The Miami Sands Resort and Spa was a low-rise, two-floor, sprawling beach resort, complete with rattan furniture, lazily-rotating ceiling fans, leafy palm trees and a balmy stretch of beach. With one large and one small swimming pool, plus sauna, steam bath, jacuzzi, gym, spa, restaurant and buffet facilities, it looked like a relaxing getaway for the younger crowd, rather than the sixty-something, retired, conservative golf club set that usually populated places like Palm Beach.
I had seen the brochures, so had an idea what to expect when our four long-distance buses rolled up, the heavy wheels crunching on the circular gravel driveway of the property. An elegant fountain featured in the island in the middle of the driveway area, plus what looked like some rather nice tropical gardens out front.
The sun was setting as we arrived, and brilliant hues of orange, pink and red were painted on the sky like an artist's summer watercolor. We heard the air brakes hiss as the pneumatic doors opened. There was a general hubbub of noise as people stood up, stretched their legs, groaned, then started opening lockers to get their baggage.
Presently, hordes of tired yet still beautiful people alighted from the lumbering vehicles and made their way through some double doors into a wide, cool, subtly-lit reception area.
The four tour guides from the different buses began yelling out orders and instructions, and the next half-hour was spent checking-in, with people milling around checking cellphones, calling family, bags and suitcases dotted around the area, receptionists busy with documents and papers, security guards barking orders into two-way radios, and all the usual stuff that happens when over a hundred people suddenly descend on a single location all that the same time.
Finally, the tour guides got us all quiet and paying attention, and told us the rules of the resort, health and safety regulations, then the times of various events. Dinner tonight was at eight, then a cocktail reception immediately after until twelve, then the nightclub would be open until 2am. Cocktails in the bar until midnight, the pool would close at 9pm but the beach was open all hours. Great.
I trudged my way to my hotel room with the room card. I was on the ground floor. Daniel was next to me (thanks, Jo!) but the three other women were upstairs at the end of the corridor because Jo wanted all the judges to be together.
"Well, we made it," smirked Daniel, carrying his bags and one of mine.
"Thank goodness," I remarked. "I'm beat. The first thing I'm gonna do is take a long shower."
"Are you going to dinner?"
"Sure. I'm starving!"
"I'll meet you there if you want. Eight o-clock?"
"Yeah -- er, no. Let's do 8:45. I think I'd like to lie down for a bit -- no need to rush, eh?"
"Sure, no problem. I would be happy to wait." Daniel squeezed my arm reassuringly. "See you later."
I smiled. "Yeah. I'm looking forward to it." With that, I watched Daniel enter his room next along the corridor, then brushed my card against the electronic lock to enter.
I found myself in a cool, air-conditioned room with a double bed, en-suite bathroom, flat-screen TV on a counter, with tea, coffee, a hairdryer, various condiments, an armchair, nightstand and floor-to-ceiling drapes at the windows, which also filled one whole wall. Intrigued, I dumped my baggage on the bed and parted the curtains with my hand.
Oh, wow. I saw a private garden area, with a sun lounger, leading to a cute paved pathway going straight to the large swimming pool. Beyond that was the beach and the star-sparkled surface of the Sargasso Sea. Fabulous! Smiling, I turned back inside to investigate the bathroom. Some rather nice beige vitreous tiling greeted me, with shower, bathtub, toilet and a mirror. Cool.
Alrighty, then, I thought. Let's get comfortable! I spent another half-hour unpacking my stuff -- I would need to borrow an iron for some of the gorgeous dresses I had bought for the fashion show -- and basically pottered around.
Hmm, it's 8pm already. I assessed whether hunger or tiredness was more pressing right now. The latter, I think. Stuff the long shower then. I opted for a quick fifteen minutes, then a half-hour lie down before dinner. No, scratch that. Crash now, then shower. My, my! My brain was addled. OK, good idea! Executive decision! I got undressed and lay down on the bed.
I was surprised to find that I nodded off almost immediately. It was a swoonful, power nap, one of those half-hour sessions when you wake up thinking, 'how long have I been out?'
I checked my watch. 8:40. Bummer, I'm late. I felt a lot better, though -- the heaviness had gone from my eyes for now, although I suspected I would need an early night still. No clubbing for me!
Stuff it, Daniel can wait. I swung my long legs off the bed and headed for the shower. After that, I changed into an elegant, brilliant blue evening gown. I planned to go to the cocktail party to mix and mingle, too.
At 9:00pm, I waltzed into the dining room area. The management had wisely decided it would be a buffet and among the Doric pillars and frond-like leafy potted plants stood tables of plates and tureens, white-coated staff in chef uniforms behind each one, a small window behind the wall revealing the large kitchens, where yet more chefs looked stressed and busy as they prepared flambe dishes, high flames occasionally making themselves visible through the small aperture.
Pleased with all this, my high-heeled shoes clicked confidently along the flagstone floor as I spotted my handsome hunk sitting at one table. His hair was neatly brushed, a pristine, crisp shirt, unbuttoned at the top covered his broad chest and he wore a lightweight dinner jacket over that, paired with immaculately pressed tight trousers that framed the impressive bulge in his crotch as he stood up to see me. His outfit was completed by some clean, black, leather shoes.
Daniel beamed as I approached. "Wow, you look awesome," he said.
"You don't look so bad yourself," I responded, happily. Then I remembered. "Oh, I'm sorry I'm late -- I overslept! I was out like a light."
"No problem," he said. "We're on vacation, right? I've just been soaking up the ambiance."
"Well," I said, my stomach rumbling. "Let's eat something! I'm starved!"
Daniel didn't need telling twice. We got up, joined the line and loaded up plates full of steaming entrees and delicious side dishes. We sat back down at the table to eat. Later I even got seconds, then still had enough space for dessert. Finally, I downed two long, cool sodas.
"Wow," remarked Daniel. "You must have been famished. You can put away quite a bit!"
"Yeah, I've got quite an appetite! Plus it's free, right?" I said, my eyes twinkling. "Man, these sodas are great thirst-quenchers. The first one barely touched the sides! I've got a terrific thirst!"
Daniel smiled at me, leaning forward across the table. "You're a woman of strong desires, Cathy," he said.
Feeling in a good mood, I raised my eyebrows at him. "Oh, yeah?"
"Yeah. Very thirsty, with a hunger for experiences and a passion for desire."
I was a little surprised at the depth of his remark. Thinking about it briefly, I replied. "Hmm. Well, I guess I am."
"Sure you are. Ever since I met you, you've been nothing but a drinker of emotion, an eater of life and a desirer of passion."
I laughed. "Your poetry is kind of clunky -- keep practicing, Shakespeare!" I was surprised to find myself blushing, even though his choice of words wasn't exactly the flowing lyricism I had dreamed about as a teenage girl.
"No, but it's true. It's been great for me, just to see it. You're a fantastic woman. I admire you."
"Stop it," I said, with a small smile.
Daniel smirked. "Seeing you like this is amazing."
Hmm, yes, I thought. This is his first time seeing me in evening wear.
"I can't believe I'm dining with a fashion model. It's like all my teenage dreams have come true." Daniel thought. "Do you realize that this time last week, I didn't even know you?"
It was true. Just a mere seven days ago, I had been lamenting my boring Saturday and my lame life. "You've been good for me, too, Daniel. Being with you has been so much fun."
