FOLLOW(3)
A van pulls up and I stop the introspection to observe. A van? Who in my family is arriving in an airport shuttle?
The side door slides open and two girls are inside. They are smiling and giggling. One is dark—in fact, she reminds me of that dismissed sub. But the other… I stop and catch my breath as she places one sandaled foot outside the vehicle and steps into the tropical sun. The driver doesn’t even get out to help them with their luggage, just accepts the payment and drives off as soon as the door closes.
The girls stare up at the resort and I duck a little, making sure they don’t spot me spying. “Vaughn,” I chastise myself. “Get a grip.”
They disappear inside and I’m left thinking about the girl with the blonde hair. She was pretty. Is she a guest for the party? I get out my cell and call the front desk. Javel picks up on the first ring.
“Who are those two women checking in?”
“Excuse me, ladies, I have to take this call,” he says. A few seconds later a door closes and he’s back. “I’m sorry, sir, they were on the approved list. They are…” He hesitates and I get a little annoyed at him making me wait.
“They’re who?” I prod.
“Honeymooners. I was told not to cancel the honeymooners.”
“OK, thank you.” I end the call.
Hmmm. I keep my eye on them.
I PASS the evening drinking alone in what I call the Crow’s Nest. It’s a small alcove separate from the upstairs bar that looks down onto the front of the resort. It’s almost midnight before I make it back to my house. I strip out of my clothes and dive into the pool. The crash of waves filters up from the beach that’s less than a hundred yards down a pebble-covered path.
I want to fuck someone so bad. I need to bend the will of a new submissive and I need to do that soon.
Chapter Four
#SurpriseMe
JUST so you understand, my hashtag brilliance doesn’t come quick and easy. It takes me some time to come up with just the right tweet. I completely understand that Mr. Asher’s time is valuable and that’s why I take such care in my composition.
@VaughnAsher My fantasy: The soft tropical breeze caressing my bare pussy right now is really your invisible tongue on my clit.
He played the Invisible Man in that last superhero movie, get it? I chuckle softly to myself as I sit at the resort bar. Bebe and I are on our fake honeymoon. It’s a long story, but she won this trip for two to Saint Thomas in a contest and since neither of us plan on getting married anytime soon, we came together.
Her new boyfriend Steve showed up last night as a surprise and since I’m not a bitch, I told her to go have fun with him. He should’ve been the one here with her anyway, but I’ve never been to the Caribbean, so Bebe took me instead.
Anyway, back to my tweet. I still have a few characters left and it kills me not to use them all, so I ponder it a little more as I swing my foot to the bar music. Saint Thomas is a fantastic place. The beaches are lined with spectacular white sand and the water is a color of blue that I just can’t describe. Our hotel is fabulous—way, way, way out of my price range—but since the contest was a honeymoon package, we have to share a bed. And now that her boyfriend Steve decided to join us, well, I’ll probably be sleeping on the beach tonight because the rattan couch on the bungalow patio has my back all in a crick.
Not that I care too much that Steve is here. It takes a lot to get me riled up. I’m the kind of girl who lets things go. Steve is OK and Bebe has always been so good to me, so a night on a tropical beach is hardly a sacrifice so they can share the room and have some real privacy in paradise.
“Another drink?” the bartender asks me as he strolls by to check on this end of the bar. There’s no one over here but me, so that’s sweet that he’s paying attention. Of course my bikini top is pretty small so maybe he’s just trying to cop a look at my girls?
“Yes, please,” I say as I continue to play around with my phone. “I want another martini, but this time”—I look up and bat my blue eyes at the dark, handsome man pouring drinks today—“surprise me.”
“How about I pick?” a rough, sexy voice asks over my shoulder. “Let the lady try the key lime pie.”
“Hmmm.” I hum to myself as I continue to rearrange today’s perfect dirty tweet so I get the hashtag in just the right place. “Thanks a bunch. But lime is not my thing, so”—I look up at the bartender who’s got his eyebrows raised to the ceiling as he waits for my response—“I’ll let you choose.” I give the hot bartender a flirty wink and he lets off a hearty laugh.