Forever

by Tinnean

  “I’ll get this, Mark.”

  “Nah, that’s okay.” He handed me my bag and reached into his pocket for his wallet. “I have Colones from the last time I was here.” He handed the driver a number of colorful bills with toucans on them, and from the man’s reaction, he must have given him a very healthy tip as well.

  “¡Gracias, señor! ¡Muchas, muchas gracias!”

  “De nada. Thanks for a smooth ride.” Mark hoisted his duffel over his shoulder and murmured in English, “He was honest about the fare.”

  That was one thing I’d noticed about my lover: if someone did him a service, and it was done well, Mark made sure he was rewarded for it.

  Of course, he wouldn’t want to have it mentioned, in case it cast aspersions on his reputation as a badass, so I said nothing about it.

  Instead, I looked out over the calm green water. Less than a mile away was an island. “Is that your island, Mark?” I looked around for a ferry or water taxi.

  “Hmm?” He followed my gaze. “No, that’s Isla Uvita. Isla del Placer Escarpado is over there.”

  On the horizon was what appeared to be a smudge. “Good God.” I swallowed. “How are we going to get out there?”

  “Oh, ye of little faith. I keep a boat here.” He grinned and nodded toward a slip, where a boat rocked gently, her sides white and gleaming.

  On the bow, in bold black script, was her name: Varlebena.

  “She’s rather small, isn’t she?” I wondered why Varlebena sounded familiar.

  “She’s big enough, Quinn. She’s an eighteen-foot day cruiser, a Drago 570.” He stroked the sleek, black outboard motor. “This Yamaha has two-fifty horses, a thirty-inch shaft, and she’ll do thirty knots. And that’s not pushing it.”

  “Ah? Well, no need to push on my account.”

  He grinned at me.

  “¡Hola, señor!” A dark-skinned youth who couldn’t have been more than fifteen greeted Mark.

  “¡Hola, Manuel! Is everything in readiness?”

  “Sí. Your little sweetheart is stocked and ready to go!” Manuel’s teeth flashed white in his face.

  “Am I taking my life in my hands, getting on this thing with you?” I wasn’t exactly teasing.

  “Oh, no, señor!” the boy exclaimed. “Señor José is an excellent captain!”

  José? I mouthed.

  Mark just grinned. “We’ll see you in a few days, Manuel.”

  “You don’t need me to come with you?”

  “Not this time.” He saw my raised eyebrow. “Manuel helped me get the house in shape. The island took an indirect hit from a hurricane a year before I bought it. That’s why I was able to get it so cheap.”

  “Manuel, get your skinny ass over here!” a gravelly voice shouted in Spanish.

  The boy sighed. “Sí, Papa. Adiós, Señor José.” He gave me a slight bow. “Señor.”

  “That kid’s father is a prime son of a bitch.” Mark’s grin had vanished, and he was frowning. “I’m gonna have to deal with him one of these days.” He tossed his duffel onto the deck of his boat, stepped on board with casual ease, and caught my bag as I threw it to him.

  “Mark.”

  “Give me your overcoat. We can keep them in the cabin.” He took it, ignoring the implied warning in my tone, and went into the cabin.

  I stared from the dock to the side of the boat, which seemed to be rising and falling not quite so gently.

  I was still on the dock when he returned moments later, and he regarded me curiously.

  “C’mon, Quinn. Let’s get going.” He turned away to do something on the side of the boat away from me.

  All right, this could be no more difficult than taking an open water jump at a horseshow. I took a breath, centered myself, and then I was beside him on the boat.

  “Untie the docking cleats on the port side, okay?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “The—Quinn, you’ve sailed before, haven’t you?”

  “Actually, no.”

  “No? I thought Manns and Sebrings could do just about anything.”

  “Generally, this is true. We just don’t sail.” In point of fact, I was a poor sailor and tended to get seasick on a bay that was smooth as glass. I’d taken a Dramamine while we’d waited for our flight from Liberia. The last thing I wanted to do was spend time bent over the side of a boat. Unless, of course, Mark was the reason for it.

  He laughed and shook his head and showed me how to go about unfastening Varlebena.

  Where had I seen that name before?

  I stopped pondering that question. I knew it would come to me sooner or later.

  Meanwhile, Mark was saying, “It’s going to take me a bit to get us under way. Put this on.” He handed me a life vest.

  “What about you?”

  “Never leave the dock without it.” He grinned and put on a second one, and I watched carefully as he fastened it, and then copied his movements. “Want to check out the cabin?”

  “Are we going to sleep in it?”

  “We can if you want to, but my house is in good enough shape that I thought we would sleep there.” His words made it seem as though he didn’t care one way or the other, but I knew him well enough by now to know he was a little disappointed.

  “Sleeping in your house sounds like a good idea, Mark.” I ducked my head and stepped down into the cabin.

  It was small, but it seemed to have all the comforts of home. Our overcoats were hanging from hooks beside a small sink, and what I thought might be a closet turned out to be the head. A couple of large boxes were in the space between two bunks, along with a large cooler and a squarish insulated bag. Regarding the distance between the bunks, I was glad that Mark had decided against sleeping in here. Having four or five feet of space between us was not what I expected in a getaway that I had envisioned as a romantic one.

  The outboard rumbled to life, and I rejoined Mark on the deck. He was seated before the wheel, but there was another seat on the left side of the door to the cabin.

  I sat down and strapped myself in, which was a good thing, because once we left the shelter of the jetty, the water became rougher. Mark opened the throttle and the boat took off, skimming over the white caps. I was glad I was wearing a seat belt, and even more glad that I had taken that Dramamine.

  It took us about fifteen or twenty minutes to reach Isla del Placer Escarpado. On first view, it didn’t appear very hospitable. Rocks formed a natural breakwater, and I held my breath as Mark steered the day cruiser toward a narrow opening that wasn’t visible until we were almost on top of it. It allowed passage into a small bay, and my breath caught again, this time from the beauty of the vista before us—a curving beach of white, sugar-fine sand, and beyond, a variety of palm trees that swayed gently in the late-afternoon breeze.

  Mark guided the boat to a wooden dock that jutted out from the beach.

  “When did you learn to handle a boat?”

  “You said it yourself, Quinn. I’m a man of many capabilities.”

  “Yes, you are.” And as with everything else, he did this with confidence and competence.

  He throttled down, dropped the anchor, tied off the boat, and then went into the cabin before returning with the two large boxes. “We’ll come back for the cooler and the insulated bag after we open the house.”

  “What’s in the bag?”

  “Dinner. Olla de carne, beef stew with potatoes, carrots, local vegetables. Pan dulce that Manuel’s mother makes. It took a while for me to get used to sweet bread, but it’s good, and I think you’ll enjoy it. And for dessert, cajeta de coco. That’s fudge made of coconut, brown sugar and orange peel.”

  “It all sounds delicious.”

  “I wanted something special for your first night on my island. Get our duffels, okay?”

  “Of course.” I slung them over my shoulders. Out of habit, I took out my cell phone, but there was no reception. “Mark?”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ve got a satellite phone for em
ergencies. But only for emergencies. We’re incommunicado for the next six days.”

  I found I liked that idea.

  Just before I stepped off the dock, I paused to turn and study the view.

  The water was incredibly blue, reflecting the color of the sky. Out near the breakwater, I thought I saw a fin cut through the waves, but before I could worry about sharks, a dolphin broke the surface. It blew out a jet of air and then reentered elegantly and effortlessly.

  “Mark! Did you see?” I stood staring at the spot where it had vanished, enchanted by the sight.

  “The dolphin? Yeah. There’s a pod that comes and goes. Sometimes they show up when I go fishing.”

  What a wonderful place Mark had chosen for himself!

  “Let’s go. Sunset is around five thirty, and I want to get the house opened up before it gets dark.”

  I followed him up the beach to an almost invisible path through the brush surrounding the coconut palms. Away from the beach, the air grew hot and oppressive, and I began to perspire.

  The back of Mark’s shirt darkened with sweat as well.

  “We’ve got small palms too.” Since he was a little ahead of me, he didn’t see my pleased smile. Did he realize he was referring to the both of us? “They’ll supply us hearts of palms.” He continued pointing out other sources of food. “There are some plantain trees also. They’re good, but they need to be baked or fried. And about a hundred yards behind the house there’s a spring. The water is warm, but I had it tested, and it’s safe to drink in a pinch. And here we are.”

  In a clearing just beyond was a stone cottage. A veranda stretched across the front of it, and barrel tiles covered the roof.

  “What do you think?”

  “I’m impressed.”

  He didn’t respond to that, but there was a hint of pride in his grin. “Manuel and his old man keep the area around it free of undergrowth. They know enough not to go into the house.”

  “Hmm. I assume you’ve got it wired to blow?”

  He gave me a look. “Just because I’m on vacation doesn’t mean my brains are on vacation as well.”

  “No, of course not.”

  “This island gets a nice breeze in the evenings.”

  “Oh?” I was a little startled by the abrupt change of subject.

  We stepped up onto the veranda, and he put the boxes down and unlocked the front door. “There are eyebolts on the overhang here.”

  “I noticed.” Another rapid change of topic, but this one didn’t leave me puzzled, as I realized what his remarks were leading to. “For a hammock?” I knew there was something similar on the back veranda at Shadow Brook.

  “Yeah. There’s built-in storage under the windows, and I keep it in there. We can try it out tomorrow night, if you like.”

  My cock twitched. “Oh, I like, very much.”

  He grinned at me over his shoulder, threw the door open, and entered. “C’mon in.”

  It was dark inside, and hot; the windows were covered with plantation shutters. Mark went to each one and fastened it back, and soon the late-afternoon sunlight was filtering through.

  It was a tidy-sized room, sparsely furnished with a couple of small wooden tables, obviously the handiwork of local craftsmen, and a pair of chairs and a couch, made of the same wood. As he said, there were storage benches beneath both windows, and I assumed the cushions for the chairs and couch were kept there, along with the hammock, when he wasn’t in residence.

  “The bedroom is that way.” Mark pointed to the right. “Put the duffels there.” He retrieved the boxes and set them down on the denuded couch. “I’ve got to go out back and get the generator started, and then we’ll bring in the rest of the supplies and have dinner.” He paused at the door, looking a little uncomfortable. “Uh… there’s no indoor plumbing, Quinn.”

  “I’ve roughed it before.” Did he think I was such a city boy that I couldn’t deal with a paltry lack of amenities? “Do I need to dig a latrine?”

  “No, that won’t be necessary. There’s an outhouse. And Manuel’s old man rigged up a shower.”

  “Well, then, all the comforts of home.”

  He stood there staring at me for a minute, then came to me, wrapped his fingers in the front of my shirt, and pulled me up onto my toes. The expression on his face was indecipherable, but there was pleasure in his eyes.

  “I knew there was a reason why I never brought anyone here before.”

  “No one?” And he was willing to share it with me. My heart began a slow, heavy thud of arousal mixed with pleasure.

  “Nope.” He kissed me roughly.

  “I’m glad to hear that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah.” I waited for him to say something like, “Don’t let it go to your head,” but he didn’t. I squeezed his ass, kissed him back just as roughly, and then gave him a slight shove. As he’d said, it would be dark all too soon. We needed to get settled in. “Get going. I’d like to eat sometime in the near future.”

  “I like you impatient, baby.” He stroked the backs of his fingers over my cheek, grinned, and then headed toward the back of the cottage.

  I turned and went into the bedroom, dropped the duffel bags beside the bed, and opened the shutters that covered the windows. There were no screens, and I hesitated to open the windows, unsure if there were animals on the island that might make themselves at home here.

  I decided to wait until I could talk to Mark about it.

  It wasn’t a big room, or perhaps it appeared that way because the bed was so large. The frame was bare, but I had no doubt that in one of the boxes Mark had carried into the cottage was a blowup mattress and bed linens.

  A niche had been cut into one wall, with a bamboo bar at eye level holding a number of hangers, and below, a few shelves serving as storage for clothing.

  I emptied our duffel bags, stored them at the bottom of the niche, and then walked back into the living room. There would be time to explore the amenities of the cottage later, after we were settled in.

  I opened the first box and found a roll of toilet paper, a little camp stove, all manner of canned goods with colorful Costa Rican labels on them, and, of course, a can opener.

  The mattress was in the second box, as well as the pump, sheets, towels, and a couple of pillows. The pump was a foot-activated one, a smart move on Mark’s part, since it would take a lot of breath to blow up the mattress if the generator didn’t work.

  By the time it was on the bed and covered with sheets, I was perspiring profusely. I tugged out my shirttails, unbuttoned my shirt, and removed it, but my undershirt was clinging uncomfortably, so I shed it as well. Feeling a little cooler, I returned to the living room.

  Mark must still have been busy trying to get the generator going. Was it giving him a hard time?

  I wasn’t uneasy, however. I had every confidence in my lover. And if worse came to worse, I could think of any number of ways to pass the hours of the night.

  “I’ll be at the boat,” I called.

  “Okay,” he called back, sounding a little disgruntled.

  As I retraced the path down to the beach, I smiled, considering the various ways we might spend the dark hours of the night.

  The sun was starting to set, but the air was still warm, and while I knew it wouldn’t be smart to go out during the day without judicious use of sunscreen, it shouldn’t be a problem now.

  I paused again on the dock, enjoying the balmy breeze and gazing up at the sky, which was awash with glorious color.

  Still smiling, I walked along the weathered wood to the boat, climbed aboard easily, and entered the cabin.

  The cooler was heavy, and when I opened the top, I saw it contained a couple of bottles of wine and some bottles of Heineken as well as the local beer nestled into the ice. It also held a number of bottles of Perrier, which I knew he’d brought for me, but which I also knew would be unsuitable for making coffee. I wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of using the melted ice water, but th
en I remembered the water from his spring, which he’d assured me was potable.

  The insulated bag would need to be carried with both hands or else I would run the risk of spilling its contents. I’d have to come back for it.

  I left the cabin, pushing the cooler ahead of me.

  “Ahoy the boat!”

  I straightened, brushed the hair out of my eyes, and grinned. “Ahoy yourself!”

  Mark let out a long whistle and ran his eyes up and down my body, licking his lips all the while.

  I knew I had a decent body—it was to my own advantage to keep it in good shape—but his obvious appreciation wasn’t the usual response to it, and I could feel a blush running from my torso to my scalp. Fortunately, if he noticed, he didn’t say anything.

  “I brought along your shirt. It gets cool once the sun goes down.”

  “Thanks.” I reached for it, but he drew it back. “Mark?”

  “I like you like this.” He ran his palm over my chest, over my sensitive nipples, and I shivered. “Cold?” He brought his hand back to my throat, and his fingers encircled it.

  I swallowed, unable to take my eyes from his. “No.” I shivered again.

  He leaned his forehead against mine. “Sorry it took so long.” His breath was warm on my lips.

  “What happened?”

  “Generator was acting up.” His lips were on mine now, and he licked delicately along the seam, seeking admittance.

  “Did you manage to get it working?” I rubbed my tongue against his.

  “Yeah.” A final kiss, and then he stepped back and handed me my shirt. “I’ll have to have a little talk with Manuel’s old man about it. He’s supposed to run it when he comes out to thin out the undergrowth.”

  I had a feeling Manuel’s father was going to regret he hadn’t followed Mark’s directions to the letter.

  My shirt was no longer damp, but it was a little stiff. I slid my arms into the sleeves; however, before I could begin buttoning it, Mark brushed my hands away. I stood before him, enjoying the feel of his hands on me, and let him do the task himself.

  “We’d better get moving. I didn’t bring a flashlight with me.”