My eyes were half closed as I skimmed the lines, barely reading. I never felt like I read this book. It was as if the words were absorbing into me the way a good meal sinks through you. With a feeling of great satisfaction.
"What are you reading?"
The question surprised me, and I started guiltily. The small, leather-bound book — about the size of an airport paperback — snapped closed and tumbled from my fingers to the smooth tile as I glanced up.
The pool attendant, stunning in a white bikini that showed off the bronze hue of her skin and a loose white skirt with the hotel logo that slashed across her thighs, bent down before I could stop her. My eyes were caught, naturally, by the dark valley of shadow between her full tits, and so I didn't realize until too late that she was holding my book gently aloft in her fingers.
"Wait!" I said, sitting up too late, reaching out my hands desperately. "Don't worry about it!" I winced inwardly, realizing that she was already glancing at the cover with interest, noting the uniqueness of the volume she held in her hands.
She's going to think I'm some fucking deviant, reading "the Book of Lust"...
I watched her face carefully as she stared at my choice of reading material.
"Can you read this?" she asked, her eyes impressed.
I glanced from her face to the book, where the words "Book of Lust" were written clearly across the cover in letters of etched gold. Then, as I stared, the words slowly spun together and resolved themselves as delicately inscribed, ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics.
I opened my mouth and then closed it. "Yes, actually," I said, holding out my hand.
Don't open the damn thing,
I silently wished.
Not out here...
She placed the book in my open palm, her eyes giving me a once over. I was wearing nothing but a simple pair of red swimming trunks. Her eyes lingered on the tattoo inked into my chest, the charcoal black etching of a roaring lion.
I gave her a look myself, my eyes tracing the lush mounds of her breasts beneath the bikini, the smooth lines of her waist and leg, down to her bare feet on the cool, poolside tile.
"I didn't know anyone still read ancient Egyptian," she joked, meeting my gaze with hers. Her eyes were a pretty blue, startling and bright against the background of her darker skin. She blinked several times as they met mine, as if a speck of dust had floated into her eye, but then her expression cleared.
I smiled slightly. "Only a few of us," I bantered back.
Luckily,
I thought. "So, are you going to offer me a drinks menu or are you just going to inflate my ego?"
The attendant blushed suddenly, her expression turning bashful. "Sorry, sorry..." she muttered, shaking her head and clasping her hands behind her back. The stance only enhanced her figure, her tits pushed forward and straining against the white bikini top. She looked down. "If you'd like something to drink, our bartender mixes an excellent..."
I watched her mouth. The innocent parting of her lips made me want to grab a fistful of her hair, pull back her head and plant a deep, heavy kiss.
"... but we also serve local and imported beers, some soft drinks and a few local specialty beverages, for our more adventurous clientele."
As she spoke, I became aware that there was a slight pressure building behind my eyes. It was a strange feeling, like the sensation of a muscle being flexed in the midst of lifting something rather heavy. I focused on it, and the young woman trailed off.
"Are you alright?" she asked, in a slightly concerned tone.
I realized I was furrowing my brows and scowling with concentration. "Quite alright," I said, smiling brightly. As I stopped focusing so hard, the pressure lessened. "Actually," I suggested. "Since you were interested, maybe I could show you some more of this book up in my room? Grab a really expensive drink for each of us and we can meet up there in ten minutes."
I gave her a winning look, my fists clenching by my sides as the strain behind my eyes redoubled. I could tell she knew she should say no. That an invitation like this from a hotel guest was
supposed
to be denied.
"I'd love to see more," she murmured, her eyes twinkling with delight.
I didn't let up on my focus, the pressure building to an almost painful level.
The attendant rested a hand lightly on my shoulder and bent down beside me. Her lips brushed against my ear as her round breast pressed against my muscular shoulder. "Make sure you're ready for me..." she murmured.
Then, she turned and walked away, not glancing back.
*
*
*
"When can we go?" Marisha demanded.
My partner had given up bossing me around. She'd given up the haughty, snobbish and anti-Darius mentality that used to wind me up so tight. She hadn't given up her complaints.
She wore a flowing white robe, silky and see-through, open at the front, over a sky-blue bikini set. She paced back and forth across the sitting area of our suite with a mimosa in one hand. The other hand waved imperiously.
"We made a
huge
discovery, Darius! We should be shouting from the rooftops."
"I realize..." I muttered, tossing my card key down onto the small, ornate table by the front door. The clean floor of our entry was cool and smooth beneath the soles of my bare feet as I kicked off my flip flops. I shrugged my towel off my shoulder, and it fell to the floor in a careless pile.
"So why aren't we
doing
that, Darius?" Marisha narrowed her eyes at me, taking a sip of her mimosa.
I nodded. "A valid question. But you have more pressing matters to think about..."
