by Eden Davis
Her jaunt to the Caribbean, though well worth it, had put her behind schedule, forcing her to work the weekend in order to catch up. Livi’s hand stayed on-task, tweaking designs that would eventually become frosted works of art, but between the squiggles and swirls, her mind kept racing back to St. Bart’s.
She’d been home almost two weeks and not a day or night had gone by without one lusty vacation memory or another interrupting her thoughts. Livia’s attention kept shifting from the monotony of now, to the monumentality of then. Blue oceans, tropical winds, and lots of amazing sex, sex, sex with a fine-ass young man!
Livia pushed aside Naomi Maddox’s anniversary cake design and pulled out her crinkled and scratched-up fuck-it list. She loved the revised mess it had become. In her eyes, the circled, ad hoc additions, erasures and second-thought deletions were a testament to her growth as a bona-fide sexual woman.
Fuck It List
1. Buy and play with toys.
2. Vacation at a nude beach and go skinny-dipping.
3. Have sex on a boat
4. Get a sexy tattoo
Have phone sex
5. Sex with Kiss a woman
5. TBD act of outrageous sex (threesome)
5. Masturbate in ear shot of a perfect stranger getting off
6. Have a one night stand with a stranger
7. Have sex in a public place
8. Have 91/2 Weeks sexy food play
9. Find and fuck Bobby Jeffries
10. Buy a yellow chair.
Livia went down the list and briefly relived each of her sexual accomplishments, remembering where she was and with whom at the time. She had to giggle. Initially, the plan had been to follow through on her promise by taking care of two and moving on. She’d approached each one reluctantly, willing to partake in the bare-bone basics in order to mark them off the list. But five months later, there were only three unfulfilled fantasies left on the page. Livia was amazed by just how many of her sexy desires she’d already managed to satisfy, and how confident and open she’d become in the process.
Yes, her time in the islands had been productive to say the least. After the nude sunbathing, skinny dipping, and jellyfish affair, things had moved along quite swimmingly. The first night with Mitchell had turned into a sexual trifecta, allowing Livia to cross out having a one-night stand with a stranger, sex in a public place, plus add the bonus phone sex activity to the mix. Night two together had been a windfall of sorts, allowing her to satisfy her fantasy of making love on a boat, and garnering her, the “imagined but never thought it would happen” kiss from a woman, and the equally delightful and disturbing, threesome. Now, in addition to flying her freak flag, Livia’s wonderfully bawdy activities with Mitchell had earned her the right to wave the “mission accomplished” banner as well.
Hot and sexy Mitchell. Both sets of Livia’s lips twitched at his memory. Mitchell had gently led her to the limits of her passion and then gratefully showed her how to stretch them. He’d made so many of her listed fantasies come true, and in the process, created others that had sprung the hot and horny genie from her bottle. But now she was home and alone, and was left asking the questions: what next, and with whom?
Livia put down her list, opened the top drawer and pulled out Mitchell’s number. She raised the St. Bart’s postcard to eye level and for the hundredth time, examined his scrawled handwriting across the top, Mitchell 917-785-5255.
Her mind took her back to the moment they’d said their goodbyes. He’d seen her back to the hotel from the yacht. Her hand in his, Mitchell had charmed her into letting him stay for what was left of the night. Worn-out from their evening, they’d immediately fallen asleep, fully clothed, and woken up to the bright light of the Caribbean sun, cuddling and spooning like an old married couple. Livia had once again been perplexed by their odd familiarity because as he’d done every time they’d hooked up together, Mitchell had managed to inject a sense of intimacy into the afterglow of their lust-filled evening.
He’d wanted to spend the day together and see her off to the airport later, but Livia declined. She needed to be alone—away from both Mitchell’s and Quincy’s influence. This time, guilt was not the culprit pushing him away; exhaustion and confusion were. After such a life-slash-morals altering evening, Mitchell could not possibly stay for what was left of her trip because Livia needed silence and solitude in order to think through her situation and hopefully find clarity.
It had been a long and exhausting night of partying. Waking up, Livi was still pooped after hours of drugs, drink, dancing and debauchery. But more than tired, she was confused about sharing a kiss and a highly sexual moment with another woman. Confused about what that might mean about her, and of course, how it recolored her harsh reaction to Jasi and her bathroom tryst. She was also unsure about Mitchell. He was an intimate stranger about whom she knew little, except that he made her feel alive, adventurous and youthful in a way she’d never felt, even when she was young. He’d also made her feel safe and cared for. They had bonded so quickly and naturally, that even though Livia was fully aware, and at peace with the idea that Mitchell was nothing more than a delicious secret memory to take into her old age, there was something about their coupling that still confounded her.
“You’re not regretting last night, are you?” Mitchell had asked, true concern etched across his face.
“No, I’m not regretting anything that happened on this vacation. Not even the jellyfish sting,” she said, giving him a playful wink.
“Good, because, baby, there is no shame to your game,” he said, standing at the door of her hotel room, gently brushing the curls away from her eyes. “I have never known a woman like you—one who is as innocent as she is wickedly nasty. You are truly the first woman I’ve met who makes that saying, ‘a lady on the street and a freak between the sheets’ real.”
“Thank you, but it takes a special man to bring out the freak in a woman. So, trust me, you will not be forgotten anytime soon.”
“And you will forever be my fantasy, Quincy Charles. If the spirit ever moves you, please give me a call,” he requested, grabbing the postcard from the desk and quickly jotting down his number and pushing it into her hand. “And I hope it does, because I’d love to see you again and help you finish your list.”
“You knew?” she’d asked, feeling both embarrassed and slightly duped.
The gotcha smile on his face answered her query.
“That’s why you took me on the boat?”
“And in the bathroom, though the phone sex was all about just wanting to talk dirty to you,” he admitted with a mischievous smile.
“And the woman,” Livia whispered under her breath.
“I didn’t get to see it all,” Mitchell continued, not hearing her comment. “I only got as far as having sex in public.”
“How? When?”
“I saw it when I was putting things back into your purse on the beach.”
“Omigod,” she’d said, raising her hands to cover her humiliation.
“Don’t,” he demanded while gently peeling her palms from her face. “I told you on the phone the other night, I love bold, sensual, fun-loving women. When I saw that list, I thought then, and still do now, that you are one sexy-as-hell woman.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you’d seen it?”
“Because if I had, you’d have been too embarrassed to do with me what you had obviously come here to do,” Mitchell explained.
He’d been absolutely correct. Jellyfish sting and all, Livia would have run to the opposite end of the island if she’d known that he’d seen her list. Once again, Mitchell had read her accurately, and done her a great favor in keeping his discovery secret.
The urge to hear his voice in her ear again was overwhelming. Deciding to return to the bold woman Mitchell knew, she dialed the number, rehearsing what she would say as she waited to be connected. She’d settled on an invitation for a sunset drink when a voice came through the phone.
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�We’re sorry, you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. Please check the number and try again.”
Surprised, Livia inspected Mitchell’s handwriting. Was that a three or a five? And what she thought was a seven could actually be a one.
Liv exhaled deeply, shaking Mitchell and the recollections of their time together from her head so she could concentrate on the big picture for a moment.
This fuck-it list adventure, though initially forced on her by her friends, had started with the goal of rebooting and changing her life around for the better. It was to be a bold exercise in self-discovery, pushing away her fears and getting to know, and eventually own her sexual desires. The trip, with its comforting anonymity, had allowed her to pull things off, and had been an enlightening and productive vacation. Mitchell had helped to lift her out of her rigid and conservative ways, and change her views on passion and physical pleasure. But the truth remained: she’d scratched her itch and instead of making it go away, she’d broken out in an acute romantic rash.
It was becoming increasingly clear to Livia that one sad side effect of this escapade into Lustville was the spotlight it left shining on her extreme loneliness. Yes, she’d wanted to continue to stretch her sexual wings, but it was now glaringly apparent that she wanted to do so with someone she loved, not simply lusted after. Someone like Mitchell, but who wasn’t Mitchell. And yes, it had all been about sex, but he’d never made her feel used in anyway. In fact, whether he’d intended to or not, Mitchell had made her feel like part of a couple. And feeling that way had made her realize how much she missed being one of a loving pair.
Mitchell had really shown himself to be a kind, intelligent and compassionate man. He was nurturing and supportive, didn’t judge her and seemed to naturally exude an intimacy and honesty that was both refreshing and ultimately magnetic. He was also handsome and studly, but oh so damn young! A bit of a slut puppy, for sure, he was the perfect vacation boy toy, and would be the ultimate catch for some young woman.
But fast approaching fifty, Livia was no longer young, and didn’t want a boy. She wanted a man whom she could call her own for the rest of her life, not just the week. A man closer to her age, one with similar life experiences, whose soundtrack to his life included songs (not just hip-hop beats) by Earth, Wind & Fire, the Isley Brothers, and Prince in his absolute prime. A grown man who didn’t need to go out of the country to pick up women, one who had sown his wild oats and was ready to settle down with a fellow quinquagenarian and do some seriously energetic, albeit slightly less thrill-seeking, fucking into the sunset.
What was she thinking to even try and call? Mitchell’s poor penmanship had saved her from making a huge mistake. Livia slowly tore Mitchell’s number into several pieces and sprinkled it into the garbage can, picked up her pencil and got back to work on Naomi Maddox’s cake. He was perfect for what ailed Quincy, but could not satisfy what Livia was craving. The decision was made: What happened in St. Bart’s, how it happened, and with whom it happened, would forever stay there.
• • •
“It was the craziest thing,” Livia explained to her cousin and friend between bites of spinach, artichoke dip and sips of chardonnay. Finally, they’d all been able to clear their schedules to allow for this all important debriefing. Conspicuous in her absence was Jasi, but Livia was actually grateful she wasn’t there as she was more befuddled than ever when it came to how she was feeling about Jas. “He just picked up my naked behind and carried me over to my chair.”
“So exactly at what point did his dick accidently fall inside you?” Aleesa teased, setting the three of them off in gales of laughter.
“That didn’t happen until a couple of days later. I needed a few days to get that damn jellyfish sting under control. But trust me when I tell you, it was no accident.” Livia took a long sip of her wine before confessing more. “There is definitely something very positive to be said about vacation sex.”
“Do tell,” her cousin prompted.
“Let’s just say, you should be very proud of me. Quincy and I were very productive while I was away.”
“Enough back-patting! I want all the gory, or should I say, glory details,” Lena demanded.
“We did it in the bathroom at the restaurant,” she told them, smiling slyly into her glass.
“Omigod! Livia Charles had sex in a bathroom?”
“A public bathroom, no less,” Aleesa chimed in.
“With a stranger! Fantasies five and six, check!” Livia stated with a laugh.
“Sounds like a Quincy move to me,” Lena stated.
“Totally. And later, after he left, Mitchell called and we had phone sex. That was a bonus write-in on the list.”
“Do I even know you?” Lena laughed.
“Girl, I don’t even know myself anymore! And that was just night one.”
“How many times did you two hook up?” Aleesa asked.
“Just two. The next night, on Saturday, he took me to a VIP yacht party. Now that was pretty crazy,” Livia admitted.
“Crazy how?”
“Well, at first it was just a regular party, but then most people disembarked and it turned into a kind of sex cruise for the VIP guests.”
“Damn, girl, you went from no-fucking on the fuck-it list to a VIP sex party? Now, that’s some kind of progress.”
“You didn’t put that in your text. What kind of sex cruise? Like an orgy?” Aleesa asked, alarmed by what she was hearing. Yes, she wanted her cousin to find and live her passionate side, but not to become an indiscriminate whore. Had their straight-laced Livia gone too far?
“Not exactly. I mean, if you wanted to, I’m sure you could find a willing group somewhere on the boat. The opportunity to do just about anything you wanted was there, but mainly people got it on with whomever they came with,” Livia informed them.
“So tell us what happened,” Lena requested.
“Well, it all started with the brownies,” Livia began. “They looked so appetizing and of course, I couldn’t resist. It wasn’t until I’d already eaten two that I found out they were space cakes.”
“Pot brownies,” Lena filled in after seeing the question marks in Aleesa’s eyes.
Livia’s girlfriends listened intently as she indulged their curiosity with most of what happened on the yacht. From the desserts that turned out to be drug delivery systems to the bikini-clad dancers who turned out to be ladies hired to deliver sex, Livia began to paint for them a picture of her and Mitchell’s carnally rambunctious night.
“We were on the dance floor kind of bumping and grinding like a good ol’ ‘blue lights in the basement’ college party.”
“Kind of like that homecoming party I had where you and Bobby Jeffries were doing the vertical dry hump,” Aleesa remarked with a wink in her voice.
“Yeah,” Livia said, missing the devious looks exchanged between her friends. “And just like that party, everybody was drunk or high and the sexual energy was so thick you could put your hand through it. Between the champagne, brownies, and the depravity of it all, I was really getting turned on. At first, I was kind of scared and embarrassed, but then I realized that nobody was watching us; they were too busy getting busy on their own! But can I tell you, I shocked myself with how much I liked the scandalous feeling…”
“Was Mitchell pushing you to do all of this?” Aleesa’s protective side interrupted again to find out.
“No, absolutely not. I was doing it because I felt safe being with him. Before everything got started, Mitchell made it very clear that this was about my fantasies and my pleasure, and we could stop at any time. He was really considerate and just—well—great.”
Amused glances and she’s-so-into-him smirks were exchanged between Lena and Aleesa, as Livia continued with her account. She left out the part where she’d given Mitchell a blow job and he’d sucked her tits and finger-fucked her into a standing orgasm right on the dance floor. Some things needed to remain private.
&
nbsp; “Well, the brownies kicked in and I was feeling really high, and ready to do the nasty right, so we went to the cabin. I was lying there blindfolded and Mitchell started kissing me, you know, down there, and then all of a sudden someone was kissing the girls.”
“Ah, shit. Now, it’s getting interesting!” Lena interjected with a chuckle.
“I knew it couldn’t be Mitchell, so I peeked and saw this really attractive woman…she was stunning…kinda looked like Zoe Saldana…well, she took my boob out of her mouth and announced that she was here to give me a massage. I surprised even myself by not freaking out. I let it happen. It felt good and, honestly, I guess I was too messed up at that point to care who was doling out the feel-goods.”
With two sets of eyebrows raised, Lena and Aleesa looked at each other with an omigod-can-you-believe-this-shit look on their faces. Apparently, leaving home to do her dirty dealing had freed up all kinds of pent-up wantonness in little Miss Livia.
Undeterred by the shock on their faces, Livia continued to reveal the activities of her once in a lifetime adventure. She revealed to her friends how much she found herself getting into the girl-on-girl massage. It had been so soft and sensual, and nothing like she’d ever experienced before.
“I let her do her thing. But I wasn’t messed up enough to actually have sex with her,” Livia added, feeling the need to defend and qualify her actions. “For the most part, I let her touch my body, but Mitchell was the only one kissing me or taking care of Quincy.”
“For the most part?” Lena, catching her telling remark, stopped Livia to ask.
Liv paused, quickly debating if she should tell the whole truth. Secure in the knowledge that she would not be judged, and hoping for some clarity, she decided to reveal the entire story. She told Lena and Aleesa how Shana had dripped warm oil on her tits and rubbed it into her chest, belly and nether regions. How she had surprised her by slipping her tongue into her mouth and giving her a slow, teasing kiss that matched the stroke of her hand between her legs, and how the whole thing was driving her snatch crazy with want.