Chapter 3

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“I’m surprised I feel so refreshed,” I said the next morning, as Jess and I ate breakfast on the balcony. It was fresh fruit, croissants, and strong coffee. We were sharing a morning joint, too.

“It’s the xanax, sinus rinse, and benadryl,” she said. “They let you recover.”

“The bed wasn’t half bad, either,” I said. The clear water shone beneath the morning sun.

“Neither was that middle-of-the-night creampie,” Jess said and grinned. She took a large hit of the weed and held it.

“It’s not my fault you were still so wet,” I said playfully. “I couldn’t let a soaked cunt go to waste.”

She slowly blew the acrid marijuana smoke toward me.

“I think we may need some more coke, too,” she said.

I smiled. “You didn’t think I only got one eight ball, did you?”

I had held back the second bag of coke so that Jess didn’t consume too quickly. She hadn’t been out of control since we had gotten back together, but there was still a cautious instinct guiding me.

She passed me the joint and stretched luxuriously. “Then let’s do blow and go to the beach today,” she said. “I want to be topless and make the old men hard. Or maybe we’ll catch the eye of some cute couple.”

We finished the weed, and Jess sat on my lap, her arms around my neck. We kissed and looked out at the sea.

“Maybe you look for some potential sugar daddies,” I said, kissing her neck.

“You really want to pimp me out, don’t you?” she said flirtatiously.

I kissed along her collarbone. “I want your happiness to be without limits,” I said.

“You’re going to love my bikini for today,” she said. Her eyes had a way of radiating her feelings that was deeply sincere.

“Go try it on for me,” I said. “I’ll make arrangements for the beach.”

Arrangements consisted solely of prepping four lines of blow and putting on my swim trunks. Jess emerged a few minutes later in a bikini so minimalist, it would make Frank Stella blush. The triangles of fabric on top covered her nipples and not much else. The bottom was really nothing more than two pieces of floss connecting a g-string and leaf of fabric that molded to her vulva. The sheer coverup she wore gave no modesty to the outfit, though her large hat and sunglasses added an air of sophisticated mystery.

“You look like a movie star,” I said.

Jess smiled and took on the air of confidence that came with playing such a part. She stalked to the coke and did her lines. I could tell she was trying to exaggerate being glamorous. It made me laugh. I firmly cupped one of her butt cheeks and told her we should get going.

“Bring the blow,” she said.

“I’m two steps ahead of you, babe,” I said.

The beach was stunning. Immaculate rows of red beach chairs dotted with fluffy white Eden Rock towels sat close to the water’s edge. Canvas umbrellas provided generous cover from the Caribbean sun. By late morning, there was a bustling crowd of guests lounging on the chairs. Mostly they were middle-aged or older couples who retained the youth afforded by wealth. There were a few singles and plenty of staff. All of them noticed Jess as she walked to our chairs in the front row near the ocean. The chatter of the crowd noticeably died down as she seemingly floated across the sand, leaving only the crashing and lapping of waves as the soundtrack to her entrance.

“You have created quite the impression, darling,” I told her as we sat down.

She turned and grinned at me. Jess loved attention. She loved making an entrance. And she loved a scene, especially when she was at the center of it. An eager, athletic waitress took our drink orders. Jess had a piña colada. I had a daiquiri. And we ordered a bottle of Champagne for good measure.

“Heavy drinks will make me want to eat less,” Jess said. “Today is a party day.”

We had both brought books, but we initially used them as nothing more than cover to scan the crowd around us. It was somewhat awkward given our front-row seats, but they managed. Their drinks arrived, and they drank them quickly. I tried to flirt with the waitress, but she was too professional to reciprocate. After a little while, Jess excused herself to the restroom. She needed a bump, and I watched with hunger as her essentially uncovered ass sashayed away from me. I overheard an older couple behind me express their admiration for her. My ego loved it.

Jess returned about five minutes later, refreshed from the endorphin rush of more coke. We sat close together, our legs intertwined.

“I like that you can control it,” I said, referring to her partying.

“Thank you,” she said. “Peter, the lawyer I was telling you about last night, he actually helped me with that.”

“Oh really?” I said.

“Yes,” she said. “But before I give you that story, let me tell you about something interesting I noticed on my walk back from the restroom.

“What’s that?” I inquired.

“There’s a stylish couple in the second row at the opposite end from us,” she said. “They’re older. I’m guessing mid-40s, but both are quite attractive. The woman has an enormous pair of wedding rings. But I noticed she’s also wearing an anklet.”

My eyes met Jess’s and perked up.

“The anklet is a heart wrapped in a treble clef,” she said.

I smiled. “Interesting. So you think we might need to strike up a conversation?” I asked.

“Seems to be the only prospect so far,” she said. “If we want to crank up the fun.”

“How frisky do you feel?” I asked.

“You know I’m thoroughly content with you,” she said. “And will never turn down an opportunity to become even more content.”

I laughed, and it dawned on me just how easy life with Jess could be. She was so agreeable. So adventurous. She was addicted to pleasure, like me. A feeling washed over me that I could be happy with her forever.

Just then, Jess flagged down our waitress.

“I’m sorry to be difficult,” she said, “but the sun is catching me a bit awkwardly. Would you mind if we relocated to those empty spots back there?” She pointed to a pair of recently vacated chairs next to the couple she had lately described to me.

“Of course, miss,” the waitress said. Within moments, all our things were whisked away to the new location.

“You work fast,” I whispered to her.

“Let’s see how interesting we can make the day,” she said.

Our new neighbors appeared to be in their mid-40s and fit. On the far end, the husband was tanned, with manicured hair, and European style swim trunks. The wife, equally tanned, had luxurious black hair and wore a string bikini. She was beautiful and gave off an air of refinement.

Jess took the seat next to the raven-haired wife, gushing an apology for crowding them. She had a perfect cocaine high going, making her more outgoing and charming than usual. I watched as the husband checked out Jess’s lower half as she sat down.

We moved onto our bottle of Champagne. Jess took off her coverup and bathing suit top, allowing her modest breasts to show off their undeniable perkiness. Our legs intertwined once more, we let the light breeze and sound of the crashing waves wash over us. It was peaceful to the point of zen. We held hands, perfectly content.

“They look so good natural,” came the voice of the wife next to us, shaking Jess and me out of our trance.

Jess looked over and smiled. “Oh, thank you,” she said. “No tattoos, no surgeries!”

Our neighbor took off her bikini top, revealing achingly large fake tits. Her small nipples jutted straight out, appearing permanently hard. She had no tan lines. There was a modest scar on the underside of each breast.

“I wish I didn’t have these blemishes,” she said, referring to the scars.

“You are exquisite,” Jess said. “When did you have your surgery done?”

“Ten years ago,” she said, “after I was done having children.” I detected a faintly European accent.

“Don’t feel bad,” Jess said. “The techniques to avoid scars weren’t as sophisticated as today. They look beautiful and are very well done.”

“You’re very knowledgeable,” she said.

“Sorry!” Jess said. “I work for a plastic surgeon. He’s a really good one, so trust me when I say your breasts look fantastic.”

“You’re too kind,” she said. “I’m Sonya.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jess said and extended her hand. “I’m Jess. This is my boyfriend John.” I reached across to shake her hand. Sonya did so gently.

“This is my husband Nicholas,” she said.

“Enchanté,” he said, taking Jess’s hand. I wanted to roll my eyes.

“John,” I said and shook his hand firmly. The girls chatted, and I turned my attention to the Champagne and the book I had brought with me. Nicholas seemed equally detached, taking in the sights of the beach. After a while, Jess excused herself to the restroom again, not bothering to put on her coverup. She returned a few minutes later, the renewed coke high already kicking in. I looked at her body with lust. She was mine.

“Sorry,” Jess said as she sat down again. “I needed a little pick-me-up. We didn’t get much sleep last night. The beach makes me very frisky.” She was putting out an obvious feeler to Sonya and Nicholas.