Sunscreen & Coconuts

by Eliza Lentzski

“I don’t see any Christmas presents for me,” she cheekily observed.

  My voice rose. “I didn’t know we were exchanging gifts!”

  “Oh, Mercy,” Racy chuckled. “I love you. You’re so easy to rile up.”

  “You have a singular talent for getting under my skin,” I grumbled.

  Racy slapped the top of the mattress. “Let’s hurry up and get ready. We’re burning daylight, and I haven’t even had anything to drink yet.”

  Racy and I grabbed breakfast at the resort’s buffet before taking one of the shuttle buses to downtown Willemstad for their annual Christmas parade. I’d never been to New Orleans, but the festive, carnival atmosphere reminded me of what I imagined Mardi Gras might be like. The music and costumes and frivolity of it all were a far cry from my typical childhood Christmases defined by cold weather, snow, and midnight mass.

  At the conclusion of the parade, we returned to the resort and spent the remaining daylight hours at the beach. I would have liked to explore the city a little more, but nearly everything in Willemstad was closed for the holiday. With the exception of the excursion Kate had taken me on, I still hadn’t seen much of the island.

  True to her word, Racy didn’t abandon me the entire day. She even made a big deal if she had to leave my side for a drink refill or bathroom break. I didn’t require such permission from her, but it felt nice to see her being so considerate of my feelings, even if it had only come near the end of our vacation. We had an early dinner at the Mexican-themed restaurant on the resort’s property and returned to our room to freshen up before heading to the Thirsty Coconut.

  I was the recipient of a sharp wolf-whistle when I exited our in-room bathroom. Racy lay on her bed, reading a magazine while she waited for me to finish primping.

  “Hot date?” she asked.

  “Just you,” I rejected.

  I thought I might see Kate at the tiki bar later that night, but I didn’t want to make a big deal about it—or at least I didn’t want it to appear like I was paying closer attention to my appearance. I showered after dinner and fixed my hair in loose waves. Typically I flat-ironed my hair or wore it back in a ponytail or braid, but the island humidity had made my hair appear curlier and thicker than usual. I paired a light camisole with a long sarong skirt that I tied at my waist. My sunburn from the beginning of our trip had finally mellowed to an attractive light bronze.

  “Hey, don’t let me ditch you tonight,” Racy said, her voice now serious. “I know how I am—I’ll get a few strong drinks in me and I’ll chase after the first man I see with a full head of hair.”

  “We really have to do something about raising your standards,” I clucked.

  “We really have to do something about lowering yours,” she deflected.

  Nervous butterflies ricocheted inside my stomach as we approached the tiki bar later that evening. I anticipated Kate being at the bar and I still hadn’t decided how to react to seeing her. Should I ignore her? Should I acknowledge her, but spend my night with Racy? Should I act like I hadn’t seen her naked? Should I joke with her about our failed sexual encounter or still be offended? I attributed my lack of decisiveness to my confusion about how I felt about the woman in general. She was charming, yet bothersome. I felt both comfort and disequilibrium whenever she was around.

  Some time since we’d last visited, the tiki bar had been decorated for the holiday. Strings of multi-colored lights hung from the exposed beams, cords of silver and gold garland framed the mirror behind the bar, and Christmas tree ornaments served as centerpieces on the standalone tables. Rather than playing American surf rock, a live band performed a playlist of Calypso-inspired holiday tunes.

  The attractive waitress, Tory, stood by the hostess stand at the front of the bar. Like before, she wore a bikini top and sarong skirt, but something was wildly off.

  “Oh my God,” Racy exclaimed as we stopped at the hostess stand. “Why is everyone in blackface?”

  It was then that I noticed the members of the band, Jimmy the ponytailed bartender, and all of the other wait staff and cocktail waitresses had blackened their faces and wore pointy green caps.

  Tory smiled through the face paint. “It’s a Dutch tradition. We’re dressed like the Zwarte Pieten—the little people who help Sinterklaas deliver his gifts.”

  “You mean Santa’s elves?” I clarified.

  Tory nodded.

  “That still doesn’t explain the blackface costumes,” Racy said.

  “It’s not blackface like you’re thinking,” Tory said brightly. “It’s soot from going down chimneys.”

  I still didn’t know whether to be outraged, so I settled for benign discomfort.

  “Oh, there’s Mark!” Racy raised her hand in the air and waved at the man standing on the other side of the bar.

  The bar was crowded on the holiday evening, but somehow they’d managed to find each other. He waved back in similar fashion, looking just as excited to see my friend.

  “Did you know he was going to be here tonight?” I accused.

  “He may have mentioned something about it,” she said with feigned innocence. She arranged the neckline of her low-cut dress to accentuate her cleavage even more. “I should go over and say hi.”

  “Are you abandoning me?” Normally I wouldn’t have minded—I was getting used to it by now—but I’d felt braver about potentially running into Kate knowing that Racy would be at my side.

  “No!” she insisted. “I’m just going to say hi, and then I’ll be right back. Why don’t you get us some drinks, and I’ll meet you at the bar.”

  “Fine,” I sighed.

  Racy skipped off in the direction of her island boyfriend, leaving me on my own.

  I wandered over to the bar. Most seats were occupied, but I managed to make eye contact with Jimmy, the ponytailed bartender.

  “Two rumrunners, please.”

  I scanned the faces of the patrons sitting around the U-shaped bar while I waited for my drink. Nearly everyone looked to be paired up with a friend or significant other, except for one individual who, despite how busy the bar was that evening, had managed to establish a social perimeter around herself. There were two empty seats on either side of Kate and a nearly empty drink in front of her on the bar. She wore her usual uniform of loud, oversized Hawaiian shirt and faded red board shorts. The only thing unusual about her outfit that night was the red Santa hat with white trim.

  This was what I’d been worried about. I could have gotten my drinks from one of the cocktail waitresses and Kate probably wouldn’t have ever noticed me or I her. But now that I’d seen her, I couldn’t ignore her. I could be an adult and overcome this awkwardness, I told myself.

  I cleared my throat as I stepped beside her at the bar.

  “Nice hat.”

  She chose to ignore my comment. “Hey. I haven’t seen you around.”

  “I saw you yesterday morning,” I reminded her.

  Jimmy served up my two drinks, so I claimed the empty barstool beside Kate.

  “Where were you last night?” Kate asked. “I looked for you.”

  “It was raining.”

  “Getting stuck in the rain isn’t so bad if you’re with the right company.”

  I shook my head at the line. “Racy felt bad about ditching me. She’s vowed to stay attached to my hip for the rest of vacation.”

  “That’s gotta make going to the bathroom awkward.”

  “Yeah,” I chuckled.

  Kate’s attention dropped down to my midsection. “Where’s your bad friend right now?”

  I turned to look in the direction of where I’d last seen Racy and Mark. Racy had said she’d only be a moment, but I hadn’t believed her. I wasn’t surprised, then, to see them dancing in the area in front of the band.

  “Not ditching me on the dance floor, apparently,” I observed

  “So you haven’t, like, been avoiding me?” Kate asked.

  “Why would I do that?”

  She arched her eyebrow as
her silent response.

  “Okay, okay,” I admitted. “Maybe my feelings got a little hurt, but whatever. I’m a big girl; I’ll get over it.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she said. “My body is impossible.”

  Your body’s anything but that, I opined to myself.

  “It’s always been like that. I can never get off.”

  “Not even if you …” I paused. “Do it yourself?”

  “Oh, I can do that just fine,” she chuckled. “But with other people it doesn’t, ah, come so easily.”

  “Nice word choice.”

  She smirked and looked pleased with herself.

  “Have you ever had a serious relationship?” I couldn’t help asking.

  “Once. In college,” she revealed. “But we were just kids. I didn’t know anything back then.”

  “And now you’re a grizzled old sage.” I didn’t usually have such an easy time with playful banter, but there was something about Kate that brought it out of me.

  She leaned towards me and dropped her volume and her octave until I felt compelled to lean in myself. “I know enough to get you off.”

  I leaned back to my original position and made a face. “You’re a pig.”

  “Oink, oink, baby,” she grinned.

  Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was that ridiculous Santa cap on top of her head, but instead of turning up my nose, I laughed.

  “Bo ta bunita.”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  “It means ‘you look nice.’”

  “Oh. Thank you.”

  Kate hopped up from her bar stool and held out her hand. “Bo kier baila?”

  “Now what?” She knew I didn’t know the language, yet she continued to insist on speaking Papiamento.

  “Dance with me?” she supplied.

  My initial reaction was to chew on my lower lip and scan the bar. There were multiple couples dancing in the center of the tiki bar—Racy included—but we would have been the only same-sex couple. Despite Racy’s assurance that Curaçao was a gay-friendly island, I still worried.

  “Don’t leave me hanging, Mercy,” she pressed.

  I slid off my seat and took her proffered hand. “Only if you take off that ridiculous hat.”

  I didn’t really know how to dance, and truth be told, I’d never danced with another girl. My partnered-up dancing experience was limited to school-sponsored middle school dances where sweaty boys walked you around the gymnasium floor in small circles. Kate, however, didn’t seem to share my problem. She held my right hand loosely in hers and her left arm draped around my waist. My middle school dance chaperones would have been very disapproving that she’d left no room for the Holy Ghost between our bodies.

  “Did you like your Christmas present?” she asked.

  “I did,” I confirmed. “You’re very talented.”

  Kate tipped back her head and laughed. “There you go again being loose with those compliments.”

  “Do you have a hard time receiving compliments?” I challenged.

  “I don’t know. Tell me what else you like about me, and we’ll go from there.”

  I didn’t consider her request to be serious so I only rolled my eyes.

  The hand that had been in the center of my back came up to toy with the ends of my hair. Kate let the loose curls fall through her fingertips. “I like your hair like this. What’d you do?”

  “I showered.”

  “So fancy,” she grinned.

  When the band came to the end of a song, Kate stopped dancing and released her hold on me. We both politely clapped, joining the smattering of applause among the bar’s other patrons. Kate cleared her throat. Her eyebrows wiggled and her head jerked toward the ceiling, encourage me to look up. My own gaze lifted to the rafters and fell upon the single sprig of mistletoe that dangled above us.

  “Is that a coincidence or did you steer us over here on purpose?” I accused.

  “I don’t believe in coincidences,” she replied.

  I didn’t take the bait. It struck me, however, that I’d gone down on her, but we had never actually kissed. I’d kissed other parts of her body, but our lips had never connected.

  The band launched into another reggae-infused holiday song and Kate’s hands fell to my midsection, moving us again in time with the music. I nearly believed she’d been teasing me—maybe testing me—about kissing under the mistletoe until I felt her lips brush against the side of my ear.

  “I can’t stop thinking about the other night,” she spoke quietly into my ear. “I feel really bad about what happened.”

  “You mean what didn’t happen.” I couldn’t hold back my snark. I knew she hadn’t intended to do so, but she’d bruised my ego and my self-confidence.

  “Yeah,” she thickly agreed.

  She brushed away the loose hair that covered my shoulder. She placed a deliberate kiss on the top of my shoulder, but then wiped it away with the pad of her thumb.

  Her mouth moved from my shoulder to the side of my neck. “Can I return the favor?”

  Her mouth was warm and wet and promising against my neck. She held me too close to dance, but none of the other partygoers seemed to notice our intimate proximity or else they didn’t care.

  “Wh-what?” It was hard to concentrate on anything except the feeling of her canines nipping at my neck.

  “I owe you; I can’t stand being in anyone’s debt.”

  Somehow she’d maneuvered us to the edge of the party. I gasped when I felt her hand slip beneath my camisole and then under the horizontal strap of my bra. I wanted to point out that since she hadn’t gotten off there was nothing to ‘pay back,’ but I was having a hard time forming words as she caressed the center of my back.

  “I’m h-here with my friend,” I stumbled on my excuse.

  “We don’t have to go far.”

  “It’s really not a big deal,” I weakly insisted.

  Her fingers curled firmly around my wrist. “I know. It’ll only take a minute.”

  The moon was bright in the star-filled sky. The shadowy silhouettes of umbrella-covered lounge chairs dotted the shoreline. In the distance, cruise ships moored off the coast of the island looked like giant, floating cities. I had only a moment to admire the view before being pulled in the direction of a smaller kiosk that I vaguely remembered served as a beach towel stand during the day. The station was closed for the evening, but we weren’t there to rent towels. The structure was solid enough that it didn’t protest the full weight of my back against it.

  Kate wrapped her fingers in my hair as she resumed kissing the side of my neck. She found little resistance from me as I turned my throat to give her even greater purchase. Her knee found its way between my legs as she pressed the length of her body against mine.

  She tugged down on the front of my tank top, taking my bra cups with it. My breasts popped free, and she immediately began tugging and tweaking my nipples between her talented fingers. I could still hear the muted, but distinct music floating over from the tiki bar, reminding me of our semi-public status.

  She dropped to her knees with a soft, solid sound. Her fingers searched beneath the fabric of my patterned sarong. “God bless island life,” she murmured before hooking her fingers beneath the waistband of my bikini bottoms.

  She tugged them down my thighs. My underwear remained around my knees, limiting how wide I could spread my legs. She peeled back the layers of my wrap skirt to expose me. Cool, salty sea air struck my naked flesh. She pressed her lips against my thighs and licked and sucked on my skin. My knees buckled, and I nearly lost my balance when her tongue made first contact with my clit.

  “Kate,” I groaned.

  She didn’t respond; her attentions remained focused on getting me off—to even our debt, apparently. I choked back the moans that were sure to bring attention to us while her tongue worked its way through the folds and crevices of my shaved pussy lips.

  Kate held tight to the tops of my thighs while penetrating me
with her long, searching tongue. Her nose nudged my aching clit with each penetration. I had nothing to hold on to besides the shedding palm fronds that served as the tiki shack’s exterior.

  “Mercy?” Racy’s voice cut through the fog of my lust-addled brain. “Are you out here?”

  With the assistance of the moonlight, I could see Kate’s saucer-sized eyes staring up at me. Did I want her to stop? they seemed to ask.

  “Don’t stop,” I wheezed. “Just a minute!” I called out in a louder voice for Racy.

  Kate replaced her tongue with two fingers. I gasped at the sudden intrusion. She curled her fingers inside me each time she bottomed out. Her tongue twirled lazy circles around my clit, a gentle juxtaposition to the strength with which she penetrated me.

  I gripped her solid shoulders. “Fuck,” I quietly cursed. “I’m close. Just like that.”

  This wasn’t about romance. This wasn’t about bringing me to the edge and pulling me back until I begged her for release. This was a race to the finish line.

  I felt the tightening in my lower stomach as Kate licked against me harder. Her fingers maintained a steady, even pace. My head fell forward as I let her take control of my orgasm.

  I squeezed her upper shoulders in place of calling out her name or any other number of praises. Her fingers and tongue didn’t stop until my vise-like grip on her shoulders relaxed. Without me having to tell her, she seemed to sense that she had repaid her so-called debt. She withdrew her fingers and placed tender kisses on my inner thighs.

  I tipped back my head against the towel rental kiosk and released a low, quiet sigh. I wanted nothing more than to find a lounge chair on the beach and catch my breath, but I knew Racy was looking for me. I’d snuck away for longer than I’d intended—I’d done a lot more than I’d intended—but there was something about this woman that made me forget about propriety and responsibilities.

  Kate leaned back on her haunches and grinned up at me. “I’m ready for another compliment whenever you are.”

  I pulled my underwear back into place and re-adjusted my top. “I-I’ve got to go.”