Page 79 of Triple Threat

“That’s the one. Down in the Florida Keys. The warehouse was being used to smuggle drugs and of all damn things, illegal reptiles, into the States. It was just a matter of time before Kai and his guys started rivaling the Cubans in Miami.”

“Well, Kai’s brother is taking a really long swim,” I said.

“I’ll check and make sure nothing is going on, and that it was just a chance encounter. Do you need anything? I would offer to expedite something to you, but it wouldn’t arrive until you were already leaving.”

“No, it’s okay, let’s just put out some feelers, and Victoria Lake? Peek-a-boo?”

“I will take care of it, and yes on both,” he said. “Is she enjoying herself?”

“I’m sure she’ll tell you about it when we get back,” I gave him a laugh and hung up. I relayed his guidance to the spa stylist, and the woman grinned and went off to do her thing. We spent several hours at the spa, and I wasn’t able to completely resist. Getting a manicure and a pedicure was something that I routinely did anyway. Roan would give me no end of grief about it, but when the woman started rubbing the balls of my feet and someone put a Papa Doble daiquiri in my hand, my resistance was gone.

“There is something wrong with your daiquiri,” Sadie said. I opened my eyes, and she was radiant and almost glowing like she was made of bronze. “No shaved ice, no strawberry, I think you’re having a joke at my expense.”

“This is a classic daiquiri, the sort that Ernest Hemingway drank when he wrote about killing men and fishing, something about bulls,” I said. “Americans dumped a strawberry sorbet into it and decided that was an improvement.”

“Papa Doble?” she asked, as I confirmed with a waiter that I did indeed want another.

“Double measure of rum, the way Papa Hemingway liked them,” I said.

“Have you read any of his books?” she asked.

“As many as you have,” I countered. “I have some ideas of what I would like to do this evening. There is a bottle of lube that didn’t get used last night.” Her cheeks picked up a hint of blush, and her lips turned up slightly. “But before that, we should enjoy the afternoon, and get you a few drinks. It’ll be important to be relaxed.”

“I think you should take me dancing,” she murmured and threw her arms around my neck, leaning into me with a sultry little kiss. “Make up for that school dance… remember the one? You punched Ronnie Collins in the face for dancing with me after I practically begged you to and you wouldn’t. Got us both thrown out and that thrashing from Dean.”

“Ronnie fucking Collins, was there ever a more punchable face?” I asked. Was that the first time I knew what my greater purpose could be? Busting his nose, that had been satisfying. I barely remembered Dean and his step-fatherly beatings and yelling until his face turned red and spit dripped off of his lip.

What an asshole he had been.

I made a few inquiries and there was certainly a place on the island where I could take her dancing. It wouldn’t be like a prom or school dance, but there was a reception hall. They had a live band most nights, and if you tipped them, they would play all night. There was a certain irony, one that Roan had pointed out, that the many of the people who live in places we Americans consider paradise, are poor. Poor to the point of destitution, really. Outside of tourism, St. Henri had literally nothing. It was a rock, with little farmland, barely any livestock, no mining, no industry, nothing.

I put a little cash in a few hands, convinced a few people to ‘make calls’ and before long I had the grand hall staffed with musicians, and catered. A few words at the dispensary and the spa and then probably a third of the tourists visiting the island came down for an open bar and live band.

I took Sadie’s hand, and we danced.

She found a dress in her luggage and was able to look the part. I didn’t have anything more than a single button-up shirt, and a pair of slacks. It was probably closer to what we would have worn to a dance when we were kids.

We had wine, then danced, slow and without any serious rhythm. I knew a little ballroom, it helped with high society work, and I didn’t want to embarrass her by showing her that more than a decade after losing her, I knew how to do a passable if unremarkable waltz. It was touching, nice, to hold her hand, the small of her back, and do that swaying step. She pressed her head against my chest.

Roan was going to be so fucking jealous when I told him about this.

We would have to do this again, proper like, with her in a ballroom dress, and me in a fitted suit. Maybe even drag the hermit Brit out of the manse. I smiled at that thought.

By the time the band was breaking down their gear, my shirt collar was unbuttoned, and her face was flushed and she had a sheen of sweat. We grabbed a last round of drinks and made our way back to the hut.How was I going to do this?I knew what I wanted; it was what I took when I called up my escorts. I loved it, how tight it always was.

Was it because it was a forbidden fruit? That was too easy, and it wasn’t that forbidden.

Maybe it was how they yielded, gave it to me. How they were ready to just grit their teeth and take it for the extra money and then enjoyed it.

They would have their perfectly coiffed hair, flawless make up, be so completely composed. They would make a face and then submit. Money talked. Then, when they were face down, and I took them, they would sing.

I knew the difference between real pleasure and putting on a good show.

When I was done, they would be almost shell shocked, their façades crumbled, mascara running. They would be contemplating the meaning of the universe, or half catatonic.

Seeing the effect I could have over them, that was better than the actual act. Fuck, I enjoyed it because of what it did to them.

And I wanted to do that to Sadie. To give her such pleasure, to orgasm in such a manner that she achieved nirvana. This was going to be a challenge, because normally it was simple.Here’s an extra x number of dollars, I’m going to fuck your ass and nut on your face, we good?

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