by Hazel Kelly
But that girl wasn’t Nina, and the fact that she almost got to me last night was freaking me out because she was not what I needed.
Unfortunately, I was starting to think that what I needed wasn’t here anymore.
After all, at the end of the day I was hiding out.
When I first came out here, I loved how little drama there was in my life, how I could go places without getting recognized or hassled, how I didn’t have to constantly field phone calls from long lost family members congratulating me on being interviewed by Oprah and by the way could I loan them some money.
However, even though I didn’t miss all the bullshit I left behind, I was starting to think I was too young to spend the rest of my life feeling this relaxed.
I had no worries, no reason to get up early (besides my addiction to exercise), and the unthreatened freedom to do whatever I wanted. But for some reason, it wasn’t enough.
And I think I was starting to understand why.
It was because I wasn’t a retiree in my mid-sixties who’d worked hard his whole life and earned his right to do sweet fuck all every day. I just got lucky a few years out of med school, wrote a best-selling diet book, and made an outrageous fortune because every overweight person in America bought one.
But did that really entitle me to give up and go on vacation for the rest of my life? It didn’t even feel like vacation anymore. It was actually becoming hard work to come up with new ideas for how to spend my days so I didn’t go crazy.
How much more time could I spend practicing my Thai, taking cooking courses, going paddle boarding, and riding my motorcycle all over the country? Even teaching the class of curious Thai girls how to attract Western men was getting monotonous.
Plus, that definitely wasn’t the kind of thing I could do for the rest of my life. It was a hobby. In fact, everything I did was a hobby these days, and hobbies weren’t enough. Hobbies were what people were supposed to do to reward themselves for hard work.
When I thought back on my twenties, I felt so full of pride remembering all the passionate pursuits I had, all the dreams that made me so eager to get out of bed in the morning and apply myself. And when I compared that to the person I was lately, well, I felt like I was amounting to less each passing year instead of more.
So even though I used to think I could hide out in paradise for the rest of my life and never look back, I wasn’t sure that was going to make me happy anymore.
And I was too young to throw in the towel and accept my lot, especially when I could afford to create any damn lot that I wanted.
Chapter 8: Audrey
I found two parallel beach chairs across from the hotel, set my bag down on the small table between them, and laid our towels down.
Then I laid down myself and surveyed the scene. The beach was crowded with a variety of people, but it seemed the majority of them were older white men on their own and Thai families.
I also noticed that- without exception- the locals were covered from head to toe by the shade of the oversized umbrellas around which they clustered. And those that were braving the elements wore large hats and clothes while they swam to protect themselves from the hot sun.
I reached in the beach bag to my side and pulled my iPod and the portable speaker out, scrolling through to Massive Attack and waiting to set the speaker down until I heard the music start to play.
At that point, I closed my eyes and inhaled the salty breeze rolling in off the water, catching the occasional whiff of someone firing up a seaside barbeque nearby. And just before the oppressive heat put me to sleep, I heard two drinks hit the table next to me and opened my eyes.
“Jesus,” I said. “What took you so long?”
“There’s hope for us yet,” Megan said, sitting down on the lounge chair beside me.
“Oh yeah?” I asked, sitting up just enough that I could take a sip of my cool drink. “How do you figure?”
“I met someone at the bar.”
I raised my eyebrows. “How intriguing. Please go on.”
“It was a young, single man,” Megan said, laying on her side and grabbing her sweating cocktail. “Can you believe it?!”
“Are you sure it’s not just the sun getting to you?” I asked. “It seems more likely that you were hallucinating.”
“Nope,” Megan said. “He was definitely real. He spoke to me and everything.”
“Wow,” I said, setting my drink down.
“Don’t you see?” she asked with wide eyes. “If there’s one, there could be two!”
“I appreciate your optimism,” I said, “but I’ve already got my eye on that fella over there.” I pointed down the beach to a large man lying on a bloated belly. His back hair had bleached in the sun and a German flag decorated his boldly undersized bikini bottom.
“That’s him!” Megan said.
“Really?” I raised my glasses and squinted towards him.
“No, dummy,” she said. “And for the record, I’m not that desperate.”
I smiled. “Speak for yourself.” I lay down again and closed my eyes.
“Anyway, his name is Matteo, and he looks like the kind of guy that likes sex for breakfast.”
“Mmm.”
“And he’s working on his laptop at the bar so if you don’t mind, I’m happy to get the next round, too.”
“Sounds good to me.”
It couldn’t have been more than twenty minutes later when Megan announced that she was going for round two, which was fine by me because I was sure I’d die of heatstroke if she didn’t keep the icey drinks coming.
After she got up to leave, I opened my eyes and turned in her direction so I could ask her to get some extra ice, but she’d already scampered off. I looked back ahead at the thin clouds on the horizon and sighed. A moment later, my eyes came to rest on what I believed could only have been a mirage off to my right.
There, standing in front of a single beach chair was a man who couldn’t have been much older than I was, though his body certainly put mine to shame. He had dark blond hair that looked thick and coarse from too much sea and sun. And it was hard to tell because I was so sweaty, but I think the sight of him made my mouth water.
Of course, it was probably Matteo. Then again, surely Matteo had darker hair? He must’ve been Spanish or Italian. And this guy definitely wasn’t. He looked like an Australian lifeguard. Or a stunt double in a surfing movie. It was hard to tell since he was a mirage.
When the sun glinted off his mirrored aviators, I realized we had the same glasses, which meant he wouldn’t be able to tell if I was staring at him. So I figured- even if it was Matteo- there was no harm in admiring the first gorgeous man I’d seen the whole trip.
And once I started watching him, I couldn’t look away. I watched as he spread sunscreen thinly on his toned chest and muscular arms. Then he crinkled his whole face while he applied sunscreen to it with flat palms like a hurried kid. But he wasn’t a kid. In fact, I’d say he was very much a man by the way his board shorts pulled across his hip bones. Finally, just after I realized he wasn’t going to ask for my help screening his body up to a high sheen, he sat down and pulled out a book.
I nearly fainted in my beach chair. Not only was he hot, but he could read. Obviously, he was too good to be true, and I was imagining things. The beautiful scenery and the extreme heat were clearly more than I could handle.
I pulled a bottle of water out of my bag. It hadn’t completely warmed yet, and I took a few sips before spilling some on my chest to help me cool off, wishing it wouldn’t evaporate so quickly.
Seeing as how I was dreaming, there was no way of knowing how long the mirage would last. So I pulled out my sketchbook and shamelessly started to draw him, starting with his flowered board shorts and working my way up. At first the pencil felt strange in my hand. It had been a long time since I had the time to sketch. Or the inspiration. But at that moment, I had both.
“Oh my god where is he?” Megan said over my shoulder.
I glanced u
p to see her standing behind me with drinks in hand, scanning the beach.
“Shhhh,” I said. “Eight o’clock.”
Megan stuck her neck out the wrong way. “I don’t see him.”
“No,” I said. “Eight like if we’re twelve.”
She turned her head straight in his direction.
“Don’t be obvious!” I said.
“You’re the one drawing him,” she said. “Though I suppose it’s better than touching yourself.”
“Jesus.”
“That’s really good by the way,” she said, walking around to the front of her beach chair.
“Thanks,” I said. “But I’m afraid he’s the one that deserves the credit.”
She sat down and brought her tiny red straw to her lips. “You should show it to him.”
“Absolutely not,” I said. “That’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”
“Oh my god, he’s getting up.”
I pursed my lips and looked out the corner of my eye. Without speaking, Megan and I watched the sun shining off his muscular back as he walked into the water up to his knees.
“So you can see him too?” I asked.
“Yup.”
“And that’s not Matteo?”
“No,” Megan said. “He’s still in the bar.”
“Hallelujah.”
“He asked me to dinner actually.”
“Ohhhh,” I said, keeping my eyes on not-Matteo. “And does he look like he likes sex for dinner, too?”
“I hope so,” she said, breaking her stare from Blondie to look at the sketch one more time.
I closed my sketchbook without taking my eyes off him and slipped it back in the bag.
In the distance, the mysterious beach bum splashed some water up onto his body and into his hair. Then he turned around and shook his head like a dog before making his way back to his chair.
“Damn,” Megan said. “If only I knew someone who liked blonds.”
Chapter 9: Jack
I’d eaten my pancakes too fast. On the plus side, at least I’d declined Lulu’s offer to drizzle half a can of condensed milk on top. I swear if I said yes to condensed milk every time a Thai person offered it to me, I’d be three hundred pounds by now.
Fortunately, I was morally and medically opposed to the way the Thai’s used it as a condiment so I wasn’t the poster boy for diabetes just yet.
On the contrary, by the time I found a free chair on the beach, I could feel a tightness setting into my arms and a soreness in my obliques that I relished as a sign that my muscles had gotten a good workout.
As I put my sunscreen on, I noticed that it seemed especially hot, but the temperature increased even more when I saw something unusual that caught my eye- two single American women lying in the sun nearby. I figured they were American because they were too curvy to be French and too smiley to be German. Plus, American’s were the only tourists dumb enough to come here when there were hundreds of better beaches farther South for two young women traveling alone to go.
Then again, maybe they weren’t traveling alone. That would make more sense. No single women with any luck would find themselves here. They were probably sunning themselves while their fat bastard husbands did business nearby.
And they were bastards alright because both women had smiles that were as gorgeous as they were inviting, and I was jealous of whoever they were with from the moment I saw them from behind my polarized aviators.
The one with the dark blond hair was especially hot, and I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to be her sweat, dripping down her cleavage while her drinks went to her head.
It made me wish I could get in her head.
In more ways than one.
I considered trying to engage them in some small talk, but it wasn’t really that kind of beach. Most of the people who came here wanted privacy, like I usually did. Of course, I didn’t want privacy where they were concerned. The idea of spending the day- and maybe even the night with them- was one that appealed to me very much.
But I doubted their rich husbands would be cool with that, though I was too far away to see if they had wedding rings on.
God it had been soo long since I’d had a blonde. If it weren’t so fucking hot, I would’ve gotten hard just wondering what shade of pink her nipples were. She’d probably even say my name without a foreign accent while she was coming.
I’d feel like a fucking teenager again!
But I was just being appallingly un-Buddhist again, craving what I didn’t have: a curvy American body to sink my fingers, my dick, my tongue into… Oh to taste an American girl again. My mouth watered at the thought of it.
Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do. Unless our paths crossed, I wasn’t going to risk bothering them on their vacation. For what? Just to flirt with them until I felt crazier and more tempted than I did already? Until they said, thanks for the drinks we’re off to meet our husbands now?
No. I’d have to settle for the soft porn of their bodies on the beach and take my urges back to my apartment with me. After all, they would disappear as quickly as they’d materialized, and the sexy blonde would be nothing more than a fond memory.
Unless I ran into them later. They were probably staying at the resort across the street. Tourists never strayed that far from access to their own hotel, and I knew for a fact that the hotel had a downstairs bar.
Maybe I should go there for a drink later. If they wanted to approach me, it would be easy enough considering I was reading a book called Losing my Virginity.
I could just imagine it.
The blonde would order a drink and take a seat near me, impressed by the fact that I was both handsome and literate.
I’d look up at her and smile, catching her eye as she glanced at the cover.
“Any good?” she’d ask.
And I would shrug and be charmingly self-deprecating and say something like, “I guess it was better for Branson than it was for me.”
And she’d laugh and her eyes would sparkle. Meanwhile, I’d be able to see from her low cut dress that her tits were real, that they were the kind of tits that would move while I fucked her.
Naturally, I’d be funnier and more irresistible than I’d ever been before, and she’d be wet before I even laid a hand on her, begging me with her eyes to take her somewhere private.
And as she batted her eyelashes, I’d ask if she was waiting for someone.
And she would say “Yes. You. I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”
Okay, no. That’s too cheesy. It would be more interesting if I had to work a bit harder. So what would she say? Hmmm. Maybe she’d just say she was alone at which point I’d ask her to dinner.
Obviously, she would agree enthusiastically, and I would continue making intelligent conversation while I let the irresistible Thai food seduce her for me. By the time we were done eating, she’d be so satisfied there would only be one thing that could make her feel even better.
On the way to my place, she would barely be able to keep her hands off me. As soon as we were in the door, I’d strip her down and make her come in every way I knew how until her body was exhausted inside and out.
In the morning, she’d wake me up begging for it again… And I would oblige her because I’m a nice guy like that.
Afterwards, one of two things would happen.
Either she’d return home, cherishing the memory of the evening we shared so much that she’d send me tastefully lewd pictures from time to time.
Or she’d stay here in paradise with me and make my boyhood dream of waking up next to a curvy blonde every morning come true.
Yeah. That’s definitely how it would play out. If she were single, and if we crossed paths, and if she were the answer to my prayers… as unfocused and informal as they were.
Of course, those all seemed like pretty big ifs.
Chapter 10: Audrey
My appetite around lunch time was virtually nonexistent due to the heat, and
even though it had been missing in action ever since we arrived, it still surprised me to no end. After all, I was one of those people who ate at meal times regardless of whether I was hungry. At least at home I was anyway.
Here, though, I could barely stomach the thought of eating. I don’t know if it was the heat or the rum, but even the idea of a delicious Thai curry couldn’t get me excited. Still, perhaps out of habit and because Megan was keen for any excuse to visit the bar, I asked her to get a few light sandwiches to pick at in the hope that I would at least stay sober enough to keep from falling asleep.
Eventually, I decided that wasn’t enough. I needed to do something to boost my energy or I was going to become shit company.
“I was thinking of renting a snorkel,” I said. “Any interest in joining me?”
“Not today,” Megan said, flipping a page in her magazine. “I’m liable to drown if I try to swim after all those drinks.”
“It’s not really a swim I’m proposing,” I said, sitting up. “It’s more of a float.”
“Maybe tomorrow.” Megan pulled the straw out of her drink and tipped her glass over her mouth so the ice cubes dropped in.