Dirty Secrets (7 page)

“Let’s go in the water,” she said.

“It does look inviting.”  Ambrogio dipped his foot into the receding tide. 

“Not too far, I can’t swim.”

“I will teach you.  We must go to where the water reaches your neck.”

He pulled her deeper into the water while she screamed her disapproval.  She jumped into his arms, locking her legs and arms in a vice grip around his body.  Ambrogio held her securely and stared at her mouth. 

“Kiss me,” Adele said.

He still hadn’t moved or said a word; however, the desire pressed against Adele’s sex spoke volumes.  She released her hold around his neck and slipped a hand below the water.  The moment she grabbed his erection, he sucked his breath in and closed his eyes. 

She ran her hand slowly along his length.  The storm brewing in his eyes when he re-opened them captivated Adele.   Without warning, Ambrogio pushed her completely off of him.   She favored a drowned rat when she righted herself.  Her hair lay lifeless in clumps over her eyes and sea water burned in her nostrils.

“You have a natural talent for swimming.  You’ve learned without one lesson from me,” he said.

“Why are you being such a dick?  You wanted me last night.”

“Where’s the adorable woman I spent the day with yesterday?” 

“She’s right here.”

“The woman in front of me is acting like a cat in heat,” he said. 

Adele felt the venom in his voice slide down her neck, making it difficult for her to breathe.

“How dare you?”  She fought to hold back tears. 

“Because you’re acting like a slut,” Ambrogio said. 

The world slut was the last straw for Adele.  Before she knew what she was doing, her hand connected with Ambrogio’s face, leaving a red mark where she slapped him.

“You can go straight to hell.”  She swam the short distance back to the shore. 

Her tears clouded her vision as she ran back to the umbrella where she startled a sleeping Felicità in her haste to grab her clothes. 

“Dove vai, Adele?”
Felicità asked. 

“Mi fa male.”  She
didn’t want to put Felicità in the middle of a mess she made with Ambrogio. 

“Perchè stai piangando?”
Felicità said.

“È niente,”
Adele said. 

She couldn’t tell Ambrogio’s grandmother the reason for her tears; instead, she had opted to tell Felicità she was sick.

“Sto andando l’albergo.”
Adele rammed her dress into her beach bag and started running.

“Aspetta Adele,”
Felicità said. 

Adele caught sight of Ambrogio behind her and increased her pace towards the taxi cab stand a few meters away.  She jumped into an awaiting taxi with Ambrogio hot on her heals.  Adele told the driver to go just as Ambrogio tapped on the glass.  She cast him a heartbroken look through the back window. 

Chapter 12

             
Too busy crying to care about modesty, Adele lacked the strength to cover up.   Just when she thought she had squeezed out the last tear, a scene from the seduction fiasco took flight in her mind and the embarrassment caught in her throat, choking her.  Blubbering at such an alarming rate, Adele’s lack of composure prompted the cab driver to suggest a trip to the hospital. 

             
There wasn’t a band-aid big enough to cover the pain of rejection bleeding openly from her heart.  No where but the Caribbean would traipsing around on hotel premises in a skimpy bikini be considered acceptable behavior.  A fact Adele was grateful for. 

             
She reached her cottage, intent on making inanimate objects the scapegoats for her idiocy.  First to go sprawling across the room...her handbag.  Adele winced at the crunching sound her sunglasses made when they connected with the floor.   Just getting started, she channeled David Beckham and kicked her bed post, sending a bolt of pain racing through her foot. 

             
Repentant for her actions, she belly flopped into her misery.    When she was sure she could string a coherent sentence together, Adele called Robynne for some emotional support.

             
“I did what everyone said.  I tried to seize the day, but the fucker was shaped funny.   I think I have Carpel Tunnel Syndrome now.” Adele sniffled into the phone while recounting the details of her lackluster day.

             
“I can be on the next plane,” Robynne said.

             
“He told me to stop running, so I stopped,” Adele said.

             
“You roundhouse kicked him in the face and then waited for him to fall penis first into your vagina,” Robynne said.

             
“Was I too aggressive?” 

             
“You’re not a bad girl.  He was sampling nice, chicken-shit Adele on his kitchen counter like an all you can eat buffet,” Robynne said. 

             
“Who turns down sex?  I didn’t eat breakfast because I wanted to look good for him.  What an asshole,” Adele said. 

“You’re not the victim here.  You’re the perpetrator.  You’re the blue-ball bandit.  What was he supposed to do, mount you on a public beach…in front of his granny?” 

“You’re siding with him?”

“I’m not siding with him, he’s a prick.  However, I can understand things from his point of view.  You pulled the old bait and switch on him.  You got him hooked on Pinot Noir and then tried to substitute it with Boones Farm.  What did you expect?” 

“Not to be called a slut,” Adele said.

“Semantics, he didn’t say you were a slut.  He said you were acting like a slut.  Were you or were you not acting like a slut?”

“Well…..yes.  What am I supposed to do now?”

“Get a massage, gather yourself together, and muster up an apology.  Blame it on jet lag or mad cow disease,” Robynne said. 

“I’m not apologizing.” 

Adele ended the call with Robynne more confused than ever.  She drew herself a bath and submerged her troubles in the steaming water.  Adele held her breath under the bubbles, intent on coming out on the other side of this terrible day.  She emerged from the water just in time to hear loud knocking at her cottage door.  She went to investigate, although she knew exactly who would be calling down the devil for her to open the door. 

“Adele, apri la porta,”
Ambrogio said. 

“I won’t open the door,” Adele said.

“Just let me in so I can explain myself.”   

“I can’t open the door.  Someone’s taking me up on my offer.”  She hoped the jealousy picked at his innards.

“I know you do not have anyone with you.”  

“I’m a slut.  It’s what we do.  I read it in the handbook.  Go away,”  Adele said.

“I am sorry.  I didn’t mean it.  You caught me by surprise.”

“Remind me to never surprise you again,” Adele said.

“Adele,
per favore! 
Open the door.  Let me apologize to your beautiful face.”

“I’m busy. Go away.”

“This isn’t over.  You will let me make it up to you.”

Adele resolved to not let Ambrogio ruin her trip.  She marched down to guest services in a pair of white shorts and a yellow t-shirt.  A portion of Robynne’s advice resonated with Adele.  She would have her need for Ambrogio massaged out of every inch of her body. 

“Hi Celeste.  I want to schedule a massage for today, if possible.”

“I know hey had a last minute cancellation, so just head up there.  I will let the spa know you’re coming.  By the way, this is on the house too.  I can’t thank you enough for helping me out the other day,” Celeste said. 

Since the spa stood just a few feet from Ambrogio’s cottage, Adele made a point of hurrying to ensure she wouldn’t have another encounter with him.   When she made it to the spa, Ambrogio free, Adele eased thoughts of the worst encounter she’s ever had with anyone out of her mind. 

The dome-shaped building housing Enchantment Day Spa overlooked the sea.  A quartz encrusted structure twinkled in the sunlight.  Keeping in line with the structure of many of the buildings on the property, a large portion of the spa was made of rock, except on the east wall, where a full size aquarium stood. 

A stingray, turtles, and a cavalcade of various multi-colored fish were among the sea life on display.  Adele approached the desk, a wood structure shaped like a cresting wave, to greet a caramel-colored woman with a subdued smile on her face. 

“Adele, I presume?” she said.

“Hi, nice to meet you, Pauline.” Adele eyed her name tag. 

The curvy woman motioned for Adele to follow her to one of ten rooms nestled within the dome’s nature-themed abodes.  Door tags with “Antarctica,” “Amazon” and “Victoria Falls,” were just a few of the world wonders reconstructed at the spa. 

“The roof of our spa retracts,” Pauline said. 

When Pauline pushed a button, the roof parted and Adele said hello to the bright azure sky.  Impressed, she breathed in the lavender infused air, holding it in her nose  for a beat. 

“Lovely will be your masseuse today.  She’s known for her strong hands,” Pauline said.

“Strong hands?  I have post traumatic stress syndrome from getting a massage a few years ago.  She had strong hands too.  I thought she was trying to kill me,” Adele said.

“Lovely is very gifted.  She hasn’t received any complaints about her technique,” Pauline said. 

On cue, Lovely, a little ball of muscles, made her entrance.  Muscles poked out from under her brown uniform and ran down her tan legs.  They walked into the African room where Lovely instructed Adele to remove her clothes.   She stripped down to a black thong and listened to the sounds of the African bush. 

A sturdy massage table with a whole cut out for comfortable head placement was to be Adele’s home for the next hour.  Adele assumed the position on the table and closed her eyes.  She heard the gentle click of a door opening and then closing.   A pair of strong hands grasped her shoulders and eased her upper body back onto the table. 

The hands sent a jolt of electricity through Adele.  Knots, once bunched up in Adele’s shoulders, relaxed under the skillful hands of the masseuse.   Adele basked in the sensuality of having her body manipulated by a perfect stranger.   She felt the tension evaporate from her pores with every touch from the woman’s skilled hand.   

The masseuse pressed tiny circles down Adele’s back.  An open palm kneaded her ass.  Adele felt strange and slightly turned on as the hand, still braced against her neck, held her firmly against the table.

“Lovely, I support alternative lifestyles, but I don’t want to live one.”  Adele laughed nervously. 

She felt uncomfortable.  The kneading continued, but with only one hand on the account of the masseuses’ other appendage still holding firmly onto Adele’s neck.  The towel fell from her backside, revealing her thong-covered globes to the Caribbean sun.  The titanium-like grip around her neck hampered Adele’s full range of motion. 

“Is this some type of S & M massage?” 

Adele had reached her limit after receiving no response to her question.  She braced her weight with her arms at either side of the table and kicked her feet. 

“Let me up,” Adele yelled. 

Her consolation prize, a powerful slap to the ass, didn’t stop Adele’s escape attempt.  The tyrannical rule of the wayward masseuse foiled Adele’s stab at freedom.  When she felt another blow to her backside, she wailed.  It felt like a thousand hot needles poking at her rear end.  Not to be left unattended, her left cheek
met
the same fate. 

Adele rolled her body to escape the hand.  She risked a cracked skull, but at least she would be able to see the masseuse turned rogue agent who was intent on torturing her.   Instead of the ground, Adele found herself tangled up in familiar Olive tinted arms. 

“Woman, you’re going to kill yourself,” Ambrogio said.

“What the fuck are you doing in here?” She was dumbfounded to find Ambrogio standing smugly between her and a busted head.

“I’m giving you a massage.”

“Where’s Lovely?”

“I paid her to go away,” Ambrogio said.

“Pay her to come back and then go away.”

“I want to apologize for my behavior.”  Ambrogio held onto Adele.

“Just when I was starting to forget you existed, here you are.”

“I hurt you terribly with my words, for that I am sorry.”  He situated her on the massage table and took her hands into his.

“Something is missing from your apology.  I have a wager for you, throw in an “I’m a rat bastard” and I might see your apology with one of my own,” Adele said. 

“Adele, I’m a rat bastard.  I hurt you terribly with my callous words, for that I am sorry.  Better?”

“Callous?  Nice touch.  To be fair, I was a little out of line earlier, but I don’t think it warranted the big red scarlet “S” you stamped on my forehead.”

“Apology accepted?” Ambrogio kissed her hand.