection when I was with Lois now. I could only blow a load when my cock was deep inside her. Hell, I couldn’t even coax my cock to get hard with a Hustler Magazine and a tube of lube anymore, the sex tools of my misspent youth.
I was not Devin McMasters when I was with Lois.
I was just me.
A guy that the world had no expectations of.
A guy the world put no demands on.
Lois just wanted me to fuck her.
Because I was the best.
Funny.
I thought the same thing about her.
* * *
It was nearly midnight when I slid onto a stool at the far end of the bar and ordered Coors in the bottle, because I didn’t trust the cleanliness of Pete’s glasses. Pete, who had the personality of a corpse on Quaaludes, set the bottle on the bar in front of me and plucked the ten-dollar bill from between my fingers. I took a sip of the cold beer and let it slake down my throat slowly. I only drank when I came to Pete’s. The rest of the time I had to watch everything I ate and drank to keep in shape and to up the appearances that went with being a guru—a word I had grown to hate, but tolerated because it added several zeroes every year to my bottom line.
The beer tasted good going down. I thought briefly about ordering a burger, then thought better of it. God forbid TMZ shoot video of me with a bottle of Coors in one hand and one of Pete’s greasy burgers in the other.
I licked the beer from my lips and looked around the bar for Lois. Other than me, there were a dozen or so other regulars lined up to the bar and another dozen or so sitting at the little round tables or hovering around the worn pool table. My heart sank a little when I didn’t see Lois, who claimed to practically live at Pete’s. When Pete brought my change and set it on the bar in front of me, I held up a finger to catch his attention.
“Seen Lois?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
He narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, like he’d never seen me before even though I had frequented his lovely establishment every few weeks for the past year. He glanced at the Dodger’s cap, then looked me in the eye and shook his head. “Don’t guess you heard.”
I had the beer bottle to my lips. It froze there. I sucked in a quick breath and held it. “Oh shit… what happened? Is she…?”
“Married,” Pete said with the same grimness as if he were announcing her death. “Last Tuesday. Moved to Waco to marry some guy she met online.”
“Married…” I blew out the breath and forced a smile. “Thank God. I thought you were gonna tell me she had died or something.”
“Same thing,” Pete said with a grunt. “Anything else?”
“No, thanks,” I said, toasting him with the bottle. Shit. How could Lois leave me? I mean, we had a good thing going. How could she just get up and marry some gut she met on the fucking internet? And why was I feeling like the jilted lover who never saw it coming.
Because you’re an arrogant asshole, the little voice in my head said, reminding me of something I already knew. I didn’t even know Lois’ last name. I didn’t know where she lived or if she had ever been married or if she had kids or family or a dog or a cat... I didn’t know shit about the woman and she didn’t know shit about me.
She was just a woman I fucked every time I came into town. And I had the audacity to be pissed off that she met another man and moved onto hopefully a better life?
Yep, I was an arrogant asshole. And now I was an arrogant asshole who would probably never get another hard-on in his life. I guzzled the beer and held up the bottle to signal Pete.
“Another?” Pete asked, giving me the eye that looked in my direction.
“Hang on,” I said. I took the wad of bills from my pocket and peeled off a couple of hundreds. I set both bills on the bar and slid them toward him.
“What’s this for?” Pete asked as he set the fresh bottle of Coors in front of me. He eyed the money, then eyed me. “You trying to buy the place?”
“We’re celebrating Lois’ nuptials,” I said loud enough to get everyone’s attention. I picked up the bottle and held it in the air as if it was a trophy for all to see. “Drinks on me!”
I was suddenly the most popular guy in the place.
And the most miserable.
CHAPTER EIGHT: Cassandra
The week flew by. Lulu managed to add me to her reservation, which turned out to be a near miracle because Paradiso was completely booked out nearly a year in advance. Lulu assured them that we could comfortably share the king-sized bed in the suite she had paid six-thousand-dollars for, and agreed to pay an additional twenty-percent surcharge for my meals and other freebies, which two-percent would have easily covered.
The concierge wanted her to pay double the rate and seemed to have every intention of holding her hostage. The poor sap didn’t realize who he was dealing with. Lulu “Mad Dog” Roman, Attorney at Law, practically had the guy in tears before hanging up the phone, then agreed to the twenty-percent surcharge just to throw him a bone.
“Maybe I’ll fuck him to make him feel better,” she said with a smile after coming into my office to deliver the news.
“That would be the Christian thing to do,” I said with a smile, doing my best to hide the excitement of spending the weekend at Paradiso and possibly getting a Yoni Massage from the master himself. I had watched the Devin McMasters video a dozen times and had brought myself to a powerful climax each time at the exact moment he gazed into the camera and smiled at the end. I couldn’t wait to meet the man in person. I’d probably pee in my pants. At the very least, I was pretty sure that I would cream my panties just knowing he was in the room breathing the same air I breathed.
The week was spent in depositions for a new case we’d taken on, the divorce of a Hollywood producer and his trophy wife, appropriately named Candy, as in “arm candy”. Twenty-five-year old, Candy Sweet (yep, that was her real name, I couldn’t make this shit up), had signed a prenup, but her sixty-something husband, Roger Sweet, was throwing her over for an even younger woman—a twenty-year old set assistant on his newest film. We were contesting the prenup, of course, trying to increase Candy’s walk-away from a few hundred-thousand dollars to few dozen millions. Lu and I would get nearly a million dollars for our time and effort, which would be our largest payday ever for a single case. Thankfully, I barely had time to notice the days flying by.
By the time Friday arrived, I was chomping at the bit to get going. The plan was to leave the office at noon, rent a car—Lulu insisted on a convertible Mercedes ala an upscale Thelma & Louise—and drive the two hours north to Paradiso Resort & Spa, which was nestled in the hills north of the city.
Lulu forced me to drive so she could navigate and commandeer the Bose sound system as we drove the ninety miles north. She had made a special �
��mix CD” for the trip, composed of songs like We Are Family and Little Red Corvette and Put a Ring On It. We sang at the tops of our lungs and ignored the looks of everyone who passed us by. By the time we turned off the interstate and onto the winding road that would lead us through the hills to Paradiso, Lulu got bored with the music and pulled out her iPad to read all about Paradiso to me.
“You are going to love this place, Cass,” she said, turning in the seat to face me with the iPad in her hand. “I remember the first time I drove up. It was like driving through the gates of Heaven. Then I met Devin and… oh my god…”
“So you keep telling me,” I said with a sideways smile. “Read it to me.”
She pushed her sunglasses to the top of her head and held the iPad so she could read from the Paradiso website. “Okay, let’s see… Surrounded by 100 wooded mountain acres and 10 miles of hiking trails, Paradiso’s spa treatments are nothing short of overwhelming. Guests can spend their time wrapped, scrubbed, rubbed or pampered in a variety of ways. An expert team of therapists, masseuses, and specialists are at your beck and call twenty-four hours a day, ready to ensure your comfort and happiness.” She poked me with a stiff finger. “Sounds pretty good, huh.”
“So far, keep reading,” I said with a smile. I kept my hands on the wheel and my eyes on the road, which was winding upward toward the resort, which was located at the crest of the mountain.
“Okay, let’s see…” she tapped a button and read some more. “You can take advantage of an Hinoki body treatment, which is a muscle-soothing blend of Hinoki, Cypress and Cedar that will help restore your inner balance and clear your mind.”
“What’s Hinoki?” I asked.
“Who knows,” she said, waving the question away. “Followed by a Lomi Lomi massage and a microcurrent facial.”
“Microcurrent? You mean like electricity?”
She giggled. “Yes, they hook up jumper cables to your nips and light you up.”
I mugged a face at her. “Hmm, could be interesting…”
“For you maybe,” she said. “Okay… oh, the food… um… the food is fucking amazing. Okay… Enjoy breakfast, lunch or dinner overlooking the beautiful Koi ponds and Japanese gardens that run through the property. Or enjoy a private archery or tennis lesson from one of our pros, followed by a relaxing herbal wrap and Hydra facial.” She bumped me with her elbow. “Doesn’t that sound amazing?”
“Amazing,” I agreed. I glanced at her from the corner of my eye. “What does it say about the Yoni Massage?”
“Hold your short pussy hairs, Harriet,” she said. “I’m still looking at the menu…”
“You certainly have your priorities in order,” I said. “Food before Yoni.”
“You do not want your Yoni rubbed on an empty stomach,” she said, chuckling at herself. “Let’s see… oh, listen to this… Enjoy your stay in the main lodge or book one of our 800-sqaure-foot villas for greater privacy and comfort.”
“Why didn’t we get a villa?” I asked.
“Because they’re booked two years in advance,” she said, frowning as if I’d asked a silly question. “You’ll love the lodge. Just shut up and listen.”
“You’re a bitchy tour guide.”
She ignored me and kept reading. “Designed in the style of a traditional Japanese inn, or a ryokan, the entrance welcomes weary travelers who cross the footbridge above a stream filled with crystal clear waters and large Koi. Though designed in the old-world style, Paradiso is modernized for the ultimate comfort and luxury with our guests in mind.”
“So, the place has an Italian name, but is designed like a Japanese inn?” I huffed and mocked condescension. “What were they thinking?”
“They were thinking that bitches like us would pay six-grand for a weekend no matter what the place looked like,” Lulu said.
“Are you at the page that talks about the pussy massage yet?” I asked.
“Not quite… let’s see… you don’t care about the amenities… you don’t care about the décor… the moment you cross the Yatsuhashi-inspired footbridge you begin your journey where you will be nurtured and transformed… blah blah blah…”
I glanced over. “You’re not doing a very good job of building up my hopes.”
“Fine… um… start your day with a guided hike on our private trails through fragrant citrus groves and across glorious mountain switchbacks. Have breakfast in your room or schedule one of our private fitness classes or spa treatments.”
“I’m just about ready to turn this car around and go back home,” I said, growling at her. “Get to the good stuff or put the CD back on.”
“God, you’re so push,” she said, her finger sliding across the screen. “No wonder most other people can’t stand you… let’s see… yoga, archery, boxing… a session with your very own personal trainer… a facial or body treatment… meditation class… Tai chi on the mountain… a guided walk through our botanical labyrinth… nights of camaraderie over luscious dinners with our other guests…”
“You’re killing me,” I said just before seeing the sign that led me to turn off the winding road and through the tall gates of Paradiso. I felt my heartbeat quicken when I saw the main lodge at the top of the hill. He was there. I could feel him. Devin McMasters. The man with the magic hands.
Lulu glanced up, then went back to reading from the web page. “Enjoy Pilates, haiku writing, a soothing scalp treatment or a deep-conditioning shampoo and blow dry as you prepare to leave for the real world. A celebratory dinner marks the weekend of rejuvenation and reimagination that will inspire you to rise to new heights.”
“New heights,” I grunted.
She kept reading even as I pulled up to the entrance and put the car into Park. “Included in every guest’s stay is a daily in-room massage, three skincare or body treatments, and a manicure/pedicure. A menu of luxurious beauty and body treatments are also available, from exfoliating body scrubs and hydrotherapy baths to treatments customized to your skin type and concerns.” She looked up and smiled when she realized the car had stopped. “Dammit,” she said.
“What?”
“I was just about to read the part about getting your pussy rubbed.”
I rolled my eyes at her as an attendant wearing all white opened the car door and gave me a bow. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go experience it firsthand.”
CHAPTER NINE: Cassandra
Lulu was right about one thing: driving through the massive iron and stone gates of Paradiso was a little like I would imagine driving into Heaven might be. Built into the side of the mountain, the main lodge was breathtakingly beautiful, like something you’d see in old Japan with its sandstone and heavy timber construction, stilted foundation, curved tile roofs, and brightly colored accents. Another reason it felt heavenly was that I could feel the weight of the world lifting from my shoulders as I drove through the gates. Sadly, I knew the world would be waiting for me when it came time to leave, but a few days without cares and woes would be a wonderful thing.
There were four young men standing at the circular entrance to the lobby, all wearing billowy, white satin shirts, white slacks, and white tennis shoes, like handsome young angels without wings. They smiled broadly as they watched us approach. One of them trotted around the car to open my door and offered me his hand. Another did the same for Lulu. We glanced at each other and grinned. A third angel unloaded our suitcases from the trunk. The fourth one gave us a little bow and directed us across a wide footbridge that spanned a stream filled with large koi. I paused on the footbridge for a moment, watching the colorful fish swimming beneath us.
“Beautiful, huh,” Lulu said, waving her hand toward the water. “This stream is fed from a natural spring further up the side of the mountain. We can hike up tomorrow if you want to see it. You could actually drink this water, though it would probably taste like koi shit.”
“You’re awful,” I said, letting my eyes follow the clear stream, which snaked its way around the lodge as far as I coul
d see in both directions. “It is beautiful.”
“Come on,” she said, tugging on my arm. “You ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Lulu pulled me across the bridge and I willingly followed, feeling a little mesmerized by it all. The air was so crisp and clean that I had to sigh as it filtered in and out of my lungs. The smell of pine and flowers hung in the air, the sounds of the wind in the trees and the birds on the branches. It was a little like stepping into an old Disney movie. I wondered if there would be talking mice in our room and chatty rabbits on the hiking trails.
Another handsome angel held open the ornate wooden doors and welcomed us inside. The lobby continued the Japanese motif with light bamboo walls, teakwood hardwood floors and accents, and floor to ceiling windows that looked out on three sides.
I remembered Lulu saying that Paradiso only had room for thirty guests at a time, which was part of the cozy appeal and probably one of the reasons it cost so much. There were several groups of women huddled about the lobby, chatting, pointing at the view, giggling. They all seemed thrilled to be there… even a little giddy… like high school girls on a field trip to the mall. I wondered if the place would have the same effect on me. I seriously doubted it. I had never been one given to giddiness. And you could not pay me to go to a mall.
As Lulu checked us in I walked around the lobby and looked out the windows at the surrounding woods and the mountain above us. I could see the villa’s dotting the mountain side, like colorful little Japanese huts that rented for ten-grand a night, each connected to the main lodge by winding staircases that looked like they had been there forever. The place was breathtaking, peaceful, serene. It made me just want to take a deep breath and smile. Maybe I’d end up giddy, after all.