I really needed a vacation, to start with. The fall and holiday season had been crazy at work and I had to have a break. The miserable cold, wet winter practically screamed, "Get out of here, go somewhere warm, if only for a week!" I was between girlfriends right then, in fact had been in a dry spell for months, so the thought of just packing up and heading to the Gulf Coast of Mexico did not seem impetuous. I was twenty-three and fancy-free, after all. And a visit with my friendly travel agent (they were still "a thing", back then) revealed that a week at a Mexican resort could be surprisingly affordable, especially if I stayed away from the flashier destinations like Cancún or Cozumel. I settled on Playa del Carmen, where the sand was just as white, the ocean just as blue, and I could still day-trip to all the interesting sights of the Yucatán.
I could cut expenses even more by sharing a room, plus it would be pleasant to have a traveling companion. So I recruited my friend Bill from work, who I knew was feeling like I was about this whole work/winter/womanless situation we were sharing. We had known each other from college, and I had recommended him for a job that had opened up in the company. Bill wasted approximately fifteen milliseconds before yelling, "Hell yeah, man! I'm in!" So a couple of quick vacation requests later, I booked the package and we were set.
By the time we touched down at the Cancún airport, we had the rules of engagement worked out. We were of course interested in hooking up (though the term wasn't in wide use yet) with single women out for a good time. We would do the buddy routine in situations where there were likely to be eligibles, but otherwise would give each other ample space. If one of us happened to hook up and needed to use the room for a while, we would just use the "Do Not Disturb" card.
"We have to remember, though, that this isn't like the dorms at school," I said. "We can't just crash with Eddie down the hall if the other wants to have an all-nighter. A couple hours at most, OK?"
"Sure, Dan," Bill replied. "The ideal situation would be for the girl to have a room to herself, though."
"Sure. If that happens and you'll be gone overnight, just call the room, let it ring once, and hang up. That way I'll know not to wait up for you, if you follow."
"Got it."
We caught the hotel shuttle and relaxed for the one-hour-plus ride to Playa del Carmen. The sunshine was amazing after the dreary gray skies of home. We passed the occasional small town, and I took in the rustic look of humble homes and businesses.
When the shuttle pulled up at the hotel, it was as if we had arrived at another world. We walked through the open-air main entrance into the marble-floored lobby and got in line to check in.
"How'd we manage to get into a place like this?" asked Bill. "It looks way more expensive than what we're paying."
"It is," I said. "The package deal saves a lot off what we'd pay just calling in and booking a room."
About that time I noticed an attractive woman who looked to be about my age. She was sitting at a table near the bar, chatting with a friend. She had blonde hair, sun-streaked and long. She had taken off her sunglasses revealing green eyes. Her smooth, bare arms were evenly tanned. She was wearing a tank top that she filled out wonderfully, and white shorts that set off her toned legs, also browned by the sun. I guessed she had been here for a few days and had put in a good amount of beach time already.
I kept checking out this striking woman while we waited, memorizing her features. I wondered if I could possibly meet her. The easy laughter that punctuated her conversation was so appealing.
We got checked in and moved into our room, which was large and comfortable. The bathroom was particularly nice, featuring a roomy combination tub and shower. Our balcony looked out on the ocean. We immediately changed into swim trunks and hit the beach, which was just steps from the open walkway that circled the hotel. It really was another world now. It was nearly noon, and the sun seemed impossibly high in the sky, the air and sand impossibly warm.
"I think this is where we outta be right now," I said to Bill.
"I think you're right."
We just relaxed and soaked up the sunshine, went for an occasional plunge in the cool, refreshing surf, and enjoyed the female scenery. Once in a while a woman would stroll by topless. From the guidebooks I had read, this was not uncommon here. It was all right with us. It was beginning to feel like a week of this would not be enough. What if we just became beach bums here?
Soon enough the sun was setting, and we found that an afternoon on the beach had done wonders for our appetites. We decided to see what the night life was like off the property. We changed back into jeans and casual shirts, and walked northward along the first street parallel to the beach, past the ferry to Cozumel, in search of some good local food.
This was a time just on the cusp of the huge economic expansion that has since brought in a flood of Americanized restaurants and boutiques. The first couple of city blocks off the beach were pedestrian only, and full of open-air bars and tiny restaurants, many just under tents or tin roofs. The aroma of roasting meat and grilled vegetables was everywhere. Where to begin?
We finally settled on a place under a larger tent, where the aromas were particularly delicious. Bill had a plate of tacos al pastor, while I went for a big bowl of pozole. We both agreed that each was the best thing we'd ever eaten. We killed time afterward, sipping bottles of Bohemia beer and enjoying the cooler evening breeze. No one was going to hurry us out; things were different here. The little TV set above the bar was showing an American station via satellite. The weather report was on, telling of record lows over the midsection of the United States. Negative numbers decorated the map out to a radius of hundreds of miles around home.
"A good time to be out of the country, eh?" said Bill.
"No shit. We should just stay here all winter."
"We'd get fired."
"So what?"
"Our visas will run out."
"I know. We were born in the wrong place."
I was just glancing around the place when there she was. The blonde from the lobby, sitting not twenty feet from us. If anything, she was hotter looking than she had been that morning. She had brushed her hair out and fixed up her face a bit, it seemed. Not that she needed much. She was sitting with the same friend from the morning. Who was female, did I mention? Evidently she was not here with a man. All signs were good.
"Hey, bud! Whatcha looking at?" Bill had caught me.
"The chick over there, the blonde," I said, motioning with my head but keeping my voice low. "She was in the lobby this morning. Nice."
"I gotcha." He quickly spotted her. "Oh yeah, nice is right. Hey, her friend's not bad looking either. Why don't we go over?"
"That can't work. What's the opening? These things have to be done with finesse. Didn't you learn anything at State?"
"I learned that getting drunk at a mixer and letting it all hang out could get you places sometimes. I suppose things are different now."
Just then she turned her head and caught me looking at her. My instincts served me well; I quickly gave her a big smile and a thumbs-up. She smiled back, a bit shyly, then turned back to her friend.
"There," I told Bill. "The seed is planted. Now when I see her again, we'll practically have been introduced. Learn from the master, my friend."
"If you see her again, you mean. She could be leaving tomorrow."
"Maybe. You've got to play the odds."
The two women got up and left a few minutes later. We gave it about five more, called for our check and settled up. It was a pleasant night for the walk back to the hotel, just cool enough to be refreshing after the day's warmth. A first-quarter moon was slowly sinking in the west.
We shot some pool in one of the common rooms downstairs and then hit the bar for a nightcap. It had been a long day with our flight having departed just after dawn. I slept more soundly than I had in weeks.
The next thing I knew was the blazing sun rising out of the Gulf, shining directly through our balcony door. No alarm clocks needed in this place. Or wanted.
We had breakfast sent up. A bit extravagant, yes, but we felt we should do it just once for the sheer luxury of it. Sipping coffee leisurely on a balcony just yards from a crystal-blue pool, and beyond that yards more from the whitest beach we had ever seen, we felt like we, just a year or two out from shedding punk-kid status, had arrived.
Around mid-morning I got my stuff together and checked my camera. My plans were to walk over to the Xaman-Ha bird sanctuary, just south of the property, for a tour. Bill had no use for birds and was going to swim in the pool for a while. That was fine. We agreed to meet whenever we met.
"Hey, good luck if you see your chick," he said as I was leaving.
"Thanks, man."
It was less than a ten minute walk to the entrance of Xaman-Ha. I spent the next hour or so wandering on stone paths that wound through dense tropical vegetation. Most of the birds were free; parrots and macaws with their brightly colored plumage spent their time perched on tree branches. They didn't mind at all having photos taken, and I got some great shots. There was one walk-through enclosed space that held what seemed like dozens of species of flying birds, though it was hard to get a good look at them. The best part was a pond with about a half dozen flamingos just hanging out. I got a couple good photos of them also.
I struck up a conversation with a pleasant young mother with a daughter who looked to be about six, after overtaking them on the trail. The mom had a very nice smile, and wore no wedding ring. Stephanie was from Pittsburgh, and had been here four days with her daughter Jan. I introduced myself and we chatted, comparing notes on our experiences so far in Mexico. Stephanie had a certain sparkle in her blue eyes as she spoke to me. I let myself wonder, but knew nothing was happening here, if for no other reason than the presence of her child. Still it was a good feeling, carrying on a subtly flirtatious conversation with this attractive woman only a few years my senior. Finally I shook hands with both of them and wished them a pleasant vacation and a safe trip home, if we didn't meet again.
Just as the trail looped to connect with itself near the entrance and exit, I caught sight of the back of a blonde head about thirty feet ahead of me. Could it be her? She was wearing a kind of wraparound dress that looked like it might be a beach cover-up. The legs could be hers. She was leaving the park, though. If only I had run into her on the trail, like I had met Stephanie! I kept an eye on her as I made my own exit. She was also walking back toward the resort. It was no use trying to catch up with her; what if I did that, started talking, and it wasn't her? I'd look and feel like a prime fool. Better luck later, I told myself.
I peeled off from her as she headed toward the hotel, and walked on to Señor Frog's for lunch. It was a pretty touristy, Americanized place, but had the advantage of being in a tent right on the beach. It was better than the hotel's overpriced offerings, at least.
After lunch, I went up to the room to change into my trunks. Bill wasn't there. I had decided to hit the beach for the afternoon. I packed my sunscreen, my room key, a book, and a few other essential items into a little bag, added a t-shirt, sandals, and sunglasses to my ensemble, and went back downstairs.
The beach was not too packed at midday, so I was able to get a spot near the water. I just stayed there on my towel, reading and soaking up the sun, with the occasional break to go into the water for a quick swim. Time passed easily this way, like it had yesterday, until it seemed to be getting on toward four o'clock. It occurred to me then to check out the pool. It was one place I hadn't been yet.
It was a large oval pool, immaculately clean, with a swim-up bar on a landing in the middle. I had set my bag and sunglasses down on an empty table and was about to throw off my sandals and jump in, when I saw her.
She was in the pool, wearing a fuscia one-piece suit that did everything possible to show off her great figure. She was lazily swimming back and forth, first an underwater breast stroke that gave a great view of her fantastic legs and ass through the clear water, then a backstroke that featured her supple arms and ample breasts. I was already fantasizing about taking down the top of that suit and exploring those beauties, which promised to be ripe and succulent.
