Inhibition-X

by Bobbi Romans

  “The torches are lit and paths are marked. We’ll be fine. Now come on. We are so doing this, girlfriend. I’ve got to know. Plus, discovering what all the different themes are will be fun.”

  Once P.J. set her mind to something, she rarely got talked out of it.

  Shit.

  “If we get busted, I’m so never speaking to you again. You understand this, right?” P.J. nodded, she did, and still dragged her outside anyway.

  * * * *

  The first hut they came to produced sounds of activity. True to her word, though, P.J. made sure she found out what the hut’s theme was. How? Bitch brazenly walked through the unlocked door. The sign indicated that whoever the occupants happened to be, they were open to the idea of others entering. Whether or not those “others” were welcomed to uh, join in, all depended upon the couples. Some might just get off being watched, enjoying the voyeurism of the moment. Yet, no doubt some would desire actually interacting with the newcomers. She’d read books about multiple partners. Even some about swingers. While certain elements seemed fun and kinky, it wasn’t her. At least she didn’t think it was. A moment later, P.J. skipped out and mouthed jungle room.

  “I can’t believe you waltzed in like that,” she whispered as P.J. giggled and pulled her in the direction of another path she hoped led to another hut.

  Once they were out of any potential earshot, her giggles grew in intensity.

  “He was wearing a loincloth and she large leaves. Might have been kinda hot, but I’ve never seen an orange-tinted, gold-chain-wearing, spray-tanned Tarzan. They sounded to be from Jersey too when they invited me to join them.” She actually snorted as she laughed.

  She shook her head at her friend. P.J. wasn’t known for her tact.

  Didn’t take long before they found another of the “themed” huts. Unlike last time, this one appeared unoccupied, so she went in as well.

  The interior was designed to replicate a cave. Fur-lined “rocks” imitated, she supposed, a caveman aura. Another hut gave the illusion of being celestial. The entire ceiling was like a planetarium she’d visited once. Lit up to reflect the solar system. So richly detailed, one lost depth perception as it felt like you were actually floating in the sky. Sadly, though quiet—uh, oops—the room was occupied. The exterior of the place had been made from blackout-type material so the place was beyond dark and the heavens illuminated.

  They’d been invited to join in, but backed away apologizing for the intrusion. So much for anyone using the “occupied” code the Marquis had spoken about. Either the guests were too drunk to remember to use it, or they flat didn’t care.

  At the next hut they listened at the door and assumed from the lack of audible activity the place was empty. Since they’d guessed incorrectly last time, this time they rapped lightly. No answer.

  “Okay, least we know this is empty. Want to make a bet on the theme?” P.J. asked.

  “Um, igloo maybe?”

  “Would be unique. I think maybe western inspired. You know, ‘cowboy up’ and all that.” P.J. wagged her brows and grinned.

  Good, her spirits seemed to be lifted.

  Three steps into the hut, they learned their mistake. It wasn’t vacant, but instead housed Candy and Morgan. P.J.’s face fell as hard as her bottom lip, but neither Morgan nor Candy had detected their presence yet.

  Both were still clothed, but the situation suggested things would be changing soon.

  A gasp burst from P.J. and earned the attention of both parties sprawled making out on the fish tank-style bed. Yep, the bed itself appeared made from silicone or something, and though the top appeared to be cushioned and have give, the bottom and sides were hard and housed all sorts of aquatic life. If not for the delicate situation at hand, she’d have loved to check the hut out more.

  “P.J., Heather, what’s wrong?” Morgan asked, sitting up with an inebriated yet concerned expression.

  “N-n-nothing,” P.J. stuttered, hauling ass out of the hut.

  “Uh yeah. Um, we were out checking out all the themes of the vacant huts,” Heather managed as she backtracked to the door.

  “Well this one isn’t vacant, as you can tell,” Candy spat with an irritated tone.

  “Yeah, well, sorry to have intruded.” She caught the flicker in Morgan’s eyes. He hated snooty people. When his buzz wore off, she bet he’d regret his choice of bedmate.

  Now to deal with a heartbroken P.J. This was going to be a long night.

  Long and hellish.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hours later, with P.J. finally asleep, Heather finally took the opportunity to check her phone. No messages. He’d promised to text later. Well, technically she had. But he always sent a text at the end of his day.

  Maybe he’d been busy. Or with someone, the voice in her head suggested.

  She pulled the covers back, set her phone on the nightstand, and climbed into, too tired to even rethink her lagoon outing with the Marquis.

  Bzzz.

  Bzzz.

  She snatched her phone before the buzzing awoke P.J.

  You never texted back. All okay? the text read.

  Yes. All’s well. You? she replied.

  Crawling into bed like you. Exhausted.

  Wait. How did he know she’d only now crawled into bed?

  You were in bed, right? Not interrupting anything, am I? he asked.

  Nope, you guessed right. Am in bed. He’d assumed. For a moment, well…

  Alone?

  Yes. You? No, they’d never gotten around to any sort of relationship rules, as this wasn’t a relationship. Well not really. But regardless, she sensed both feared the other would find someone real and terminate the texting fun. At least she did.

  Up for some fun?

  Her fingers typed out yes. Her mind had long ago plotted the bathroom as a safe zone.

  She slipped into the washroom and shut the door, flipping the lock as quietly as possible.

  Ready for me? he typed.

  Always, she replied.

  Since the island you’re on is all about living out one’s fantasies, tell me one of yours and include me in it, he urged.

  Did she dare open up to him? What would he think of her darkest desires?

  I’ve dreamed of being blindfolded and taken by a stranger. At the complete mercy of another, she typed slowly.

  How often? he rapidly inquired.

  Often, she admitted.

  What happens after you’re blindfolded and you’re at your partner’s complete mercy? The words boldly shot across her screen.

  At first, I’m caressed and kissed, but then…

  Then what? scrolled up in super speed.

  His mouth lowers as his fingers scissor within me.

  Where does his mouth go? he quizzed.

  It moves from my mouth, to my breast, and all the way—she paused—to my, uh, southernmost region.

  Southern region? Explain, he demanded via text.

  My clit. He sucks and chews gently on my clit, she texted back, tapping the keys extra hard as she did.

  Much better. Honesty can be a big turn-on. Now touch yourself for me.

  She double-checked the bathroom door lock and parted her knees. If only in her mind, she imagined his voice, deep and authoritative in instructing her. Closing her eyes, she conjured up a tall, well-built man with muscles, but not too bulked up. He wore dark, shoulder-length hair and had intense blue eyes, the kind that seemed to bore into one’s soul.

  Oh yeah, now this will work well.

  She set the phone on the edge of the bathtub to be able to see his incoming texts. He’d keep instructing her on what to do until she came. He always knew. Always.

  Her hand moved low to touch herself when the hut’s front door slammed against the wall and a huge boom followed after.

  Shit. Um, give me a min. May have roommate issues. BRB. Her fingers flew over the keys to get the message to him before checking out what level of hell she’d have to wade through now.

&nbs
p; She creaked the door open to discover J.D. sprawled face-first barely inside the doorway. By the sound of his snore, he wouldn’t be waking anytime soon.

  “So found the bar, did ya?” she asked while grabbing his feet and sliding him the rest of the way in so she would be able to shut the door.

  No way would moving him farther be an option, and waking P.J. to help wasn’t either.

  “Sorry, big guy, on the floor you’re staying,” she whispered as she retrieved the bedspread and a pillow out of the guys’ room for him. “You’re gonna feel like hell tomorrow, but it is what it is.” She smooshed the pillow under his head, took his shoes off, and covered him up before racing back to grab her phone and snuggle down in her bed. She hurried to return a text.

  Back. Still with me? she typed.

  Nothing.

  Hello? Her gut dropped when still she received no reply.

  Grrrr. She slumped back in the bed. Story of her life. Always late.

  * * * *

  Sounds of moans and groans woke her. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. P.J.’s bed stood empty, but the flushing of the toilet told her where she’d disappeared to. The sounds of agony which had awoken her came from the hut’s living room.

  Ah, J.D. must be waking up. Ha.

  “What’s wrong with him?” P.J. asked, coming from the bathroom.

  “Someone drank a little too much last night. I’m surprised his entry last night didn’t wake you and everyone else around us.”

  “Wow, do tell. What’d I miss?”

  “Only him falling through the door. Come on. Something tells me he’s going to need some help getting up and around this morning.”

  They went out expecting to find J.D. scratching his ass or something on the floor but found the room vacant.

  “Their room.” P.J. thumbed over to the room.

  “Need some help?” P.J. asked as she opened the door to find Morgan lying across his bed, nude but alone. He bolted upright with a little-boy-lost expression.

  “Help?” he questioned.

  She’d bet they both caught sight, simultaneously, of the woody that bobbed in morning greeting. Considering P.J.’s wordage of “need help” and his wood, things went from awkward to downright mortifying, and she took the opportunity to slowly back out of the room.

  Glancing over her shoulder, she found P.J. frozen to the spot. Who knew; maybe this would break the ice between the two. If walking into your crush’s room to find him with a stiffy didn’t work, then nothing would.

  Sounds of moaning came from the tiny deck area out back. She hadn’t checked the porch before but suspected that was where J.D. sat, holding his hung-over head in his hands.

  She peeped out the doors, and sure enough, J.D. was slumped over the small patio table.

  Changing course, she went to the linen closet and found a hand towel. She wet the rag with water as cold as the water in the mini-kitchen sink got, snagged a few aspirin from her purse, and headed out to offer J.D. some relief.

  “Here.” She held out the wet cloth and pills.

  “Thank you. I rather feel like death.” After he’d swallowed the pills he laid his head down on the table. She put the cool damp cloth over the back of his neck

  “Yeah, sorry to say, but sweetie, you’re kinda looking like it too. Hope you feel better.” She gently patted his back and headed back in right as her stomach growled. She read the flier they’d been left with that first night. Yep, breakfast would be served in the dining hut in thirty minutes.

  J.D. gimped in, inquiring about food himself. She gave a brief rundown of the decadent menu, which included pecan pancakes, pineapple fruit boats, and omelets cooked any which way you could want them.

  The door to the guys’ room was shut, and since their room was empty, she assumed P.J. was talking things out with Morgan.

  Finally.

  “Looks like it might just be the two of us for breakfast this morning.” Personally, she was starving.

  “Need some cool and quiet before I can go anywhere,” J.D. mouthed more than said.

  “Well, you got thirty minutes to get your shit, or head as your case may be, together. I’m hungry and don’t want to head down alone.”

  “Fine. Give me twenty minutes to take a cool shower. Need to get everything to stop moving in separate directions.”

  “Gotcha.” With all her roommates occupied and twenty-five minutes still to breakfast, now seemed like good chance to check if her sexting partner had ever returned her last message.

  She heard the sounds of doors shutting. Maybe P.J. and Morgan’s talk hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped it would. Peeping around the corner, she saw the guys’ door wide open, so where in the hell—oh.

  A faint, though audible, rattling, then rhythmic squeaking, began. Chains moving, like those of a swing on a playground. Ha! Their talk had gone well after all. Well thank God someone was going to get to make use of that awesome bed. Butterflies in your stomach on top of butterflies? She could be jealous, but she wasn’t. She was thrilled her two knuckleheaded friends at least seemed to have finally opened up to each other.

  Padding back into her room, she shut the door, grabbed her phone, and plunked cross-legged on the bed. Nope. No messages. She debated sending another, but the last one had been from her, and she didn’t want to sound needy. She’d wait for him to reply, even if waiting drove her mad.

  She prayed all her “have to go” messages hadn’t made him want to “go” elsewhere.

  Then again, what they shared wasn’t a real relationship.

  Right?

  Chapter Twelve

  Two days passed without any text from Erix. Not one polite message, Hey I’m busy or Something’s come up will text soon. Not a damn word. At this point, she wasn’t sure she ever wanted to hear from him again. As soon as she’d think such a thing, another part of her would worry he’d been hurt or killed.

  She’d come to take the nightly ritual for granted. Latching on to the comfort of knowing she had something to come home to so much so, she’d stopped looking for the “someone” to come home to.

  Yeah, when she got home she needed to do some serious thinking. About everything, but mainly about how her life seemed to have stalled.

  “We’re off. Sure you don’t want to join us?” P.J. asked as she and Morgan geared up for a midnight swim at the falls she’d told them about. Though she’d been invited, the two needed their privacy—especially for a midnight swim, which would no doubt turn into far more.

  “Positive. You two go, uh, enjoy your swim.”

  “Well, I’m hoping the lagoon is still visitor-free. With the newcomers who arrived today, the island is a little crowded,” P.J. noted.

  “I noticed. Twice as many at lunchtime, and have you caught the noises coming from the huts damn near twenty-four hours a day?” There’d been one newcomer who’d caught her attention. Something about him seemed familiar, but she couldn’t place what struck her as so. She’d been unable to catch sight of his face, but she’d not missed the bared, sweat-covered abs. He wore the longer-style surf shorts, and when he’d yanked his tee off to wipe up the sweat, hello, come to momma. Normally the sight of sandy sweat would have turned her off, but his moves drew her attention to the beads that disappeared beneath his low-hung shorts. When she tried to glance at his face, she found his head hidden behind the palm fronds. She did make out one feature that would help her identify him again, should their paths cross.

  He sported a brand-new tattoo. The redness and swelling gave that much away. The tat was a unique-looking Asian phrase that ran the expanse of his back. She’d love to know the meaning behind it.

  “Yeah, whole lotta happy going on,” Morgan quipped, grinning from ear to ear and snapping her back to the present.

  “Word,” P.J. agreed with a special glint in her eye.

  Ever since their morning run-in, they’d been inseparable. So much so, Heather’d not been able to get the rundown of what had gone down. P.J. was staying in the room with
Morgan, J.D. slept on the pull-out sofa, and she stayed in her room with a silent cell phone.

  Lying there watching the blades of the ceiling fan whirl around in the moonlight should have made her drowsy, but instead she was itchy to do something. She sure as hell wasn’t going to interrupt P.J. and Morgan, and J.D. hadn’t even come back from dinner. He’d found a redhead looking for company, and they probably wouldn’t see him again until time to head home in three days.

  A walk. She’d go on a nice quiet stroll.

  She slipped on a pair of shorts and flip-flops and headed out. Anywhere else and she might have been hesitant to wander around alone, but here on the island, fear had been replaced with curiosity and the sense of security.

  Along the way, she made out the distinct sounds of couples in the throes of passion. Some were in the many lagoons found about, some in the lush tropical foliage, and a few making out right on the path as they stumbled toward the closest “theme” hut.

  At the end of one particularly secluded path, one where she hadn’t run into any other visitors, a small bench sat by reflecting pond. Peering down into the water, she caught slight movements of orange tails and realized Chinese carp swam about. Though a larger hut stood in front, the path ended. Unlike the other quarters about the island, this one seemed different. Far more private with nothing else around, short of the fishpond. This one screamed private.

  Since the place stood dark and quiet, she assumed the building was vacant, and settled on a bench to enjoy the serene night and exotic island sounds. All too soon their trip would be over, and she wanted to remember everything about this enchanting island.

  When a light popped on in the hut, she scooted to the side of the bench farthest from the tiki torch and hoped the shadows would conceal her presence should anyone come out. The window shade was up, or nearly up, as a man’s naked torso came into view. She recognized the tattoo immediately. The mystery newcomer she’d spotted arriving. The tattoo had healed nicely, as the skin no longer appeared red or puffy.

  Uh yes please, more, and turn the hell around.

  As if he’d heard her, the man turned around. Her gaze dropped down, one ripped muscle at a time, until…