Rebeca poked her finger at the air conditioner. The vents were open, but there was no cool air blowing towards her. "Now? When it is thirty degrees, you decide to break?' The heat in her bedroom was suffocating, and she regretted not leaving her window open the night before - at least then she would have had the ocean breeze as she slept.
She pulled the curtains back, and unlatched her bedroom window. The sound of the ocean intensified, and she inhaled the salt air deep into her lungs while admiring the tiny birds scurrying across the sand, looking for their breakfast.
Her pajamas stuck to her skin as she peeled the damp fabric off and into the laundry basket. She turned her back on the window and felt a thrill of rebellion as she walked, naked and sweating, towards the relief of the shower. She had the house to herself the rest of the morning, and could walk around dressed however she wanted.
The cold water was delicious, and she forced herself not to linger under the spray. Not to give into the temptation of touching herself in the privacy of her shower. She had a busy day ahead, and no time for silly behavior. As the heat evaporated from her skin, she felt her energy and determination return.
Holding a towel in front of her, cautious in case one of the infrequent beach visitors happened to be walking behind her house, Rebeca returned to her bedroom and selected a cool cotton dress; both comfortable, and long enough to be suitable when her AirBnB guest arrived later in the day.
Rebeca balanced her phone on her dresser and glanced at messages while she put on a light touch of makeup, and pinned her hair up off of her neck. So many messages, and so little interest in reading them, Rebeca realized. She scrolled through until she found the important one, confirming that her guest, John, an American in his fifties, would be arriving soon for an early check-in.
He had a reservation for two weeks - Rebeca made a note that she needed to try and fill her guest room for the week of Christmas and into January - and her notes said he was in Yucalpeten for local tourism and to practice his Spanish.
Rebeca took a sip of her coffee, and began to inspect the common areas of her house to ensure that all of the facilities were ready for her guest. 'I hope he is a good tenant. Hard to tell with the gringos, and my consulting work deserves more attention than a needy American.'
The man getting out of the car was tall, Rebeca noticed and he was carrying less luggage than Americans usually did when arriving for two weeks at her beachside Airbnb.
The open window allowed Rebeca to hear the voice of her guest as he said farewell to the rideshare driver. At least John was trying to learn Spanish, and his deep voice was pleasant against the background of bird songs.
"Welcome to Casa Rebeca," she said, opening the door for her guest. Her long sundress moved around her legs as John walked past, and into the stone beach house.
"Gracias," he said. "Where should I put my luggage?"
Rebeca's attention focused on John's strong hands gripping the handles of his luggage. She saw with approval that his left hand was bare of any rings or tan marks. 'Handsome, single and here for two weeks. Hopefully more polite than most of my guests.'
"Right over here, John," Rebeca said, gesturing to the bedroom on the northeast side of the house. "After you put your bags down, I can show you around. Or would you prefer to rest first?"
"Show me everything," John said. "Por favor."
The note of command in his voice sent a shiver over Rebeca's skin, and she fought an impulse to fling her sundress onto the hammock, her body onto his bed, and show him everything. She flushed. She was a respectable woman running a business. She had not achieved her success by sleeping with the visitors staying at her house.
"Of course," she said. "Your bedroom, with a window looking out on the beach and the ocean." She waved her hand at the other wall of the room, "Television and Wi-Fi information are there." " Across the hall is the bathroom and shower, and here is the kitchen. You are welcome to use any of the utensils or cooking supplies. The address is on the wall if you want groceries or food delivered."
"A nice cooking area. Excellent. You will join me for a meal later today, yes? As my thanks for your hospitality." His hand rested for a moment on Rebeca's shoulder.
'Dios!' Rebeca thought as she felt the casual strength in his fingers. His hand is almost twice the size of mine.' "We will see. My guests do not usually invite me to meals."
"Oh I insist," John said in a quiet voice. "I intend to be different than most of your guests. I want to experience all that Yucalpeten has to offer, and surely dinner with one of the beautiful residents is an important part."
'Beautiful resident? Me?' A quiver in her stomach warned Rebeca she would not be able to resist John's invitation. And she realized it was much more an instruction than an invitation.
The sand moved under Rebeca's sandals as she led John out onto the patio, and down the wooden steps to the beach. The warmth of the December day kept the sand comfortable, rather than burning her skin as it would do during the hottest months. Waves rolled in, and spread into thin tendrils of water thirty meters from the back edge of the house.
"The beach is public access along the stretch to the west, though during the summer months visitors need a day pass from one of the restaurants or cantinas. Most of the houses in that direction are AirBnBs or private residences." Rebeca pointed at a rocky outcropping a few hundred meters west. Small birds circled above a trio of people with fishing poles. "The gabiotas know that tourists will feed them, whether fish are caught or not. If you like to fish, that is a good spot, or you can rent a small boat from the marina."
"I don't have a fishing pole," John said. He looked east, where a tall concrete structure was the center of activity by small motorized equipment, and a dozen men in reflective yellow vests. "What are they building there?"
Rebeca frowned. "A condominium. Several owners sold their property to a development company." She smiled. "Not to worry. There are three homes to block the view, and the ocean is large enough for all of us." Rebeca looked back at her house, at the patio mostly in the shadow from the building being constructed. "And now, in the mornings, my patio has shade. I should thank them. As far as fishing goes, I have all the equipment you need."
"I am sure you do," John said, his eyes looking up and down Rebeca's body.
Rebeca felt heat rising in her cheeks. His words were innocent, but there was nothing safe about his tone of voice. Or his gaze.
Rebeca was certain John had already identified her as his catch of the day. She felt a sensation low in her body that warned her that his hook had already been placed within her. 'I am not a prize for this tourist - I will fight harder than any barracuda!'
Rebeca struggled to change the subject, and gestured at her guest's bare feet which were a few shades darker than the sand. "You will want water shoes if you plan to spend much time within Mother Ocean. There are sections of rock where you could be injured."
"I prefer to let my skin feel everything," John said, wiggling his toes and unearthing a seashell. "Surely you let the sun touch you? You don't stay covered up in clothes while you are on this magnificent beach."
Rebeca's face grew warmer, and she was sure John could see the effect of his words. She turned her back on him and moved towards her house. "Well, of course. But I don't have sunscreen on, and protection is important."
John's voice startled her, close, almost upon her ear. His long legs had allowed him to catch her with ease. "Protection is overrated. The sensation of the sun. The water. Such simple pleasures are to be savored. Enjoyed."
His voice drew the final word out, and Rebeca did not think he was talking about the effects of either the sun or water.
"I am going to unpack," John said. "You had a bit of work online, if I remember correctly. Finish that up, and join me on the beach. You can tell me more about the area, and I will remind you how good life can feel."
"I...I don't think so," Rebeca said. "I should work most of the afternoon. I have a consulting project and a presentation to finish." 'And a dangerous man to avoid.' Rebeca glanced at his muscular arms and chest and shook her head. 'A very dangerous man.'
----
The overhead fan blew hot air over Rebeca and her laptop, and she sighed. Of all times for the air conditioner in her room to break. Now only her guest's room would be cool enough to be comfortable..
The regular sound of waves on the beach called to her with a promise of relief. Outside the window, halfway between her house and the water, her new tenant reclined on a white beach chair.
He had one leg bent, causing his trunks to bunch dangerously high up on his thigh. Rebeca could see the line where his thigh was paler than his lower leg. 'He is going to burn out there. Poor gringos. Always underestimating how strong the sun is here.'
