Chapter 2

“Mis ish demishness.”

Matt meant “This is delicious,” but it was hard to make out words when his mouth was so full of food. Karen’s smile at once warmed him but also reminded me of his manners. Still, he could hardly be blamed. It was the best food he’d ever tasted. They’d eaten so much, and he was still hungry.

It was a cool evening. A slight wind drifted up and into the little villa. Matt and Anna were sitting on a comfortable bench attached to the villa wall, across from Jack and Karen, who were in chairs. And between them was a full table of food. The third course.

It was a full end to a full day. Matt and Anna had followed Karen’s earlier suggestions word-for-word. After the tea, Karen had made a smoothie for both of them (his was peach flavored) and sent them to the workout space downstairs. It was a good idea. Though they enjoyed working out together back home, they rarely had the time to be regular about it. It was good to exercise together again.

Maybe it was the lack of work stress or the time change or the island air, but Matt felt like he could exercise for hours. Usually, Matt petered out after about 30 to 40 minutes.

It helped that Anna looked so damn good today. He liked watching her breasts bounce happily on the treadmill as she jogged. And her ass looked amazing. Anna had never worn yoga pants before, it wasn’t her style. But they’d had to borrow some workout clothes from Karen and Jack’s closet that Karen had brought over from their apartment. At first, Matt declined because it felt odd to borrow and sweat in such what looked like expensive workout clothing. But Karen insisted and sent them off. “Nonsense. You’ll wear them of course. They’re yours now. We can always buy more. They’re just clothes,” she said with a shrug, returning through the hall door.

After working out, Anna and Matt went back upstairs and jumped in the shower together. Matt was so wound up from watching Anna bounce and stretch and bend over that he immediately moved on her, kissing her briefly to at least give the appearance of foreplay. His lips followed the trail of falling water down Anna’s hair, her neck, her cleavage, to her belly button, and finally, to his ultimate goal: her pussy. He realized he’d been trying to cop glances of her pussy the whole workout. Lines of water gathered just where her pussy lips met at the bottom, then joined in the little curls of pussy hair like a kiss, then dripped down to the floor, glistening in the beach sun shining in from a window.

But the second he knelt on the tiled floor and moved towards Anna, the door to the apartment unlocked and swung open. It was Lydia, the housekeeper, toting her cleaning gear. Matt suddenly became aware of the transparent glass walls of the bathroom and shower and he stood, nervously looking for a way to quickly cover up.

Matt noticed that Anna didn’t seem to mind, and she “awww-ed,” disappointed. “I wanted you to dig in there,” she said, cupping his hard-on. Matt smiled, cringed more like, then quickly finished washing in the shower, stepping around Anna, and then stepping out. Lydia had looked away politely and was paying no mind.

They dried off and put on some clothes of their own on, t-shirts and jeans. They were about to walk out for the shopping district when Lydia stopped them.

“You are eating with Ms. Karen and Jack tonight?” she asked, her voice thick with local island accent.

“Yes, we are,” answered Anna, as Lydia walked towards them from the kitchen.

Lydia tsk-ed. “You might be able to get around town like that,” she said, looking them over, “But you should not eat dinner with them in jeans and a t-shirt. If I may.”

Uh oh, thought Matt. There was no way they could afford the kind of clothes needed to impress Karen, or, presumably, Jack. But Lydia waved it off, interrupting his thought. “You go. I will set out some clothes out for you, don’t you worry.”

Lydia smiled a big smile and went back to work.

“Thank you Lydia,” said Anna, smiling back.

The shopping turned out to be window shopping. After asking about a price for the sixth time, Anna and Matt realized that no price tags meant they couldn’t afford it. Which was every store.

Matt felt a little out of place. Ok, if he was honest, he felt a lot out of place. Lydia had clearly been polite; Matt and Anna barely passed muster. And it wasn’t just their clothes. Everyone else, tourists especially, tended to be either older, or wealthier, younger, and most certainly classier, and usually a combination of all of the above. Their clothes were different, their mannerisms different; all of it was more refined; everything about them indicating to Matt that he wasn’t one of them.

Anna noticed a few celebrities in some of the stores. An actor in one store, a model in another, a famous architect in yet another store, a renowned performance artist eating one of the local ice treats, a Congressperson sipping an espresso at a cafe table.

Even though Matt was enjoying the walk and the weather, and being with Anna, he couldn’t shake the feeling of not-belonging.

It also didn’t help that Matt couldn’t focus on the shopping itself. His eyes kept drifting to Anna, and specifically to her crotch, the way her jeans came together, tightly, in a V. He found himself imagining her jeans getting even tighter, tight enough that it would indent the soft lines of her pussy lips, and he could stare more. She would be turning over a piece of clothing or looking at a piece of art, and Matt would be a few feet away staring.

Anna frequently caught him, which she’d return with a big smile and then look down at his crotch. It became a thing. He looks at her pussy, she looks at his cock.

They could not keep their eyes off each others’ torsos.

But it wasn’t just Anna that captured his gaze. If she was in another corner of a store, or in the bathroom, or in a dressing room trying on an outfit they could never afford, Matt couldn’t stop looking at other women. Everyone on the island was attractive, and most of the women weren’t wearing much; swimsuits mostly. Matt found himself inventing mental games to avoid staring at damn near everyone: stare at the fire alarm on the wall, stare at the street outside, stare at his watch.

His strategy rarely worked. And every time it didn’t work he felt skeezy and sketchy and creepy, which only compounded the feeling of not belonging.

Though there was that one time when, for a quick moment, Matt thought that maybe he was overreacting a bit.

Anna and Matt were in a clothing store, another store absent of price tags, and Anna was in the back trying something on. Matt was leaning against one of the clothing racks, trying to find a fire alarm on the wall, or some other totally non-sexualized boring object.

Then a younger woman, likely in her mid-twenties, opened the door of the store. The door swung open, light streaming in from outside, her shadow stretching long across the floor. The sun shone from behind her, illuminating and accentuating her frame. Having walked in, she scanned the room through her sunglasses and with a sweep she took off her big, straw beach hat. With her other hand she swiped off her sunglasses and again inspected the store.

Matt couldn’t not stare. Entrance aside, the woman was tall, commanding, her blonde hair done up in a tight bun in a way that accentuated her heavily freckled shoulders. Those perfect shoulders were flanked by the thin material of a barely-there bikini top. Her see-through silk cover-up swam through the air like a graceful jellyfish as she stepped into the store, one tall leg in front of the other.

She was a presence unto her own. Everyone, not just Matt, looked up at her when she walked in.

And try as he might, Matt could not avert his eyes from looking downward at her bikini bottom. It was as if someone had tied anchors to his eyeballs that only relinquished when he was staring at pussy. Matt studied her bikini bottom, a floral, cross-back bikini, with a triangle of material connected around her upper waist by three strands. It fit perfectly.