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Erin returned home the next day, saying she went to visit her parents. Mike was suspicious that she left without saying anything to him, even if he had been asleep. She had been acting strangely for the past week, like she was hiding something. Erin avoided him and had been taking pain medication. Now the pain pills were gone and she seemed oddly upbeat. Mike said nothing.
He was feeling better after his surgery and was starting to move around more. This came as a surprise to Erin one day, who still expected him to be resting. It had been several days since she had been bred by John and she was dying to know if her egg was fertilized. Standing in the bathroom, she waited for the fertilization test to give her its results. The strip gave her a resounding POSITIVE, causing her to yelp in joy. The noise caught Mike's attention. He stepped into the bathroom and briefly saw her reflection in the mirror holding some kind of medical testing applicator. She screamed that she was in the bathroom before he could see her and he left, confused at what he just saw.
The next day Mike was taking out the trash, when he saw an empty box through the plastic bag that read "Home Fertilization Test." Tearing the bag open, he read the box and saw that it was for ultra early pregnancy testing. The test could be taken a few days after sex, before the egg had even implanted into the uterus.
John's betrayal was enormous. Had she lied about being pregnant with his baby? No, that couldn't be, she had shown him the positive pregnancy test over a month ago. So how could she be testing herself for early pregnancy when she was already pregnant? She had been to the doctor's office the day of his surgery. Whether she had miscarried or aborted his child, she was now expecting another man's baby. Either way she was playing him for a fool. He re-read the box. "Used for pre-implantation testing," he said. There were more than one way to play God using medical science, Mike thought as he got in his car and drive to the pharmacy.
Later that night, Mike made Erin her favorite meal and bought her favorite bottle of wine. He made a surprise of it, telling her that with all they had been through in the past few days medically, they deserved to celebrate coming through the other side in one piece. Erin agreed, despite guilt over lying to her boyfriend. He was a good man and would make a good father to her child, even if it wasn't his. As she sat back and relaxed, Mike crushed the morning after pill he bought that day and slipped it into her wine. After dinner, they went to bed and as Erin rode on top of him, he watched the spot between her legs, knowing that the growing blastocyst was being denied a safe site to implant. "Sorry buddy," he thought as Erin finally shuddered in pleasure, "she's mine."
The End.
Cabana Massage
"30, 60 or 90?"
"hmm...what would you suggest?"
"Para me, Seniorita, I would chooce za 90, but wis za deluxe packaje."
"Deluxe package? What's that?"
"Dos Hombres, quatros manos."
"hmmm...anything better than that?"
"Si, Seniorita. Za locacione. Take za VIP cabana y you see nussing but za waves y za san'. No ozer cabanas around."
"hmmm...that sounds interesting. Let's do that one."
She gave her room number and looked toward the beach wondering where the VIP cabana was hiding. In less than an hour the sun would setting and she would be closing in on a place she had longed for since she landed: sleep.
Jorge escorted her to a small golf cart and watched her white cotton sarong wisp around her legs while sh
e stepped into her seat. She sat cross legged, leaning against the frame of the cart and watched through the frayed brim of her straw sun hat as the waves crashed to the shore. She watched the tires of the cart crush a path through the sugary sand, smiled to herself then kicked a sandal free and let her toes drag lightly across the sand as they drove. It felt hot and the warmth of the sun blushed the tan skin of her calf and foot. She sighed audibly and closed her eyes, turning her face to hanging sun.
Jorge watched her. He drove, but he watched her. He loved American women. This one was particularly wonderful. "Puneta!" he kept repeating under his breath. He loved how they all wore bikini's everywhere. He loved their oversized sunglasses and hats. The woman to his left had one of those hats and her sunglasses seemed exceptionally large. Her sarong was longer than a lot he'd seen, but it was sheer and hung from her hips tightly only to fall gracefully past her thighs and dance at the bottom with the weight of the tiny knots tied to the frayed ends. She wore a matching white bikini top that covered very little. Even her pedicured toes matched: french with neat white tips. "Puneta!" he grunted to himself.
She looked toward Jorge and noticed that the hotels had all vanished. They were past them all. Lost in the trance of the sea she hadn't realized how far they had driven, how far they were from her hotel. 10 minutes into their ride and the cabana was in view. The beach was vacant of footprints, vacant of divots, it was absent of just about everything, especially people. They pulled to a stop and they cabana was directly between her and the crashing waves. She slipped the driver a handsome tip as he pointed to the cabana.
The sun was sitting almost at line of sight. She pulled down the brim of her hat, stood and looked toward pending bliss. Someone had raked all the sand around the cabana and the 100 yards or so that lay between her and it. There it sat, it's rivets carved carefully, unbroken all around her. She couldn't resist the urge and kicked her sandals free. Stepping softly, she waited for the sand to break under her toes and the she dug them in, curling and crushing it between them. The crust baked on top gave way to a cooler bed beneath and each step she took she relished the sensations.
A turquoise sky was melting into a bluer ocean and behind the gently ruffling cream drapes that hung from the four corners of the cabana, it seemed to be exploding with vibrant shouts of color. Shadows were growing longer and stretched from the darkening cedar posts across the snakes of sand delicately raked beneath her feet. Inside the cabana was a plush massage table, aimed parallel with the water line. Anyone lying on this bed could turn to watch the waves roll across the beach in all their wonder while some expert kneaded and pushed away all the aches that had been stored away. She stepped closer, hearing soft music as she approached. It was light and beckoning, and it clung to the drapes like wisps of cotton candy, trilling out into the air and dissolving on her skin.
Two men stood on either end of the table, hands clasped behind their backs and hiding their eyes behind dark aviators. They stood rooted to their spots, sentinels at each end, dressed in matching linen uniforms. Entering the cabana, she removed her hat and sunglasses, placed them on the warm sand and smiled at the man who stood at the head of the table. He took her extended hand and bowed to her, lightly kissing her just below her wrist, then hummed deeply, "Welcome, Seniorita."
He was tall, fine featured and clearly not hispanic. His sleeves rolled to his forearms and other than the two buttons in the center of his shirt that held it on his body, it hung loosely and comfortable from his broad shoulders. He was athletic and muscular, lean and fit. He hadn't shaved in several days, the growth even, but tempered.
"You may change here and if you should need anything, you only need ask. My name is Carmine Estacion and my assistant is Senior Cruz. Beneath the table there are towels, a robe, and an assortment of beverages."
Carmine turned and pulled a thick braided rope. Carmel colored drapes uncoiled from the ceiling on all four sides and formed a changing area for her. Senior Cruz and Carmine Estacion disappeared behind the fabric and waited.
She stood motionless, analyzing who would have their hands all over her. Senior Cruz looked native, and though he hadn't spoken, she guessed his linguistic skills were limited to spanish only. He was taller than most of the Mexican men she saw, still, he wasn't taller than his white associate. They both looked strong and capable and she realized quickly she was attracted to them.
She untied her sarong and let it fall to her feet. Carmine watched the sun project her silhouette against the rear curtain and smiled to himself. His eyes roamed over the shadowy images, swallowing hard. Her hair tumbled to mask her face as she looked down to guide her hands as they pushed the tight bikini bottom off her hips. His smiled melted to awe as she bent over to remove the bottoms. She turned to face the sun and unsnapped her top. Carmine knew he was in trouble. Senior Cruz swore under his breath. "Puneta!"
"Carmine, can you raise the drapes? I'd like to look at the ocean."
"Seniorita, you are not wearing your robe or towel."
