by J P Books
As I get closer, he gets a little shiftier, shuffling around.
“Hey,” I call out to him before he can run away. “Are you following those girls?”
“No!” he says. “Solo quería asegurarme de que llegaran a casa sanos y salvos,” he says quickly.
‘Make sure they got home safely’, my ass. I tell him to get lost in Spanish and head back towards the girls as he dashes away.
“I don’t think he’ll bother you again, but it is getting dark. It might be a good idea for Butch to keep you safe.”
“Butch?” the blonde repeats, giving me a horrified look.
Chuckling, I point to my dog. “Butch. I figured if he has to look so pathetic, at least he should have an intimidating name, right? By the way, I’m Lucas.”
The blonde nods, still looking a little skeptical, but the brunette smiles and says, “Aw, I think that’s sweet. We’d love it if Butch would make sure we got back to our hotel safely.”
Americans, I think to myself.
It always amuses me that Latino women are represented as overtly sexual on TV and in movies, but I’ve never met any local Mexican woman who can out-flirt a shameless American University student on spring break.
Not that I mind, of course. Especially when that American woman is so enjoyable to look at, and comes in the company of an equally attractive, though somewhat less inviting, friend.
I turn us in the direction of their hotel and ask, “So, where are you girls from?”
“Los Altos, California,” the brunette answers. “I’m Riley, by the way, and this is Celeste.”
Not surprised at all that these girls are from California, I try to get the blonde in the conversation too. She’s looking very uncomfortable at the moment. “Nice to meet you Riley, Celeste. You must be on spring break?”
Celeste snorts but doesn’t answer. What was funny about spring break? The beaches are all flooded with students right now, it’s the busiest time of year for a lot of us who work on the promenade.
“We are,” Riley confirms, “but we’re teachers, not students.”
Teachers? The girls looked 20 at the most and I wonder how they can be teachers.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. You don’t look old enough to be finished with University, is all. Certainly not old enough to be teachers. Those young boys must love having you as teachers!” I flash a smile at Celeste, trying even harder to win her over now.
It might be nice to talk with some women who made it through school and must have learned enough to pass it onto the next generation. Even though Riley is clearly drunk, she’s obviously more able to handle her alcohol than most of the girls I meet, now that I stop to think about it.
Giggling, she swats at my arm. “Oh stop,” she says. “We’re plenty old. I just turned 24 a few weeks ago – I’m getting so old!”
“Oh stop, Riley, you’re not getting old for goodness sakes!” Celeste finally speaks up. “She’s very sensitive about her age because when she was little, she figured she’d be married by the time she was 24. But now,” Celeste gives her friend a hard look, “she realizes that would be crazy.”
“Ugh,” Riley groans. She looks straight at me and continues, “Not married. Not even with a boyfriend. How disappointing. But, I suppose that’s handy for being on vacation…I don’t have to worry about a jealous boyfriend getting mad at me for wearing a scandalous bikini, do I?”
This lady is a flirt! I smile down at her, imaging that bikini as I’m sure she meant me to do. “No, no, I guess you don’t.”
The outfit she has on right now is suggestive, but not scandalous – especially when compared to what I’ve seen on these beaches over the years.
I shift my head slightly to check out her friend. A bit more scandalous, but still kind of posh somehow. Maybe it’s the hair…her hair is nice and curled and not thrown up into a messy bun or ponytail like most of the college girls I meet. That speaks of maturity to me, somehow.
The more closely I look at these girls…these women, I correct myself, the more I realize how hot they are. They’re complete opposites of each other.
Riley is lighter skinned but has dark hair and dark eyes that I could swim in. She’s got something of a tomboy look about her, like she’d look just as good in a ball cap as she does right now with smoky eye makeup and a sparkly barrette in her hair.
Celeste, on the other hand, is so darkly tanned that I’d wonder if she didn’t have a little Latino in her if it wasn’t for the obviously natural blond hair. Even her eyebrows are blond. She’s shorter than Riley but more curvaceous.
Between the two of them, I can’t think of a single attribute that a man could dream of that wasn’t represented here. Man, what I wouldn’t give to spend some time with the two of them back at my place.
That thought surprises me. I’m not normally the kind of guy who gets off on a threesome…I’m not even sure I’d know exactly what to do with so many body parts to choose from. But something about these two makes me want to try my hand, so to speak.
I feel my cock give a twitch and I shake my head. This is not a very chivalrous way to rescue the damsels from a stalker. I’ve got to get my head out of the gutter.
I wrack my brain for some small talk to keep us occupied, but Riley beats me to it.
“So, Lucas, how’d you end up with such a tiny, sweet little dog? I have to admit, you strike me as more of a pit bull kind of guy.”
I chuckle, surprised that she’s actually hit the nail right on the head. “Actually, I adore pit bulls. Butch used to have a big sister, Gracie. She was the sweetest rescue pittie you could imagine. Some jackasses had been using her to breed bait dogs, how disgusting is that? Some animal rescue group broke up the fighter den and a whole wash of pit bulls ended up in shelters. I did what I could to find homes for as many of them as possible, but Gracie stole my heart, hook line, and sinker.” I smile, remembering her sweet face, patiently looking up at me from her cage at the shelter, as if waiting for me to realize that she was supposed to go home with me.
“So, I claimed her and got ready to bring her home. Trouble was, when she stood up to follow me, this little rat stood up to follow her. He would not leave her side, and she refused to go anywhere without him. So they both came home with me.”
“That had been nearly 6 years ago, now that I think about it. Gracie had passed away 3 months ago, and Butch and I were still getting used to the house without her mothering affection.”
“She’d had a rough early life. 9 years was old for a dog in her position. Butch and I will never forget her,” I look down at my ridiculous, tiny little chihuahua. “Will we buddy?”
I feel a squeeze on my arm and look down to see Riley’s eyes brimming with tears. “That’s such a beautiful and sad story,” she says. I hadn’t meant to get all emotional, but the story had just come out. Now that I think about it, I hadn’t talked to anyone about Gracie since she passed.
I shrug, a little uncomfortable with how open I had accidentally been.
“I guess that’s life,” I smile at her. She does have incredible eyes, especially when they’re all filled with emotion like they are right now.
Resisting the urge to make her close those gorgeous eyes while I kiss her senselessly, I try to diffuse the situation. “Are you dog people or cat people?”
Unanimously they both say, “Dog people,” and Celeste’s face makes me laugh out loud. As if anyone who would answer differently needs to have their brain checked.
Finally seeing some personality from her, something beyond paranoia, I pounce on the opportunity to get her involved in the conversation. For the rest of the walk to their hotel, I make it my mission to drag out a response from her, but she closes back up like a book.
When we reach the hotel, I’m a little surprised to realize that I’ve enjoyed the walk more than I expected, and I’m disappointed that we’re saying goodnight. But it has to be done. Rule #1 of working on the promenade: no f
raternizing with beautiful, vacationing American women. That’s guaranteed to lead to either disaster or heartbreak, neither of which I need in my life right now.
CHAPTER 3
Celeste
I think I could actually live here. Like, forever. Riley would call this place “glorious.” I call it…well, ok, glorious!
I know it took me a bit longer to relax than Riley needed, but now that we’re 3 days into our vacation I’m completely blissed out. I grew up on the beaches of California, but I will freely admit that they have nothing on Cancun.
It’s all kinds of hot and humid, but lying beside the ocean on sand that’s so fine it’s soft and a breeze tickling the tiny, invisible hairs on my arms…I’ll take hot and humid all day, every day.
I think this is what it feels like to fall in love.
I sigh and snuggle deeper into my plush, hotel-provided beach towel.
There’s an odd quiet hanging over my head and I suddenly realize Riley has stopped talking. I sort of forgot to listen to her as I was reveling in the gloriousness of the beach, but it sounds so weird to be quiet that it’s awkward.
I open one eye to peek at her. She’s staring at me and I’m not sure if the look on her face is amused or annoyed.
“Hmm?” I ask. “I’m sorry, I was just daydreaming about my new lover, the beach.”
She laughs, which is good. She can’t be too annoyed then.
“Celeste, don’t you wish there were more guys here? I mean, there are plenty of boys, but most of them feel like they could be kids in our classes when we go back home!”
She isn’t wrong. I’d been noticing the age difference since the day after we got here. I’m sure most of the people here are probably freshmen or sophomores in university, but somehow the gap between 16 and 19 seems a lot less than the gap between 20 and 24. These kids look like they belong in a classroom and there’s no chance either of us is going to get busy with any of these boys.
“I guess that’s why Lucas thought we were on spring break…everyone here is.”
“Mmmm….Lucas! Thank you for reminding me!” Riley dramatically swoons back onto her lounge chair. “Now that was a man.”
This is not the first time we have discussed the incredibly fine Lucas, our gallant savior from the “Night of the Creeper.” I’m kind of annoyed at myself for having been so caught up in being paranoid. I hardly talked to him at all and he probably thought I was a total snob.
I couldn’t help it though – I was freaked. Thinking back now, I can still remember exactly what the stalker was wearing even more clearly that I can remember what Lucas looked like, that’s how panicked I had been.
Which sucks. Now that I’m safe and sound I can think of all sorts of witty and smart things to say that might have convinced Lucas to spend more time with us that night. Sadly, a courteous gentleman that he obviously is, he and his funny little dog left as soon as he knew we were safe.
“He probably has a gorgeous Latino wife,” I say.
“No ring.” We’ve gone over this before. I prefer to believe that he’s completely unavailable to us and we’ll never see him again. Pining is just depressing.
Riley prefers to live in a dream world where we could meet him again and fall madly in love. She never specifically says he’ll fall madly in love with her, but I doubt she fantasizes about him choosing me over her. And what’s the other option, some sort of love triangle?
I can just imagine it. We meet him again. Riley and I both looking our best, flirting with him shamelessly. What man wouldn’t welcome the advances of two women?
He’d reach out one hand to touch my cheek, and his other to touch hers, turning our faces towards each other. He wouldn’t mind if we kissed each other, as long as he gets to watch, he’d say. My body heats up, thinking about how sexy he finds us both, and I lean in to kiss Riley’s soft lips, feeling his eyes on us…
“You’re turning a bit pink, Celeste, maybe you should come under the umbrella.” Riley pats the lounge chair beside her. I’m so relieved that she has mistaken my mad flush for the beginnings of a sunburn.
What would she say if she knew what I’d been thinking!?
“Um, yeah, thanks.” I stutter, jumping up guiltily. “I am feeling a little hot.”
“I’ll betcha he’s out there right now, wishing he could run into us again.” Riley picks up right where we left off, having no clue how far my mind had wandered.
“I doubt it,” I answer, “but it’s a nice thought.”
She sighs and I realize that I’m sounding like a downer again. I put on a huge smile and catch her attention.
“What do you think about heading back to the hotel, getting all done up, and going out to find someplace that’s too upscale to attract this university crowd? Huh? Maybe we’ll meet some older guys finally. Who knows, maybe we’ll run into Lucas.” I try to sound super optimistic and, I have to admit, I think my enthusiasm has even swept me up in the idea.
I watch her pout turn to a smile and without a second thought, Riley is reaching to grab all her beach stuff. “That’s an absolutely brilliant idea,” she says.
***
Three hours and a few Margaritas later, I’m waiting impatiently for Riley to finish getting dressed. We both look absolutely perfect with our hair and makeup done, but she’s been fussing over what to wear for a good 45 minutes.
I don’t know how she even has so many options…she only brought one suitcase!
I didn’t have much trouble. I am so tan right now, all I want to do is show it off. So I’ve pulled out a white maxi skirt and added to it a white halter crop top. It’s not the jean shorts I’ve seen all the girls wear, but it’s not exactly matronly either.
I think I look pretty good if I’m being honest.
I love how little makeup I have to wear when I’m this golden. Mascara, of course. The curse of being naturally blonde. But otherwise, just a bit of highlight and some gloss, and I'm good to go.
My hair took longer though. I want to wear it down, so I’ve curled it, but the heat and humidity here are a bit dangerous, so I’ve got a few elastics at the ready in my clutch, just to be safe.
Mostly, I’ve spent the past few hours drinking and waiting for Riley to get ready.
Which means I’m more than a little drunk already. We really should eat soon…
I start to salivate over the vision of beautiful little tuna tacos when finally the bathroom door opens.
My mouth drops. “Holy shit, girl, you look good!” I can’t stop myself. Riley looks amazing.
She’s wearing a full-length black dress with a slit up one side that goes nearly up to her panties…if she’s wearing any. In the front, there’s a plunging neckline that goes down to her belly button but has a sheer insert, so looks sexy, not trashy.
Because she’s got a naturally pale tone to her skin, Riley is always very concerned about damage so stays shaded and uses sunscreen every day. Her dark hair makes her skin look like it’s glowing, even though she’s not nearly as dark as I am.
I’m a bit jealous, I’ll admit, but I catch a glimpse of the two of us in the mirror. Dark and light. We hadn’t planned this effect, but damn, we’re going to turn some heads tonight.
She’s starting to look a little uncomfortable under my stare, so I look away, feeling a bit awkward and remembering my little daydream from earlier today.
“Are you sure it’s not too much?” she asks.
“No way, you look incredible. We’re definitely going to have men hanging off us all night long!”
She laughs at me. “I think you’re a bit drunk, my girl,” she says. “But you look gorgeous too. You’re totally right – we’re going to be swimming in men tonight.” Her grin matches mine and we both grab our purses to head out.
We’ve already picked the restaurant. It’s close to where we met Lucas a few days ago. We may as well hedge our bets, right?
But it’s also slightly more mature than the
beach bars that seem to be crawling with spring-breakers at all hours of every day. Hopefully, we’ll get lucky tonight and meet someone closer to our own age.
We wander down the promenade, not in much of a hurry. I’m tipsy and hungry, but also in love with this city and completely content to drink in the atmosphere.
Riley’s looking a tad out of place in her dress as we walk, but as soon as the sun sets, she’s going to own this town.
We arrive at the restaurant and it’s busier than expected, but I’m so happy to see faces that look older than 20!
Thankfully, being just the two of us we get seated right away, and I don’t waste a single second before ordering another Margarita and all the tacos con atun, por favor.
Riley laughs at me but orders the same.
We scope out the crowds as we wait for our food. It seems like pretty much everyone here is already paired up. I’m starting to get the feeling that Cancun is for party animals and honeymooners. Are there no good-looking single men our age in this city?
Dinner is delicious though, so it was totally worth coming here. And it is a nice break to get away from the drunken orgies down at the beach for a night.
Our server comes back with our bill, and Riley looks up at him, asking, “Hablar Ingles?” in her horrible Spanish accent.
He raises an eyebrow at her and answers, “Of course, señorita. How can I help?”
I have no idea what Riley’s up to, but nothing she does surprises me anymore. “We’re wondering where the single people our age hang out? You know, not drunken spring-breakers. 25 – 30-year-olds.”
Oh my gosh, she has no shame. The server smirks at her, but answers very politely, “Here, señorita. The bar outside is more casual and good to meet other people.”
Well, isn’t that great news? “Thank you, that’s wonderful,” I smile at him. “Can we just go out, or do we need to be seated?”
“You may go, sit wherever you like. I hope you enjoy yourselves. Buenas Noches, señoritas.”