The ride was short, and not before long, Santiago deposited us at our intended destination where a crew greeted us. Juan was warm as he fluidly greeted and instructed them in Spanish. I nodded and said "hello" when he introduced me.
When they scattered to work at whatever designated chore they were doing before we arrived, I followed Juan as he guided us towards the middle deck. We had to climb a short flight of lacquered stairs that glistened under the sun to reach the next level, where the comfortable looking chairs, loungers, a full stock bar, a breakfast nook were all at our disposal.
"Where'd you find this massive floating palace?" I finally asked as I situated my butt in one of the white leather cushioned loungers.
This was luxury at its finest. I couldn't fault Juan for wanting to spend his afternoon in one of these.
While I sat, Juan strode towards the table where champagne in a silver bucket nestled in ice. It also came with different array of fruits, tapas, cheeses, breads, and a selection of desserts.
"My uncle owns it. He lets me borrow his toy during the summer months. It was mooring in Mallorca, but I had it sailed to this island yesterday." He plucked the champagne out of its bed of ice then swiftly took a knife, popping the cork out of its hold. The contents fizzled out of its neck before he poured the golden liquid into two flutes. He then strode across to where I sat and handed me one.
Juan downed his drink with a swift gulp. I watched, quite amazed, as his Adam's apple bobbed up and down. And while I was at it, I couldn't help but admire his strong neck muscles.
Then I paused as horror filled me. Neck muscles? Are you out of your fucking mind, Cara?
It was probably the heat. It had to be.
Shaking the nonsense out of my head, I drank half of my champagne before I diverted my attention to simpler things, towards the aquamarine sea. The view was serene as I tried to clear my thoughts from all the garbage it had been spewing for the past couple of minutes.
Yes, there was no doubt Juan Torres was drop dead gorgeous, but that was all there was to it! He could be disarming at times, and yes, I admit there were moments where his smile and that deep laugh made my stomach somersault, but that didn't mean a damn thing. Anyone with eyes could appreciate perfection, and sadly, Juan came close to being such. Though I prayed soon I'd find out things about him that wouldn't make me hold him in such high esteem.
Taking the seat opposing me, Juan pulled the script out of his pocket and slammed it down next to him. "Are you ready, Andy Fuller?" he drawled in his cute, accented tone.
With the breeze softly teasing my hair and a chilled champagne in my hand, I was ready as I would ever be.
While we read through the first scene, we began counting how many sex scenes we'd have to orchestrate. There were to be seven full nude scenes and three minor ones that indicated a hot and heavy make-out session in the back alley.
Seven.
Seven times I'd have to strip bare.
That sent shivers down my spine as I tried to avoid Juan's dark, heated gaze. Apparently, the Spanish man found it amusing. He didn't mind nudity since he claimed he'd already done a few scenes in his previous films. River would be furiously appalled if he ever found out.
We ran lines for about an hour before he declared a quick break. While I rested my mind, I fed my belly with the selection of food on the table. Juan, on the other hand, had different ideas.
He stripped down to his black athletic swim shorts, leaving his clothes on the deck, before he went to the side of the boat. His sculpted backside beckoned my eyes, and I couldn't waiver from the muscly display. And before I could ask him what he intended to do, the man dove as if it was the most normal thing to do.
What the hell? Should I check on him or should I stay put? After a minute of arguing with myself, the latter won out.
I sat idly by, eating and drinking while I waited for him to emerge.
Juan resurfaced on the deck about an hour later, dripping wet and famished from his little jaunt.
We carried on until six in the evening. One hour work. One hour play. So, in total, we accomplished about three hours of working and the rest was spent eating and lounging while he swam to his heart's content.
By the night's end, Juan insisted that we eat onboard. He introduced me to new dishes and a hefty load of freshly made churros. The sweet, crunchy dessert was something I couldn't resist. Pair that with excellent champagne, and the combination was divine.
It was midnight when I returned back to my room. Exhausted and slightly inebriated, I figured I'd call my friends and River tomorrow when I got a chance.