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Take Me to the Moon
Joan Osborne’s rendition of the classic “I’ll Be Around” was blasting through my noise-cancelling earphones during my flight to Cancún. Technology can be such a blessing and a curse. It is a blessing because we get to experience things in our lifetime that our ancestors could not even fathom. It can be a curse when we get so caught up in machines and gadgets that we start talking to people exclusively through emails and instant messages. That was what my life had become. A fast-paced life in a microwave society. I had been so looking forward to spending New Year’s Eve in Cancún, with my lover. Yet there I was, on the plane alone; caught up in the massive collection of nearly three thousand songs on my iPod.
When “I’ll Be Good to You” by The Brothers Johnson—the next in alphabetical order—came on, I was ready to start dancing in the aisle. That was my jam! I decided to simply wiggle in my seat. I didn’t want anyone to think I was a lunatic. In today’s age, with all the threats of terrorism, I could see some idiot trying to be a hero by slamming me to the ground in a WWF move. Then again, there was a sister sitting directly across from me in the first-class cabin taking her braids out. Artificial hair was flying everywhere. Good thing some meek man was occupying the seat beside her. If she had been sitting next to me flicking hair into my drink, without question there would have been serious drama.
I did glare at her like she was crazy when she got up to go to the lavatory. Even with my headphones on, I was able to make out the words she stated flippantly in my direction: “I’m getting a head start so one of those Mexican women can hook a sister up with new braids!”
I started to be sarcastic and ask if she planned to wash her hair on the plane also but, in all honesty, I could not have cared less about her or her hairdo. As long as it was not landing in my gin and tonic, I was straight. Still, I chuckled as I imagined her trying to bend over that tiny-ass sink and rinse it out. Since childhood, I had thi
s wild imagination. Often I would picture people in “sticky situations” who were simply going about their daily business. Once, when I was on the subway, I imagined the couple sitting across from me running from a serial killer on a dark mountain pass. An entire movie played out in my head by the time I reached my stop.
Damn, why did “I’ll Make Love to You” by Boyz II Men have to be next? That was “our song.” Korey had played that very song the first time I crashed over at his place. He had gazed deeply into my eyes and serenaded me with major seduction. It was amazing what effect music can have on one’s soul. By the time “I’ll Miss You Most” by Gordon Chambers came on, I was practically in tears.
I still found it difficult to accept that I would be at The Moon Palace in Cancún—highly celebrated as one of the most gorgeous resorts in the world—alone. It was an all-inclusive resort and Korey and I had split the cost of a package for two. The money was nonrefundable because it was New Year’s. I was not about to lose my half—fifteen hundred dollars—because he had chosen to act a fool. Ironically, the next song was “I’ll Never B Another Fool” by Chaka Khan. How apropos. I was determined to never be played again. Fuck men and the big dicks they rode in on!
By the time we landed forty minutes later, “I’ve Got Love on My Mind” by Natalie Cole was playing. I certainly did not have love on my mind but lust was something different altogether. I was hot, horny, commitment-free and ready to explore new territory. I had never dated—or fucked—outside of my race but according to all my friends, dick is dick. If I had a quarter for every time I heard a man say pussy is pussy, I could have bought that new BMW featured in the airplane magazine.
The Moon Palace was the closest resort to the Cancún airport so the ride was short. I was greeted with a warm towel to soothe me from the heat while I waited for the cab driver to get my bags out of the trunk. Once inside, they handed me a flute of chilled champagne when they checked me in.
I had to be driven to my villa on a golf cart because no vehicles could access the secluded area of the resort. There were two large hotels on the property but I had opted for a cream-colored beautifully decorated villa on the golf course. The main draw was the villa’s massive Jacuzzi.
“Korey, you fuckin’ idiot,” I said aloud. “This could’ve been the perfect vacation.”
I called my Aunt Maxie to let her know that I had safely arrived. I planned to stay on the phone for only a couple of minutes. Aunt Maxie was a chronic worrywart. The tension in her voice almost got me all worked up. I tried to explain that even though I was in a private area, the entire resort had more than two thousand rooms, eleven restaurants, and at least a dozen swimming pools—there were plenty of people around. Aunt Maxie finally let me get off the phone when I said it was costing a grip. She made me promise to keep my door locked. Like duh?
Aunt Maxie had been both mother and father to me since my real parents were killed in a freak accident before I entered the eighth grade. Their killer was a seven-year-old boy who thought the gun he had found under his father’s pillow was a toy. He took it to school with the idea of getting back at a classmate he was angry with. He yanked the gun from his backpack and went to blasting. My mother was his teacher and my father was there to bring her the lunch she had left at home that morning. He gunned them both down in a pool of blood. Talk about karma. I had often wondered if they had any premonitions that they would both die together; or even if they ever desired to. They had a strong love for each other; and for me. I got depressed for a few moments, thinking about yet another new year on earth without them. Then I decided to make the best out of the situation. Hell, I was in paradise!
Lucky for me the resort offered twenty-four-hour room service—all included. I was too exhausted to venture out to one of the restaurants. Too exhausted and, without a doubt, too embarrassed. I was still wondering how I would play off the fact that a sexy, professional, educated sister like me would be in paradise alone for a week. And for New Year’s, on top of that. Surely, I would be the only one. People were traveling with their spouses, lovers, families or, at the very least, close friends. I would have to dine alone, lie out by the pool or beach alone. Shit! Sleep alone!
I ordered a steak dinner, a club sandwich, soup and every single dessert on the menu. Once the waiter, who had to be old enough to be my great-grandfather, dropped off the four silver trays, it dawned on me that I was binging—something I hadn’t done in ages.
Every man that I saw on the way here seemed fine as shit to me. Every damn one. The brother who carried my bags into the airport on his cart since you could not check bags curbside for international flights. The ticket agent. The male flight attendant working the first-class cabin on the plane. The man who assumed that I was gullible enough to agree to a time share presentation in exchange for reduced event tickets that were not reduced at all. He was an asshole but, hell, he was still fine. The guy who handed me the warm towel outside the cab. The cab driver was female and a female agent checked me in at the hotel, so they did not do anything for me. I have been and will always be all about outies and not innies. But the young man who drove me to the villa on the golf cart had these succulent ears that I wanted to suck on like corn on the cob. Now the damn hundred-ninety-year-old waiter made me want to jump his arthritic bones.
I watched television while I ate to the point of nausea. I used to be bulimic and refused to go back there over my break-up with Korey. I loved Korey and I was convinced he loved me but the fact that we were both Virgos caused serious issues. We once looked up our compatibility on an astrology website. It said that since we were both so critical and determined by nature that we would fight for control over everything in the relationship. Truer words have never been spoken, or written, in that case. Every detail, big or small, led to arguments over who was right and who was wrong. The sex was off the chain, though. Virgos are very passionate people and Korey and I had grown to appreciate our strong sexual urges. Then the shit hit the fan. He cheated on me and even though I forgave him, he still had the nerve to dump me last-minute. He would come back to me; I was confident about that. I was also damn sure that I would never allow him back into my space again. I was going to do the damn thing all by myself.
Victory always begins with me, so I broke out “the gadgets.” Some women never leave home without their favorite foundation, tube of lipstick or support bra. I never leave home without my favorite dildo, vibrator and set of ben wa balls.
The Jacuzzi thing was going to work wonders. My “dildo of the month” was a pink nine-inch with a suction bottom. It was perfect for water play. I ran the water in the Jacuzzi and stripped off my clothes. There was nothing better than a long, hot bath after a long day. The plane ride had been top-notch but it was still tiring. I wanted to climb in, listen to some more jams on my iPod using my portable speaker set, cum a good two or three times and then hit the sack.
I decided to back it up to the “B” songs and put on “Baby Come to Me” by Regina Belle; a classic. I climbed into the tub, placing a bottle of wine from the mini-bar beside me with a wineglass, and sank into the succulent water. My dildo was waiting patiently for me. I had suctioned it onto the bottom of the tub while I was running the water and watched intently as the water and bubbles covered it up until it disappeared altogether. Like an old familiar friend, it was right there and I slid my pussy right on top of it. I sat still as my body got used to it inside of me. Umm, that felt great!
There is a lot to be said for dildos. With men, they are so determined to prove they can dig a woman’s back out that sometimes—when you merely want them to lie still with their dicks inside you—they still want to go all out and pump you like a tire. Dildos are well behaved and you can always have it your way. I started moving back and forth, up and down, on my “friend” and it was time to add some pressure to the mix. I hit the button for the jets; there was a short spurt and then nothing.
“Don’t fucking do this to me!” I yelled out to no one. “Fuck!”
N
ow I was mad. The one thing I had to look forward to had been taken away from me. That was totally unfair. Someone was going to pay for this.
I climbed out the Jacuzzi, threw on the plush bathrobe they provided and called the front desk, demanding that they send someone to fix the Jacuzzi. I was relieved when someone knocked on my door less than five minutes later. I had to give it to them; that was great customer service. When I flung the door open, I did not know whether to scream or drop the robe.
He had on a workman’s uniform and all I could think about was him doing some maintenance on my pipes.
“Hola,” he said in the sexiest voice I had ever heard escape a man’s lips.
“Hola right back at you,” I replied.
“Cómo está usted, mi señora encantadora?”
