As we walked down the stairwell and followed the crowd of tourists into the hot humid terminal, my mind raced at what happened on the plane and I began to second-guess my feelings for Janine. She had touched me intimately, without shame, without any thought that squeezing the cock of a man you had just met was not exactly normal. But that wasn't all. The feelings I had for her were close to overwhelming me from the inside. Part of me wanted to grab Janine and hold her tight and-
I forced the thought out of my mind and felt an sickening emptiness take over inside. Could I be content being just friends with Janine? Or did I need more?
I saw Janine and Wayne hold hands and suddenly felt desperately alone. Self-consciousness ripped through me and left me feeling naked and exposed on the sun-baked tarmac. I was intensely aware that I was an unaccompanied man. What man went on a resort trip alone? A man no woman wanted? One who couldn't find love, who couldn't be loved, who was too old to be loved? I felt an intense urge to be back in the comfort of my home, hiding behind it's air-conditioned walls and soft comforts, so that I could escape into the world of television, books, and websites by drowning myself in the artificial.
A hand grabbed me softly.
Janine had turned back and had let Wayne go on. The way she looked at me, the way she smiled, the way her hair blew in the warm wind, the way her warm delicate fingers felt in mine; it all overwhelmed me. At that moment I was her Champion, her Knight, her Lancelot. I existed only for her.
I put my other hand softly over hers and smiled, fighting every urge to take her in my arms and kiss her. We walked into the terminal together, and to any stray eye that saw us we were a couple, lovers holding hands. I prayed for a miracle. Something to magically whisk us away where we could be together. Some place where she could fall in love with me.
"Passport please." We had arrived at the customs officer's counter.
Janine's hands left mine and went to search the zipper pouch by her hip. I followed the crease in her khakis that joined between her legs to form that exquisite V, those lines that mesmerized every heterosexual man since puberty. How I wanted to kiss that juncture, press my mouth against that mound, to heat it with my hot breath. I felt myself losing control. I started to kneel.
"Passports please!"
"For Fuck's sake..." I muttered, but was silently thankful. I knew I really would have planted a mouthful on her, overcome by my lust. What was wrong with me? What happened to the man who had brokered million-dollar deals, attended black-tie affairs, and eaten at the most refined restaurants without committing a single faux pas? Now here I was reduced to blithering idiot by a woman I had just met. After passing customs, we went over to pick up our luggage. Janine started teasing me about it."3 whole suitcases!" she said. "And for only one person too! Your as bad as a woman with too many outfits." That stung a little. Was three suitcases really too much?
"I really want to see what you brought." she finished.
Wayne said hefting up a backpack. "Hopefully you brought some cigs. Damned expensive over here."
"Sorry Wayne, I don't even smoke."
"That's okay neither do I, it's for Charlie, the geezer by the boats. You'll meet him. All smile, no teeth. Offer him a cigarette and he's your friend -- a friend who can find hard to get items."
"Such as?" I asked, waiting for Wayne to say something like Oh, you'll see.
"Such as...ganja." he said. I didn't know what it was at the time but I did understood it's meaning to be something narcotic.
Janine in the mean time was jumping around us like a school girl, reciting an impromptu poem she had made up about me:
Did Ajay pack his socky-socks? Yes indeed! In Suitcase One! But he don't need no socky-socks, No Indeed! Not-a-one!
Did Ajay pack his panty-pants? Yes indeed! In Suitcase Two! But he don't need no panty-pants Now I wonder if he gets the clue...