Well, for a start, the holiday brochure lied to us. Don't get me wrong; the resort itself was absolutely beautiful. A tropical paradise. Everything you could want from a luxury break in the Caribbean was there; golden sandy beaches, crystal clear water, gourmet food and drink and all the activities you could hope to find. The staff were warm, friendly, and just couldn't do enough for you. The glowing Trip Adviser review almost writes itself.
Where it could be said that the brochure had been a little flexible with the truth was solely in relation to the hotel clientele. The glossy images showed beautiful young couples -- tanned, athletic, well-dressed -- everywhere you looked; relaxing by the pool or at the beach, blissed-out on a massage table, or gazing at the sunset in each other's arms. Within minutes of our arrival, it was apparent that this was not the case. Tara and I were in our early thirties, so we were probably a good thirty years younger than the youngest of the other guests.
Now, don't get me wrong; I have nothing against old people per se. I was just, you know, hoping for the opportunity to sneak a few furtive glances at nubile young women beside the pool or on the beach, their fabulous bodies basking in the sunshine while wearing the tiniest of bikinis.
Tara was clearly just as disappointed about the lack of eye candy as I was. We'd been together just a little over a year and half, and this was our first holiday together. I wouldn't say that this was in any way a make-or-break point in our relationship, but certainly our sex-life had become... routine? Tara had been staunchly reticent about her sexual history, although I knew second-hand about a couple of guys she had briefly dated in the two or three years before we had met, and there were occasions when I wondered if she was also thinking that something was missing from our relationship. Had the spark deserted us?
'If that old dear takes off any more clothes, then I say we relocate to the beach,' she whispered to me, peering out from behind her paperback.
I looked in the direction she was facing; directly across the pool from us a septuagenarian was folding up a dress that was surely the right colours, pattern and size to have been a circus tent in a previous life. Her prodigious rolls of fat now threatened to overwhelm her bikini in a manner which caused me to give serious thought to the idea of throwing my white towel across the pool at her, on behalf of the struggling swimwear, as a sign of defeat.
'Agreed,' I said. 'Although I saw that couple with the matching Zimmer frames heading that way straight after breakfast.'
'Fuck,' muttered Tara.
I briefly found myself wondering what kind of man Tara would have liked to find in her eyeline. I'd kept most of my fitness regime going after leaving the Forces (alright, maybe 'some' rather than 'most'), but I guess there's always room for improvement. I sneaked a look at my girlfriend on the lounger beside me; after a couple of days here at the resort, she had started to develop a healthy tan which, along with her shoulder-length blonde hair, served to emphasize her sparkling green-blue eyes. Even in her current semi-reclined position on the sunbed, her pert breasts held their lovely shape, and her nipples clearly poked through from underneath the thin material of her bikini top. A tiny river of sweat ran from her cleavage down her flat stomach, to be deflected off to her hip by the band of her bikini bottoms.
'Something I can help you with?' Tara asked, smiling at my happy inspection of her figure.
'No, nothing at all. In fact, I was just wondering how I would go about trading you in for that young lady over there.' I nodded at the unfortunate figure of our fun across the pool, who was shaking out her circus tent and attempting to fold it up again.
'Bloody cheek!' Tara laughed, lightly swatting at me with her paperback. We play-wrestled for a few moments, my hands on her wrists to stop her getting any more blows in, before lapsing into a happy silence once more. I needed a drink, and the agitation of Tara's bosom caused by our playfulness had resulted in a momentary stirring in my trunks which needed to relent before I could decently stand up.
'Drink?' Tara asked, almost but not-quite reading my thoughts.
'Sure. Just let me finish this article.' I picked up the discarded magazine from beside my lounger and made absolutely no effort to read the words in front of me for a couple of minutes.
-----
The moment we strolled into the beach-side bar, it was clear that something was afoot. For one thing, it was considerably busier than one would normally expect to find at that hour of the day. Elderly couples leaned in and whispered to each other, sneaking curious looks at the source of the obvious upheaval.
At the bar, perched gracefully on whicker stools, were two of the most stunning young women I had ever seen. The first, casually stirring the contents of her cocktail glass with her finger, was tall -- perhaps just an inch short of six feet -- with a beautiful almond-shaped face framed by long wavey hair that was the colour of chocolate. She was already deeply-tanned and wore a dark green bikini which showed off a figure which could be called lithe were it not for the fabulous breasts squeezed into two small patches of material which appeared to be in no way capable of maintaining their seemingly Herculean effort. Her legs were covered by a matching green sarong which had fallen open to reveal a miniscule pair of bikini bottoms. As we stood there watching, entranced, she removed her finger from the glass in front of her and slid it between her perfect lips. She sucked on the finger once, before slowly extracting it from her mouth to leave it resting lazily on her lower lip. She cast her dark grey eyes around the room, finally settling on Tara and me. She smiled, almost triumphantly, before turning her attention back to the woman sitting alongside her.
This second woman, sitting almost with her back towards us, shook her head slightly, as if to admonish her friend for such a blatant show of sensuousness in a room where the overwhelming majority of the men present were probably just a couple of fry-ups away from a heart attack. The woman's short blonde hair, not too dissimilar from Tara's but certainly more natural and with a more silvery sheen to it, reflected the bar's lights in a way which almost gave her the appearance of wearing a halo. Indeed, as I watched the two women, I couldn't help but be reminded of a cartoon angel and devil, perched in their eternal struggle for power on the shoulders of a much-loved animated character. Then she too turned her head towards us, and once more I was captivated. She really was an angel; her dark brown eyes regarded us warmly, a half-smile resting playfully on her full lips. Then she turned away, collecting her purse from atop the bar and leaning in close to her friend before whispering a few words. She stood; although she was not as tall as the brunette and was wearing a loose-fitting summer dress in a pale blue material which covered most of her body, I was left with the clear impression that she too possessed a wonderful figure, at least on a par with her companion.
The two women walked from the bar, a hotel key hanging loosely from the brunette's fingers. As they stepped out of sight, it was almost as if everyone present was released from a spell; whispered voices suddenly became louder, people once more began to move about the room. I turned to Tara, expecting the pursed lips and raised eyebrows universally recognised as the sign of an annoyed wife or girlfriend. But no; Tara was still looking in the direction in which the two women had departed, and on her face was an expression I didn't recognise.
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'They've got the room next to us!' cried Tara, as she closed the apartment door behind her and unloaded her purchases from the hotel shop onto the table beside me.
'The one on the end of the row?'
'Uh-huh. I think one of their bags must've been delayed at the airport; I just saw it being dropped off with the blonde.' Tara tore the lid from a bottle of water and thirstily took a few gulps.
'Is it just the two of them?' I asked.
Tara tilted her head to one side as she looked at me, confused by the question. 'Well, duh! Who else were you expecting?'
'I dunno. Boyfriends? Husbands?' I paused in my application of after-sun. Was I missing something here?
'Oh Sam; you're so sweet sometimes.'
Yeah, I was definitely missing something here. 'Well, I know that, but why am I being sweet on this particular occasion?'
'They're lesbians, dear.'
'Nooooooo. That's not what lesbians look like. At least, not in the real world.' I briefly considered saying that lesbians only look like that in porn films, but thought better of it. A comment like that would surely only invite questions from my girlfriend on a subject I'd probably do well to avoid.
'Lesbians,' repeated Tara, surprisingly definitively.
'How do you know?'
'How do I know? I just know.' Was it my imagination, or was there a hint of defensiveness there? Tara turned away, taking another drink from her bottle and walking through to the bathroom. 'And I know something else,' she called over her shoulder. 'Nobody will be missing dinner in the hotel restaurant tonight!'
-----
Tara was right; the hotel restaurant was absolutely rammed that evening; busier by far than we had seen it so far during our stay. Guests who might otherwise have waited until a later sitting were queuing for tables before the restaurant had even opened, such was the stir caused by the new arrivals. For a moment, I felt a pang of jealousy; Tara and I were pretty hot, surely. Why hadn't we received this kind of reaction?
'See? Everyone's out to see the gorgeous lesbians tonight,' Tara whispered. My brief moment of hurt pride was immediately displaced. I'd waited all my life to have a beautiful woman whisper the words 'gorgeous lesbians' into my ear.
We took our seats at the last remaining empty table -- a table for four -- and ordered drinks. We hesitated to get up to peruse the buffet; it seemed that an unspoken agreement was in place between everybody in the room that we would all wait as patiently as was possible for the inevitable grand entrance. Then a hush descended on the room, starting with those with the best view of the restaurant doors and emanating outwards across the rest of us; they had arrived. The brunette came into sight first, sweeping imperiously into the room wearing a full-length yellow silk dress with a slit up the side all the way to the top of her smooth, bronzed thigh. The dress fitted her perfectly; clinging tightly to her swaying hips, her slim waist, her magnificent chest. Her dark hair was now up in a relaxed bun which left her long, graceful neck exposed to the cool evening air. I could almost hear the involuntary sigh of admiration escape from everyone in the room -- male and female.
A few moments later, the blonde appeared behind her, chatting amiably with the maître d'. She too had opted for a long evening dress, this one of navy-blue chiffon with a plunging neckline which confirmed my earlier suspicions that her bust was almost as impressive as her friend's. There was no doubt that the blonde was far less ostentatious than her companion, but in no way less desirable; in fact, as I watched her quietly sharing a joke with the blushing maître d', of the two women, I found myself more drawn to her.
Conscious that I was actually here with my girlfriend, I dragged my eyes away from the two women and took a swig of my beer. Placing the bottle back on the table, I turned to Tara.
'Oh my god,' she muttered through gritted teeth. 'He's bringing them over here.'
I looked back towards the entrance and felt a moment of what can best be described as panic. The maître d' was indeed leading the two women in our direction. As they arrived at our table, instinctively I stood.
'I am so sorry, sir and madam,' the flustered man said, 'but as you can see, we are unusually busy this evening and are therefore short of tables. Would you mind very much if these ladies joined you?' He motioned to the women standing beside him, as if we might have failed to notice them.
