life.”
Gage
pulled his hands from the water, wetting his face. He eyed her for a bit, imagining the image of
their mutual electricity rebounding in sharp bolts between them.
“Happier
now?” she asked.
“Only
if you’ve told me the truth.”
“Starting
seven or eight years ago, I could have made my life much easier by selling
myself.” Her face was stony, showing the
type of tension he’d not yet seen from her. “But I have never done that. I
don’t judge those who do but, for me, that’s never going to be option. And that is the truth.”
Gage
found her hand under water, clasping it. “If I can support you, would you be willing to stay with me for a
while?”
“I
don’t mind earning my way.”
“I
didn’t say you couldn’t work. But, for
now, until you find something, will you let me help you?”
“You
mean this?”
“It
would make me happy.”
Justina
leapt to him, again locking her legs around him and kissing him. It was an emphatic, and pleasant, answer.
* * *
Swimming
in the ocean just a short distance away was Xavier Zambrano. He’d actually taken notice of the nearby
couple, recognizing the tall, wholesome blonde from somewhere, but unable to
make the connection. Her friend, a
rugged looking hombre with a few curious scars, was well-built and probably
about Xavier’s age. There was something
cold and knowing about the man and Xavier noticed him looking over more than
once, measuring him. Xavier instantly hated
him, half tempted to walk up to his own towel and retrieve his pistol. He could conceal the pistol with the towel,
walk back down and gun the muscled asshole down right here in the surf.
But
even Xavier had good sense. He was soon
distracted by a clutch of topless post-teens frolicking in the waves. Eavesdropping on their conversation, Xavier
learned that they were from the Netherlands. After his first swim, he boldly approached the young ladies and invited
them to his villa for drinks after sunset. Surpassing his boldness, one of the young women asked him if he might
have any cocaine at his villa.
“And
if I do?”
“I’ll
be your slave,” the woman answered, giggling but gnawing on her lower lip as
she eyed him hungrily.
Xavier
explained where they should rendezvous at the prescribed time. “My associate will meet you there and bring
you to my villa.”
“We
can just walk,” another of the young women said.
“I
won’t hear of it,” he replied, winking before walking back to the water,
feeling their eyes undressing him as he descended the mild slope of sand.
This
was his second day at the sea. Terminally
bored with his past two months in Barcelona, and being a man who liked to roam,
Xavier had come north to Lloret, a seedy resort in the eyes of many Europeans,
but a place where someone like Xavier could find innumerable distractions of
the female variety—especially of the type who enjoyed some of his more peculiar
proclivities.
He
used a powerful free-style stroke to swim to the orange buoy that existed a
kilometer out to sea. The chop was
significant, making his progress difficult at times. Xavier welcomed it. A strong swimmer, he preferred to be in the
water year-round, always swimming outside despite the cold. It was but another mark of his manhood.
After
rounding the buoy, he found that the return stroke was a bit easier, making the
swim back to the beach pass more quickly. He paused at the sandbar on his way back, and that’s when he noticed the
couple again. After appraising the tall
blonde, he focused on her rugged date, cursing him by muttering the derogatory
insult, “ Gilipolas .”
Xavier
completed his swim and exited the water, his muscles expanded by the spread of
blood through their fibers. The group of
Netherlanders were still sunning, all but one lying flat on their towels. The only one sitting up was the one who’d
asked about cocaine. She’d
Gage
pulled his hands from the water, wetting his face. He eyed her for a bit, imagining the image of
their mutual electricity rebounding in sharp bolts between them.
“Happier
now?” she asked.
“Only
if you’ve told me the truth.”
“Starting
seven or eight years ago, I could have made my life much easier by selling
myself.” Her face was stony, showing the
type of tension he’d not yet seen from her. “But I have never done that. I
don’t judge those who do but, for me, that’s never going to be option. And that is the truth.”
Gage
found her hand under water, clasping it. “If I can support you, would you be willing to stay with me for a
while?”
“I
don’t mind earning my way.”
“I
didn’t say you couldn’t work. But, for
now, until you find something, will you let me help you?”
“You
mean this?”
“It
would make me happy.”
Justina
leapt to him, again locking her legs around him and kissing him. It was an emphatic, and pleasant, answer.
* * *
Swimming
in the ocean just a short distance away was Xavier Zambrano. He’d actually taken notice of the nearby
couple, recognizing the tall, wholesome blonde from somewhere, but unable to
make the connection. Her friend, a
rugged looking hombre with a few curious scars, was well-built and probably
about Xavier’s age. There was something
cold and knowing about the man and Xavier noticed him looking over more than
once, measuring him. Xavier instantly hated
him, half tempted to walk up to his own towel and retrieve his pistol. He could conceal the pistol with the towel,
walk back down and gun the muscled asshole down right here in the surf.
But
even Xavier had good sense. He was soon
distracted by a clutch of topless post-teens frolicking in the waves. Eavesdropping on their conversation, Xavier
learned that they were from the Netherlands. After his first swim, he boldly approached the young ladies and invited
them to his villa for drinks after sunset. Surpassing his boldness, one of the young women asked him if he might
have any cocaine at his villa.
“And
if I do?”
“I’ll
be your slave,” the woman answered, giggling but gnawing on her lower lip as
she eyed him hungrily.
Xavier
explained where they should rendezvous at the prescribed time. “My associate will meet you there and bring
you to my villa.”
“We
can just walk,” another of the young women said.
“I
won’t hear of it,” he replied, winking before walking back to the water,
feeling their eyes undressing him as he descended the mild slope of sand.
This
was his second day at the sea. Terminally
bored with his past two months in Barcelona, and being a man who liked to roam,
Xavier had come north to Lloret, a seedy resort in the eyes of many Europeans,
but a place where someone like Xavier could find innumerable distractions of
the female variety—especially of the type who enjoyed some of his more peculiar
proclivities.
He
used a powerful free-style stroke to swim to the orange buoy that existed a
kilometer out to sea. The chop was
significant, making his progress difficult at times. Xavier welcomed it. A strong swimmer, he preferred to be in the
water year-round, always swimming outside despite the cold. It was but another mark of his manhood.
After
rounding the buoy, he found that the return stroke was a bit easier, making the
swim back to the beach pass more quickly. He paused at the sandbar on his way back, and that’s when he noticed the
couple again. After appraising the tall
blonde, he focused on her rugged date, cursing him by muttering the derogatory
insult, “ Gilipolas .”
Xavier
completed his swim and exited the water, his muscles expanded by the spread of
blood through their fibers. The group of
Netherlanders were still sunning, all but one lying flat on their towels. The only one sitting up was the one who’d
asked about cocaine. She’d
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