Author's Note: I am making fewer mistakes. Tim413413's life as an editor is getting easier. Of course, he may just be fixing the blatant errors without telling me. I prefer to think I am growing as a writer, so keep it to yourself Tim. And my thanks as always.
*****
The Festival
I was already tipsy. The rum was well disguised in a slurry of tropical juices. We started with an orange-pineapple-coconut concoction a little before ten. Now, barely noon, everything was wonderful. I thought I would regret my girlfriends talking me into this trip. Now, I loved them both. We were the three amigos.
Sandra was the adventurous one. She dreamed up the kinky adventure, booked the airlines and ocean-side villa. She always wanted to push the envelope to see how far we could spread our wings. She wanted to fly, and I was an official member of her flock.
Kendra had a multiple personality disorder. When she was working, Kendra was a straight-laced accountant with starched underwear. She gave one word answers, and they were always correct. She looked more like an evil school teacher with a ruler always within reach. When she was off the clock, the mask was removed and a vamp emerged. It was an amazing transformation.
I was the shy one. Well, not shy, but more the follower. I didn't have Kendra's cleavage or Sandra's bubbly, driving force. If three men vied for our attentions, I was the consolation prize. It didn't bother me. I fed off their energy. Without the pulling and cajoling, I would have spent my vacation at home with a good book. It was so much nicer practicing to be an alcoholic on the beach.
Sandra had talked me into a bikini. I had never worn one before. My tummy wasn't the favorite part of my body. I had a small pooch, and was reluctant to share it with the world. Sandra enlisted Kendra to outvote me. I conceded to the peer pressure, finding a bright green two piece that at least covered most of my ass.
"It's sexy," Sandra said and smiled when I came out of the dressing room. I stood before the mirrors, shifting my hips to see my backside. The basics were covered, which was a good thing. I was glad I shaved before we flew down. My dark red hair would have looked nasty sprouting out of the green. My tummy protruded, but less than I imagined. I had envisioned it hanging over like walrus blubber. I actually did look sexy. Maybe it was the rum-filtered mirrors fooling me.
"It looks good; buy it," Kendra said. I always ignored her advice on clothes. She didn't need to worry about anything below her chest. Men never looked lower than that anyway. I straightened the top, tucking what little I had deeper into the cups. The fabric was thin. It was a good thing the temperature hung around the mid-eighties. The air conditioning was already doing a number on my nipples.
"Should I?" I asked Sandra. She smiled again and nodded enthusiastically. I felt her excitement. The rum was excited too. It would be the most naked I had ever been in public. The thought earned me my own smile. It felt so provocative. It was only for a week. Let loose - go for it; I deserved to be wanton. Key West had me in its thrall. I bought the bikini and a short, translucent wrap I could wear if my courage faded. Backup plans are important for brave chickens.
Lunch was a fun affair. We found a restaurant in an old house on Duval Street. It had most likely been someone's summer mansion at one time. It was a light grayish wooden structure with bright white trim and accents. It fit well with palm trees that surrounded it, almost as if it had grown there as well. I had the blackened shrimp wrap which I needed desperately to soak up some of the alcohol. Sandra bought a trio of rum runners to make sure we stayed well plied. She said she had a surprise of us. The look in her eyes meant I probably needed more liquid courage.
I loved sitting back with no work gnawing at my heels. The conversation was humorously racy and so much more enjoyable than the past year had been. I really needed this vacation. Work was basically hell. About a year ago, I made a decision I regretted. HR had asked me if I wanted to move up to a new position with better pay. I jumped from a general secretary in a pool that handled multiple account reps, to a personal assistant to a full partner. One of the most successful partners. I was told he was difficult, a warning I ignored when they offered a twenty-percent raise.
Timothy Griffin did not smile. I learned that the first day on the job. He burned through assistants at an incredible rate. I lasted the longest when I had my eight-month anniversary of service to his royal highness. He always frowned when he walked in and was frowning when he left. He worked a horrendous number of hours and generated large revenue for the brokerage house. Every dollar he earned cost me a small part of my happiness. Nothing I did was ever right. He was simply a nasty, unforgiving and exhausting man.
Mr. Griffin, to call him Tim or Timothy would generate a trip to the unemployment line, had a way of criticizing that would tear at your soul. It wasn't just a mistake - it was an error that only the lowest form of imbecile would make. He corrected my wardrobe, making me spend that raise on clothes that he approved of. Skirts of certain length, blouses closed with a scarf and shoes of an exact heel height. He had approved color schemes I could not deviate from. Image was everything to him. I was made part of that.
I never met anyone who would call Griffin a friend and he certainly had no romantic entanglements. I scheduled all his appointments and booked many dinner reservations for one. He didn't seem to care about the rest of the world. It was all beneath him. I was lower than that, the part of the world he could control. The rest of the office took pity on me. At least that brought me the cooperation I needed to avoid many of Griffin's scoldings. This sunny intermission was a necessary breather. No stiff black pinstriped suit to set my nerves on end.
"So what's the surprise?" Kendra asked Sandra.
"You'll see." Sandra smiled. "And no chickening out." She meant that for me. I took another sip of my rum runner.
"You do it, and I'll do it," I said boldly. In another week I would be back playing slave to an asshole. This week, I was going to absorb Sandra and become fun. Rum was a good motivator - so pliable with its sweet, racy promises.
We were looking forward to the Fantasy Fest parade that night. People-watching at its best. I had never been to anything like it. Sandra had tried to talk me into Mardi Gras a few years back, but I chickened out. Not this time. Not after a year of Timothy Griffin. Deep inside I wanted to let loose, throw my inhibitions to the wind, grab my inner strength and enjoy everything.
The sun was magnificent. We walked down the street looking in windows and absorbing the warmth. It was getting cold back home, but not here. This was shorts weather. The sun's rays lightly baked my arms and legs, almost a caress and not strong enough to generate sweat. A wonderful, comfortable warmth.
Sandra knew where she was going. We followed at a leisurely pace. We talked about Kendra's lost love, Kenny. He had almost been perfect. Her eyes swooned as she hinted about his prowess in bed. He was a really good looking guy, not that you would expect anything less for Kendra. I harbored dreams about him that I kept to myself. Kenny's big mistake was not knowing when to turn off the charm. He flirted constantly, which Kendra initially tolerated. She was secure enough to survive the flirting and even enjoyed the envious eyes of Kenny's targets. He just overstepped when he flirted with someone at Kendra's office. He never understood her dual personality. Kendra laid down the law and Kenny bailed.
