Authors: Jamie Sobrato
When she mounted him, he groaned low in his throat as her tight, wet opening took him in and brought immeasurable pleasure to his body.
“I'm sorry, I forgot to ask your name,” he said, gasping as she began to move her hips.
She closed her eyes as her breath came out in short, gasping breaths. “Ginger,” she said between gasps, “because I wasn't always a blond.”
Mason grasped her hips as he leaned back against the wall, stilling her so that he could thrust his cock deeper, harder, faster into her. He couldn't get enough.
Her breasts bounced with each thrust. Mason watched, loving the sight, loving the feel of her, loving that she could be so nasty, so adventurous, so ready for anything. She slid one hand down her torso and slipped her fingers between her legs, then began pleasuring herself. Soon her gasps turned into throaty moans that mingled with Mason's own.
He didn't hear a key turning in the lock, nor did he hear the door open, and Claire must not have, either. They both froze at the sound of a strange male voice in the room.
“What theâ” the voice said, and they looked toward it to see a janitor standing in the doorway gaping at them. “No guests allowed in here!” he said. “You two need to take your hanky-panky somewhere else.”
Mason opened his mouth to speak, but no words came to mind.
“I'll give you two minutes to get dressed and get out of here, and then I'm coming back in to clean.”
He stepped out and slammed the door. Claire and Mason looked at each other at the same instant, and if he weren't mistaken, he would have sworn she was blushing. Now there was a first.
She exhaled a ragged sigh and collapsed against him. “Oops,” she whispered.
“Yeah.” She withdrew from him, and Mason groaned. “Do we have to stop?”
“I'm not performing for an audience of more than one,” she said as she climbed off his lap.
His desire barely quelled, he disposed of the condom while she gathered up her clothes. His body was tense with frustration, his erection still rock-hard.
“Maybe we should go back to my room,” he said, tucking himself back into his pants and zipping up.
Claire glanced at a little gold watch on her wrist. “We really should get down to the bar now, don't you think?”
“I don't know if I can focus on anything until we've finished this,” he said.
She came close and gave him a quick kiss. “You'll be okay. Just think of this as a little preview of tonight's events.”
“Only if you can guarantee there'll be no more interruptions to the show.”
She looked down at herself as she was pulling her pants up. “Oh no! Mike D. might recognize this as the outfit I was wearing earlier today when I talked to him.”
She hurried over to the rack of costumes and snatched the silver slip dress off a hanger, then changed into it. Mason watched in agony, unable to look away from the delicious sight of her no matter how much pain it caused him.
Both dressed, they headed for the door. “Don't forget your glasses,” Claire said as she shoved her outfit into her purse.
Mason sighed, picked up the cheesy circa 1979 glasses and put them on. A glance in the mirror confirmed that he looked like a B-movie director or maybe a two-bit pornographer.
“Perfect,” she said. “Now let's get out of here.”
C
LAIRE TOOK
M
ASON'S HAND
and led him out past the janitor, and for at least that moment Mason was glad to be in his disguise. He definitely didn't need rumors of his having sex with women all over the resort leaking out and becoming the main topic of gossip among his employees.
The janitor glared at them as they passed, then called after them, “You two take the fooling around back to your hotel room if you don't want people walking in on you.”
Mason made a mental note to have his managers send out staff reminders that guests caught in compromising positions should be treated as gingerly as possible. The resort policy wasn't to scorn minor offenses, instead to offer gentle reminders to keep their more intimate activities relegated to private areas.
Outside, wind from the passing storm was strong enough that they both had to fear for their wigs. Holding on to them as if they were hats threatening to fly off, Mason and Claire hurried
through fat drops of rain to the Cabana Club, where Mike D. was scheduled to work again tonight.
Guests were just beginning to fill the club, but Claire and Mason found two seats at the bar together where they had a prime view of the bartender at work.
“What can I get you?” he asked when he saw them.
There was no reason he should have recognized either of them, but Mason still felt a ridiculous sense of relief when he didn't.
They placed their drink orders, and Mason asked for an appetizer platter for them to split when he realized all his pent-up sexual energy was making him hungry.
“So,” Claire said when Mike D. went to the other side of the bar. “I guess we should have done some planning ahead of time about how to handle this.”
“I'll do the talking. We'll wait and watch for a while, and then I'll approach Mike D. with an inquiry about any underground services the resort might offer.”
“You don't think that will be risky? What if he recognizes you?”
“In this getup? He's only seen me face-to-face a few times. We're not all that familiar with each other.”
But speak of being recognized⦠Carter Cayhill stood on the other side of the bar, talking to a waitress. Mason turned away from him, making a men
tal note to call Carter later and let him know he wouldn't be at the gym for the next few days. At least not until he'd recovered from all the bedroom work-outs he was getting with Claire.
“Look over at the other side of the bar,” he whispered to Claire. “At the blond guy in the white polo. Tell me when he leaves.”
Claire shrugged. “Okay.” She watched for a few moments. “He's walking out the door right now.”
Mason relaxed and looked around, only to see that they were getting quite a bit of attention. Or at least Claire was.
The only hair color more attention-getting than red was platinum blond, and the men in the club were taking notice of Claire in a big way. Mason preferred her red hair with its uncontrollable waves that fell around her face and managed to look feminine and sultry at the same time. The blond wig was sexy, but not quite as much.
“Men are staring at you,” he said, leaning in and whispering in her ear.
“So what else is new?” She flashed a wry grin. “Does it bother you?”
“No, but the way a few of them are staring is a little offensive.”
“They're guys. What do you expect?”
“In case you haven't noticed, I'm a guy, too.”
“Believe me, I've noticed.” She leaned in close and
licked his earlobe at the same time her hand made its way across his thigh and cupped his package.
“No toying with me. I'm already in pain from that incident with the janitor.”
“The anticipation will just make tonight more fun.”
“âFun' isn't the word I'd choose,” Mason said as his body grew more tense from her teasing. He shifted on the bar stool.
Mercifully, Claire moved her hand back to his thigh. “You poor men, so ruled by your penises.”
“I've only got one penis, and I'm in complete control of it.”
Claire laughed.
“You're not in any sort of agony from having been interrupted?”
“Of course I am, but I can take it when I know I'll eventually get what I want.”
A rumbling from the sky could be heard from outside, even over the too-loud Caribbean music a band was playing on the other side of the bar. Then came a loud clap of thunder and the lights flickered. Rain must have begun to pour outside because a rush of wet guests came into the club, and a moment later the lights went out completely.
Mason sat there unsure what to do. If he put on his resort-owner cap and went to check the extent of the power outage, he'd risk blowing his cover. But if he sat here, he'd risk someone mishandling the situation and having upset guests with ruined vacations.
Claire looked around the dark club and sighed. “I doubt we're going to see much of anything now.”
“I'm thinking I should go check out the problem and make sure it's being handled.”
Claire's grip on his thigh tightened. “Don't you have people to take care of stuff like that?”
“Yeah, but this is a first for the resort. People may not be familiar with procedures yet.” But she was right, and he did trust his managers for the most part to handle the problem.
The music had stopped. Around them, people were talking and laughing nervously. The club had taken on the hushed tone that always followed a power outage, as if people were afraid talking too loudly would keep the power from coming back on.
Emergency lights kept the club at least dimly lit, enough that people didn't have to bump into each other to get around. The lights showed the way to the exits, and normal procedure for a power outage was for people to be evacuated from the building.
Employees gathered at the bar, and Mason could hear them discussing that very issue when the lights flickered and came back on.
The club manager appeared on stage. “Thanks for your patience, everyone. We're thinking either the storm's hitting the island hardest right now or else there are too many people using the hot tubs at the same time.” People laughed, and he continued. “So let's get this party rolling.”
The music started up again, and the atmosphere in the club changed instantly back to its former level of joviality.
“Close call,” Claire said.
“Who knows if that's the end of the problem though.”
A few minutes later, Mike D. set their drinks on the bar, and soon after a waitress came with their appetizer platter.
“Mmm, thanks for thinking of food. All this sexual anticipation's making me hungry.”
Claire picked up a shrimp and dipped it in mango sauce, then took her time biting into it as she kept her gaze fixed on Mason. He felt his groin stir and decided if he didn't get Claire out of his system and off his island soon, he'd go insane.
They devoured the appetizers and ordered a second platter, all the while keeping their eyes peeled for any nefarious goings on. But no luck. After an hour and a half at the bar, they both agreed that they needed to tackle the problem more directly.
“You sure you want to do this?” Claire asked. “I can do the asking.”
“Thanks, but I think it's more convincing if I do it.”
He caught Mike D.'s attention and motioned him over.
“What can I get for you? Another round?” the bartender asked when he reached them.
“Actually,” Mason said, leaning in close and
speaking as low as possible over the sound of “Red, Red Wine” being played by the band. “I was hoping to order something that's not on the menu.”
Mike D. gave him a speculative look. “If I know how to make it, it's yours.”
“Not a drink.”
“What then?”
“I've heard there are special services to be had here for the right price.”
“Oh yeah? Who'd you hear that from?” The bartender's tone was more suspicious than helpful. Mason clearly hadn't earned his trust, nor had he expected to so easily.
He produced a fifty-dollar bill from his wallet and placed it on the bar, then slid it across to him.
“For information,” Mason said. “I'm looking for a little third-party companionship for my girlfriend and I, if you know what I mean.”
The bartender's expression softened. “I think your meaning's becoming clear to me.” He picked up the money and tucked it in his chest pocket. “What kind of companionship are you interested in?”
Mason tried his best to look like a sleazebag. “A little S and M action, maybe?”
“For you or for the lady?” He nodded at Claire, who was doing her best to look bored.
“For her,” he said. “I like to watch.”
Mike D. nodded. “Got it. Who told you you'd find something like that here?”
“Another guest at the resort. One of your happy customers.”
“I'll need your name and room number, plus five hundred dollars cash up front.”
He could have ended the conversation right there and fired Mike D. on the spot, but he wanted to see just how much information he could gather and how many of his employees might be involved. For all he knew, this was just the tip of the iceberg.
He withdrew five hundred from his wallet.
“Whoa, man,” the bartender whispered. “No big money exchanged over the counter. You gotta wait till I bring you your bill. Then pay for the drinks and the other stuff at the same time. Got it?”
“Oh, right man.”
“And write your information on a napkin and put it inside the bill folder, too.”
Mason nodded. “Got it.”
Mike D. left to deal with another customer, and Claire gave Mason a look. She leaned in. “You're actually going to hire a dominatrix?”
“How else will I know who's performing the service?”
“Oh, I don't knowâask Mike D. once he's busted?” she said, her tone making it clear she wasn't ready to play S and M games with another girl.
“You weren't so afraid to get it on with a woman last night.”
“Screw you.”
“Exactly.”
“You know I was just toying with you. I am
so
not into chicks. Especially not scary chicks in leather and spikes.”
“Damn, you just spoiled my fantasy.”
She rolled her eyes and propped her elbows on the bar. “Can you remind me of exactly why I'm helping you in the first place, because I sure as hell can't remember.”
A burly bald guy sat down on the other side of Claire and offered her a flirtatious smile. She tossed her faux-blond hair over her shoulder and smiled back.
Mason felt an unexpected wave of possessiveness well up inside his chest.
“Hi. You here alone?”
Claire said nothing for a moment. “You might say that,” she finally purred.
Mason leaned in and placed his arm on the back of her bar stool. “Or you might say she's here with me, and then you'd be right.”
“Doesn't seem like the lady wants to be here with you.”
Was he actually having this conversation and the two that had come before, or had he just stepped into somebody else's crazy life when he put on the bad wig and the glasses?
“Trust me, I'm the one she'll be leaving with.”
“I think she's the one gets to decide that,” he said, then looked at Claire. “You want to dance, pretty lady?”
She tossed Mason a look that dared him to stop her and said, “Actually, I'd love to.”
He resisted the urge to pick her up, throw her over his shoulder and carry her back to his suite caveman-style.
Instead, he shot Claire a look and downed his vodka. What he needed was a double.
“Hey,” the guy next to Claire said. “You got a problem with the lady dancing with me?”
He was standing up now, coming over to Mason.
“Looks like you're the one with the problem,” Mason said as he set his glass on the bar and stood up.
Actually, Mason was clearly the more screwed of the two. If he got in a fight now, his wig would go flying off and blow his cover. Over Macho Man's shoulder, he could see Claire gloating, clearly enjoying her revenge.
He made a mental note to give her a good hard spanking when he finally got her alone.
The guy with the overdose of testosterone gave him a shove. “You think so? Let me show you the problem I'm talking about.”
The jerk-off drew back his fist, and Mason was preparing to duck, when a bottle shattered on the bald guy's head. He swung around to find Claire looking barely apologetic.
“Sorry, but I'm not gonna dance with you if you beat up my date.”
“You bitch.”
“Okay, I'm definitely not dancing with you now. I like to stick with fully evolved humans.”
The bald guy was bleeding from the scalp, rubbing his head as beer dripped onto his shoulder.
“It's time for you to leave,” Mason said, feeling completely inadequate for being more worried about his wig than he was about Claire's honor.
A bouncer Mason had never met before finally noticed the situation and appeared beside them. “What's going on here?”
“This asshole's insulting my girlfriend and trying to start a fight.”
“Looks like he's the one with the injury.”
“I had to do something to stop him from hitting my Jakey,” Claire said in a baby-doll voice he'd never heard her use before. She batted her eyelashes, Little Miss Innocent nowâthough she didn't do innocent very convincingly.
“I think you need to step out, dude,” the bouncer said to Macho Man. “I'm sure you'll have a better time at one of the other clubs on the island.”
“What the hell? I wasn't doing nothing wrong!”
“Come on, man. And you should probably drop by the clinic and make sure you don't need any stitches on that cut.”
Mason and Claire watched as the bouncer led the guy out of the Cabana Club by the elbow.