Eternity (6 page)

Helping me out of my robe I’m guessing she is going to do my treatment, “you take off this” she instructs marking out my bikini top on her own front, “and lie here, Juan will come soon” she explains in broken English, with a nod she politely exits.

Juan!? So my masseur is a man, I have never been massaged by a man, not even Jake, he was never into ‘all that lovey dovey stuff’. This will be an experience to say the least.

Obediently I remove my top and drape it onto the back of the chair in the corner where my robe now lies and lay down on the bed and wait.

Presently there is a light tap on the door “um….hello?” I reply to it.

“Are you ready” purrs a deep male voice.

“Yes” I squeak back, suddenly feeling a mix of excitement and nerves.

The door eases open and he steps in, his arms a golden brown, contrasting perfectly with the white short sleeves of his tunic, which are incidentally straining at the seems to contain his biceps.

I don’t even bother looking at his face, with hands and arms like that, who really cares about the face!

“OK, my name ays Juan” his accent deliciously playing with his words.

His pause makes me answer “Hi, I’m Kate”.

“So Kate” he says as if he is exploring the sensation of my name on his tongue, “Today we d
o
massag
e
of full body, you tell me with they pressure, yes?” I vaguely get what he’s on about, but he could really say anything to me in that accent, in that deep velvet voice and my reaction will be the same – “Hmmm”.

He folds the towel carefully down covering my behind, but exposing my upper body, his fingers lightly brushing my naked body as he does it, sending tingles down my spine.

Walking round the bed so he is stood in front of my head I’m taken with an overwhelming desire to adjust my head so I can check out what he’s packing, if you know what I mean! But as he bends down to sprinkle some sweet smelling oil over my back it occurs to me that this manoeuvre could end up with me head-butting him right in the crotch. A giggle escapes my lips, which as I feel him momentarily stop sprinkling I quickly turn into a cough. Graciously he does not mention it, I’m guessing he must get this kind of behaviour a lot, at least I hope it’s not just me. Kate you are such a child I scold myself, mentally straightening out and re-setting my face into a more serious pose.

His hands are warm as they firmly take hold of my shoulders, his thumbs running circles from front to back, this is so…sensuous.

“They pressure?” he questions.

“Hmmm” I reply appreciatively, I could take it harder, but I don’t want to say anything and offend his expertise. Anyway, to give him his dues, it feels amazing.

I don’t know what it is, I’ve had massages before, but none have made me react this way. Is it really just because he is male, or is he more skilled? Is this how they are meant to feel, gender aside?

As he leans down running his thumbs down the length of my spine, his hands are surprisingly soft, I find myself, without even thinking, raising my body in an arch that follows the path of his fingers.

As he pushes down first the left then the right side of my body I ever so slightly ease each shoulder back to accommodate him and silently will his fingers to take full advantage of me.

He is, frustratingly, ever the professional, but as he gently raises the towel to cover my back and moves down to my legs I’m all but writhing beneath him again.

He starts at my feet, I’ve never been a fan of people touching my feet; I’m far too ticklish, but his firm grasp and slow movements instantly dissolve my tensions and quite frankly turn me on.

He gradually works his way up, past my ankles, onto my calves; as his fingers slide past my knees I feel that familiar fluttering in my groin. It’s been so long since I’ve been touched like this, in my everyday life it was just another factor amiss, glazed over and put aside in view of more important responsibilities.

But here and now, in this room, with its soft sensual lighting and exotic ambiance, with this taught young man pushing his fingers up my thighs, tantalisingly close, skimming over the line of my bikini bottoms before retreating back down, it’s an all too real, sexual torture.

I’m longing for his touch, for him to lift me off the bed and ravish me, right here, right now. As I part my legs a little wider, I’m thinking what more can I do to make this invite more obvious? I tentatively let out a small moan hoping to let him know my intentions, but he just keeps working away, unknowingly teasing me infuriatingly.

All too soon it’s over. I am relaxed yes, but satisfied no. “There’s Miss Kate, you rest, then you dress when you ready. Take all ze time you want” he whispers as he bows out of the room, leaving me all charged up with no one to fuck.

Oh well, in the sex department I am used to being left disappointed. All in all I would do that a thousand times more, over even the best of Jake's efforts.

The facial is non-eventful; one of the female staff does it, along with a head massage in the process. I wonder how I would have felt if this too was done by a man, I’m not sure being stroked in the face is quite so erotic mind.

Its around 19.00 when I finally leave the spa, the sun is low, casting shades of pink, orange, yellow and purple across the darkening sky as if by some aspiring artist using bold brushstrokes across the horizon.

Acting like a horny teenager has really taken it out of me, so I lug my heavy limbs back to my room, for room service, then bed.

Climbing the stone stairs I can see something at the top, reaching my door there is a pristine white box with a flourish of blue and white flowers, almost like a corsage, attached to the lid of the box by some unseen force.

I’m confused! I twirl round expecting the perpetrator to be standing behind me, hopefully with an explanation.

I instinctively give the box a little shake, trying to fathom its contents as well as its origin; Hold on, this isn’t Christmas, I am perfectly within my rights to open my mystery gift, besides the suspense is killing me.

Rushing into my room, giving the heavy wooden door a good push to swing shut behind me, I skip over and leap onto my plush, bouncy bed. Placing the box down carefully in front of me my hands are actually shaking, I love presents. Gently slipping the lid off I’m met with a sea of pale blue tissue paper, one by one I lift each layer out. What I eventually reveal is……….My sandals. Oh what a let down, the staff must have noticed me leave them and delivered them back. They always go the extra mile here; in the UK they would be chucked in a lost and found box, or even just thrown away, but not Mexico. Mexico delivers them back to your door in an exquisite package.

Lifting them out to haphazardly throw them in the direction of my still unpacked suitcase, I catch a glimpse of a gold shine in the bottom of the box, reaching in I pull out a piece of hard white card with a golden boarder of intricate leaves and vines. In black ink, with impeccable looping hand writing, it holds a note -

‘Senorita,

you left your shoes behind by the pool today, I hope it was not on account of me scaring you off. I would be honoured if you would allow me to take you to dinner as way of an apology?

Sincerely Carlos (Room 442)’

Oh my! My hands are shaking and my breathing is suddenly shallow and rapid, it can’t be, it just can’t. The Adonis wants to take me to dinner?? Searching back through my memory I scour the image to see if I remember anyone else around who may have reason to send this; but no, the area was all but deserted and he is certainly the only person I had any kind of exchange with, other than the bar staff, but the note would not make sense coming from them.

Oh Jesus, it’s got to be him. My heart is going 100 miles an hour, what am I supposed to do? I desperately want to ring Caz, she would know in an instance what to do. It’s still early so I could, it will be expensive, but hell I’ve got the money, sod it, I’m calling her!

“Hello?” Caz’s voice is questioning.

“Hi it’s me” I reply cheerily oblivious.

“KATE! What’s happening how is it? Is it hot? Why are you ringing so late?” I’m bombarded with questions.

“Late? It’s only Seven?”

“Seven? Maybe there but it’s gone midnight here!” she laughs back at my obvious mistake.

“Oh Caz I’m sorry, I completely forgot about the time difference, I just called because I need some advice” 

“Advice? That sounds ominous” her voice taking on a serious quality.

“Not ominous per say…” I explain my predicament carefully leaving no small detail unsaid.

“My, my, you have been busy” she starts “but I fail to see the issue here?” she states as if it’s so straight forward.

“Fail to see the issue?” I snort “the issue is he is way out of my league for a start, not to mention I haven’t dated in ten years so I wouldn’t even know what to do. It kind of feels like I’m cheating, I am still technically married, and what if he wants, you know…sex” I almost whisper the last part.

“For God’s sake Kate! It’s nothing like cheating, we both know you and Jake are over, it’s always going to be weird moving on at first, but what better way to do it than with a hot holiday romance? And as for the ‘sex’ bit” she whispers it back mocking me, “don’t be so ridiculous, I’ve seen you in a bikini and you rock it, everything is still where it’s supposed to be, not ravished by child bearing stretch marks like me. I would give anything to have your body, seriously you have nothing to worry about in that department.” She is so blunt, I just wish I had her confidence.

“But what if it’s changed, you know, I’ve only been with Jake for so long and he wasn’t exactly the most adventurous type. Even if I could get over the thought of the Adonis seeing me naked, then what?” I’m starting to sound pathetic and whiny I can hear it in my voice.

“No one is even saying you have to have sex with him, why not just go on the date and see how it goes? Maybe after a few Mojitos you’ll feel differently and if not then just make your excuses and go.” Caz cuts in, compromising.

“I guess” I say slowly coming round.

“Look I’ve got to go, it’s late and I need my beauty sleep, but promise to call me and let me know all the details though yeah?” I guess this is all the advice I’m going to get out of her tonight.

“Yeah, I promise”. We say our goodbyes and I’m left holding the embossed card going over possible scenarios in my head. Caz is right of course, I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to, it’s just dinner, I can have dinner no problem. Dinner with a stunning, toned, bronzed, unattainable man. How could that possibly end badly?

With shaking hands I take a deep breath and pick up the phone again, dialling for reception “Please connect me to Room 442”.

There is a pause before the receptionist speaks and I can hear the questioning in her voice as she courteously obliges and connects me through. After a couple of rings I suddenly chicken out, what am I doing? I can’t do this, it’s too soon, I’m not ready to date let alone anything else. I slam the receiver back down just as I hear him answer. Shit that was close, but I’m doing the right thing, yes it’s true, I am at best a 6 and he is a 10, no scratch that, he is a 20! But that doesn’t mean I have to go there. It would just be a waste of time anyway, there is no way he likes me, he was probably just drunk at the time, so thought I looked better than I do, yeah that was probably it, he won’t even recognise me if I bump into him again. Oh man, what if I bump into him again? This whole thing is just too awkward!

A sharp ring snaps me out of my thoughts, the phone, no it can’t be.

“Hello?” I try hard to sound carefree

“Hey, this is Carlos, I just had a call from your room, Mrs. Mavers right?” now that’s how you sound carefree.

“Umm…yes…sorry I…I err…thought you weren’t in” a grasp for a plausible explanation as to why I slammed the phone down on him.

“Oh, that’s OK, I was hoping you were calling about dinner” if he realises I changed my mind mid-call he is not letting on.

“Well, yes I was as it goes” regaining a little of my composure, “and it
s
M
s
Mavers….Kaitlin” why did I say that? Being married would have been the perfect get out clause if this dinner gets too steamy.

“I am sorry
,
M
s
Mavers….Kaitlin, you have a beautiful name” the glee in his voice is palpable. “It is maybe a little late for tonight, plus I have some business to attend to, but are you free tomorrow? I could pick you up from your room at Seven?” His accent is addictive, but I can’t quite place it; his English is perfect, the pronunciation spot on, but there is a certain twang to it that suggests it may not be his first language.

“Seven, yes that should be fine, I guess I’ll see you then.” At this stage I am coming across a little too formal, stern even.

“Until then, buenos noches Senorita” I just melt on the spot, replacing the receiver I bring my knees up and hug them the school girl grin plastered across my face, he is sooo dreamy!

Routing through my suitcase, I know I put them in here somewhere, throwing aside various clothes in search of my shorts and t-shirt. I had originally packed them to wear as pyjamas, but needs must; if I am having this dinner tonight, I’m going to have to go to the gym first. I know realistically even if I am in there all day it won’t make any immediate difference, but I’m hoping that the thought at least will boost my confidence a little.