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1
KENDALL
“Welcome to another day in paradise,” I muttered as I joined the rest of my uniformed coworkers on the dock.
Elle, my coworker and sometimes partner in crime, slanted a glance at me. “Who pooped in your cornflakes this morning?”
I grinned back at her, showing teeth. “No one, but the day is young.”
I glanced across the crystalline blue water. Out in the distance, a white boat sailed closer. It was the resort’s transport ferry. Our last batch of guests had departed the island the evening before, leaving the staff to clean up and make everything ready for the new incoming group. It was a tight turnaround, but this was far from our first rodeo. Late hours were all part of the drill.
Elle mock-frowned at me. “It sounds like you need a vacation, Kendall.”
I pouted back. “Honey, I am a relaxation consultant. I am sick to the back teeth of vacations. What I need is an anti-vacation.” I gestured around to the stunningly beautiful white sand beaches of the resort’s private island, the sun sparkling overhead on a clear day, and the waves gently lapping upon the beach. “Give me a stuffy office with air conditioning. I’ll be happy as a clam.”
Or maybe I just need to get laid, I added silently to myself. How long had it been? Probably since Andrew. We’d been on and off, and he’d quit over a year ago.
Ugh, no wonder I was in a bad mood.
“So why don’t you apply for that desk job?” she shot back. “Admin is always hiring, and they have offices back on the mainland. Or, I don’t know, just take a break for once. I’m getting tired of your grouching.”
I glanced at her, a sarcastic comment ready on my lips, but was caught off guard by the serious look in her eye. I glanced away from her and back to the ferry. It was true. I had a lot of vacation and personal time saved up. Probably more than anyone else around here. I could go to my manager, Andy, fill out a vacation form, and be off the island on next week’s ferry.
Immediately, the thought of setting foot back on the mainland filled me with a familiar jolt of nausea. All those people waiting to pounce. The media lying in wait to discover where I’d been all this time and judge me. It would be even worse now than back when I was a teenager. Cell phones were more common than ever.
There were cell phones on the island, too, but international service could be spotty, and most guests were self-absorbed Richie Rich’s who were more interested in having a good time than trying to figure out why my face looked vaguely familiar.
No, my job might have been getting a little stale, but this island had been a refuge when I had needed it most. I couldn’t seriously consider leaving.
There was nothing left for me back on the mainland.
So instead, I grinned again and waved a hand around, indicating the beautiful tropical vista around me. “What? And leave all this?”
“You just like to complain. Here.” Elle slapped a familiar manila folder into my hands. “Read ‘em and weep.”
Hopefully there wouldn’t be weeping this week. The guests were always a grab-bag of delight.
Here at the resort, we took relaxation very seriously. The administration personnel compiled a dossier for every guest and group with likes, dislikes, and goals for their vacation. Elle and I were usually assigned the laid-back families and honeymooners. The adventure groups and adrenaline junkies went to Carlos and Ricky, the two Aussie brothers. My specialty was spa and massage, whereas Elle had an actual degree in children’s education. Typically, she got the families, and I got the honeymooners.
I opened up the file which was shockingly slim for this week. In fact, it only contained one client.
Deacon Helman. Thirty-two years old, a businessman who noted ‘rest and relaxation’ as the top priority in his customer intake survey. He liked fine wine and massages.
Super boring, but it made life easy for me.
Elle was crinkling up her nose at her own dossier, so I knew she hadn’t been so lucky this week. I quickly put my best poker face on in case she decided we needed to switch jobs.
The ferry came in a few short minutes later with some old rock song blasting on slightly crackling speakers. I rushed forward with a couple of the staff to help secure the lines and make the ramp ready for guests to step off. Already I could hear a crying baby. Thank goodness that one was not my problem.
The porters jumped on the back of the boat to start unloading the luggage while the guests took the wider ramp to disembark to the pier.
Game face on, I stood and let my eyes drift over the crowd. The guests were herded forward to the registration desk where they would be officially assigned their relaxation consultant or adventure guide.
My gaze got stuck on one man in particular. He was tall enough to stand over the crowd, dressed in a smart looking button-down shirt and full-length khaki pants that had to be a little too hot for the already warm morning. He had dark hair, and eyes that were either brown or dark blue. And he was muscled in a way that spoke of natural athleticism as well as some real time in the gym.
I bet he is a slayer in bed, I thought, lots of stamina to spare.
Maybe I did need to get laid because it was too easy to picture this guy with his shirt unbuttoned, exposing his sculpted chest. Not shaved, but with a comfortable sprinkling of hair. I bet that when he flushed, it would go all the way down. With arms like that, he could bend me over really easily. Or maybe take me on one of the hard ferry boat benches at night. That way there would be privacy and I could let go, moaning out my passion with his hard cock rammed into me just the way I liked it, breathing in the close humidity, our hot sweat-slick bodies moving against each other in the cool night air. And the slight gentle sway of the boat along with our rhythm. But Mister Muscled and Handsome wouldn’t keep it slow for long. Soon—
