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She did have a lovely evening.
It didn’t hurt to have some alone time. Not that she hadn’t been more or less alone all day, but now she could relax and think. She removed the little bullet, put it away, then took a long bath in the sunken tub, with candles and a glass of wine.
Then she put on her not-cute jammies, glad she’d brought them even though Greg thought they were ugly—who doesn’t like purple unicorns and rainbows?—and ordered room service. Lunch had been quite light for all that it was fancy, so she ordered a rare cheeseburger with the works, plus French fries. And a chocolate malt milkshake. She stuffed herself while watching a romantic comedy on pay-per-view.
In the morning, room service’s discreet knock awakened her. The same young man set up her breakfast on the balcony with so much finesse he seemed to never even see her purple unicorns. The morning sun felt too warm already for the heavy cotton, so she put on her silk robe instead, ready to be Caribbean glam again.
Two Dove chocolate candies sat on her tray—a nice little homage to the two turtle doves of the day. Still full from the fat-fest of the night before, she stuck to fruit and opened her card right away. Right after coffee, that was.
Happy Boxing Day, Roo,
This is not a gift from the neighbors, but rather for the neighbors. I want you to wear it all day, at the pool, not hiding in a beach cabana. Wear only what’s in the box—nothing more. I’ll know if you disobey and I’ll likely be itching to punish somebody by the end of the day.
Recall that the second day of Christmas calls for gifts from day one and day two, so be sure to wear the partridge in your pear tree, too.
I’ll be back in time for High Tea. Looking forward to inventive uses for clotted cream and jam.
Miguel
Right on cue, someone knocked on the door. Her present-deliverer handed her a large dress box, this time wrapped in paper like a British flag. Very funny.
She set it on the bed to unwrap it, keeping a piece of the flag paper to tuck in with her souvenir kit.
Inside lay the tiniest bikini she’d ever seen. The beaded gold pattern did seem reminiscent of feathers, but wow—it wouldn’t cover much. Nor would the matching open-weave beaded “cover-up.” The only other apparel in the box were a pair of very high heels—also in gold—strappy, studded with matching beads.
A little sorry she’d pigged out so egregiously the night before, she went to try the damn thing on. Her tummy bulged some, but if she sucked it in, it wasn’t too bad. All those hours at the gym paid off. The suit fit nicely and complimented her skin and hair, but...well, it was nothing she’d ever have picked out for herself. It seemed so blatantly sexy. Especially since her breasts were fairly large for her frame—the little top barely covered the essentials.
Which was what she’d signed up for right?
The previous day on the beach had given a bit of color to her winter white, but if Miguel wanted her to hang by the pool, she’d better score another cabana or she’d be a crispy critter by tea time.
Since the suit seemed to call for it, she did her hair and makeup, adding matching jewelry. The silver bullet went in last, her body instantly warming at the feel of it.
When she reached the pool deck, a cabana boy who’d clearly been on the lookout for her escorted her to a lovely cabana with an amazing view. Nice to know the owner, apparently. The cabana boy also promised to bring her anything she needed.
She couldn’t imagine what that would be, since the cabana was like an open-sided cottage, with misters, a basket of snacks, bottled water—even a television set. Happily she settled in to read, trying to ignore the men who strolled by, on their way to nowhere and back again, taking a good look at her.
The day flew by. What time was High Tea, anyway? Mid-afternoonish, she thought. Sure enough, around 3:30, she spotted Miguel walking down the white steps from one of the upper decks. He was calling out hellos to some of the staff—and guests—wearing a dapper panama fedora that matched his cream linen suit. He looked like Javier Bardem, with all the movie star charisma that entailed.
When he spotted her, he grinned, looking far more relaxed today. “Good afternoon, my lovely Roo. Have you been enjoying yourself?”
“Yes, thanks. Quite the fancy digs, but you didn’t have to.”
“If I can’t indulge, at least you should be able to.” He held out a hand. “Let’s take a little walk. You don’t need that,” he added, when she reached for the cover-up.
She made a face, but went along, letting him tuck her hand in the crook of his arm and strolling with him along the balustrade overlooking the sea. In the stiletto heels, she matched his height, but she felt like an exotic pet walking beside him in the bikini that was more jewelry than fabric.
“You look gorgeous,” he told her, as if confiding a secret. “Why so self-conscious?”
“I’m not a show-offy kind of person, I guess. You know—and you always worry how your ass looks.”
He stepped away, raising her hand above her head and encouraging her to turn a slow circle. His gaze on her body felt as hot as the molten sunshine. “Your ass looks most enticing. It gives me all sorts of ideas.”
Spanking? She bit her lip and he chuckled.
“I was thinking more of this.” The silver bullet throbbed into life and she gasped, digging her nails into his arm. He pulled her close, steadying her and nuzzling her temple. “Shall I make you come here, with all these people watching?”
“Please don’t,” she whispered, then shuddered when he turned up the vibration. He rubbed his hand up and down her naked back, gliding through the hot oil of her sunscreen.
