Chapter Eight
Henna slid into the dress her mother had laid out for her. She might be a grown woman, a medical doctor, and a homeowner, but to her mother, she was still her daughter. Besides, she would have chosen the same. The red-orange and white patterned tank dress was both casual and sophisticated. It also enhanced her bust, curved around her bottom, and fit her hips perfectly. Paired with a coordinating teal heels and silver jewelry, she achieved a look that avoided being too matchy-matchy.
“Oh, no,” her mother said. “Those shoes. Don't you have a white?”
“No.” Her personal style had no place for either white sandals or beige pumps.
“Really? You don't have a white sandal? I have a white sandal you can use.”
“I'm fine,” she said.
“But you're wearing teal shoes with an orange dress. Is that on purpose?”
“Yes.”
“You look great,” Aunt Midge told her. “Can we get moving? I'm starving.”
They stepped out of the room, and her mother and Midge walked in front of her as she checked her bag for everything she needed for the morning. “I forgot my phone.” She dug a bit more. “And my lipstick. Go without me. I’ll catch up in a minute.”
“We’re on the terrace,” Aunt Midge said. The elevator arrived, and the two women left her as she turned back to her room.
The card to open her door failed. She tried again. A second fail. “He took my card.”
Henna turned, took a step, and knocked on Eduardo’s door. After a moment, she put the card into the lock and was rewarded with a green light and a click. If he’s not alone, I may hurt him. She pushed against the door and let it open a crack. “Maid service?”
The shower was running. She stepped inside the room just as the shower turned off.
“Eduardo,” she called out as she knocked on the bathroom door. “It’s Henna and not maid service.”
The room was identical to hers, except for the view. She had a better view. He’d emptied his pockets on to the desk. There was an unopened box of condoms and a receipt from the hotel gift shop next to his wallet. She picked up his wallet. The leather was soft, smooth, and well worn. Inside, he had four types of currency. Euros, British Pounds, Swiss Francs, US Dollars mingled together. He only had four credit cards. Two business cards and two personal cards. She’d never seen a red American Express card before. It was the color of nail polish and just as shiny.
She discarded the wallet and picked up his watch from the desk. It was as heavy as it looked. “Swanky.”
The bathroom door opened, and he walked out with a towel around his waist and another in his hand drying his hair. “What are you doing here?” He walked up to her and pressed a kiss to her cheek.
“You took my room card.” She placed his watch on the desk. “I knocked. Do you mind that I let myself in?”
“Not at all.” He raised his hand to her cheek and placed his lips against hers. He tasted like toothpaste and smelled like shampoo.
“You know, we’re already late.”
“You care too much about late or not late.”
Her arms wrapped around his neck as she kicked off her shoes. “Maybe you’re right. Fancy a quickie?”
He let his towel drop as his hands reached up her skirt for her panties. The sound of fabric ripping stopped his hands. “I think I just ripped your underwear.”
“Did you do that on purpose?”
“Maybe.”
“Next time you want to rip my underwear off me, make sure I’m not wearing the expensive stuff.”
Her torn panties were tossed to the side as Eduardo picked her up and sat her on the desk. “How about I just buy you a lot of new underwear and I can rip it off of you when the mood strikes me?”
“I can live with that.”
He picked up the box of condoms, tore it open, and pulled out what he needed.
“Why did you buy condoms?”
“Just in case you forgot to put some in your handbag and we needed one.”
“Smart man.” There were no condoms in her handbag.
“I have my moments.” He entered her in one fluid thrust. Her ass lifted then pressed against the desk. Eduardo held her tight as his fingers dug into the flesh of her bottom. He forced the tip deeper then withdrew, causing her to moan at the denial of pleasure. His fingers clamped around her waist, grasping tight. Henna felt the potential energy of her orgasm coil low in her core. She was so close, and Eduardo was not going to deny her. Her ass tilted upward to meet the stroke of his cock with a thrust of her hips.
Eduardo resumed his effort by rapidly pulling out, followed by a powerful thrust with him buried inside her. He repeated the movement, bringing both of them closer to climax. She lifted and moved to match his thrusts, feeling every inch of his cock.
Her breathing grew ragged as her hands pushed against the desk. Her orgasm struck like a smack on the ass. A bit of a shock and wholly pleasant when delivered by just the right person.
She exhaled the deep breath she’d held. “That was…” She nodded as her lips pressed together. “That was fantastic.”
He kissed her cheek and slid his cock from her thrumming pussy. “You make my heart beat and my head spin.”
“Did you muss my hair?” She pulled down her dress and smoothed it around her hips.
“Yes. You look like you’ve just had an incredible fuck and are well satisfied.” He picked up the shirt already laid out on the bed. Pale blue. Perfect with the caramel linen suit he slipped on.
“Who dresses you?” She looked in the mirror and sighed. Her curls were tousled and messy. Either she'd have to do a quick fix or undergo scrutiny from both her mother and aunt.
“I’ve been dressing myself since I was five years old.”
She slipped on her shoes as she wondered if he was purposefully being obtuse or if there was a small but conquerable communication breakdown. “Who picks out your clothes?”
“I pick out my own clothes. What am I? An infant?”
“Who buys your clothes?”
“Ah! I pay a very nice, albeit somewhat intense woman living in Los Angeles, to shop for me.” All it took was a comb through his hair and instantly he was perfect. How was it possible men improved with age and women just got older?
“You have a stylist?” What kind of man had a stylist on his payroll?
“Yes,” he said. “That’s what she calls herself.”
“How in god’s name did you end up with a stylist?”
“My goddaughter is one of her clients. Esmeralda, bless her, was worried I’d be wearing rags without Pilar to shop for me. I will not let my mother and daughter pick out my clothes. So, Michelle shops for me. Considering how much time I save, she’s worth every penny.”
“Nice. She has excellent taste.” How much money did Eduardo have? If she had to add rich on top of all of his other qualities, she might just start believing in destiny. Not that she ever considered herself the type to go for a man just because he had money. She always thought it would be a nice bonus to be with a man who was perhaps a bit more than solvent.
“Most of the time.”
She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. “I'm going. I need to fix my hair and put on some panties.” She picked up her card from the desk. “I'll meet you on the terrace.”
He grabbed her hand before she was out of range. “Don't bother with the panties.” He pulled her close for a final kiss. “And try to keep a chair free next to you.”
“Why? Are you going to try to grab my thigh during brunch?”
“I would like to have that option available in case an opportunity arises.”
“Better be careful my father doesn't catch you.” She gave him a cheeky wink. “In fact, let's make sure my father doesn't catch you. He's a bit scary.”
“I'm a bit scary, too.”
“He's a cop.”
“I know who your father is. What do you think? My son tells me he's getting married after knowing someone for two months and I'm not going to make inquiries? We are wealthy people. I have to be careful. I will say when I found out your brother worked for the CIA, I did hesitate for moment and then double checked all of my affairs were in proper order.”
She hesitated for a moment before asking, “You...?”
Eduardo stared at her, daring her to ask the question she wanted to ask.
“So...” She smiled at him. “I'm going to go and fix my hair, grab my phone, and get to the terrace all without wearing panties.” She moved to the door.
“Henna.” He stopped her before she left. “I don't do anything illegal. There is a large gray area in how business is done in Colombia, and I often operate in that place, but I never do anything illegal or immoral. Is that what you want to know?”
“Yes.”
“Now you know. I'll see you on the terrace.”
Henna left the room after checking the hallway for family, then dashed across the intervening space in two jumps. Inside her room, she pulled her hair up and checked her phone. Three missed calls from Simon and more texts about the hot water.
She left her room and walked down the hallway to the elevator as she read his increasingly perturbed messages about wanting hot water then the final one after he'd figured out he just needed to turn the boiler back on.
“Unreal,” she muttered. It was a little after seven in the morning in San Francisco. Simon would probably be asleep. So instead of calling his cellphone, she called her house phone and let it ring until he answered.
“Hello?” Simon grumbled after ten rings.
“Good morning sunshine!” she chirped. She pressed the elevator button and waited. “Did precious get his hot water?”
“What do you want?” The sound of him flopping onto a mattress came over the line.
The doors to the elevator opened and she stepped on. “Guess what I did?”
“Uhh...you had sex with a random stranger in the airplane bathroom.”
“Yes!”
“No! You are such a liar. I don’t believe you.”
“I did.”
“Liar.”
“I swear to god, I did.”
Silence from the other end. “I going to think about this. As a rule, you don't lie to me and certainly you never lie about your sexual conquests, few and far between as they are.” He mumbled for a moment. “Okay. Let's assume I believe you. Please tell me it was an airline pilot? Because that would be so awesome.”
“Oh, it gets even better. You remember the Caballero Caliente?”
“Yes?”
“Uh-huh.” She smiled and nodded at no one in particular.
“No! You are such a liar.”
“Am not. And it gets better.”
“It's can't. If this were true, which it is not, it could not get better.”
“The Caballero Caliente is Eden's future father-in-law.”
“You cannot make this shit up. Seriously. You are not that creative. Tell me you are not bullshitting me.”
“I am not bullshitting you. His name is Eduardo. He's Romeo's father.” She stepped out onto the terrace and into the sun. Her family was easy to spot at a pair of round tables that had been butted together. “We just had the best stand-up quickie I've ever had, and now I have to have brunch with him and my family while pretending I have no idea who he is. And I'm not wearing any panties.”
“Who are you and what have you done with my Henna?”
“I really don't know what has gotten into me, but I like it. I've got to run.”
“You've made my day. Call me when you have an update.”
“Oh, I will.” After a quick goodbye, she ended the call and dropped her phone into her bag.”
Henna joined her family under an umbrella on a terrace overlooking the azure blue waters of the bay. She breathed in a double lungful of the hibiscus-scented air and tried to exhale all her stress. Her sister, at least, had the good sense to get married in paradise.
Her mother looked at her watch. “What happened to you? It's already well past eleven. I hope they're not those kind of people who show up two hours late for everything. Do you remember that wedding we went to? The bride was three hours late? And apparently this was normal, and we were just supposed to be okay with it because she was Latin? I'll never forget that one.”
Henna ignored her mother as she sat down next to her father, making certain there was an empty seat next to her.
“How is my princess?” Her father gave her a bear hug. “Did I catch you with a fella in your room? You sounded like you were in a bit of a scramble to get me off the phone.”
“Daddy,” she sighed. “Please.” How did he know? How? He always knew. Mel Hirsch, Chief of Police for the entire New York City Police Department, possessed an almost supernatural capacity to know exactly what his children were thinking and doing no matter where in the world they might be in relation to him. At least, that was what he had let Henna and her siblings believe. She had yet to find a reason to believe his claims were overstated.
As her father stared at her, panic grabbed her like an anaconda, taking hold of an unsuspecting puppy. He’d know. Her father would know. The second Eduardo arrived, Mel would know that the father of the groom had carnal knowledge of his oldest and most reliable child. The one he’d last suspect of picking up a stranger and doing so many delightfully naughty things with him. Her fingers gripped the edge of the table like the safety bar on a rollercoaster while she dreaded what was coming around the next corner.
“Honestly, Mel. Stop teasing her,” Aunt Midge said, sitting down. “If Henna wants to have a man in her room, it’s really none of our beeswax.”
“And I just don’t want to know.” Her mother waved the conversation away with a hand. “Henna move over there. That way we're not seated next to each other and we can mingle with the Salazar's.”
“Somebody was in your room,” her father said. “Daddy knows.” He put his finger to his nose, tapped it, and then pointed at her.
Henna involuntarily sniffed at herself. Did her father’s awesome olfactory senses somehow detect the scent of man and sex on her? If he did, then she would really need a lot of therapy. For once, she was happy to have one of her mother's somewhat arbitrary demands work in her favor. She got up and moved around the table next to Aunt Midge and an empty chair.
“Seriously, you need to get laid,” her brother Leo said. “You are the most tightly wound person I have ever met. I will never forget when I stayed with you and you practically chased me out of the bathroom after I showered just so you could wipe down the mirror before it got streaky. Or that calendar you have in the kitchen. You're single, and yet you still menu plan like you have a family of ten. Or my personal favorite, the couch no one can sit on. Surreal.”
“Just because you live like an insane person who hoards motorcycle magazines and empty soda cans, doesn’t mean I’m sexually repressed. You’re a grown man, and your mother does your laundry for you.”
Her mother cleared her throat and raised two hands. One in each of their faces. “Leopold. Leave your sister alone. Just because she has to have everything just so isn't a crime. Although, I am concerned about the dress I found on the ground and your unpacked suitcase. I'll just assume it was a fluke. Normally, Henna is very together. She gets that from me. Probably a quality you should look for in the young ladies,” her mother crooked her fingers in a dramatic pair of air quotes, “you spend your time with rather than basing a young woman’s value on how much her bottom resembles Jennifer Lopez’s. You might not be a thirty year old man living ankle deep in girly magazines and eating frozen dinners.”
Her mother turned slightly as she lowered her hands to the table. “Henna. Leave your brother alone. He’s very busy, and I don’t mind popping his things into the machine when he’s over for supper. Perhaps if you weren’t so picky, you wouldn’t be edging up on your thirty-seventh birthday, wondering why you can’t seem to find Mr. Absolutely, Totally, and Completely Right. Simon is a doll. He’s sweet, handsome, charming, well-educated, a phenomenal bridge player, and a doctor. If he’s not good enough for you, then I don’t know who possibly could be. No man is perfect. Look at Daddy.”
Her mother turned slightly to Henna’s father who sat next to her. Her hand squeezed his for a brief moment before she turned back to her children. “Do you think this happened overnight? No. It took years of work to get him just the way I like him. Lower the bar. Then raise it again.” To make her point, her mother used her hands and arms. With a final sweep of her hands, she smiled contentedly at her two oldest. “Now that we have that sorted…” She looked at her husband, who, after nearly forty years of marriage, was just the way she wanted him. “Have you spoken to Eden?”
“Called her room,” her father said. “Talked to Romeo. Who the hell names their kid Romeo?”
“I think it's pronounced Ro-may-oh,” Henna said.
No matter how much she liked to be prepared for every possibility in life, there was no predicting what would happen when Eduardo arrived. If he walked up to her and planted a big kiss on her lips, she wouldn't be angry. He'd actually be doing her a favor. Her family would no longer question her ability to be spontaneous.
“Whatever,” her father grumbled. “You know they have two main exports the Colombians—”
“And he's off again,” Aunt Midge threw her arms up in the air. “Honestly, Mel, you know who you sound like?”
“If you say I sound like dad, I'm done talking to you,” Mel said to his sister.
“You sound like dad,” Midge said with a finger pointed at her brother.
“Enough,” Henna’s mother said, raising her hand. “There's Eden and Ro-may-oh.”
All heads turned in the direction her mother pointed. Eden walked hand in hand with a man born to wear the name Romeo. Henna could see the family resemblance between him and Eduardo. His coloring was slightly different, but the facial features were similar. In fact, they were the same. Younger perhaps, but then again, she preferred Eduardo's maturity.
“He's a dreamboat,” Aunt Midge muttered from the corner of her mouth. “Judith was right. Look at the sparkler Eden has on her hand. That's no fake.”
“Be quiet.” Henna snickered quietly.
“Well, if it isn't the spontaneous bride,” Aunt Midge said, embracing Eden. “You must be Romeo.”
“How do you do?” Romeo asked warmly. “I am so very pleased you were able to come and share our joy.”
“Oh, do sit down before you make me cry,” her mother said. “So tell me about yourself.”
“That's my line.” Her father chuckled. “So tell me about yourself?”
Romeo took his grilling with style and answered each question. “My family.” Romeo rose partially out of his chair and waved his family over.
Henna turned her head, and her gaze landed on a leggy brunette with the body of a swimsuit model and the face of a goddess who stood next to Eduardo. “My sister Gloria and my father Eduardo.” Next to the two was an older couple. The man was distinguished and the woman, handsome. “My grandmother Inez, and my grandfather, Enrique.” Next to them was a man who could only be Eduardo's brother. “My uncle, Father Paulo.”
Everyone nodded politely and smiled a lot as people found their seats. Eduardo sat next to her in the chair she'd kept open for him.
“Mel Hirsch,” her father, the cop, said across the table to Eduardo. Henna half expected her father to flash his badge. “What line of work are you in?”
“I grow coffee.”
“I thought most coffee planters in Colombia were small producers.” Her father gave Eduardo the eye. “You seem to be doing okay for yourself.”
“You are correct,” Eduardo said. “Most producers are very small, single family operations. We are the largest individual producers in Colombia. Our plantation has been in our family for nearly two hundred years. It is a family business that I will be turning over to my daughter one day.” He gestured to Gloria who sat next to her father. “Gloria lives in New York City. Perhaps you can have a conversation with her about the number of parking tickets she gets and the need to pay them in a timely fashion.”
“Papa!” Gloria cried out. “I don't get that many tickets.”
“You'd probably pay more attention to the number if you were the one paying for them.”
Henna’s father stared at Eduardo for a moment then laughed loudly. “I'll see what I can do,” he said then turned away from Eduardo to Gloria who sat next to him.
“Good morning,” Eduardo said politely to Henna. His knee touched hers under the table, sending a wave of tingles through her body.
“Hello,” she said, returning the smile.
Aunt Midge leaned in, pulling her close to mumble in her ear, “That's one sexy daddy.”
Henna giggled. “Stop it.”
“I'm just saying,” Aunt Midge whispered. “You think he might like older women?”
“You're bad,” she said.
“I know, honey,” Aunt Midge said, patting her on the hand then giving it a small squeeze. “Just remember you get it from me.”
“Hola!” A woman wrapped in a leopard print dress that looked practically painted on waved and walked like a beauty queen across the terrace. “Hello!”
“Look at the knockers on her,” Aunt Midge whispered. “If those are real, then I'm the Pope.”
Henna looked down at her own bust then back up at the cleavage of the approaching woman. “We can only hope she has back problems,” she whispered to Aunt Midge.
“Amen.”
On her other side, Eduardo mumbled something in Spanish. She looked at him briefly as he watched the woman approach. There was a tightness around his eyes, and he was not smiling.
“Fatima,” Romeo said warmly. He rose to greet the woman who hugged him and kissed his cheeks.
There wasn't another place at the table, but that didn't stop Fatima from joining them. A waiter brought another chair, and it was wedged at the table between Gloria and her father. It was impossible to understand what was being said between the Spanish speakers, so when Fatima came to Henna, she was prepared to let Eduardo do the talking for her.
“You go sit over there,” Fatima told her. “I sit next to Eduardo. Go on. Over there.”
“Okay,” she said. “Whatever.”
“Fatima,” Eduardo said, followed by a string of incomprehensible Spanish. By the time he was done telling the woman whatever it was he had to tell her, Henna was seated between her father and Gloria, and Fatima was in her seat.
“I got bumped.”
“She's a pushy one,” her father said when she was seated. “Sweetheart, meet Inez, Romeo's grandmother and Gloria, his sister. The one with too many parking tickets. The two of you have a lot in common.”
“Really daddy?” She stared at her father.
“Because you don't? Gloria's an MBA student at Colombia. Went to Stanford just like you. Lives on the same block I grew up on. Go figure.”
Henna gave Gloria and Inez a smile and a wave. “Hello.”
“I'm sorry Fatima was a total bitch to you,” Gloria said. “But that's her. A total bitch.”
“Fatima is being wholly herself,” Inez said diplomatically in flawless aristocratic English. Her English was absolutely perfect. Beyond perfect. No native speaker spoke so smoothly. “This sort of behavior was only to be expected.”
“Your English is absolutely perfect,” she complimented Inez.
“My mother was English,” Inez explained. “My father was Portuguese. I split my time between the two countries when I was growing up.”
“How did you end up in Colombia?”
“Love, my dear.” Inez smiled. “Love is a great motivator. Especially when it came to moving out of my London flat to the wilds of Colombia fifty years ago.”
“That's love.”
“Considering we didn't even have indoor plumbing when I got there? Yes. That was love.”
Henna laughed as did her father and Gloria.
Eduardo's voice rose above the other small conversations at the table for a brief moment. Just enough to capture her attention and keep it.
“What are they saying?” she asked her father.
“He wants to know what she's doing here because this is for family only. She told him that she's just as good as family and don't make a scene in front of Romeo's new in-laws.”
Gloria leaned in slightly. “She is not just as good as family. She's a total bitch and I despise her.”
“Gloria.” Inez looked at her granddaughter. “Language.”
“She is a bitch,” Gloria repeated. “I'm sorry, but she is.”
“Who is she?” her father asked.
“She's my father's girlfriend,” Gloria explained. “And by girlfriend, I mean they're lovers. She thinks they're getting married, but god as my witness, I'll put a bullet in that woman before I let her marry my father.”
Henna shot a look across the table to where Eduardo was engaged in a quiet conversation with Fatima. Gloria might have to beat her to a gun. She pulled her phone out of her bag and looked at it. Three texts from Simon. All wanting an update. She ignored Simon and moved on to Eduardo. Did you really think I wasn't going to find out you had a girlfriend? Do not ever speak to me again, you miserable lying bastard. She hit send then dropped her phone into her bag as the conversation continued around her.
“Now that's a loyal daughter.” Her father nodded in approval. “No woman good enough for your daddy?”
“That's right.” Gloria stared across the table at Fatima. “Especially that one.”
Henna watched as Eduardo reached into his breast pocket and removed his phone. His already dark face turned grim. He didn't bother to look up at her as he responded. When her phone chirped, she ignored it.
“Your father is never going to marry that woman,” Inez said. “If he does, I really will drop dead the day of the wedding and then come back and haunt him. I will. That's not just a threat. I love my son, but I've had just about enough of Fatima. That whole business with Don Juan Esperanza was the last straw for me.”
“Don Juan Esperanza?” Henna said automatically. Her phone chirped a second time in her bag. The temptation to look finally got the best of her. Two texts from Eduardo. The first one. She is not my girlfriend. The second. I am not a lying bastard and stop ignoring me. Her response. Bite me.
Eduardo had inherited his charm from his mother and his looks from his father. Where he got being a low down lying bastard from was still unknown.
“Don't ask,” Inez sighed. “It's too nice a morning to talk about Don Juan Esperanza. Now instead, you tell us about yourself. You are a doctor? You are intelligent like my Gloria. I always admire young women that realize their potential.”
She glanced at Eduardo as he read her infantile retort. There was no response. He put his phone in his pocket and continued his conversation with Midge and Leo. That couldn't be it. It wasn't possible he'd just do as instructed and never speak to her again. Or was it?
Henna turned all her attention to her father, Gloria, and Inez, Eduardo's mother. Even if she wanted to look at Eduardo, her eyes refused to look anywhere near him. So she enjoyed a conversation with her father and the two Salazar women.
The conversation around her spared her from having to look at her inactive phone. Eduardo didn't send another message during brunch. By the time she choked down what she could of her pancakes, she saw an opportunity to escape quickly and discreetly.
“Where are you going?” her mother asked when she started to get up from her chair.
“I...” She picked up her handbag and scooted around her chair. “I wanted to go to the perfumery. I want to see how the perfume is made.” Not true. She was going to go and sit in her room and feel sorry for herself, maybe have a cry, then try to figure out if it was her, the men she met, or a combination of both that always equaled tears.
“I was going to do this very same thing,” Eduardo said, rising from his chair. “I will join you. Would anyone else care to join us?”
She stared at him not certain if she should be angry that he would just assume she wasn't really mad at him or furious that he ignored her warning to stay away.
“I'd love to come,” Aunt Midge said, standing. “Lou and I went to the perfumery years ago. It's just gorgeous all of those fields of flowers. You'll love it.”
“Excellent,” she cheered. Aunt Midge would be an effective barrier to an awkward conversation.
“Aunt Midge,” Eden whined. “I need you to do my hem and my straps.”
“Or not today,” Aunt Midge said, sitting.
“I could stay,” Henna offered quickly. “I'm the maid of honor. I should be around today. In fact. I'm going to stay.”
“Go,” Eden said with a wave of her hand. “When was the last time you actually had a day off and did something other than clean your stove or have your car serviced?”
“You need me more than I need to go to the perfumery. And I’ve missed you and I’d like to spend time with you.”
“It’s fine,” Eden said. “We are booked in for a big spa day tomorrow and can catch up then. I’m busy today with Romeo, finalizing arrangements with the hotel’s wedding planner.”
“You really don’t need me?”
“Go with my father,” Romeo said. “Have a good time.” He turned to his father. “Take Henna to the caves. The caves are incredible.”
“We will go to the caves,” Eduardo said. “We might even have time to go to the fort. We may be gone all day.”
“No. We will not be gone all day.”
“Go,” her mother said. “We just have to get Eden's dress sorted out. You'd think living in Italy she might have found a seamstress to get her hem done.”
“I told you I was really busy,” Eden said. “Planning a wedding is stressful.”
“Stressful? The hotel did everything and the two of you sent out an email. Where is the stress in that?”
“You really can’t understand how hard it was to find the perfect dress.”
“You mean the dress you didn’t get hemmed?”
Eduardo reached for the pitcher of Mimosa’s on the table and refills her mother’s glass.
“Smart man,” her father mumbled. “Judith. Never mind. I’m taking you golfing then for lunch. Eden and Romeo don’t need you flipping out. Eden and Romeo, do whatever you need to do to make sure everything goes according to plan. Henna, you go to the perfume thing with Eduardo. Eduardo, don’t take Henna to any underground caves. The last time I did that, she had a panic attack and puked all over my shoes.”
“I was eight.”
“Midge you sort out the dress.”
“Aye, aye, captain.” Aunt Midge called out with a salute.
“Clever. Leo.”
“Yo.”
“Plan a tasteful and appropriate evening out for the men.”
“You mean a bachelor party?” Leo hummed in anticipation.
“No,” Eden shrieked. “No bachelor party. Especially a bachelor party planned by Leo.”
“Eden…” Hanna’s father raised a hand. “Appropriate evening out for the men. Those men including me, Eduardo, Enrique, and Father Paulo. Okay?”
“Fine,” Eden said.
Her father looked at Leo. “Do I need to tell you no strippers or hookers?”
“No,” Leo said. “I’m a little offended that you would think you might have to.”
“Do I need to remind you about your cousin Bobby’s bachelor party?” Her father stared down his middle child and only son.
“No,” Aunt Midge, the mother of cousin Bobby, growled.
“Anyone over the age of fifty who will not mention wedding plans and dresses and wants to go play golf with me and Judith, raise a hand.”
Enrique and Father Paulo each raised a hand.
“Perfect,” her father said. “We have a foursome. That’s all of us sorted. We meet back here at seven for cocktails.”
The people at the table began breaking off into their groups and disbursing.
“I'll go with you,” Fatima said to Eduardo. “But I really would rather go shopping, just us.” Fatima looked at Henna. “You go do your tourist thing by yourself like you wanted.”
“There you go,” Henna said to Eduardo. “Take her shopping.” Maybe buy her something that fits over her boobs.
Henna smiled at Fatima then turned and walked in the direction of the elevator. Whatever Eduardo said to Fatima as she walked away sounded forceful and unpleasant. She didn't need to look to know Eduardo was behind her. A small swell of victory rose inside her. He might have ignored her invitation to engage in a texting battle, but he hadn’t given up and walked away without giving her the satisfaction of a lame excuse and a bit of groveling.
Henna watched Eduardo out of the corner of her eye as she waited on the elevator. From the stand filled with brochures for sightseeing trips and points of interest, he picked up four. He handed her the pamphlets, and she glanced at them. The Crystal Caves, the maritime museum, the aquarium, and the perfumery.
“I am not going anywhere with you,” she whispered to him as he stood next to her and they waited on the elevator. “I am especially not going to any caves.”
“Worried you're going to vomit on my shoes?”
“I was eight. Where is your girlfriend?” She looked at the brochure for the aquarium. She made a mental note to get there before leaving Bermuda.
“She is not my girlfriend.”
“Does she know this? Because Gloria told me that you two are lovers.”
“Being my lover, does not make her my girlfriend.”
Henna stared up at him for a moment before purposefully ignoring his presence. The elevator door opened, and she entered with him next to her. Fatima was approaching across the lobby. Her enormous breasts waving in sync with her hand.
Henna looked up at Eduardo. “What did you tell her?”
“That she annoyed me, and that I’d rather scoop my eyes out with spoons than take her shopping.” He rapidly pushed their floor number then punched the close door button. Fatima almost made it, but not quite.
“She is not my girlfriend,” he repeated. “We were lovers, but it's over. It was over a month ago, and she knows this perfectly well. Believe me. The entire staff of the hotel we stayed at in Buenos Aires and a few cab drivers knows that it was over between us.”
Part of Henna wanted to be a witness to what a fight between Fatima and Eduardo looked like. She imagined a lot of screaming, finger pointing, and a fair amount of broken crockery. Eduardo’s passion filled him until it spilled out in his lovemaking. She’d avoid getting him truly angry. Assuming she decided to believe him. “Why do I have the feeling you are not a pleasant man to be around when you’re angry?”
“Because I’m not. I am tempted to be angry with Romeo for inviting Fatima, but I can’t be. I never got around to telling him that Fatima and I were finished. This is why she is here. That, plus the fact she is Romeo's godmother. He had to invite her regardless of my personal feelings.”
“She's Romeo's godmother?”
“She was Pilar's best friend.” At least he had the decency to look embarrassed.
“You're sleeping with your dead wife's best friend? Tell me honestly. If Pilar were alive, would she kick your ass on principle for being such a...” The right word escaped her. Then it came to her. “Such a man? Let's be honest. Those giant boobs had to factor in your poor decision making somewhere.”
“If Pilar were alive, then I wouldn't ever take another woman to bed.”
“You know what I mean.”
“She'd beat the shit out of me. Repeatedly. Not just because Fatima was her best friend or because she's Romeo's godmother, but because she's so outrageous and kind of annoying.”
“I think I would have liked Pilar.”
“You two would have gotten along very well. You are both very strong women that clearly have no fear when it comes to putting me in my place.”
“Fatima is not your girlfriend. You swear she's not your girlfriend?”
“She's not my girlfriend. She never was. We were just lovers. As you pointed out precisely, I am a man. I have needs. The enormous breasts were a selling point. I probably could have made a better choice, but when she stuck those in my face, my resistance crumbled.”
“Ass.” She chuckled despite herself.
“You have already told me that you like my ass, so I will take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn't.”
“I know.”
She forgave him. Fatima wasn't a part of their story as a couple. If such a designation could even be applied to what they had. Lovers, as old fashioned and somewhat clandestine as it sounded, fit.
“Do you think anyone knows?” She looked up at him and saw the same delicious profile she'd woken up to that morning.
“That we're lovers?” he asked. “No.”
“You're not going to tell anyone about what happened between us, right?” She stared at him.
“Henna,” he said. “I do not know what kind of men you spend your time with, but they must not be very well mannered if they spend their time talking about their romantic involvements.”
The elevator stopped at their floor, letting them out.
Henna walked down the hall to her room and opened the door with the card. She heard Eduardo close the door behind them, flicking the security lock in place.
Immediately, she went to the balcony and closed the sheers against the sunlight pouring through the open doors. The sheers pushed back the bright light and offered privacy, but flickered gently in the perfumed breeze that floated in.
“It is a beautiful place,” Eduardo said, coming up behind her. His hands lighted on her waist, drawing her back against his body.
“It is,” she said. His hands slid around her body and lay flat against her stomach as his mouth found her neck. “What are you doing?”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No,” she said. “I don't.”
“Then I am trying to entice you to come to bed with me.” His hands slid over the silk of her dress to cup her breasts. “While everyone thinks we are being tourists, we can spend the day making love.”
“I rather like that plan,” she said. “But what do we say when they ask what the perfumery was like?”
“We tell them that it was beautiful.” He slid his hands down her body to the cloth belt that held her tank dress together. “And that they should go.”
“That would be fibbing,” she said as he quickly unknotted her belt with his nimble fingers.
“I would do more than fib to have you in my arms.” His fingers edged inside her dress opening it up and slipped it off of her shoulders.
Henna laughed a little as she stood in her shoes.
“Am I funny?” he asked.
“No,” she said. “You are unreal. I didn't think men like you existed.”
“What kind of man am I?” His fingers found her nipples through the filmy lace of her bra and began pinching and plucking. He then nudged the lace of the cups under the curves of her breasts, freeing them to receive the full benefit of his attention.
Part of her just wanted to reach behind her, unhook her bra and toss it to the side. But one night with Eduardo was enough to know he was a man who liked to be in charge of his own seduction and he didn't need her help.
“Charming,” she said, pressing her lips together as she thought. “Sexy. Handsome. Seductive. Masculine.”
“These are all very good things.” He released her nipples and his hands traveled down her body to her panties. The way he stood behind her meant there was little she could do to him while he continued to methodically stimulate and disrobe her. A voice inside her head told her to let go and let herself be made love to. Henna gave herself permission to simply be and not have to do.
One hand cupped her sex massaging the lace material into her aching mound. A moan escaped her throat as she began to rub against his hand.
“Don't be so eager,” he chided, giving her pussy a gentle slap.
Henna gasped at the shock of pleasure his unexpected swat gave her.
“Did you like that?” His laugh was low and liquid like melted chocolate. “Maybe I'll do it again later. But now...” His hand returned to massaging her pussy. “Just be patient. We do not need to be anywhere. There is no need to hurry.”
“If you keep that up, I'm going to come.” Her knees started to wobble. “Hurry or no, what you're doing is exquisite.”
“You are eager,” he said continuing to massage her. “I think you have never had a lover who you could trust to give you pleasure, so you've always taken it as quickly as you could get it.”
Her immediate reaction was to feel offended. Then she thought about it. “Actually, you're absolutely right.”
His hand stopped massaging and rested on her hip. “I am not a selfish lover,” he whispered. “Your pleasure is my pleasure.”
One foot started to slide out of her shoe.
“Leave them on,” he said. “Just for now.”
He stood, and his leg nudged between her legs until she was forced to take a small step. He nudged her legs wider until she stood with her feet more than shoulders width apart. The sheer fabric of the curtain flicked against her body as the breeze touched the dampness between her legs.
He unclasped her bra and tossed it to the side. One hand found a ruched nipped, and the other slid down her body to her wet sex. Two fingers spread her lips, exposing her swollen clit to the breeze. A shiver passed over her body as the wind licked her like a lover.
“Don't move,” Eduardo whispered into her ear as he suddenly released her body.
She registered the sounds of him removing his clothing as he moved around the room. When he pressed his body against hers again from behind, she felt the smooth silk of his skin. With her legs spread and the shoes placing her on her toes, she understood what he wanted. His hand pressed her back gently, urging her to bend forward. Henna was immediately grateful she religiously attended her yoga class as she bent forward, tilting her backside to him.
“Very pretty.” He ran his hands over her rounded bottom. “You know what I want. I know what you want. Perfect.”
The tip of his cock slid up and down her slick vulva, playing with her aching clit ever so briefly before easing inside her opening and filling her with one quick thrust. With his hands on her hips, he began rhythmically drawing her to him then pushing her away. When she expected him to go deeper, he suddenly pulled out. He took a deep, calming breath while she was ready to scream in frustration.
He knelt behind her and spread her cheeks. His hand left her hip and began tracing a line from her clitoris to her anus. He lapped at her pussy, licking all along the slit and ringing her anus. It felt strangely erotic, having him touch her there.
He held her ass cheeks with his big, strong hands as his mouth and tongue traced lines around her sex. It drove her wild, even though she found the anal play a little shocking. He leaned forward, pausing to flicker imaginary circles around the puckered rim. He toyed with her clit and sensed the energy gathering in her, close to bursting free. When his finger began circling her slick liquid around the tight pucker, she gasped and her mouth opened into an O. One finger slid inside.
“Relax,” he said standing behind her. “Unless you want me to stop.” The finger continued to tease deeper, stretching and burning, yet in an excruciatingly delicious way.
“No,” she said quickly. “Don't stop.”
“Then relax.” He pulled his finger out and the head of his penis pressed against her anus. It eased forward and slid past the tight ring of muscle. His breath quickened against her temple as he took her inch by inch until his length fit snug inside her. The sensation was different, but not unpleasantly so. In fact, being filled in this way was a new sort of pleasure she couldn’t have quite imagined without experiencing it. His hands wrapped around her hips, and as he began to move, the heat of his thighs seared hers.
Henna sighed deeply from the unusual sensation. She stopped anticipating the orgasm, which she knew would come and lost herself in the ecstasy of the moment. The feel of the breeze against her skin, the sound of the sea, and the smell of the flowers permeating the air enveloped her as Eduardo drove inside her. She felt a different sort of alive than she’d ever felt before. Two tangled fingers slid into her clenching vagina and another stroked her clit. The added sensations were more than she could bear as the first waves of an orgasm gripped her core and rippled through her body.
She cried out, not caring the doors to the terrace were open, and Eduardo didn't try to silence her. He urged her on with his one passion reaching its peak. A deep groan and the hot pulse of cum hitting latex told her that he'd found his pleasure along with her.
“Henna,” he sighed a minute later as he pulled gently out of her. “You are so beautiful when you come.”
She stood up straight stretching her body as he walked into the bathroom. With any other man, she would have scrambled into a robe or the very least her underwear. Eduardo was different. He wasn't like other men. With that thought in mind, she lay on the bed, twisting her arms and legs and adjusting her body so there was no mistake when he walked out of the bathroom she was all woman and ready for him to keep on being a man.
Eduardo emerged from the bathroom, and she finally got a good look at his body in the unforgiving light of day. Lean and muscled, he had a body most men half his age would envy. There was a distinct tan line around his hips and ass that told her he spent a great deal of time outside swimming. He looked at her, stretched like an odalisque, and smiled.
“Do you regret not going to the perfume factory?” he asked as he reached the bed and lay down next to her.
“Not in the least” Her fingers ran down the long muscles of his stomach through the patch of hair between his navel and cock.
“I want to do things to you.” He smoothed his hand down the curve of her body, finally giving her thigh a squeeze.
“I think you already have.” She took his hand and kissed his knuckles.
“You have so much untapped passion,” he said. “I want to steal you and take you home with me so we can spend as long as it takes exploring that fire in you.”
“Yes.” Henna didn't know who she was at that moment, but whoever was living in her skin would have run off with Eduardo without a second’s hesitation. “I mean...”
“You mean, yes,” he said. “Stop trying to hide the woman inside you. You don't have to apologize or explain why you want me. If you want me, you tell me you want me. I'm your slave of passion.” He had the decency to grin after making such an outrageous proclamation.
“I...” She squeaked and laughed. “You really are like no other man I've ever met.”
“Tell me what you want.” He lifted her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. “Tell me what pleasure you desire. We have the whole day for ourselves.”
Henna closed her eyes, breathed in the tropical air and exhaled, letting her body relax. “This is paradise. What I want is to be here with you.”
Eduardo leaned over her and touched his mouth to hers. An entire day locked away in a hotel room with a beautiful woman who wanted him as much as he wanted her was as close to heaven as he'd come in years. He had no responsibilities that day. His son was going snorkeling with his friends, and although he'd been invited, he knew the group of young men would have a better time without him in tow. His mother, brother, and his sister weren't due to arrive for hours. Some family and friends had begun arriving, but he would see them that evening for cocktails. He was free, and Henna was giving him the unmistakable look of a woman who was ready to go again.
“Roll over,” he told her, moving his body to accommodate hers on the bed. “On your stomach.”
She gave him one of her quizzical stares but shifted slightly onto her stomach.
It was simple intimacy he missed the most about not having a woman in his life. Sex, yes, but also just touching and being close. He carefully straddled her thighs, placed his hands on her back, and began slowly massaging her shoulders and neck, placing kisses in the wake his hands. “Lotion?”
“Bathroom,” she mumbled. “The white bottle. Not the pink tube.”
He chuckled a little as he got up. “Of course.”
A quick study of the pink and the white bottles revealed no clue as to what might make them unique, but it didn't really matter. He grabbed the white bottle and returned to the bedroom. Setting the lotion on the nightstand, he resumed his position on her thighs.
He covered his hands with lotion, warming it between his palms before spreading it across her back. He worked his way across her shoulders, down her arms, around the curves of her waist, across her pert ass and up to the small of her back. With his thumbs, he pressed small circles into the tight muscles that clearly needed attention.
Henna frequently let out small sighs and moans as his hands pummeled, pinched, and pounded their way up and down her back and arms. He moved off her and to the side as his hands moved lower to cover her ass. He lubed up his hands again, then stroked long lines down her thighs to her calves and feet. On his way back up again, he nudged her thighs open, and she helped by spreading them just a touch more as she adjusted her position.
“Where did you learn to do this?” she mumbled. His thumbs pressed into the back of her thighs drawing a line through the moisturizer.
“Can I mention my wife without your getting angry?” He moved down to her feet and began massaging the most used and abused and neglected part of her body.
“Of course, you can,” she sighed into the pillow. “I take it as a positive you had a happy marriage. Clearly your wife was a lucky woman in many, many, many ways.” When he dug his thumb into her arch, she moaned into the pillow. “Do not stop.”
He couldn't help but laugh as he pulled and wiggled each of her toes. His marriage had been happy, and both he and Pilar had considered themselves blessed to be with the other. “Pilar was always making me go on these theme vacations,” he said, smiling. “A week at a spa in Switzerland, learning how to give massages. I'm a bit rusty, but it's all coming back to me now.”
“Money well spent.” She groaned as he switched feet. “Any chance she sent you to Thailand for cooking lessons?”
“India. My tikka masala is impressive even if I do say so myself. I can also make jambalaya, tapas, gnocchi and sushi.” It felt incredibly good to be able to talk about Pilar without Henna getting annoyed or angry. The one woman he'd been intimate with, as opposed to just sexual, since his wife's death didn't take his mentioning her with any grace or understanding even though they had been friends since they were girls. Henna was clearly not bothered by the fact he'd lived a rich and full life before meeting her.
“It's like you're talking dirty to me,” she said. “A man who can give a massage and cook? Welcome to the family.”
“Henna.” He laughed. “You make me laugh. You make me smile. There is really nowhere else I want to be right now than here with you.”
As he massaged her thighs, he let his hands and fingers slip over her more intimate areas. There was no mistaking that she was slick and ready for more than just his hands. She spread her thighs a touch more, opening herself up to him. He slid two fingers between her wet folds as he leaned over and kissed her neck.
“Roll over,” he whispered in her ear. No need to rush.
“Do I have to?” she asked.
He gave her a nudge, and she moved on to her back. He leaned over her as he propped his head up on his hand. She stretched like a kitten with her arms over her head, keeping her eyes closed. “Is there a nap on the schedule?”
“Yes.” He leaned over her and kissed her cheek. “There's also room service, a bath, and if we're lucky, a movie worth watching.” He found her hipbone and cupped his hand over it.
She opened one eye and stared at him. One of her hands reached for him, and her fingers combed his hair. “Are you sure you're not the high-priced hooker that's giving me the ultimate boyfriend experience?”
He laughed as he kissed her quick. “I'm just a humble farmer. I spend my days walking through my plantation, managing my workers, and negotiating with buyers.” He moved his hand from her hip to cup a full, round breast. His fingertips plucked at a deep pink nipple until it stood up like a small stone.
“Since when do humble farmers wear Italian linen suits?” Her fingers released his hair and brushed over his cheek and jaw before returning behind her head. The position made her breasts jut out and beg to be touched.
“Normally, I wear jeans and boots.” He lowered his mouth to cover first one of her nipples then the other. When they were damp with his saliva, he gently blew on them, watching the peaks harden even more.
“Really?” She opened both eyes and looked at him. “That's pretty sexy.”
“You probably wouldn't think so after I spend a day on my horse, making my rounds of the plantation” He brushed the palm of his hand over her nipples with feathery strokes.
“Who knows?” She shrugged a shoulder slightly. “I might like you all rough and dirty.”
A fantasy of having her waiting for him in his bedroom when he returned from a day of surveying his small kingdom played in his head. He saw her in his mind, wearing something filmy and transparent. The sun set over the hills beyond his balcony. He would need a bath, but she wouldn't care. In fact, she'd like that he was less than pristine.
“What are you thinking?” Henna asked.
He looked at her and smiled. “I'm thinking about what I want to do to you.”
“Which is?”
He slid on top of her, pressing his lower body between her legs. He pressed his mouth next to her ear and whispered, “I want to ravage you.” He told her about the setting sun over his balcony, the smudges his dirty hands would leave on her body, and how he would carry her to his bed and spend the night making love to her.
As he whispered, he rubbed his stiffening cock against her slippery pussy. When he was certain she was ready for him, he donned on a condom and eased slowly in to her. He rested his weight on his forearms as he looked into her eyes. Henna looked into his, reaching her lips to his and kissing him. Her arms draped over his shoulders as he took his time bringing them to a peak.
Henna wrapped her legs around his waist as she drew closer to her climax. He didn't change his pace to hurry her along. Instead, he persisted in maintaining the slow, steady glide in and out that would build her orgasm until the inevitable explosion occurred.
When her eyelids fluttered and soft cries came through her lips, he pressed deeper as she ground her pelvis against him. She finished with a sigh, and he twitched his hips and rolled his pelvis until his own climax became a certainty. His groin tightened and an orgasm like a wave welling up inside washed over him. As he ejaculated, his cock throbbed and his body shook.
With a sigh from his toes, he pressed his forehead against Henna's. When his breathing caught up, he bent his mouth to hers and kissed her. “Nice?”
“Very,” she hummed. “Slow is nice.” She lifted her mouth to him and kissed his lips.
With a small lift of his hips, he pulled out of her, rolled to the side and off the bed. In the bathroom, he discarded the condom and shrugged into one of the bulky terry robes the hotel left for guests. After washing his face and neck, he returned to the bed where Henna waited.
“That's nice,” she said, touching the lapel of his robe.
He gave her a quick kiss then fetched the matching robe for her. She slid it over her shoulders and wrapped it around her body. He lay down next to her on his side, pulling her body along the curve of his. “Nap?”
“Nap.” She yawned.
Minutes later, a deep sleep reached up and grabbed him, pulling him down into the sweetest rest he'd had in far too long.