by Allen, Sara
“You’re a teacher?” he inquires.
“No,” I respond. “I’m a school counselor.”
“You must really like your job to buy gifts for your students in your off time.”
“I love my job. Though it can be draining,” I admit, with heavy emotion in my voice.
As we shop, he continues to ask about my work, and for some reason I feel comfortable opening up to him. I tell him that I work in the Philadelphia School District with middle-schoolers, and that while the students of Philadelphia may have a negative reputation, I encounter some of the sweetest, funniest, and kind-hearted souls you’ll ever meet. Unfortunately, a lot of my students have troubled home lives that would make even the most jovial individual a hard ass by the time they reach the age of fifteen. It’s my job to help students who struggle the most and give them the necessary tools to help them navigate through life and overcome their obstacles to achieve success. I tell him that once I get back to Philadelphia, the remainder of my summer will be dedicated to working with an organization that teaches anger management strategies, problem-solving techniques, and even yoga breathing all while having fun activities and taking the kids on trips so they can enjoy their summer.
“Unfortunately, we only have enough funding for about ten kids, but we’re slowly growing and hope to take on more kids with each summer.”
“How many children are you looking to take on?” he asks.
“The entire district,” I snort without even thinking. “No, but seriously, a lot of children in our district could benefit from this type of program. I would eventually like to make it a year-round project, but we’ll see. Let’s see what that store has,” I say, pointing, directing his attention to the store across the street, wanting to change the subject. I love my job, but it can be stressful, and I’m in a mood to relax right now. I don’t want to talk about all the needs of my students.
Thirty minutes later, Landon is holding my three bags of souvenirs. I’ve purchased a necklace and wooden-carved saints for my mom and some wooden pestle and mortars for my father who is the cook in our family. We follow behind our hostess as she shows us to our table in a mid-size restaurant that serves Puerto Rican food. I take in the low-lighting scenery around us and the way the flickering candle on the table illuminates his face. I can’t help but think for more than the second time how familiar his face appears to me. He must have caught the curious look in my eye.
“You just have a familiar face like I’ve seen you somewhere before, but I can’t place it. I know we’ve never met before because I definitely would have remembered that,” I say before spooning more Asopao de carne de cerdo into my mouth.
His eyes widen a bit in shock, and then a hint of suspicion flashes before he blinks, and the emotions are gone.
“Are you a model or something?”
****
Landon
“A model? You think I’m that good-looking?” I ask, attempting to direct attention away from my career. I can tell she’s not a football fan, and in my experience, once women who don’t know who I am find out, they change. All of a sudden they start becoming extra clingy and demand that I solidify our relationship. One even went to a popular gossip blog and reported that she and I were engaged after only a few dates! The shit is crazy. For some reason, I don’t want the woman sitting across from me to turn out like that. I find myself not at all perturbed by the idea of spending more time with her, even after we leave the island.
“Seriously, you know you’re runway-model good-looking,” Melody laughs. “But I’ve told you what I do for a living. How about you?”
Shit!
Before I can respond, our waiter returns to our table, asking if everything is okay and offering dessert menus, which I gratefully accept.
“Never mind,” she says shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to pry. We are on vacation, right? No more talk about work.”
She smiles at me, and I release a breath.
“Let’s see what they have for dessert,” she says smiling, grabbing the second dessert menu and begins looking it over.
A piece of me feels as if I just lost an opportunity to get closer to this woman. “I’m an athlete, and I do some marketing on the side,” I blurt out. Not a complete lie, but definitely not the whole truth.
“Oh, I should have been able to tell from the washboard abs that you did something physical for a living. Which sport?”
“My abs are all right,” I say with a chuckle. “But I’m not the only one here with some athletic prowess. You’re pretty flexible yourself. That one position, where I had your leg up--”
“Landon!” she exclaims, hushing me, then dips her head.
She’s so damn cute that I can’t help but laugh a little at her embarrassment. I decide to prod even more. “So how’d you get so flexible?”
“I take yoga a couple of times a week,” she responds.
The rest of the evening goes pretty well, and we just talk for another few hours at the restaurant. She tells me about how she started yoga to help de-stress at the end of her day. I tell her the different sports I played growing up, which included soccer, baseball, and of course football, although I don’t go into my career now. Part of me still finds it difficult to believe that we live in the same city, and she has no idea who I am. When I casually ask if she watches any sports, she makes a face.
“No, I’m not a fan of sports, and I don’t really watch much TV.” Her answer seems genuine, which helps to satisfy my curiosity.
Later that night, back at my place, I ask her to come with me to El Yunque Rainforest the following day, and she agrees. I can’t believe how much time I want to spend with this woman, and not just in the bedroom, but outside of it as well. I thought I’d have enough of her after a full day together, but I find myself wanting more.
The following day, we head to El Yunque and decide to take the hike down to La Mina Falls. Thankfully, when we arrive, there’re few visitors, and we are one of three couples. Unfortunately, Mel is not wearing her red bikini, but instead she has on a black and white polka dot one piece that still hugs her curves to perfection. When she slides her jean shorts down those thick thighs in preparation to get in the water, I feel a tightening in my stomach and a stirring in my swimming trunks. I have to touch her, and the rushing water from the falls provides the perfect diversion. While she is tentatively making her way out further into the water, I sneak up behind her and grab her around her hips, being careful to hold her so she doesn’t slip on the stones in the water.
“Mmm…” she sighs when I nip her earlobe from behind. “It’s so beautiful here,” she says.
“Yes, it is,” I concur, not taking my eyes off of her. Slowly she lowers to sit on one of the larger stones about a foot from the actual waterfall. Sitting down, the water comes to my upper stomach and Melody’s chest. Perfect, I think as I scoot up to sit behind her.
“Landon,” she whispers, gasping when my fingers touch the inside of her upper thighs, moving the edge of her bathing suit to the side to grant me access to that place I am beginning to think is heaven on earth.
“What are you doing? There’re people around,” she whispers fiercely. But her body betrays her mouth when her legs open even wider to grant me better access.
“And?” I ask nonchalantly, before dipping my head and licking the outside of her left ear. I feel her shiver and I smile.
“W-we can’t. Mmm…”
Her protest is cut off as two of my fingers enter her. “We are,” I counter as I begin to pump into her vigorously. “That feels good, baby?” I taunt, knowing she’s enjoying it by the way her hips have started to rock into my fingers. “Does it?” I ask low in her ear.
“Y-yes, it feels good,” she groans and my cock stiffens from the sound.
I pick up the pace with my fingers, pumping in and out of her mimicking the movements my cock wants to make inside her wet pussy. I use my thumb to graze against her swollen clit, making sure not to apply too much pressure. I don�
��t want her to cum just yet. I want to enjoy seeing the ecstasy on her face as her head is thrown back against my chest. When she closes her eyes, I reach up with my other hand and pinch her nipple.
“Open your eyes.” I need that connection with her. I need to see those brown eyes as they glaze over, filled with passion and desire for me…only for me.
“Whose pussy is this?!” I demand, pumping wildly now, not caring who or if anyone sees us. She doesn’t respond, too caught up in the feeling my fingers are giving her. “Say it!” I pinch her nipple again, and she groans even louder. “Whose pussy is this?”
“Yours, Landon. It’s yours!” she cries out.
That’s when I press my thumb harder against her swollen nub. I feel her thighs tremble and creamy wetness flood my hand, and I know it’s not the water from the fall. Just when she looks as if she’s about to cry out, I dip my head and take her head into my hand, angling it, pressing a hard kiss to her open mouth. Our tongues lash at the same time she cums in my hand.
Damn right, it’s mine.
Chapter Four
Melody
That’s how the rest of the week went. Landon and I spent most of our time together, mainly sightseeing or resting by the pool or beach during the day. We spent long nights in his bed. There were a number of nights after receiving yet another mind-blowing orgasm that we would lay in bed and just talk. He told me about growing up in Nebraska and how his parents had a poor marriage. He told me his father was a crappy husband, but a decent father, especially when it came to encouraging his only son in sports. His father died when he was twelve of a massive heart attack, and after that his mother raised him as a single mom. He said that while he was sad that his father had died, he witnessed a positive change in his mother. She came into her own after she became a widow. She is now retired and lives in a community for seniors in Florida.
For my part, I opened up to Landon about growing up in New Jersey and how I had decided to remain in Philadelphia after completing my bachelor’s at Temple. I mentioned how I had majored in psychology and then went on to teach for a few years before getting my Master’s in counseling and going on to my current position. I even opened up to him about my worthless ex. I closed my eyes, reflecting on that conversation.
“He’s married now?” Landon asked.
“Yup. We were together two and a half years, and I had no idea he was even seeing anyone else until I saw his engagement announcement in the paper,” I confessed, feeling like a fool.
“That fucker,” he grumbled.
I shrugged. “Probably not all his fault. I should have seen the signs. He rarely took me out to any of his work events. I never met anyone in his family, except his brother, and that was only in passing one time. You know the worst part about it?”
“What?” Landon asked as he looks down into my eyes and my head rests on his chest.
“When I confronted him about it, he told me it’s just because I wasn’t right for his public image,” I said, holding up air quotes around the last part, reciting Evan’s hurtful words verbatim. “His family owns one of the largest PR firms in the city and he says he needed to marry a woman who he can take out to events…someone who would look good on his arm. He told me he loved me and still wanted to be in a relationship with me. I even slept with him a few times after that, but finally, I ended it the night before his wedding when he came over to my place for yet another secret rendezvous. I guess part of me hoped he would change his mind, realize how much he loved me, and call his sham of a wedding off, but that never happened.”
“Do you still have feelings for him?” Landon asked, tentatively.
I ponder the question for a moment and then shake my head. I hear Landon blow out a breath. “No. I haven’t seen him since that night. I even moved and had my number changed to break all contact from him. I…” I stopped when I remember the phone call I got right before I left for the airport to come here. I briefly wondered if Evan knows where I live. “I’m more upset with myself for allowing that to go on as long as it did,” I murmured. I was never someone with extremely low self-esteem because of my extra pounds. I know some men want women who are smaller than me, and that’s fine. But hearing that you’re not good enough to be seen on the arm of someone you thought loved you, from his lips hurts.
Suddenly, I am flipped on my back and staring up into those beautiful blue eyes. This time they are darkened, and I know it’s not just from lust. It is pure rage. Landon’s eyes became angry after hearing my sob story of rejection.
“He wasn’t good enough for you,” he tells me before kissing me deeply with aggression. The kiss steals all the breath from my body, and the insecurities that had begun to rear their ugly heads evaporate.
I sigh at the memory of that moment. Landon made love to me that night as if I were the most precious jewel on earth. He worshipped my body from head to toe. Literally, sucking my toes and then kissing his way up until his mouth landed on my hot center, giving me another incredible orgasm. I don’t think there is a place on my body that he didn’t kiss or touch that night.
“What are you sighing about?” I hear his groggy voice behind me, and instantly my nipples harden under my thin camisole.
“You,” I admit before my brain has time to stop my mouth. I’m starting to think I’m getting in too deep with this man. We’re both scheduled to leave this island in a few days, and so far he’s made no hint about wanting to take our situation any further than two people spending time together while on vacation.
“Oh, yeah? They’re good thoughts about me, I hope.”
I turn from the sliding glass door, and he smiles at me before yawning and stretching. The sight of his body leaves my mouth dry, but panties moist.
“See something you like?” his cocky tone implies he knows I like what I see.
“Yes.”
“Then come do something about it. We’ve got some time,” he, goads knowing I can’t resist his sexy morning voice.
This is our third day on the island of Culebra. We’ve spent the past few days hanging out on the beach and doing some more paddle boarding. Today we are scheduled to do some snorkeling with a private guide. I’m so excited, as this is my first time snorkeling. I can’t wait to see the tropical island fish swimming around beneath the sea, but first I can’t wait to let this man have his way with me.
Two hours later, we’ve showered and eaten, and we are on the boat with the snorkeling instructor heading out to a little cove where we will have privacy to explore Mother Nature’s creations. I snap a dozen pictures, needing to take in the beauty that is around me. I plan on getting these pics printed out to post around my apartment to remind myself of my time in paradise during the long, cold Philadelphia winters. Our instructor, Domingo, is actually a native of the Dominican Republic, but has lived in Puerto Rico for over twenty years. He is very knowledgeable about the wildlife that we’ll encounter.
“I still think you should have worn the red bathing suit,” I hear low in my ear while the instructor is explaining how to correctly use the equipment.
I can’t help the smile that touches my lips. “It’s still drying from last night,” I respond, reminding him that we were up to the wee hours of the morning, on the beach.
He grunts his disapproval. This man loves me in red. A few nights ago, I wore a red halter top dress that stopped a few inches above my knee, along with my Mac Ruby Woo lipstick. We didn’t even make it to dessert before I found myself in a stall in the women’s bathroom, my legs wrapped around his waist as he thrust deep into me. I told him I couldn’t bear to walk out of that bathroom until it closed, knowing the other patrons must have heard my screams of passion. He frowned before grabbing my hand, and pulling me out of the bathroom. He threw some money on our table as we passed it and escorted me to the car where he proceeded to give me my second orgasm of the night.
“Okay, ma’am how about you try?” the instructor says, bringing me out of my reverie, handing me the snorkeling goggles.
When he steps up behind me to help put the goggles on, Landon intercedes. “I got it, compadre.” Landon grips Domingo’s shoulder and gives him a hard glare.
I crinkle my brows in confusion, but quickly shrug it off when Landon begins helping me into my snorkeling gear. Once he has his equipment on, we both make our way to the edge of the boat. He dives in first, and then helps me in. On my first underwater adventure I am amazed at the variety and colors of the fish and sea animals I see. I constantly tap Landon on the arm or leg, pointing out another colorful fish or a beautifully shaped reef. Landon simply laughs and encourages my wonder, making sure to stop and have the guide take picture after picture. At the end of our adventure, we’re in the boat, and I stare at Landon as he speaks with the instructor. A deep sense of sadness grips the pit of my stomach. I’m sad we only have two more days together. I want more, but I won’t ask for it. If two weeks with this man is all I can have, I’ll take it and won’t complain.
Even as I make this declaration, the sadness and sense of loss continue to build.
****
Landon
It’s our last night together, and we’re back in San Juan. Melody’s flight leaves first thing in the morning, and mine leaves the day after. I’ve made plans to drive her to the airport, where I plan on exchanging information so I can see this woman once I get back to Philadelphia. There’s no way I’m letting her walk out of my life just yet. I plan on telling her who I really am once we get back, but first I am making a short trip to Florida to visit my mom for a few days. We’re out eating at the same restaurant we went to the week before in Old San Juan. From here we’ll head over to Nuyorican Café for one last night out on the dance floor before we leave this island.
“I can’t believe you can eat soup in these temperatures,” I tease her from across the table as she eats another bowl of Puerto Rico’s famous Asopao. The meal is delicious, but I just can’t get over eating soup when the temperatures are in the eighties or higher.