This is a true story. In the late summer of 2018, I had just got engaged to my dream girl - Katya. My hippy, happy, quirky, blonde bombshell Fiancée. I was 41 years old but Katya (Katey) was 26 and just the prettiest girl you've ever seen. An ex-bikini model, 5'8", about 110 lbs long blonde hair, sparkling blue eyes, flashing smile, natural C cups, a tiny waist you could fit in the palm of your hand and what had to be the best ass in the great state of Texas -- she was a one percenter. A real-life Disney Princess - so pure and naive - always wanting to help people and just a ray of sunshine in every room she walked into. She loved to party, with a healthy dose of alcohol, substances, which sometimes led to weird and unexpected results. Random behaviour, hallucinations, and sometimes just a different person completely.
This is the second part of our trip to the Caribbean, where things took an unexpected turn for both me and Katya. We were staying at the Hard Rock Hotel & Resort in Punta Cana, Dominican, when it seemed like a good idea to try and procure some marijuana. What happened in the end was we ended up inviting the marijuana dealer, who looked like a big black Santa Claus, back to our room where the night ended with my beautiful blonde Katya provided him a close-up view of her naked bikini model body while he ejaculated all over her face and C cup breasts.
After the previous night's events you'd think that people should perhaps discuss what happened. Ignoring the elephant in the room was an option but it's usually worth asking ourselves at least a couple of easy questions - how are we feeling about what happened? was it a mistake? did we both enjoy it? do we want to do that again? At least a couple of these basic discussions.
Katya being what she is though, hippy, flower power child of the universe just wanted to skip along, smell all the roses and pretend like nothing happened. Which in hindsight was her usual modus operandi if we had participated in some form of sexual deviance.
The day after our first night with Ernesto everything seemed fine, but Katya was less bubbly and talkative than usual. She'd still smile and laugh at things but there didn't seem to be the same energy and enthusiasm that were her signature qualities. She seemed distracted.
We went about our day, drinking and chatting idly, going from the beach to different bars, restaurants, and pools (there are a ridiculous number of pools and bars at Hard Rock Punta Cana). Katya keeps smiling and being pleasant but seemed distant. She was still her beautiful happy self, just quieter. It's like somebody dialled down the 'Katya factor' back to its 12 o'clock position.
I figured best to leave it be and let her handle things in her own way. What concerned me the most though was maybe something had upset her, or she regretted what happened, and wasn't quite sure how to process it. It was unsettling and I wish she would just yell or scream and tell me that she was angry with me. I hated this guessing game. These situations can be dicey, and you can't let something like that fester - especially if it was about love, or money.
I figured the best thing to do would be to just act supportive, let her know I love her more than anything, and give her time and space to open up about what was on her mind.
After a pretty uneventful (and quiet) day, we decided to go get some dinner. Something easy going and colourful may cheer her up and I suggested we try the Mexican restaurant. "Ok Babe," was all I got. It wasn't encouraging.
Although her mood seemed dialled right down her dress sense didn't seem particularly affected. If she was popular in that gold Herve Leger mini dress, she was certainly going to get some attention tonight. She was wearing this halterneck ring detail crop top which was basically a leopard print bikini top with an 'O' ring in the middle that ties around the back of her neck and let's her show off her perfect stomach and tiny waist.
She then wore a black pleated flare miniskirt with a pair of high wedges which basically show off her never-ending legs - there was no way she was going to be playing any pool tonight. There would have been riots.
Guiding Katya through the lobby as she obliviously continued to cause accidents and couples to fight seemed a little easier because she was missing the usual spring in her step which made her less 'bouncy'.
We get to the Mexican restaurant and have a very decent meal, which seems to cheer her up a little as she regains some laughter and sparkle. Things improved a little after some food and margaritas, but she was still only half with me. The other half seemed nowhere to be found. We went back to the Moon Lounge and got ourselves more hard-hitting margaritas and I found her a stool chair to sit on at the bar.
We're looking out at the crowd making small talk - it's like we just met and were a couple of office colleagues. Finally, she asks me what time it was? I told her it was 9:30pm.
She then asked nonchalantly, "Did you invite Ernesto?"
Gotcha! There it was. She wasn't upset. She wasn't regretting anything. She was just impatient!!
She'd been waiting the whole day to ask me this question. I smile at her knowing she knew full well she'd been caught red -- handed and asked her tongue in cheek, "Oh... should I have invited him today?"
She hits my arm playfully and calls me an asshole. I look deep into those baby blues and sure enough that little twinkle had returned. "Invite him..." she coos.
Katya needs nearly constant entertainment. When she gets bored, she's like a hound in the yard; she'll start digging up the roses and eating your shoes.
It meant she had fun last night, and she wanted to have more fun.
I for one was just relieved that she wasn't sad, or depressed or felt guilty about anything that happened. It was my idea in the first place. I'm not sure where all this was going to lead but I was happy she was smiling properly again.
I teased her some more, "Are you sure? You want me to call him now? Like, right now?" and smiled.
"Yes! Asshole! Yes!" she laughed and answered loudly while playfully hitting me everywhere, "Just call him. Bozjhe... (apparently it means 'Good Lord!' in russian)."
So I go through my phone contacts and find our Dominican Santa Claus' phone number. He must have been waiting by the phone like a lovesick teenager because he picked up on the first ring when I called.
He was full of greetings and happiness. I asked him if I was bothering him and he said no of course not Senor. I was his 'guest' he said.
So I asked him if it was too late to get more of his product and he was adamant that it wasn't late at all. He must have known we still had a whole stash of product from the night before -- but he seemed very eager and insisted he could be there in 30 minutes.
