On Holiday -- Part One
Deborah was feeling sorry for herself. He'd had to fly back to the UK, and his parting words, "don't waste the time, and relax" seemed hollow. She was sat at a small table to one side, picking at her food, and she lifted her head at the cheery "hello can I help?"
It was one of the local, lovely dark skin, white perfect teeth smiling at her, and somehow she found herself explaining the whole sorry tale to him, about the phone call, the realization he had to go back, and her being alone.
He was sympathetic, and not pushy at all, and Deborah didn't feel bothered, in fact sharing it with him seemed to help her He seemed to understand, making tongue clicking sounds. He said it was a shame, and then he slipped away. Deborah felt slightly sad realizing he'd gone, but about half an hour later as she finished his food he came back and asked if he could share the table. He was obviously aware of the island's attractions and talked of them and Deborah found herself cheering up despite herself. After a time he apologized for going on and offered to get Deborah a drink and she accepted. It tasted sweet and had rum in it.
They talked a while more, Deborah asking about his life, finding he worked at the hotel, but after a while he interrupted. Smiled, and when she stopped talking asked her for a dance. In a way Deborah was surprised. He danced like a gentleman, keeping her at arm's length, but obviously knew his stuff. By the end she was feeling warmer and happier than she had been. They went back to the table and Deborah ordered a drink for Jerome. More talking and then Jerome asked for a second dance. A waltz, and again the perfect gentleman, no attempt to take advantage. When they got back to the table it was getting late, and Jerome had ordered drinks that were waiting, both cocktails. Deborah sipped at hers; matching Jerome, More desultory talk and Deborah started to yawn. "I think I ought to be going back to my room," she said and stood to say goodbye. To her surprise she felt a little unsteady on her feet and grabbed the table. "What was in that drink?" she asked as Jerome stood looking concerned.
"Rum, fruit juices, strong but nothing unusual. Are you OK? Can I offer you an arm?" and still perfectly gentlemanly, he crooked his elbow, Deborah smiled and took the proffered arm and directed him towards her room
The world swam a bit as she walked but she thought nothing of it, supported as she was. Deborah suspected nothing. Arriving outside her room, she disentangled herself, and dug her keys out of her handbag, before turning to Jerome and offering his cheek a kiss. And Jerome turned and her lips met his. And she was kissing his black lips. Thinking she'd pull away - but she didn't. Jerome unlocked the door and helped her into her room
Deborah was still unsteady as Jerome helped her into her room, and sat her down on the sofa. He turned back to the door but quickly came back and sat beside her before she said anything, looking into her eyes keenly, and then leaning forward to kiss Deborah again, and she responded. All she seemed to sense were his lips and tongue and then she realized Jerome's hand was on her breast. She sort of recognized this and that her nipple was hard but it didn't seem that important. Jerome's hand stayed there as the mouths were locked. He massaged first one breast and then the other and Deborah let it happen.
He was closer to her now, over a foot taller, and he gently took one of Deborah's arms and put it round his neck her head tipped back, and he guided her other hand to his lap. Deborah gasped; she couldn't help herself as her fingers felt what was under them. Involuntarily she squeezed. Jerome kissed her more, and she felt his hand at her waist, easing the top out, and sliding up towards her breast. Deborah wasn't to know that Jerome's gentlemanly manner was designed not to alarm her, as his friend at the bar prepared drinks, one reducing inhibitions and one with muscle relaxant, amongst other things.
