Romancing the Tropics

by L. M. Mountford

  “We did, and things were going pretty well for a while, but we broke up nearly a year ago. There were complications.”

  He hoped that explanation would satisfy her, but Sarah was ever curious and though she nodded, he could tell she wanted to know more. Despite himself, he found the words coming out before he could stop them.

  “It’s a long story but I guess we just had different ideas of what life would be like after graduation. She wanted the life she’d gotten used to at university. Nightly girls’ nights and weekends away. I wanted something steady, a family, career, the whole nine yards, you know. Janet could never understand that.” Alex paused. He needed to consider his next words carefully and gave a moment’s serious thought as to the best way to put it before continuing slowly. “In the end, I think we both knew it wouldn’t work. It was just a matter of who would admit it first.”

  Sarah, much to his relief, didn’t press the matter further and they spent the next few moments in silence as Alex considered his failed relationship with Janet. What he’d told Sarah had been true, from a certain point of view. They’d both realised the inevitable end, only Janet had realised it much sooner than he had. For Alex, the truth had become apparent whilst they were attending one of his firm’s cocktail parties, celebrating the start of a tour for their newest, and most successful, signing artists. Alex had discovered the singer, Augustus Flemingworth, singing karaoke in a club and offered him a break. His presence was expected and, as she was a fan of most indie rock, he’d brought Janet for their weekly date night.

  Janet had never been one to drink, but that night she had consumed an ample sum while he’d been forced to talk shop. He had been politely trying to brush off a job offer from a representative from a competing agency when he suddenly noticed Janet had vanished. Concerned, he discarded subtlety and bluntly refused the offer before searching. It didn’t take long. The party was being hosted at the singer’s new flat in one of Chelsea’s more choice buildings and he’d visited the place enough times for him to navigate a path through the press of bodies without getting lost. When he found her, she had been the centrepiece of a foursome on Augustus Flemingworth’s bed. Sandwiched between them, were two of the catering staff whose names he’d never asked after, and she was busily performing fellatio upon Flemingworth.

  It is an interesting feeling, to have your world fall apart around you. For Alex, it was like being plunged headfirst into an icy lake. He had stood there completely numb for a moment before retreating away from the open door and leaving the party without saying a word to any of the revellers. Not sure of what to do, he had gone home, packed up all his things before writing her a hasty note to say that it was over. He hadn’t seen Janet since.

  “I’m so sorry Alex...” Sarah whispered, her voice shaky as she glanced at him nervously. “I can’t imagine how that must have felt-”

  “Forget it, I have.” Alex snapped, his voice hitching with a note of pent-up anger. “Goddamnit, what happened to you, Sarah? You just disappeared. I thought... we could - I woke up and you were gone.”

  “Alex...” She looked like she was about to say more but then a high-quality recording of Beethoven’s fifth Symphony filled the car. Giving him an apologetic glance, she took one hand off the wheel and reached into the side of her door to withdraw a small earpiece with flashing bright green LEDs. Fixing it to her ear, she pressed the answer button before returning both hands to the wheel. “Hello.” her voice remained even and friendly as she greeted whoever was calling her.

  Almost seething, Alex sunk back into his chair and watched the world outside the car fly by. A tall blue road sign announced that they were driving down the M5 and Alex tried to compare the city’s triple carriageway with its rural English equivalent. The exercise helped calm the storm raging inside of him and he felt a sudden surge of self-loathing. He’d never meant to get angry with her, she deserved better from him than that.

  Realising they were approaching an intersection, he breathed a quick sigh of relief as the traffic light suspended above the junction changed from bright green to yellow. Instead of slowing, however, Sarah suddenly slammed her foot down on the accelerator, challenging the light while angrily speaking into the earpiece. “What do you mean they need me to come in? I told Ramon I couldn’t do any shots this week. No, I have a friend staying with me. He’s come all the way from England and has only just arrived. I can’t just leave him to... well, why can’t we just.... but what about... oh fine! I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  She pressed the button to end the call before angrily hurling it behind the seat just as they zoomed under the lights, an instant before the amber hue turned a bloody red.

  “Oh Alex, I’m so sorry but I have to pop into work.”

  “This really shouldn’t take any longer than an hour, Alex, I promise,” Sarah assured him as they walked along a cobblestone path that traversed the edge of a stretch of beach along Sydney’s eastern coast.

  Panting heavily as the sun beat down on them, Alex could do little more than grunt in acknowledgement as he struggled to keep up with her.

  Sun-kissed and dazzling, the beach reminded Alex of something from the old David Hasselhoff show ‘Baywatch’ he’d watched as a kid. The only thing missing was a scantily clad Pamela Anderson running into the water in slow motion.

  Everywhere he looked, beneath clear blue skies, there were dunes of sugar fine sand leading down to turbulent white-capped waters of turquoise and deep cerulean. Despite the picturesque conditions, the sandbanks were sparse for all but the occasional dog walker or, of course, lifeguard.

  “So, what exactly is it you do again?” Alex asked before using the back of his hand to wipe away the sweat trickling down his brow. Never in his life had he felt more overdressed. His heavy denim trousers felt stifling and his shirt was sticking to his back like a second skin. Thank god Sarah had insisted he leave his leather jacket in the car.

  Still a good four or five strides ahead, Sarah glanced back over her shoulder and flashed him a mischievous smile in way of an answer before adding hastily as she walked on “You’ll see soon enough.”

  She was completely at ease in the sizzling temperatures. Cursing himself for not checking the Australian weather before he’d left for the airport, Alex couldn’t help letting his eyes linger on her buttocks for a moment before hurriedly glancing up to see if she’d noticed.

  His throat was parched but to his relief, a light breeze began to blow, ruffling his hair and cooling his skin. Grateful for the reprieve, Alex turned his head up to the horizon and caught his first glimpse of what could only have been their destination.

  Against the glare of the sun, the scene was at first hard to discern, but as they approached, he began to make out the shapes of a dozen men and woman milling around two caravans. Further down the bank, down by the rolling surf, a cluster of chairs were overshadowed by a huge parasol and faced three tall light stands fixed with umbrella covered strobe lights

  A makeshift photography studio? he thought. It certainly wasn’t what he’d expected. Although Sarah had forever been a fountain of information and opinions, he had never heard her express an interest in photography.

  They were just approaching the closest caravan when a young woman with styled and dyed dark red hair dressed in a pale blue shirt and snug fitting grey jeans, and holding a clipboard, stepped out of the open doorway in its side. She looked to be deep in thought but that evaporated the moment she caught sight of them.

  “Sarah!” she called, raising the hand with the clipboard over her head in greeting as she broke into a run towards the pair. “Oh, thank God! You have to hurry, Rodarick is going ape. He’s even threatening to sue if we miss the light for this shoot. I tried to tell him there’s always tomorrow, but he just starts screaming shit at me in Fren-oh. Hi,” she said, noticing Alex for the first time before leaning in close to Sarah and saying, “say, girl, who’s your cute friend?”

  Blushing, Sarah avoided the girl’s gaze. “Jules, this i
s Alex, Alex this is my assistant Julia.”

  “Alex-wait you mean the Alex.”

  Plainly growing uncomfortable with the conversation, Sarah made an extra effort to look offhand as she said “yes, Alex Rike, we went to school together back in England. Look I’ll deal with Rodarick, can you please escort Alex over to the viewing area while I get ready.”

  “Sure, oh, I can’t wait to hear what juicy stories he has.”

  Then before Sarah, or Alex for that matter, could object, Julia had run up to him, seized his hand, and began dragging him towards the roaring surf. Not sure what to say, Alex could only look back, but Sarah was already making her way towards the open caravan.

  “So, you’re the famous Alex Rike. You can’t imagine how long I’ve waited to meet you,” she said after a moment, her voice silky.

  “What... I mean... um oh, why’s that?”

  “Sarah often speaks of you. She said you were the most amazing man she has ever met and that she has never had a truer friend. When she told me that, I knew I just had to meet you. Good men are a rare commodity and Sarah’s just too smart to be so wrong about you.”

  “I’ve never known Sarah to be wrong,” he murmured, suddenly feeling especially warm under the blazing sun. “Has she ever mentioned anyone else? From England, I mean.”

  “No one in particular. She spoke of some bloke...Robert...something Wallaby a few times, but it was mostly just in passing, though once she said that he was the most insufferable ignoramus she had ever encountered.”

  Alex couldn’t help but snigger.

  Richard might be many things, but ignorant wasn’t one of them. He’d known the truth well enough, but that didn’t stop Sarah’s ex being a cunt whenever he deemed it appropriate. And it certainly didn’t stop me from introducing his perfect nose to my fist.

  “So, what was Sarah like, back home? She doesn’t talk about the old days much.”

  “Sarah doesn’t talk about anything much.” His Kris Kristofferson impression was as rusty as the actor’s Texan growl, but it made Jules chuckle nonetheless.

  “No, she was...” Alex paused, how often had he pondered that question? Though the answers rarely eluded him, the prospect of picking just one to sum her up entirely made his pulse quicken and his mouth dry. Or perhaps it was merely the heat. “Brilliant,” he continued. “There was no challenge she couldn’t master. Anything she set her mind to, she could do, but she could also be a real ball breaker. She always followed the rules to the letter. Though she’d always denied it, I think a part of her secretly liked my frequent attempts to get us into trouble.”

  She giggled again. “So, you were a corrupting influence?”

  “Absolutely.” Alex grinned and this time they both laughed. They were almost at the surf after skirting the edges of the milling mass and Alex could smell the rich saltiness of the sea air. For a moment he thought she was about to lead him into the turbulent waters when Jules suddenly veered right and led him up the bank to the shade of the parasol. The viewing area, as Sarah had called it, turned out to be just a group of seven or so unfolded camping chairs with a cooler.

  Bending down, she withdrew a chilled bottle of coke and handed it to Alex before helping herself to one. Unscrewing the lid, she took a long swig of the soft drink before moaning happily. She screwed on the lid and dropped it back into the blue box, closing it with a kick of her heel.

  “Okay, make yourself comfortable and Sarah will be down in just a few moments.” Without waiting for a response, she turned on her heel and began walking back towards the caravan, pausing a moment before she left the shade to throw one last glance back at him and say “Hmm... I guess it’s true what they say about tall thin men.”

  Alex almost choked on his mouthful of coke. Feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment, he turned away quickly before Jules could see the blush and instead looked down onto the sea. What the hell has Sarah been telling people?

  Remembering the drink in his hand and his parched throat, he half drained the bottle in a single long swallow. It was warmer than he would have liked, but the fizzy liquid was sweeter than ambrosia and he finished it off with just two more swigs. He was about to look for a rubbish bin when a portly middle-aged man with heavily tanned skin, greying military cut hair, and a curled goatee, strode between the set of light stands. Dressed in a long white robe and leather Jesus-creeper sandals, he would have reminded Alex of a born-again prophet had he not also had a pair of Ray-Ban sunglasses around his neck and been holding an expensive camera.

  Caught up in his own private tempest, he was shouting and ranting at anyone who dared to step too close, in what Alex thought to be French.

  The man’s presence caused a tremor to run through the throng of people around the site and they began to fall back behind the light stands, just in time for Alex to glimpse a figure swathed entirely in a hooded robe of billowing white silk, strolling through the surf. Realising the show was about to start, Alex looked back towards the caravans in the hope of catching a glimpse of Sarah walking down the beach. However, there was no sign of her on the dunes or amongst the crowd of onlookers, all of whom he noticed happened to be staring in the same direction.

  Following their gaze back to the robed figure, he watched the individual step out of the surf and walk up the bank towards them. The silk masked them completely, but the damp sea air caused the silk to cling to their skin and he was treated to a thrilling peak of golden flesh as the figure passed. For the briefest moment, he was certain he had glimpsed rosy lips smiling at him from beneath the hood. Suddenly anxious, he had to fight the urge to leap over the folding chairs and pull the figure’s hood down as the urge to see who lay beneath nearly drove him mad. His world began to slow as the figure, long-legged and graceful, took the last few steps towards the onlookers before reaching up and pushing the garment clear and letting it fall to the sand.

  The sight stole his breath away.

  Sun-kissed and gorgeous, Sarah Snow stood upon the sand in nought but the pooling silk at her feet and a seashell two-piece bikini. The top only just hid the swells of her bosom. Her skin aglow with the midday radiance, she followed the photographer’s direction as he shouted at her to lay on her side with her back to the surf. Alex could feel his breath catching as he watched her throw an arm carelessly high and arch her back, pressing her breasts in his direction. She lay still for a moment, then her eyes shifted in his direction and she winked...

  Rodarick’s camera began to click, the flash blinding.

  Hot and sweaty with sand sticking to the most unimaginable of places, Alex felt as if he had never enjoyed a shower more than he did at that moment.

  Despite Sarah’s assurances that the shoot wouldn’t take very long, he had sat in that ‘viewing area’ for about three hours before she had come to collect him. It would have been nice to think he had been cool about it, or at least to have handled the situation well, but that would have been a lie and Sarah had only giggled at his shocked expression before dragging him off to a late lunch at her favourite Chinese restaurant. He would never have thought of it, but he had enjoyed listening to her explain the differences between true oriental cooking and the western comparison. It had reminded him of their more peaceful days in school and of the girl he had known, so very long ago.

  Upon arrival at her home, a modest two bedroom flat in the Balmain suburbs, Sarah had given him a tour before excusing herself to freshen up and Alex had been glad of the chance to have a much-needed shower. The scolding water pelted his body in a ceaseless torrent, easing the stiffness in his muscles and scouring the sand from his skin. Unfortunately, the water could not cleanse him of all his troubles and as his hands swept his flesh with soapy suds, he brooded over the enigma that was Sarah Snow.

  She had changed so much since those days in school, flourishing while everything else in Alex’s life had withered and died. The girl he’d once known had become a woman unlike any he’d known, but despite it all, she was still Sarah Snow, the odd little orp
han girl, the dearest of any friend, the first woman he had ever loved...

  A stiffening sensation in his loins quickly reminded him of the dangers of such thoughts. Feeling strangely embarrassed, and more than a little dirty for getting an erection in Sarah’s shower, he reluctantly turned the hot water to cold. The sudden icy blast made him almost leap out of the stall and his engorged shaft quickly wilted as the soapy lather ran off his body onto the porcelain before draining away.

  Shivering, Alex quickly turned the water off and pushed the fogged glass of the cubicle door aside. The bathroom was thick with a warm cloud of steam and he was forced to reach out blindly for the towel he’d placed close by before towelling himself down and wrapping it around his waist. Stepping from the shower into the cloud of steam, he traced a path from memory to the door leading to the adjoining bedroom.

  The room was lit only by the dim glow of the bedside table lamp. Alex shut the door before any steam could leak into the bedroom.

  Though he couldn’t exactly call the room spartan, it would be a long stretch by any imagination to consider it homely. Sarah had, of course, furnished it with all the basics, a double bed, bedside tables, a chest of draws. However, the walls were painted pale, the carpeting basic, and there were no decorations or photos to speak of, nothing to give the room the feel of a home. It was almost as if he were staying in a hotel.

  He’d left the room’s one window open and could feel a cool evening breeze blowing in from the not so distant bay. Its touch was like ice against his flesh and he shivered when a cold drop fell from his still damp hair to roll down his spine. Feeling it pool against the towel, he undid the fluffy white cloth and let the damp material fall around his feet to leave him standing naked in the glow of the lamp.

  His holdall sat open in the centre of the bed, and as he looked inside, he suddenly realised how little he’d packed. Everything about this trip had been rushed. He’d scarcely given any thought to what he might wear and had simply grabbed anything that looked suitable, or else clean, for the tropical island climate. With only three tops and a pair of black jeans for his selection, he’d have to have Sarah take him shopping sometime in the next few days.