Page 46 of Broken Heat
Mykel had wanted my response through therapy to awaken my cycle. But this had happened instead.
How could I explain to Senta it was all right? That this was exactly what I needed when I needed it?
I couldn’t.
Mykel needed to know.
I picked up my phone and started to text. But after a few false starts where the words were all wrong I threw it onto the rug. If he wanted to hear from me, he would have texted. Even a single phrase.
Was that too much to ask?
But no. There had been nothing. Silence. Which meant all the more to me. No words were right for him, either. He couldn’t lie and say he didn’t want to see me. Or couldn’t see me. Or that I wasn’t wanted. So he’d said nothing.
My own convoluted logic sounded just fine to me.
The next five minutes saw me in the shower again, stretching myself on a plug I’d found in the bottom toy drawer of the bedroom’s dresser. When I was satisfied, I left the plug in, got out, dried off and put on a fancy bright pink thong I’d retrieved from the very same drawer.
My cock pressed tightly against the stretchy material in the front, showing every ball bulge, every cock ridge.
I powdered, then moisturized my behind so the skin would be like down. I then wrapped myself in a white kimono that showed off my tan and shoved my phone in my belt.
I combed my hair back and left it alone. It would dry fast and curl a little at the edges. Imperfect, but I knew Mykel wasn’t like Coah and might appreciate the cuter look.
I slid into my sandals and left my cabin, stepping out into a fresh but sweltering Caribbean day.
It was late morning now, the sky clear of clouds, the trees flickering with bright-winged birds. Everything smelled like nectar and honey, the air thick with jungle and ocean nature combined.
But nothing could overpower the essence of Mykel. The spice and sweet of it was still with me, as if hovering in the air directly over my skin. It was in every inhale, and as I walked it moved up the hem of my kimono and brushed at my thighs, the butt plug pressed against the thong, as if trying to find a deeper way inside me.
People walked the blue brick pathways in couples. None were alone like me. But it was not frowned upon to take a walk. This was run like a resort. You could do as you pleased. There were very few rules.
But one rule I did remember. No guests were allowed on the second path that verged away from the golf course and out behind the thicker branching of the jungle. That path was for employees only.
And that was where I was headed.
When I arrived, I saw a little gilt chain strung across two red poles. From it hung a polite, hand-painted wooden sign that read:
Employee Access:No Admittance.
The O’swere made into smiley faces. Pink and white painted flowers with yellow centers created a frame around the words to make them sound less stern and look polite. Disneyland couldn’t have done it better.
The gold chain was thick enough to hold the weight of the sign, but it hung low. One could easily step over it.
I could see the worn ground on the outside of either pole where staff walked around it.
Without an ounce of guilt, I walked around the left pole and headed through the heavy green-leafed trees.
At this time of day, I was in luck. No one was about. Therapists and patients would be together during the prime hours, if not all night. And those with time off would probably be in their rooms, like Mykel, or off-island. Or swimming, eating, relaxing.
As I rounded a bend, the blue bricks were long gone now, giving way to dark-brown, loamy jungle dirt. It got on my sandals and skin. I was a little concerned about being perfect and clean for this meeting, but again, I was thinking of my younger self.
Ahead of me, a large complex appeared, glimmering in the middle of jungle overgrowth like some lost relic, only shiny and new.
I looked up, counting the stories. It had four. The building was quite large, with balconies beneath every large window except on the first floor where sliding glass doors opened to little patios. It was like a hotel out in the boonies, and Mykel had told me the locals called it the barracks.
Off some of the balconies hung baskets of plants and flowers and the occasional large towel hanging over the wall edge.
I was a little overwhelmed. There had to be many apartments inside this building. How would I find Mykel?
