Gina always wondered why people brought their children with them to resorts. She thought family vacations, especially those with stressful young children and whiny teens, were such a colossal waste of money. Why fly across the world to a beautiful island and pay extra to bring your problems with you?
She stared pitifully as she watched a woman by the pool glance up from her book for the umpteenth time to check that her toddler hadn’t fallen in. She was clearly not relaxed. The child, who was still young enough to enjoy playing in a cardboard box, would not remember this expensive trip in two weeks, let alone five years. The teenage daughter had been glued to her cellphone since they checked in yesterday, and only ever looked up for food or to find selfie lighting.
The only person who seemed to be making use of the trip was the lazy husband who trailed them around the property like a well-fed cat. He seemingly only needed about 30 seconds without interaction to take a nap wherever he was. But if he could sleep as peacefully in the heat as he was doing now, that man could sleep literally anywhere, so what was the point?
“Hola mis amigos!” Gina said cheerfully as she sashayed over to the family. “¿Cómo están? Can I get you anything… ah… comer or… beber?”
The wife grinned widely at Gina’s rusty Spanish and dramatic hand gestures and finally gave up on trying to read ‘The Story of a Brief Marriage’. Woah there buddy, you might not wanna sleep too deeply next to this one, Gina thought.
“Thenk you. It’s OK. We spik English, my husbant en me…,” she said before ordering drinks and a pizza in her heavily accented Spanglish.
Gina whispered a quiet ‘thank God’ under her breath. She had embellished her foreign language competencies by more than a little on her CV to get this job. Thankfully though, so far all the Spanish and French guests knew enough English to get around, and she knew just enough Spanish from social cues and watching Jane the Virgin to put on a show for her manager, who was walking by the pool.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket as she walked over to the bar and put in la familia’s order. She popped it out and opened the chat.
“Come now,” it said.
Her heart skipped a beat. She instinctually glanced up in the direction of the room, but could see no one. The balcony door was left ajar and the white curtains billowed in the wind as if to hypnotise her with a ‘come hither’ chant. She felt her throat tighten. Her fingers couldn’t type ‘coming up’ fast enough.
Gina strut brusquely across the terrace towards the lift. All eyes were on her and she knew it. Her make-up and hair were flawless, and the clicks of her stilettoes commanded the attention of every grounds man and guest within a hundred-metre radius. She held their gaze and smiled sweetly as she passed them. They were all entranced. It felt like an eternity to her.
She had been thinking about him all day. It was hard to believe that it had just been twelve hours since she had been with him last. She never knew exactly how she felt when she was around him, she thought. Was that what kept her coming back? She was all the things with him that she fought hard not to be to the world. Silly. Girly. Soft. His presence was so overwhelming that the very thought of him made her nervous. His searching eyes and heavy hands had seen and done so much more than she could ever hope to do. He was much older, much wiser than her, but he was still so very gentle and passionate in how he fed her mind and worshipped her body. It was exhilarating.
Her thighs were throbbing by the time she got to the third floor. She slipped into room 109, swilled around some of the Hotel’s diluted Listerine in her mouth, checked her underwear, and slipped back out.
The ‘Do not disturb’ tag swayed invitingly on the door of Room 112. She looked down both ends of the corridor before ducking inside and closing the door. The lights were low. He grabbed her waist from behind and nibbled on her right ear.
“Don’t mess up my hair this time, and I’ll try not to mess up your shirt with my face,” Gina giggled, turning to look up into his neck. “I don’t want us to get into any trouble.”
He brushed a hand lightly over her tight ponytail before turning her around and slowly starting to undo the buttons on her bandana top.
“Oh but Regina Daley, you are trouble,” he rasped he knelt before her. “You are nothing but trouble,”