A Night in Paradise

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A Night in Paradise

by Stephanie Rose

(Two's company. Is more a crowd?)

~~~

"Oh God! This guy's looking for a partner to go to the swinger's club with him?"

Portia Kane squinted at the personal ad in the Miami XChange weekly newspaper. Though she loved the XChange's political editorials, and regularly read its vast coverage of the legendary Miami nightlife, she especially loved perusing the erotic personal ads in its back pages.

She read the personal ad aloud.

"Single Black/Italian professional male, seeking female companion to attend couples night at The Paradise. No contact, no strings, no games. I just need a female escort. Appena mi fiducia."

Seated in her spacious, ultra-modern kitchen, Portia tapped her neatly-manicured fingernails on the midnight-black granite-topped island stationed in the center of the room. Suddenly pensive, she rose, took a bottle of spring water from the refrigerator, walked out the sliding doors just off her breakfast nook and stepped out onto her balcony.

Fifteen floors up from the sizzling-hot South Beach sand, she relaxed in her high-rise, luxury condominium building. She took a long sip of her cool drink and stared at the expansive waters of the Atlantic Ocean. The sun was just beginning to set and its warm golden tones mixed with and cascaded into the cool blue waters.

A budding writer and journalist, Portia's mind began to swirl with questions. "So this guy, this random guy, wants a female escort into the hottest, most exclusive African-American swingers club in Miami? Hell, the hottest, most exclusive African-American swinger's club in the world? And with no strings? He just wants an escort?"

Portia set the bottle on the edge of the concrete balcony and ran her hands over her pixie-length, jet-black, relaxed tresses. Reminiscent of Halle Berry's legendary haircut, her short hair perfectly complimented her angular, but still soft features and deep golden bronze skin.

Then she tried to ease the pounding excitement rising through her by smoothing down her light cotton summer dress. The fitted garment hugged and caressed her gentle curves and its soft, white color highlighted her golden bronze skin.

Thinking about going to the most exclusive Black swinger's club in the world, most likely filled with sexy, beautiful women, sent a luscious tingle all through her body. A lesbian at heart, she leaned against the balcony's steel railing and imagined sexy female bodies, from chocolate to vanilla, from slender to curvy, all joined together in erotic bliss. Her thick nipples hardened, straining against the soft fabric of her dress.

"I've always wanted to go to the Paradise," she mused as the warm, ocean breeze wafted over her soft skin. "It's been on my mind ever since I read that article about it on that Internet message board. And it's true that men can't come in unescorted. Single women are always welcome, coupled or not, but every single man has to have at least one female companion."

Portia began to pace back and forth. "But that place is so exclusive! How does this guy even plan to get in? And why is he advertising for a partner in the city paper of all places?"

She snapped her fingers, insight rushing to her. "Of course. He's a fake. A wannabe. Definitely not an 'insider.' I mean, yeah, I want to go to The Paradise, but not with some phony flake."

A smug smile spread over Portia's face as she grabbed her bottle of water and went back into the kitchen. She sat back down at the island, vowing to forget about the preposterous proposition, but something made her look at the ad again.

Sighing, she picked up the paper. This time, she studied the words more carefully, especially the last phrase, "Appena mi fiducia."

She thought for a moment, crinkling her tiny, pert nose. "Hmm. He could very well be a flake," she said. "But would a flake use foreign words in a personal ad?"

She jumped up, jogged into her home office and sat down at her computer. The machine already on, she clicked into a popular search engine and typed in the foreign phrase.

A second later, its translation popped up onto the screen.

"Well, I'll be. It's Italian!" She squinted at the display. "It means, 'Just trust me.'"

She paused, leaned back in her chair and thought for a moment. Then she grinned. "Well, I can at least call his voice mailbox. Just to see what his voice sounds like. That'd be pretty harmless."

She went into the living room, grabbed her cell phone out of her handbag and went back into the kitchen. Checking the paper, she first dialed the main personal ad contact number, then punched in the man's individual voice mailbox number.

"I just have to see what kind of man is trying to spend a night in Paradise."

~~~

Later that evening, corporate attorney Antonín Giansante sat at his dining room table sipping on a cool glass of Chardonnay as he carefully reviewed the large stack of corporate and financial documents in front of him.

Ever since he was a young boy, Antonín was fascinated with money and finance. First owning a lemonade stand in Miami as a child, then owning and maintaining a mini-conglomerate of paper routes, he learned the value of a dollar early in life.

However, his dream of being a financial mogul was almost derailed just as early. Born to an Italian diplomat for a father and an African-American school principal for a mother, his parents urged him to complement his high monetary goals with high educational goals.

However, never daunted by any challenge, Antonín agreed and mapped out his career path early, graduating from high school at sixteen and college just four years later. Going straight to law school, he knew he could make the most impact for his people if he studied the way money flowed into and out of the world's economy.

Now, just a mere ten years later, as a full partner in the successful Cole, Borgess, Deveraux and Giansante law firm, the firm he helped build right out of law school, he headed up its Transaction and Finance Department. The lead attorney on the Synergy Corporation merger, Antonín was the point man on joining two of the most successful African-American manufacturing companies in the world.

As Antonín studied the thick stack of documents, he reflected back on when he first delegated the preliminary due diligence to one of his junior corporate associates. Now that the merger was gaining steam, he personally wanted to verify all of the documents before the merger could proceed.

He'd already spent the better part of the day completing the document review when all of a sudden his cell phone chimed, alerting him to a new text message. He picked it up from the table and checked the display.

"Hmm. The XChange magazine?"

He read the text quickly. "I have a new voicemail message."

He sighed. "I need a break," he said as he pushed the papers to the side, leaned back in his chair and dialed the message retrieval number in the text.

As he logged into his voice mailbox account, he took a deep breath. "I hope this one is The One," he said as he waited for the system to recognize his password. "I can't take any more insincere women." As he sat there, he realized his heart was racing.

Being a powerful attorney in Miami, he was inundated with invitations to various social events. It wasn't unusual for Antonín to attend the hottest sporting events, concerts, club openings and other social events. However, none piqued his interest as did the invitation to go to The Paradise.

Once he overheard his law partner, David Deveraux, bragging about his wild, raucous night at The Paradise, he was obsessed with going to the club himself. Deveraux managed a private invite, but there was only one hitch:

Antonín had to find a female escort.

Though he was excited to go to the private club, he was also hesitant. Because he was in such a prominent position, he couldn't afford to ask just anyone.

As Antonín sat there, stroking his sturdy and clean-shaven, deep mahogany chin, he thought long and hard about which woman he could attend with.

"I really wish Amaya could go with me," he said, his mind forming a mental picture of the beautiful and adventurous, yet discreet lady friend that wanted to attend The Paradise as well.

Amaya Salazar, a Latin dance teacher with her own chain of dance studios across the United States, was a sight to behold. A stunningly beautiful entrepreneur, she retained Antonín's law firm to help franchise her studios. Impressed with Antonín's corporate skill and business acumen, she was fully satisfied with his representation and retained the firm for even more of her legal work.

The twosome quickly became close friends and went out on occasion. However, despite swarms of men approaching Amaya on almost a minutely basis, only Antonín knew that her heart was only for women. As such, Antonín often found himself accompanying Amaya to their shared social engagements, if only to discourage any male suitors.

Knowing how much Amaya would have loved to attend with him, Antonín shifted in his chair, then he sighed. "Too bad our schedules haven't been meshing lately," he said sadly. But at least Amaya agreed to help him select his female escort.

To ensure discretion, he decided not to approach any of his other personal friends or associates but, rather, to find an anonymous female companion with as much to lose as he had. Thankfully, for years, he'd been a faithful reader of the adult personal ads in the Miami XChange and decided to give them a try. However, the responses he'd gotten had been less than impressive.

He held the phone carefully, expectantly, and at the voice mailbox prompt, he pressed the number one and the new message began to play. After only a moment, he found himself absolutely stunned at the soft, feminine voice that began to speak.

"Hi. I'm...I'm Portia. I saw your ad for an escort to The Paradise club and I want to learn more. I just listened to your message and I like your voice. I like the fact that you're looking for someone who's very discreet. And, actually, I'm more into girls than guys, so I especially like that you're only looking for a female escort into the club, and not a partner to party with. I also like your idea about talking on the phone first for a while, then meeting for coffee. So just respond to this message if you're interested."

She paused. "Oh...About me. I'm about 5'6" with a slim build. I'm African-American and I have golden bronze skin and short, black hair. Ok. That's it. I'm kinda nervous about this, but you sound like a good guy so I'm taking a chance. Oh yeah...I loved your Italian. Well, ok. That's it. Thanks. Bye. Oh wait...Il mio cuore è nelle sue mani. I hope I said that correctly! Ok. Bye!"

Antonín realized he was smiling as he translated her Italian words. "My heart is in your hands."

He kept that same warm smile as he listened to the message five more times. Eventually he hung up, sat back in his chair and thought about the soft voice that had just traveled through his body and straight to his heart.

Sitting up straight, he quickly dialed another number. A pleasant, yet seductively feminine voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Amaya? It's Antonín. Listen...I think I've found The One..."

~~~

A week later, perched at the bar in the Golden Rose restaurant, Portia nervously twirled what little hair she had in her fingers. "What in the hell am I doing here?" she whispered.

Ever since Antonín returned her message over a week ago, they'd talked every single day. Portia quickly grew to love his deep, rich voice, keen intelligence, sharp wit and his masculine charms.

Once she was comfortable with his telephone persona, she agreed to meet him at the Golden Rose for drinks. Located right on Collins Avenue in South Beach, the Golden Rose was one of the most upscale restaurants in all of Miami. The restaurant was known for being dark, discreet and quite removed from the normal bustle of such a popular city.

As she sat there, sipping a cool glass of spring water, she glanced at her reflection in the mirror behind the bar. She wore a soft-black satin mindress, cut so that her shapely legs were on full display. Her short, glossy black hair had small, sexy curls and the back was freshly tapered so that the soft strands gently caressed her neck. Her makeup was simple; she wore rich, gold colors on her eyes, cheeks and lips, making her golden bronze skin gleam.

"He said he'd be wearing a dark business suit with a pink tie. I hope he remembers what I said I'd be wearing."

Picking up her glass, she took another sip of her ice water. Then all of a sudden, a motion to her right caught her eye. She turned toward that direction and gasped at what she saw.

A stunningly handsome man in a dark blue business suit and a rose-colored tie walked directly toward her with an equally beautiful woman in tow.

The dark gentleman, the color of deep mahogany, was about 6'4". He stood tall and lean, and his masculine yet gentlemanly presence dominated the entire room.

The woman beside him was absolutely gorgeous. As Portia regarded the Latin woman, it only took a moment for her to decide that this exotic creature was simply heavenly.

The woman's delicate, fair, buttermilk skin, tinged with just a hint of brown, was warm and radiant and fully represented her Latin heritage. She had long, dark-brown curly hair, with copper and golden highlights, and it framed her soft, pretty face. Her enchanting hazel eyes sparkled with mirth.

The woman wore a fitted gold silk dress with a plunging neckline that revealed firm, rounded breasts. The dress also had a dangerously-high hemline that revealed her sexy, curvy legs. Portia licked her lips at the woman's outright carnal display of feminine sexuality.

Portia trembled with raw desire as the man stepped right up to her and extended his hand. "Portia?"

She nodded as they shook hands. "Yes, it's me," she squeaked.

Then she immediately grimaced, annoyed at how nervous she sounded. However, her discomfort flittered away and was quickly replaced by awe at how attractive and fit the couple was. Portia was so impressed with the exotic twosome that she immediately regretted her initial reluctance. In that moment she sent a silent thanks to the Universe for urging her to answer Antonín's personal ad.

"Portia! Ciao Bella!" he said, grasping her tiny hand in his large, warm one. "I'm Antonín. And this is Amaya. It's so nice that you could join us."

Amaya extended her hand. "You were right, Antonín," she said in a low, husky voice. "Portia's a true beauty. Inside and out."

Portia shivered at her touch. Amaya's warmth radiated right through her, from her fingertips to her toes. Portia blushed at the raw heat that began to rise in her.

Antonín helped Portia off the barstool, and placed his hand at the small of her back. "Come Portia. I have a table already waiting."

~~~

"So, Portia...tell me a little about yourself," Amaya asked, her accent thick and her voice husky and filled with passion. "I want to know everything about you, you beautiful creature."

Before Portia could answer, Amaya unexpectedly reached out and stroked her short hair. "But first, Bella, tell me about your haircut. It's sunning on you!" Amaya said.

Portia shivered, partly because of Amaya's new nickname for her, but mostly because of Amaya's slim fingers touching and teasing her hair. Amaya's hands teased her silky strands, then began to roam down to caress her neck.

"I...I've just always loved short hair," Portia answered, her body trembling with desire for this seductive woman.

Amaya tilted her head. "Your hair looks like that...Halle Berry, no?"

Portia turned to see Antonín sitting there both amused and aroused at their conversation.

"Yes," Portia answered. "That's who I modeled it after."

Amaya dipped her hands lower to stroke the close cut hair at the nape of Portia's neck. Amaya smiled, amused at seeing Portia shivering in delight. "Well, you're a natural beauty," Amaya said, "just like Halle."

"Thanks," Portia blushed.

"Well, go on. Tell me more about you," Amaya said, still fingering Portia's soft skin.

Portia cleared her throat and struggled to regain her composure in front of the exotic couple. "I'm in my mid-twenties and I'm self employed."

"What do you do?" Amaya asked.

"I'm a freelance writer. I work for an online magazine. I'm also working on a novel of my own. My first." Portia was slightly embarrassed at how open she was about her real life to this total stranger, but she was enthralled by Amaya's exquisite beauty.

"How nice," Amaya said as she drew her fingers from Portia's skin to take a sip of wine. The threesome, now seated at an intimate table in the back of the restaurant, was now in a position to fully evaluate one other.

"But let's get down to why we're all really here," Amaya said, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "Why are you interested in The Paradise?"

"Well, I heard...well, read, about the club online. I was intrigued."

"You're looking for a partner to partake in the...festivities? Someone tall, dark and handsome?"

"You mean a man?" Portia shook her head. "No. Not at all. I don't date men."

Amaya leaned in close, her fragrance swirling around Portia, captivating her even more. "Do tell. You no like handsome men?" Amaya asked as she gently stroked Antonín's strong, dark hand.

Portia stared her in the eye. "I prefer beautiful women. Antonín didn't tell you?"

Amaya was silent as she sat back and took another sip from her wineglass. Then, carefully setting her glass back down, she tossed back her chestnut tresses and fixed a firm gaze right onto Portia.

Portia watched her carefully, but Amaya didn't show any signs of shock or embarrassment. Finally Amaya spoke. "Do you have a particular type?"

Portia smiled. "I do love Latin women. I love their spirit, their resilience and, especially, their heat."

Amaya returned her smile. Then she turned to her male companion, who'd been sitting silently watching the passionate interaction between the two women. "Antonín," Amaya said, "where did you find this beautiful creature? She's simply amazing."

"I agree," he said. "And I'm looking forward to learning even more."

~~~

"Ok, ladies, we're here," Antonín announced as their stretch luxury limousine pulled up to a marked valet station.

Portia leaned over Antonín and peered out of the tinted window to see the parking attendant coming toward them. The smartly-dressed young man opened the passenger door.

Antonín stepped out of the car, then extended his hand to help Portia out, then Amaya, who was carrying three small backpacks. The trio silently looked at the nondescript gray stone building, each lost in his or her own thoughts.

Amaya looked at Portia curiously. "Not getting nervous, are we?" she asked as she gently took Portia's hand in hers.

Portia smiled. "No. But like you already know, this is my first time here. Well, our first time here. I'm just trying to take everything in, that's all."

The attendant ushered them into the building with a grand gesture. "Welcome to Paradise," he smiled. "Just enter the building, continue up the staircase to the front offices, and Marlena, our concierge, will take care of your every need."

~~~

As Portia stepped out of the way to let Antonín lead them inside, she imagined a building filled with expensive furnishings, gold and silver accents, valuable artwork, priceless glasswork, and other modern architectural treats.

Instead, she found modest wooden paneling and concrete steps. Extremely modest, but with a somewhat home-y feel.

"I guess I expected the Taj Mahal," she chuckled to herself.