While I have a variety of sex toys for—ahem—book research, I’ve never used this particular one, though I’ve seen ads for them. Maybe I’ll try it out tomorrow. Again, purely for research purposes. It’s definitely something my female main character would use.
See? This trip is a good thing. It’s already giving me ideas for my book.
Taking the lemon to the bathroom, I thoroughly clean it before retrieving the condoms and lube and stowing them all in the nightstand drawer between the beds.Not that I’ll be needing the condoms while I’m here.
The beds are gorgeous, with soft yellow covers and white gauze draping down from the four carved posts of each. After I get some writing done tonight, I’m going to sleep like a baby beneath those plush covers.
Returning to the living area, I take the food items to the kitchen, stowing the water and wine in the refrigerator and the snacks in the small pantry closet. Then I feel the pull of the ocean guiding my bare feet across the floor and to my bedroom.
This side of the cottage faces the ocean, and I pull aside the vertical blinds to find a sliding glass door. There’s a button beside it, and when I press it, the back door slides smoothly open. Stepping onto the wood-plank back porch, I press my palms against the white railing and lean forward.
The sun is completely gone, and the moon is rising above the water, casting its feathery glow over the gentle waves. Closing my eyes, I flare my nostrils and drag in themyriad of scents.
The saltiness of the water. The hint of sweet pineapple from the fields. The lush aroma of the bougainvillea I saw planted around the cottage.
And I relax, letting my toes curl against the smooth wood beneath my feet. Without a care in the world except for my writing, every ounce of stress blows away on the supple island breeze.
This is exactly where I need to be. No worries.
And absolutely no distractions.
Chapter 5
I’m a stellar pervert
MyflightfromDenverwas delayed by three hours, so I missed my connecting flight in Miami. Now it’s nearing dark as the van slides between the columns of the resort entrance.
That’s when I get the first inclination that something is off.Are those pineapples upside down?I squint in the dim light, but we’re already past them, creeping up the shell drive and beneath a tall portico.
“We’re here, Mr. Swain.”
“Thanks for coming back for me, Frank,” I tell the driver as I stand, and he twists around and gives me a toothy grin.
“Of course, sir. I hope you have a nice stay. The porters will handle your bags, so just head right through those doors, and you’ll see the front desk.”
I offer him a tip—which he refuses—and step down from the van. Music plays in the distance, and the scents of food and sea air fill my nostrils. I realize the only things I’ve eaten today were airplane snacks, and I’m suddenly hungry. Grasping the pineapple handle on the door, I pull it open and step inside onto a terracotta tiled floor.
“Ah, you must be Mr. Swain,” a tall Black woman greets from behind a wooden counter.
Despite my weariness from the long trip, I force a smile when I approach. “I am. Sorry about the late check-in.”
“It’s no problem at all. Frank informed me when he left the airport with you, so I took the liberty of putting in an order with the kitchen for a sandwich. I assumed you’d be tired and hungry after your journey and might not feel like going to one of the restaurants.”
Wow. Talk about service.
“Very kind of you. Thank you.”
“Of course. I’m Kat, the manager here. Let me just go over a couple things with you, and by the time you get to your cottage, your food and luggage will be waiting for you.”
The woman points out various things on the map, including clothing-optional areas, and my suspicions are piqued. When she notes the nightclub, which is called “The Upside Down Club,” I broach the subject on my mind.
“Pardon me, Kat, but may I ask you a question?”
She smiles graciously. “Certainly.”
I lower my voice. “Um, is this a swingers’ resort?”
Her head tilts to the side as her eyebrows lower. “It is. Were you not aware when you booked?”
