I'm not sure what made me pause and take a second look at the wavy blond-haired man sitting in the booth in front of me. I just felt the urge. That little personality flaw of mine, always taking things a step too far, has put me in more embarrassing positions than I care to admit.
I was sitting in an international airport waiting for a flight to London. How many people passed through here everyday and I thought I knew the man in the booth in front of me. How rare is that? Over an espresso and the Wall Street Journal I would glance up every now and then. How many curly heads, viewed from the back no less, could possibly be familiar? More than one, unfortunately. I glanced at the back of his tanned neck, a somewhat thick neck with a light strip of skin just below the hairline, like his hair had been newly trimmed and the sun hadn't quite browned him. It bothered me. I wanted to ask if he needed sun screen or maybe a hat. Anything to make conversation or get him to turn around. With a mental shrug I continued on with my morning paper, trying to bury myself in some serious-minded article or stock quotes. It was no use. That curly blond head reminded me of someone.
It was spring break, seven years ago. I was a Junior in college at Syracuse. He was a Senior at Syracuse. A few times a week I would pass him by in the student union and drool. He was so ruggedly handsome. He was always surrounded by the silliest group of coeds, all dubious sorority sisters. I was no skank but he never seemed to notice me. Why would he? He had the pick of the best of the best. It didn't really bother me much. Besides, I was seeing someone. Honestly, I only fantasized about Scott. Tall, broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped, he oozed sex. He also had this endearing little dimple in one of his cheeks; absolutely melted me when he smiled. More than once I would catch myself studying the way his faded button-fly 501's skimmed his thighs. Was he really packaged that nicely or was it the clothes? It didn't matter. He was only a fantasy. That's what I told myself.
But every once in a great while, usually when I felt things weren't going well with my ongoing relationship, my fantasies would become bolder, almost desperate. I wondered how Scott would react if I threw myself at him. Would he just dodge aside with those slim and sexy hips and leave me nose-down on the floor?
Spring Break at Daytona Beach was always a wild ride. My girlfriends and I hadn't missed a year since our senior year in high school when our parents unwittingly let us take off on what was the beginning of a very hedonistic tradition for us. We had a pact. Our pact was to have the wildest, craziest week we could manage, all in the name of fun, before we buckled down to finish out the rest of the year away at school. It was our reward for keeping up our GPA. The week was always filled with all-night parties, dancing naked on balconies, flashing any and all guys we ran across, just for the wolf whistles and grabs. It was crazy. We were crazy. A varying diet of liquor and not enough food kept us from becoming too concerned about how we appeared. Everyone was riding the same boat. It was a time none of us would ever forget.
Tammy, my best friend since third grade, always managed to get laid first. She was a scream. She was very open and never shied away from sex in the oddest places. We had hardly settled into our room when she ran into some hard-body sophomore from NCU who happened to be passing by our room at the exact moment Tammy declared the holiday had officially started. We all watched as she propositioned the guy, telling him she would fuck him for the beer he was carrying. She had one condition, though: He had to do it with her on the fourth floor balcony with all of us watching! Did he turn her down? Hell no. It was Spring Break, sort of like a free love Woodstock of the 90s. All six of us staying in that room, not to mention about forty people partying around the pool, got a show they weren't soon to forget. That was Tammy. She always put me in the mood to make mischief.
That's what started that fateful day. Management threw us out of the hotel, right on our asses. We had no place to stay except my old 87 Pathfinder. That wouldn't do. All six of us, one or more of us drunk at one time or another, had to come up with a plan. Leave it to Tammy to think of something.
We had parked my truck and started to walk the beach. Halfheartedly we tried to come up with a plan, anything to get a place to sleep. There was no chance of finding a hotel room anymore, everything was booked solid. We didn't have the money to afford a condo or private home and staying a hundred miles away in some small town wasn't an option. That's when Tammy stopped me in mid-hip-swing with a forearm across my belly. "Look at that." I followed Tammy's eyes and nodded.
"Yeah, cool, but how in the hell can we afford that?" I asked her.
"Money is not necessary."
"What's that supposed to mean?" But I was beginning to understand. This was coming from Tammy, my sex-hungry best friend. My eyes focused on the group of sun-bronzed gods guzzling Corona and rocking to Metallica.
Leave it to Tammy to think of something. "Follow me," she said, tugging at her bikini bottoms.
"Hold on," I said, gathering more courage from the Big Gulp of a poor college students idea of a screwdriver, orange soda and vodka, heavy on the vodka. I shrugged and followed Tammy's lead, the others not far behind. My inhibitions had slipped away after the first liter of screwdrivers. I was well into my second Big Gulp by then.
All six of us sashayed up to the nicest beach cabin for miles. There might have been enough fabric between all of us to make one size 8 t-shirt. Heads turned as we stepped over a passed out redhead, a few blow up dolls and a couple of studs in Speedo bathing suits intent on oiling themselves to a sheen and frying. My eyes, and I'm fairly positive all the eyes of my friends, were on the group of six hunks partying around the stocked bar. And wouldn't you know it, Scott was standing second from the right, eyeing me from behind his upturned Corona.
"Hey, what's up?" Tammy flirted. "I was wondering if we could, like, borrow some ice?"
"Sure," one of the guys said. "Help yourself. The ice chest is right back here."
"Thanks. Oh, my name is Tammy and these are my friends." She smiled, daintily stepping over his leg to open the ice chest. I smirked when Tammy leaned over to open the ice chest on the ground without even bending her knees. She was good. She also had all their attention.
"Ronni, come here. You're the one who was so hot." I blushed a little and smiled, stepping over to Tammy, almost afraid of what she was going to do next.
Tammy turned around, an ice cube in both hands. "Here, hold still." She started to rub the ice cubes on my neck. I was a little shocked at first but decided to follow along. I arched my neck back and groaned. "Oh, yes. That feels much better."
Tammy smiled, turning to the guys with another sweet request. "Excuse me, could you hand me another ice cube? She is so hot, look how fast the ice is melting." Tammy was working it. She rubbed lower with the ice, the sliver now disappearing between my wet cleavage. My cleavage wasn't overdone, but it helped when I squeezed my arms closer together against my sides, something I was doing at the time. Tammy giggled as the chip of ice disappeared beneath the string of my bikini. "Thank you." She reached for the offered ice cube and continued to rub me down. At the time I was wearing a baby blue string bikini, the kind where the tops were little triangles slid onto a string. Tammy was now sliding the little triangles farther apart on the string, giving a really great view of my breasts.
"It's such a shame. She could get heat stroke or something." I moaned again on cue. "Could you help me please?" Tammy quirked one eyebrow behind her glasses. "I think someone should do her back."
Scott was the first to offer his services. Before I could say "more, please" he was coating my lower back with melting ice. He lifted my curtain of straight dark blonde hair away from my shoulders and rubbed with the slivers of ice. "Did something happen to you guys?" Scott asked, just a little concern in his voice.
"We were kicked out of our hotel room and we have been forced to walk the beach all day, for hours really, and we just can't find anything available. We're desperate." Tammy answered. The other girls nodded their heads in agreement. I noticed from the corner of my eye that two of them were being handed drinks by the guys. "I mean, we are really at the end of our ropes. Ronni could have like, permanent damage or something. That old manager at the hotel just didn't care."
"I think we caught it, whatever it was, in time. She seems just fine," Scott replied, a cold hand stroking the back of my thigh. "So, you girls have no place to stay?"
Tammy nodded, taking an offered beer. "Thank you." She rubbed the remainder of an ice chip on my lips. My tongue slurped it up thirstily. Maybe I should consider changing my major from marketing to theater.
I felt an arm slide around my waist and guide me towards the pool. "Why don't you just rest here a minute. Let me get you something to drink." It was Scott. I stared up into his blue eyes dreamily, hoping he didn't recognize me behind my sunglasses.
.... There is more of this story ...