by Raina Ash
Allison couldn’t stop squeezing and rubbing his muscles. “Wow,” she kept saying. “So, like, you’re very strong.” Most of her words made little sense, but Brad was too focused on her body to care.
They fell back onto the soft mattress. Despite the spinning room and her jumbled thoughts, her rational brain couldn’t let her forget about safety. “Hey, you need to put it on,” she said. “Put something on.”
“Music?” Brad said, rubbing his hard dick against her thigh.
“No, like, on you, so I’m not with a baby.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Brad opened the bedside table and rolled on a condom.
Allison sat up and grabbed his waist. “I want to do this, okay?” She pushed him until he laid on his back. “Like this.”
“Okay, I’m into it,” Brad said. He grabbed her breasts and ran his thumbs along her nipples as she maneuvered herself on top. “Ride me.”
She flipped her hair in a way she hoped looked sexy and then drug her fingernails lightly up his abs. He squirmed, trying to force himself inside her. She wiggled her hips, letting him in. He urged her to bounce up and down, and she obliged even though the room was spinning faster. His cock was hard and pleasurable and she wanted more. It had been too long since she’d been with someone and there was an eagerness to get on with it and reach completion. But her stomach tightened more and more with each bounce. She couldn’t tell which direction was up. A growing uneasiness in her gut soon drowned the pleasurable ache between her legs.
She couldn’t stop herself. Vomit exploded from her mouth, thankfully not on Brad. She leaned over him and directed it onto the floor.
He shoved her off and scrambled away. He looked down. “Dude, what the fuck? Those are my pants,” he said. “Oh, fuck, that’s right on my phone. Fucking gross. It smells like moldy churros.”
Upchucking sobered her up. She covered her mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry,” she said.
“I hope you’re going to buy me a new fucking phone if it doesn’t work now. I can’t even get it, it’s all covered in puke.” He looked around for something to poke his phone with. He settled on a pen and began flipping it over on the floor, trying to wipe the puke off on the carpet.
Allison jumped off the bed and hurried into her bikini.
“Hey, wait,” Brad called, but she was out the door and running down the hallway. She ran all the way back to her room.
When Summer returned later that night, she found Allison huddled up on the bed crying.
“Oh no, what happened?” she said, rushing to Allison’s side. She took one look at her and then rubbed Allison’s back. “You puked on someone, didn’t you?”
“How do you...always know this stuff?” Allison said between sobs.
“Because I’ve done it. Twice. And you’ve got a little in your hair.”
Allison covered her head with a pillow.
“C’mon. Go take a shower. You’ll feel way better.”
Allison poked her head out. “I tried. I was getting into it and I was going to have fun and drink and party like I used to. It’s so much harder as an adult.”
“I know, Ally Cat.” She handed Allison some tissues. “It was an accident.”
“Yeah, but I don’t like it. It’s horrible. I’m so embarrassed and I was trying to be more carefree and not overthink everything.”
“And you did a great job. Puking on someone is the most freeing thing you can do.”
Allison laughed and then threw the pillow at Summer.
“Go take a shower.”
“Fine,” Allison said, pulling herself from the bed and wiping her tears.
She felt more at ease in the morning but stuck to the hotel room the rest of the trip. She only went out with Summer to eat a few times or swim (far away from where she had met Brad). They were soon on the flight home. She returned to the safety and security of her dorm room, buried herself in school work and side jobs, and kept it that way the rest of college.
Chapter Four
ALLISON’S SECOND DAY IN CASABLANCA proceeded as Noah described in his verbal itinerary: mosque tour, lunch in the business district, shopping at the old medina. The mosque was a beautiful and educational experience, but nothing unexpected. Noah spent his time sharing fun facts and history tidbits, mostly with the blonde duo fawning over him (as they flaunted their Instagram-worthy outfits by taking more selfies than their phones could possibly hold). The business district was a stark contrast to the rest of the city with towering skyscrapers and upscale restaurants. Allison secured a spot next to Noah during lunch, but Margaret became ill so Noah left to escort her to the hotel. Allison spent the extended lunch listening to the blondes complain about some guy on Instagram not liking their photos while Paul talked with Todd about recent data breaches.
When Noah returned, they visited the Old Medina, which was full of smells and old dusty buildings and lots of food in open containers. She smelled camels, or what she hoped were camels, and had to shoo away insistent shop owners every few feet. Summer had gushed about foreign markets like the Old Medina, but Allison didn’t understand the appeal. While the area was rich in historic buildings and intricate Moroccan architecture, she preferred her indoor shopping malls and Whole Foods where everything sat in shiny packages on the shelves. She was also sweaty and very irritable. She wasn’t connecting with Noah, didn’t care for group conversation, and felt very, very disconnected from her lack of phone service.
This will all get better once Noah and I get our private time in the desert, she told herself. Get through the next couple of days and enjoy yourself as best you can.
When evening arrived, she passed on dinner and ordered room service so she could take a long hot shower. She lay on the bed, nice and clean, gorging on delectable small dishes while watching TV shows she couldn’t understand.
The next day, Wednesday, was more of the same in a different location. The group packed their bags and rode on a train for about four hours to Marrakech. The blondes, of course, immediately sat next to Noah, leaving Allison to grab the only remaining seat, which was far away from the entire group. It wasn’t even next to the window. She only caught intermittent glimpses of the various tan and brown landscapes amid the occasional flash of a building. She spent the train ride cursing under her breath at the incessant overhead music and trying to finish an ebook she’d been reading sporadically for five months. She gave up and took a nap.
Once in Marrakech, they visited a lovely garden and ate lunch outside. The greenery and the smaller crowds helped Allison get her bearings and relax. She sat at a table with Paul, Margaret, and Todd while Noah and the blondes were who-knows-where.
“I never knew this place was so magical,” Margaret said, biting into her khobz, a type of bread. She and her husband both looked to be in their forties and liked to wear tropical print shirts.
“People online either love it here or hate it,” Margaret continued. “So we were so torn about going even though it’s on our bucket list. Todd surprised me with tickets for our anniversary. I’m so glad you did, honey.” Todd was sitting next to her, and she gave him a peck on the cheek.
“My pleasure,” he said. “Anything to make you happy.” They shared a gooey-eyed moment of gazing into each other’s eyes.
Allison gulped water from her glass and stared at a bush, not wanting to make any comments that might sound overly bitter. They seemed like a sweet couple and there was nothing wrong with two people in love expressing affection. She just didn’t enjoy feeling so alone in comparison.
“Do you have kids?” Paul asked. He sipped on some wine and seemed more relaxed than usual.
“Oh no, no, no,” Margaret said. “Not for us, though we enjoy spending time with our nephew.”
“How about fur babies?” Paul said.
Allison smiled. “Fur babies?”
“Yeah. You don’t like fur babies?” Paul raised a quizzical eyebrow.
“Why do you keep using that term?”
“What, fur babies
? Most people enjoy fur babies.” His expression was serious despite using the silly subject matter.
Allison laughed, followed by Todd and Margaret.
Paul’s eyes had a glint of mischievousness. “I must not be understanding the joke. What’s the problem with fur babies?”
“It’s the way you’re saying it,” Allison said. “And you don’t seem to be the type to use that term.”
Paul shrugged. “Fur babies.”
Allison held in another laugh while Margaret and Todd giggled. Paul had been mostly jerky to her during the trip, so it was nice to not feel so guarded around him.
After lunch, they took a bus to the riad where they’d spend the night. Noah gave them all free time to explore the nearby bazaar. “Pay attention to where ya are,” Noah told them, “or ya may end up lost with the snake charmers.”
Everyone laughed but Allison. She didn’t want to be in a dusty, confusing place while free-roaming snakes slithered about. She wanted to be close to Noah. Or someone. She wanted a companion.
Noah had mentioned getting a few drinks at a place around the corner, so she hurried back to her room to freshen up and meet him there. By the time she fixed her hair, slapped on some eyeshadow, and ran to the restaurant, the blondes already had Noah sandwiched between their young, petite bodies. She contemplated sauntering over and shoving them aside, but knew Noah would fixate on them all night regardless of her presence. She swallowed the envy bubbling in her throat and used the opportunity to take a mental break from the tour group.
Allison walked the short distance to the bazaar, looking behind her every few feet to find her way back. Before boarding her flight, she had read that some natives liked to trick lost foreigners, giving them fake directions so they’d get money for being an escort. As she walked down a small path lined with shops and merchants yelling for her attention, she understood why it was so easy to get turned around. Walkways were narrow and all the sights, smells, and visuals were overwhelming and distracting. The sound of beating drums mixed with the high-pitched squeal of snake charmer flutes. Merchants shouted and harassed anyone walking past. Smoke filled the air, though she couldn’t tell where it originated.
The entire bazaar had a foggy, mystical quality. If she wasn’t careful, the mystery would enchant her and she’d get lost forever.
She stopped at a booth selling spices and bought a spice mixture to have something “exotic” to share with her coworkers. Then she looked at cages of live chameleons and refused to let herself think about their fates. She’d never considered eating a chameleon and didn’t want to start.
The experience actually helped her connect with Morocco. She finally understood why Summer spent her life exploring new places. A change of scenery could help one discover new insights about the world and themselves. Yet, even with the beauty and intrigue of new locals, she struggled to understand how Summer lived that lifestyle. How did she travel the world alone and yet form such strong bonds with strangers? Allison had friends, and she had romantic relationships (occasionally). But the last relationship stung so much that her heart never healed. How was it possible to be warm and open like Summer with no fear of getting hurt? Summer could be honest and vulnerable with everyone she met. She didn’t fear rejection. She exuded a confidence and charisma most people lacked.
Allison picked up a decorated jewelry box and turned it around in her hands. One thought nagged her. If she had been more like Summer, more open and vulnerable and adventurous, maybe Isaac would’ve stayed. Her life wouldn’t be only work and sleep and she wouldn’t be wandering around a market in Morocco alone. Wasn’t she supposed to be having hot hot sex by now? Work made her feel more important and content than a vacation, and she regretted ever agreeing to a trip.
She pulled out her cell phone and gazed at the screen. She composed a text to Summer about enjoying all the sights and sounds of Morocco and then hit send. Even though the text would linger in her outbox until she returned to WiFi, writing the text provided comfort. She sighed and continued exploring the bazaar.
She picked up a few more items like a scarf for Summer and a beautiful painted bowl to display on her desk. The sun was setting, so she started walking back to the riad to nap before dinner, where she assumed there would be a “show-and-tell” of what everyone bought. The path back through the bazaar was recognizable at first, but she made a turn and entered an unknown street. She wasn’t sure, though. Everything looked too similar. She turned around and retraced her steps, walking onto a different street. But it also looked unfamiliar. The bazaar was like a maze. She kept mental notes of her surroundings, so why did everything seem different? It has to be this way, she thought, turning down a street that became a dead end.
She felt less and less confident about the landmarks she memorized. They didn’t look right. She tried several turns from the shop she recognized, but they were all wrong. For a second, she debated if she had slipped into an episode of the Twilight Zone or had fallen into an alternate dimension. Luckily, no ominous music played.
Her heart raced. No big deal. Ask for directions.
She stopped a merchant and gave him the address for the riad. He waited to see if she would offer money. When she didn’t, he shrugged and looked away.
“Yes,” he said. “Yes. On the right. Go down here. On the right.”
“Walk down this street?”
“Yes. Follow here. Then on right.”
“Thank you.”
He offered to sell her a dress, but she declined.
She walked down the street for a long time, hoping to see something recognizable. Nothing was familiar. The worry gnawing at her stomach increased. She reasoned with herself that if she didn’t return by dinner, Noah would search for her. Marrakech was safe enough for tourists, right? She dressed respectively. No tits hanging out. She was an American white lady, but they got plenty of white women tourists. The men that passed by her took on a sudden dark aura. Had they always been staring at her like that?
She pulled out her phone again, knowing it wouldn’t work, but the simple act of trying to open Google Maps calmed her. She missed her Google and her Chrome and even her Facebook where people she knew were only a message away.
She checked her wallet for money to pay for directions, but she’d spent her last Moroccan Dirham on the scarf for Summer. Maybe she could find the shop and return the scarf. A terrifying thought crossed her mind: what if she had the riad address wrong? What if she didn’t even know where to go?
Chapter Five
ALLISON GAZED AT THE FADING light in the sky that highlighted a few clouds. She took a breath. She wouldn't solve her problem of being lost in the bazaar if she was freaking the fuck out.
The riad was somewhere nearby, but she’d need to exit to the main road first. Okay, just start walking. If you walk in one direction long enough, you’ll find a regular street. She might end up on the opposite end of the bazaar, but she had to do something. She started walking. The bazaar seemed endless, and she reached another dead end filled with several shops. She was glancing around, trying to decide whether to turn left or right, when she noticed a familiar figure.
She touched the man on his shoulder. “Paul?” she said.
He turned around with a blank expression. “Oh, hi.”
“So, uh, how’s it going?” She put her hands behind her, so he couldn’t see them shaking. She wouldn’t be the chick having a mental breakdown after wandering the bazaar for too long.
“Fine. How’s it going with you?” He gave her a puzzled expression and turned to hand a merchant some money.
“Fine.” She looked at the leather hides displayed on a table while trying not to act like a weirdo. “I found some nice things while shopping. I met some friendly merchants. I’m getting ready to head back to the riad. You?”
He thanked the merchant and turned back around. “The same.”
They stared at each other.
Paul finally moved to the side and took a step forward. “Well, I�
�m heading back.”
Allison was quick to follow. “Okay, great. I’ll join you.” She exhaled as the tension in her body eased. Paul was annoying, but she could make small talk long enough to return to safety. “What’d you buy? Any good deals?”
“I suppose. I always haggle. I bought a few dresses for my two nieces and a bracelet for a coworker. The quality in these shops is hit or miss, but it’s like every other place I’ve been to. Handmade items mixed in with crap.”
She looked at his profile. His chin was scruffy, which was a style on men she preferred. And he didn’t have his glasses on, which made her notice his deep brown eyes. He wore a short-sleeved button-up shirt that accentuated his arms. They were muscular and Allison wondered why she hadn’t noticed before. She may have heard Noah say, “He works with computers,” and profiled him in her mind.
“Have you traveled a lot?” she said.
“It depends on what you consider a lot. I’ve been to every continent except Antarctica. If that’s a lot, then yes.”
“That is a lot.” She stared at the ground. “Did you know that a desert is defined as either a dry, sandy region or a cold region devoid of life? So Antarctica is actually the world’s largest desert.”
“Yes, I knew that.”
They both fell silent. Allison waited for Paul to ask her questions in return, but he seemed content to continue walking without interaction.
She lifted one of her bags. “I bought a beautiful cashmere scarf for my best friend. I haggled the guy down to 200 Dirhams, which is the cheapest you can get one anywhere.”
“That would be around 24 bucks. Unless it’s a fake, then you paid too much.”