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Earlier, he was in a white button-down shirt with his shirtsleeves rolled up. Now his chest is bare, and he's in nothing but a pair of swim trunks.
His hair is dirty blond and a few soft curls fall into his face. The salty air is responsible for that I think, and I wonder what he looks like when he's in a suit and tie, all dressed up with somewhere to go.
The margarita must be working, because I take my time looking him over, not overthinking how much I'm staring at him. I eye his broad shoulders and his six pack, so firm and tight.
So, so tight.
I swallow, thinking about how tight I am...down there. How much I wish I weren't. How much I wish he...okay, it's time to get ahold of myself. My mind is headed to dirty places I've only ever read about.
"Do you mind if I—" he starts. Before he can finish I shake my head and tell him I don't mind.
I don't mind anything. And yet I don't even know what he wants.
"Do you need another drink?" He points to my empty glass.
I manage to reply with a yes, and with the literal snap of his fingers, a waitress arrives with another round of cocktails. I thank them both appreciatively and watch as the man hands the woman a hundred dollar bill. She returns his generosity with a light-hearted kissy face.
Must be nice. I certainly don't get those kinds of tips at parent-teacher conferences.
"Have you been to this club before?" he asks.
The idea that I've been here before is ludicrous. I couldn't fit in any worse if I tried. Which is funny, considering this guy looks like he was made for Miami Beach. He's tan and chiseled and obviously has lots of money. And I'm not just talking about the tip; he's the kind of man who has the confidence you only possess when you're loaded.
I know this how? Because it's the kind of confidence I've never actually had. I'm the kind of girl who has always worked hard: scholarships and part-time jobs during college. Now I live in a studio apartment and work as a guidance counselor at a public high school. Not exactly a lucrative career.
Still, I wouldn't trade it for the world. Helping people find themselves, working through problems, and being a shoulder to cry on is a privilege and I don't take my job lightly.
"I'll take that laugh to mean that no, you haven't been here." He steps into the pool and leans against the edge. "Though if you'd been here before, I'd certainly have seen you."
"You live in Miami?" I ask, sitting up straighter. My swimsuit may be conservative, but at least my breasts look flattering in this spandex.
"No, I live in New York. But I come here often."
I swallow because I live there too. But I can guess his borough is slightly different than the one in which I reside.
"So, you're here for vacation?" I ask. Looking around I see that no one's around us, now that the waitress has left, we are tucked away in a private oasis. Palm trees hang above us, creating a secluded little nook for this complete stranger and me.
Why does that not scare me?
I take a sip of the margarita and think again about the couple, kissing and touching one another so openly.
I eke out a small whimper, why I'm not sure.
Okay, that's a lie, I am sure.
I want what that woman had.
No inhibitions. A moment to just completely give in.
Ms. Sandeles wouldn’t even recognize me right now.
"What's your name?" he asks.
But by now I'm so uninterested in the idea of pleasantries, I shake my head. "Let's not do that. I mean, I know why people come to Miami. Why they come to this cabana."
"Oh yeah, and why is that?"
"They come here for pleasure. To lose themselves."
He steps toward me, and with the moves of a man who has done this more times than I could count. "And you want to lose yourself?"
He looks me over just as slowly as I looked at him. I wonder what he sees. He must like it because he inches closer to me. I part my knees, silently inviting him closer still.
"I do," I tell him. "I want to lose myself completely."
I swear to God he groans at that.
I can't help but smile unabashedly. For the record, I've never made a man groan. This is all new and exciting, and a total fantasy scenario.
"Are you interested?" I ask.
He snorts, it's charming actually the way he lets his head fall back, laughing as he does. His arm effortlessly slides around my shoulders, his hands resting on the bare skin of my back. His touch makes me hot, gets me excited.
"Are you propositioning a total stranger?" he asks, and his smile could get us both in lots of trouble.
