Page 18 of Ghoul Kisses

“I will,” she answers and bows. We head to the elevators, and he presses the appropriate button. Twirling my hair, I stand on the opposite side of the elevator.

“Is she a ghoul?” I ask.

“Yeah.”

The elevator comes to a halt, and the door opens. A couple steps in, holding hands. They look like they are in love. The woman pushes her lover against the wall and begins kissing his lips. Their passion is so intense I can feel their sexual energy. I’m jealous because that should be Eric and me. We step out of the elevator and Eric ushers me to the suite. Butterflies dance in my stomach. I haven’t been this nervous since I took my medical exam for the state. Eric opens the door. The room is nice: there is a kitchen, a living room, and a balcony looking over the ocean. I open the bedroom door and discover two beds. I glance at Eric as he is bringing our bags into the room.

“I’m going to change into my pajamas,” I say.

“No. We’re going to the beach,” he says, setting the bags on the dresser.

“I didn’t pack any swimwear.” I wish he would have told me that this was a vacation. Eric reaches for the phone on the nightstand, dials a number, and hands it to me.

“Tell Stacey your size and to put it on my tab,” he says.

The phone rings three times before she answers.

“How can I help you, King Eric?”

“This is Sarah, Eric’s friend,” I say.

“Oh.” I hear the disappointment in her voice.

“Eric wants you to buy me a bikini and put it on his tab, please?” I say, putting emphasis on please.

“What size do you wear?”

“32B and size 7 in undies.”

“Okay, gotcha. I’ll be there in a few.” She hangs up the phone.

Eric disappears from the room, and I pace the floor. Why is Eric doing all this? Initially, I thought this was a business trip, but now he wants to go out and have fun. I’m confused by his behavior.

Stacey knocks on the living room door, I rush to it and open it. She stands there with a box wrapped in red ribbons. I snatch the box from her, tell her thanks, and close the door behind me.

When I turn around, Eric is perched on the beige couch, shirtless with a pair of black swimming trunks. Ignoring him, I rush to the bedroom, tear the box open, and find a two-piece purple bikini, made out of silk. This is too small for me to wear; why would she pick this out? I check the tag on the material and it’s the right size. Ugh! Sighing, I toss the bikini on the bed. Eric knocks on the door causing me to practically jump out of my skin.

“Are you okay?” he asks through the door.

“I’ll be out in a minute.” I peel the gown off my body and drape it over the chair in the corner, then step into the small bikini. Brushing my hair into a high ponytail, I study myself in the mirror above the desk. I look like a model on the cover of Playboy. My butt cheeks are hanging out of the bottoms, and the top barely covers my nipples. Darting to the bathroom, I snatch a fresh white towel from the granite counter and cover my hips. Slowly, I open the door. Eric stands nearby and turns as I step out. He checks me out and whistles. My cheeks are flaming.

“You’re a knockout.” Eric’s voice is seductive, making me blush.

“You ready to go?” I ask, trying to keep my excitement contained.

He nods.

We walk to the elevators and Eric presses the down button. The ride to the lobby is quiet. I don’t know what to say to him because we don’t have anything in common. We both come from different backgrounds. As the elevator doors open, Eric strolls ahead of me, and I see a nasty scar on his back that forms a perfect letter “X”.

“What happened to your back?” I blurt out. He stops in mid-step and turns toward me.

“We’re going to the bar outside on the beach,” he says instead of answering, his eyes glowing bright red. I have to get used to them doing that.

Outside, the sea smell lingers in the air. The sun sets on the ocean and the sky is hues of orange and purple. The waves crash against the rocks, people chat, and music hums in the background. My toes squish into the golden sand as we stroll to the bar. I hop on a stool and Eric sits next to me. The bartender greets us. I order myself a Sex on the Beach, and Eric orders himself an Adams beer. My nipples harden against the thin fabric while I gawk at Eric. He shouldn’t be looking yummy in those trunks; the indent of his abs is distracting. Or is it because I haven’t had sex in a long time? The wind tickles my face, and I sip on my fruity drink.

“Do you come here often with other women?” I fish for an answer.

“I don’t take females on trips unless I’m interested in them.” Good. Where did that thought come from? I shouldn’t care if he does.

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