"I can't believe it!" Suzie grabbed my arm as the plane touched down in Cancun. "We're finally going to get the beach vacation we deserve!" She was more than excited. We'd both been working harder than we should, and after Christmas holidays, realized we needed to recharge our batteries. Thanks to the Internet, we checked out a few vacation destinations, and from there it was simply a matter of a credit card and a few shopping trips and we were on our way to an all-inclusive resort near Tulum, on what the travel folks called the "Mayan Riviera."
It had been two years since we had felt comfortable leaving my medical practice and Suzie's legal research consulting practice to take a two-week vacation, and we had been feeling worn down by the pace. Our time with friends, our time with each other – and our sex life – had suffered. There were weeks when we barely saw each other awake, let alone had the energy or opportunity to get together in bed.
But since we had booked our trip, things had been spicing up. We were both excited by the idea of two weeks with each other, and had been razzing each other about the fact that it was the prospect of 10 miles of people in thongs and Speedos that had gotten the other person randy again.
In any case, as we walked down the stairs at Cancun's surprisingly small airport, we were both sporting new shorts and t-shirts, sun hats, and ear-to-ear grins.
We made it through a small horde of hustlers offering to carry luggage, sell us time-shares, and do almost anything else, looked for our tour representative ("Ho-lee-day House? Hoooo-leee-day House over here!"), and gotten our suitcases into the belly of a shuttle bus.
As we walked down the aisle, we were looking for some interesting faces and an empty seat. Suzie was in front and suddenly tripped. I tried to grab her, but only had one free hand; a guy sitting on our right had better luck and caught her before she went down.
"Hey, you're not supposed to be this drunk until you get to the resort," he said.
"Thanks! I wouldn't want to start my holiday in a cast," Suzie said.
"It was kind of my fault anyway." He pointed downward to a bag sticking out into the aisle from his seat. "I've got enough camera gear here to fill the bus."
There were seats across from him and his wife, so we sat down and introduced ourselves. Suzie shook hands with him and said, "I'm Suzie and this is Bryce. We're from Toronto."
"I'm Gil, and –" his wife stood up and reached across – "I'm Monique."
Monique was, in a word, hot. She looked to be about Suzie's height, but where Suzie's blonde, lean and slim, Monique was curvy from her curly chestnut-coloured hair down. She was wearing a cropped top under a lime-green blouse that she had tied under her breasts and khaki shorts. We shook hands.
Gil, short for Gilbert, and Monique weren't married, as it turned out. They had been living together for about two years, and had flown in from Montreal. It turned out we were both booked for Sunscapes, the same all-inclusive couples resort we were going to.
As the bus got underway, the guide made his way down the aisle, and we all got Coronas to toast the days to come. You know you're on holiday when you're drinking a beer at 10 a.m. on a bus and the authorities are the ones encouraging you.
By the time we got to Tulum and our resort, the four of us had become quick friends. Gil was a serious amateur photographer who was ready for both picture expeditions underwater and on shore; Monique was a nurse at one of Montreal's bigger hospitals. They both had an infectious spirit of fun about them, and I had the feeling Suzie thought Gil was as attractive as I did Monique. We promised to hook up in one of the beach bars as soon as we got checked in and unpacked.
Suzie and I were rushing through the process of unpacking, when suddenly Suzie stopped. "Which suit should I put on – the one piece or one of the bikinis?"
"Suze, you might as well start with the bikinis now – with that sun, the barer, the better!" I walked up behind her and hugged her, reaching up and cupping her tits.
She pushed back into me. "Maybe we should have gone to Hedo, mister exhibitionism?"
"Let's start slow. In all seriousness though, you know that the resorts here are usually topless, and if you wear a one-piece, you'll be less comfortable if you decide you want to give the girls some sun."
"Good point." She promptly extricated herself from me, whipped her t-shirt over her head, undid her bra, and grabbed a bright-yellow bikini top from her suitcase.
A few minutes later, we were at the beach bar, waiting for Monique and Gil and sucking pulverized lime and tequila through straws.
"There they are," said Suze. "Whoa."
I wasn't sure which one she was whoa-ing about. The two of them were obviously fitness freaks; Gil had a diver's body, muscular without looking bulgy, and Monique's curves were by no means flabby. He was wearing baggy swim trunks not much different from mine, and Monique was wearing a blue bikini with a matching wrap that looked like it had sparkling fish scales woven into the fabric.
"Hola! Buy you a drink?"
"That's easy to say at an all-inclusive resort, isn't it," I responded. We all got drinks and walked onto what seemed like an endless strip of sand and skin.
The days seemed both long and short as both of us settled in to resort life. The food was fabulous, the weather amazing – especially compared to ice storms, slush, and salt truck weather in Canada – and the resort and the towns surrounding it were beautiful and fascinating places. The four of us went into Playa del Carmen and drank tequila shots at Senor Frog's; we took a loooong bus ride to Chichen-Itza and marvelled at the ruins. And I don't know about Gil and Monique, but the sex was amazing. It seemed like we had forgotten that we turned each other on.
And we seemed to have found kindred spirits in Gil and Monique. Gil was the quieter one, and Monique had a bit of a crazy streak that meant she was inevitably going to be dragging us up for salsa dance lessons, taking part in the contests the resort staff organized, or suggesting just about anything that came into her head – up to and including getting up one morning at 4:30 to watch the sun rise over the Caribbean. She was right, though – it was a magnificent sunrise.
One day, the four of us decided to go to the ruins at Tulum, late Mayan and Toltec ruins that overlooked the Caribbean and were a big draw for tourists for both the history and for the amazing beach below them.
Gil had his camera gear, I had some beer and food in a backpack, and the girls were carrying beach bags with suntan lotion, water, toilet paper, and whatever else women carry in bags. We grabbed a collectivo (no organized tour busses for us old hands), got dropped at the gates, paid our two pesos admission, and off we went.
As we wandered the ruins we were struck by the sense of history and beauty there. Gil was snapping off shots left and right – here an iguana on a wall, there Monique and Suze looking at hibiscus blooms – and the rest of us were quietly appreciating being in such a setting.
Finally, someone said "Let's hit the beach!" and we walked down the path. As we got to the sand, I grabbed my t-shirt, tossed it over my head, and ran for the water. Gil dropped his camera gear, the girls their bags, and chased after me, cover-ups dropping and flip-flops flying as we ran for the waves.
I won – I did have a head-start – but the others weren't far behind. I dove through a wave and felt the warm water cool me off from wandering around in the hot sun – funny, eh, warm water cooling you off – and as I surfaced I heard the other three splashing behind me.
We played in the water like kids, and remarkably, we were the only ones. Monique obviously noticed too, and said "My god, it's like we're on a lost desert island here. You couldn't ask for better than this."
Gil swam behind her and said "Oh, yes you could." With one pull, he deftly untied her bikini top. Her breasts, which had been straining against her suits the whole vacation, popped the top out. The triangles of fabric hung on her nipples.
"GIL!" She turned around and swam after him. Anger outraced fear and she pushed him under, laughing. Suddenly, I felt something hit me in the back of the head. I turned around to see Suzie's bikini top floating in front of me, and Suze lying on her back, her bare breasts turned up to the sun, her nipples hard little points.
"Hey, no slingshots in the water, lady."
"Sue me. And toss that in to shore, will you?" I did as she asked, and turned around to look at Monique and Gil. They shrugged their shoulders, and he did the same with Monique's top.
We spent an hour or so playing in the water, feeling like kids. After a while, the sight of Monique's breasts started to not make much difference to me. We all seemed comfortable enough, although I wondered if I was the only one to feel a certain electricity in the air. As we came up on shore, Gil reached for his camera bag, and said, "Suzie, do you mind? I've had so much fun and I just want us to have some memories of it."
She looked at me, and I raised my eyebrows. They were her breasts, not mine. If she was comfortable with it, I wasn't going to object. "Sure," she said, and linked arms with Monique. Now there was a shot I wanted a copy of.
Eventually, we made our way back to the resort. Gil told us that he wanted to do some photo editing in the afternoon, and after dinner, he'd show us what he had shot on his laptop in their room.
Chapter 2.
After a fabulous barbecue dinner and some refreshing drinks, we headed to Gil and Monique's room to see his photos.
"I've already shot about 200. How long do you want to spend looking?"
"Show us the highlights and we'll let you know when we get bored," I said.
"Make it clear," said Monique. "Once he gets into photos, he could go all night."
"Lucky you," said Suze, winking.
The photos were fabulous. Gil had obvious talent, which we extolled and he denied. The resort, Playa del Carmen, Tulum, Chichen-Itza – they all were captured in great, well-composed images.
"Wow, these are great, Gil. You could sell these," said Suze.
"I do sell a little, but not too much."
And then there were the beach shots. Suze, me, Monique. Geez, he even found angles to make me look more muscular than I normally see myself as.
