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As we panted, I said, “I’m surprised that turns you on so much.”
He shrugged as he got dressed. “I can’t help what arouses me. I’m just glad it doesn’t weird you out.”
I stood and hugged him from behind. “I like your policy of honesty. It cuts through all the bullshit.” I thought about the Bobs, and their falseness and lies.
“Me too.” He twisted and kissed me. “Better eat a good lunch. I’m taking you on another long run this afternoon.”
I loved running because it gave me time to think, alone with my mind without any distractions. Today was no exception. I thought about the dream, and Pierce’s reaction to it.
Describing the dream to him was strangely liberating. There was so much that we, as humans, kept hidden from each other. Especially in new relationships. We had one side of ourselves that we allowed others to see, and parts that we tried to conceal. I had always taken that for granted. It’s just the way things were.
It was freeing not to hold back. And to be with a man who didn’t hold back himself. That made me feel even closer to Pierce, rather than withdrawing from him once learning about his unorthodox thoughts on pregnancy and conception.
But how do I feel about Andrew and Tristan?
I liked Andrew. He was instantly likable from the moment he met me with the helicopter in Providence. And he was attractive, in a boyish sort of way. I was certainly attracted to him.
Tristan was another story. He was undeniably good-looking, even before factoring in that sultry English accent. But before last night’s dream, I hadn’t been attracted to him at all. I was turned off by his stuffy, proper attitude.
But now? I didn’t know how I felt.
Could someone’s attraction change on a dime like that? And if so, was that a bad thing? I couldn’t decide if that made me flexible in a good way, or if it made me a slave to my basest impulses.
It doesn’t matter, I told myself as we turned off the beach and began running inland. I’ll probably get pregnant by Pierce, despite his concerns about his own fertility.
“How does this trail even exist?” I asked as we jogged up an incline into the jungle. “This is your private island. Nobody else should be here.”
“Marcelo, the grounds keeper, maintains the trail,” Pierce replied. “He comes through with a machete once a week.”
“Marcelo? He sounds hot. I wonder how potent his sperm is.”
It was a prodding kind of joke. I winced as soon as the words were out of my mouth, because I didn’t know how he would react. It sounded harsher than I intended, especially if Pierce was self-conscious about his potential sperm count.
But he only laughed and said, “Marcelo is gay. He’s also married, so that’s two strikes against your chances with him. He’s good at his job though; he also looks for venomous snakes when he’s out here. Occasionally, eyelash vipers make it over from the mainland. Very deadly.
“Snakes don’t bother me, thankfully.” I glanced along the ground as we ran. “I’ve noticed the holes in the ground, but I haven’t seen any snakes.”
“Oh, those holes aren’t for snakes,” Pierce replied. He pointed at one in passing. “They’re tarantula holes.”
I let out a yelp. “There are tarantulas here?!?”
“Oh yeah. All over the place. There’s another hole. Two more there, next to that purple flower.”
“I think I want to go back to the beach now.”
The jungle seemed to muffle Pierce’s laugh. “Tarantulas are harmless.”
“I don’t care.”
“You’re afraid of harmless tarantulas, but deadly vipers don’t bother you?”
“There’s no logic to my phobia!” I said.
Pierce laughed some more.
“You know, most billionaires wouldn’t spend their time running through the untamed jungle.”
“I told you,” he replied. “I’m not like most men you’ve ever known.”
