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A pretty young woman comes up beside me and sorts through the masks a little too casually. She picks one up and bites her lip, then turns to me. "Do you think this looks good on me?"
"Sure. Doesn't everyone look good in black?"
"Don't know." She drops the mask into the bin and pulls out another one, holding it up to my face. The girl grins. "You'd look super hot in this one. It's likePhantom of the Opera."
"So, I'd look hot dressed up as a psycho who lives in an underground cesspit."
"What's a cesspit?"
"No place anyone would want to go. It's kind of like a sewer."
She wrinkles her nose. "Ew. But I still think you'd look hot in this mask."
I push her hand away gently. "Thanks for the advice, but I don't need a mask."
Fortunately, two of her friends show up and whisk her away. Maybe Vanessa likes getting cozy with twenty-somethings, but I have no interest in that. I can't date someone who's younger than my adult children. James Bythesea might have married a much younger woman, but he can get away with that because he's British. I might've just invented that loophole, but I do know women love men who have British accents. My daughters do, anyway.
What about Vanessa? Maybe I should practice cultivating a British accent and see if that impresses her. Ahhh, I can smell the fetid odor of midlife desperation.
The nice young woman who manages the gift shop wanders past me, but she stops and turns back toward me. Her name tag identifies her as Mariel. "Do you need any help, sir?"
Like a lot of the employees at this resort, she speaks with an Australian or New Zealand accent. I have trouble telling the difference. It's kind of like American versus Canadian.
I'm about to say no to her question, but then I think of something. "Actually, you could solve a mystery for me."
"What is it?"
I hold up another mask. "Why do you sell so many of these?"
"We hold the occasional masquerade party. And, well..." She glances around furtively, then edges closer to me and whispers, "Some people like using the masks for, um, private enjoyment."
I can't help chuckling. "I catch your drift. Thanks for clearing that up."
Yeah, it was hard to misunderstand her drift after the way she looked around like she's an escaped felon. Some of the guests like to play sex games with masks. I wonder if Vanessa might like that.
Maybe it's time I found out.
Chapter Five
Vanessa
I spent most of the afternoon just trying to avoid my ex-husband. Craig kissed me. I should have told him not to do that, but instead, I closed my eyes and reveled in the kiss. It had been too long since the last time he pressed his mouth to mine and made me feel so warm and liquid, like I might fall into a puddle at his feet. Even before the divorce, we'd lost that spark---sexually and emotionally.
Maybe I felt a twinge of the old spark this afternoon. But we can't get back together. It's too late, and we're too old.
Craig doesn't look like a middle-aged father of three grown children. No, he could compete with the hottest young men on this island. More than compete. He blows them away with his mature sex appeal and impressive muscles.
I didn't know a man could look that good after fifty unless he's a movie star with a great plastic surgeon. Craig hasn't had cosmetic surgery. He definitely started working out more, though.
To distract myself from the Craig issue, I head over to the far side of the resort building where guests are playing a very strange game. It's called miniten, which I know because I read every word in my welcome packet. Miniten was invented by nudists way back when, and it's designed to be low impact. Nudists don't want their bits flapping.
I watch two pairs of guests hitting a tennis ball with a wedge-shaped wooden box that's apparently called a thug. The player shoves their hand into the thug, which has a handle bar inside it for the player to grip. If I'd thought pickle ball was weird---which I do---miniten blows that sport out of the park. By the time I've watched an entire game, I've decided I might want to participate in a match sometime during my stay. Not today, though. I've barely gotten settled in.
What time is it now? I have my phone in a little case that has a long strap, and I'd slung it over my shoulder. Now, I pull the phone out to check the time. It's five thirty. It's probably jet lag, but I'm already hungry. I can't eat now. That would put me in early-bird special territory, and I'm not that old yet.
I wander into the main building and head down to the game room, strictly to waste some time. Younger people are enjoying pinball, video games, foosball, air hockey, and mini bowling. This is an adults-only resort, but they offer kiddie games. I guess they just want everyone to have fun in any way they like.
A man throws up his hands as a pinball machine makes all sorts of noises that indicate the player won. He spins around, arms raised, and whoops.
