18.
Rich
Oh boy. What was I getting myself into? I knew what this was. I had heard of these whirlwind romances before, the kind where one minute your feet were planted firmly on the ground and the next you were floating up in the clouds, your head and heart filled with all sorts of cheesy things. You were snatched up and before you knew it you were married with two kids, a house with a white picket fence, and a dog named Spot.
The thing was though, for the first time ever in my life, the prospect wasn’t absolutely terrifying to me. This because, as I’d said, it all felt so very natural. Everything to do with Becca was simple, easy, right, and perfect. Never had I felt this kind of connection with another human being. Never before had I been able to sit and talk for hours and not only not notice that time has passed but also not be any closer to running out of things to talk about than when I had started. Still, better be careful. As with all things, it was best never to get ahead of oneself.
We end up spending every minute of the next several days together. Inseparable would be the word. Even the resort staff knows what is going on. Every time we show up at the garden, it’s impossible to miss the knowing smiles on the faces of the waiters as we walk hand in hand to the table now openly reserved for us. More than once, some special treat awaits—a bouquet of flowers, a box of island chocolates, a voucher for a couples’ massage. If I had had to guess, I’d guess this was not their first time watching love unfold.
Love. Was that what this was?
To be honest, it was nice to be in this new little world all our own. A great escape it was from all the shit that had been plaguing me. I had struggled so hard to leave it all behind, to just move on, but it wasn’t until I had unexpectedly met Becca as I was running away that I had finally found my escape. Apparently, this was a lesson I had needed to learn. It wasn’t the running away that helped, it was the running towards something better.
After our day in bed together, we settle into a sort of routine. As natural early-risers, each morning we get up just as the sun is coming above the mountains. After a quick (or slow) tumble amongst the sheets, we don our bathing suits and head down to the beach for an early morning walk. This was my favorite part of each day, when the world was empty except for us, no one else out on the sand save a lone elderly woman or man sifting through last night’s washed-up shells. And then back to the resort for hearty breakfast, some good conversation, and on to the next adventure.
The first day after our day in bed, we lie on the beach and do nothing at all. Though we both bring books, neither one of us ends up reading. There’s just too much to talk about. I want to know everything there is to know about this woman. Her family, her friends, her dreams, her hopes. There’s a few subjects it’s obvious she’s not yet ready to talk about, and so whenever I come across one, I quickly change the subject.
From her end, she can’t seem to get enough of me either. Question after question she throws at me, each question followed by several more as she digs deeper and deeper. It’s the first time in some time I’ve met someone who actually wants to get to know me, the real me and not just Rich The Football Star. Of course, this is quite difficult seeing as I’m not even sure I know who the real me is.
The following day after breakfast, we go dolphin watching. As luck would have it, not only do we see several families of dolphins, their sleek, grey bodies slicing through the dark blue water, we also run across a handful of whales. Pilot whales, the captain of our boat tells us. A beautiful, rare experience.
Each day, by the time mid-afternoon arrives, Becca and I both are itching to retire to one of our villas. After a long, lazy nap in each other’s arms (although we don’t always sleep…), our evenings too are spent in one another’s company. Dinner is followed by dancing is followed by relaxing beneath the palm trees next to the resort pool with drinks in hand, all the while laughing like we’ve never laughed before, our sides hurting and our cheeks sore from so much smiling. Afterwards, the night winding down, we return to the villas for one last romp in the hay. By now, we can hardly keep our hands off of each other and practically run down the stone path to her room or mine, the two of us desperate to jump between the sheets.
So wonderful it was not to have to worry about what was behind me anymore! This sentiment I begin to feel more and more with each passing day. To be firmly facing the future, a future that suddenly seemed so wide-open and full of promise! It made one forget all about this weird thing we called society. Why had I ever concerned myself with the opinions of a hundred million people I would never meet? How could I have ever cared what any one of them thought? Was it not enough for me alone to possess the truth, to know that I was a decent, kind, compassionate, and caring person capable of such gentle love?
Of course, this didn’t mean that what was waiting for me back on the mainland could be entirely forgotten. Impossible when one lived in a world as connected as ours. Though I do my best to avoid any sort of media, especially the sports channels, I can’t miss catching glimpses of the fire still raging in my public life. On our third morning together, just as we’re entering the dining garden, I overhear a couple at a nearby table mention my name. The man is telling his wife how new charges have been filed against me. It seems Charlotte, not gaining the traction she wanted with her original accusations, had decided to outdo herself and make some new ones. At least neither the man nor his wife believe her. As Becca and I pass by their table, the man looks up, our eyes meeting. He smiles absently, not a flicker of recognition on his face. I smile too, amused that he doesn’t realize the very person he’s talking about is the same man standing before him.
It’s not just other vacationers I hear it from either. More than once as Becca and I are passing through the resort lobby, I overhear commentators on the TV behind the reception desk dissecting the accusations. For the most part, it appears that almost everyone agreed that the stories were nothing more than bunk. Hard not to come to this conclusion when Charlotte was so obviously crying crocodile tears.
But that was the thing about it, too. As I’d said, even if everyone in the world believed my ex, I wouldn’t be bothered by it, not one bit at all. No doubt it was messed up that someone could and would say such terrible, untrue things about a person. And yet, how could something like that truly affect me when I had something so much more real right in front of my face? The only thing that worried me was that Becca would find out before I had found the right moment to tell her. And though I realized I was going to have to confess eventually, I was still reluctant to do anything that might pollute this paradise of ours.
Our first week at the resort together passes rather quickly, as wonderful things tend to do. When the seventh day rolls along, I excuse myself from where we’re lying next to the pool with strawberry daiquiris in hand and go to reception to book another week. It was the one thing we hadn’t yet discussed—how long the two of us were staying. I wanted to ask but was a little worried that I wouldn’t like the answer. What if she told me she were leaving in the morning? I wasn’t ready for this to end, as I knew she wasn’t either. Besides, could I even go back to my old life without her? Could I really just pretend that we had never met? I didn’t think I could. It wasn’t like we would be returning to the same city. She lived in Portland and I lived in Seattle. Only pure coincidence had put us on the same flight. And as much as a part of me just wanted to throw it all away and never let her out of my sight again, even I knew it was a little too crazy to move for a woman I’d only known a week.
“Yes,” I tell the receptionist, “just one more week for now.” I would start there and figure out the rest later.
Walking back to the pool, my head down, my hands deep in the pockets of my trunk, I do my best not to contemplate the tough decision that was lying in wait ahead. But when I see her sitting there, sipping her drink and reading her book, her cute little nose wrinkled as she laughs to herself, I can’t think of anything else.
What were we going to do?
***
The following morning, I wake up feeling better than ever, which is really saying something considering I’ve spent the last week in a state of indescribable contentment. I roll over and do as I always do, sliding my hand across the bed to where I know Becca is sleeping beside me. Only this time, my hand comes up empty.
My eyes popping open, I sit up and look around the villa. The day is right on the cusp of breaking, the sky outside a soft blue as the sun works its way up the mountains to the east. Immediately, I notice the open balcony door. Just beyond the curtain, I can see the shadow of someone sitting outside. It’s then that the sound of crying reaches my ear.
I get up and pad softly over to the door. Why would Becca be crying?
I find her out on the balcony, curled up in a chair, her eyes turned to the ocean. Tears are streaming down her face. In her lap are a handful of pictures. Hearing me, she turns and looks over her shoulder.
“Hi, Rich,” she says with a weak smile. She wipes the tears away with the back of her hand. “Good morning.”
“Baby,” I whisper, coming over and squatting down beside her. I run a hand through her hair and with my thumb wipe away a fresh tear running down her cheek. “Baby, what is it?”
“Oh noth—“ she starts, her words catching in her throat as a sob wracks her tiny body. Smiling, I stand, slide my arms underneath her, and scoop her up into my arms. I drop into the chair with her on my lap, her head on my shoulder, my arms tight around her.
“Baby, shh, shh,” I murmur, stroking her hair. “Baby, it’s okay.”
“Oh, Rich,” she moans, her tiny hands holding onto my neck for dear life. “Oh, Rich, I miss her so much!”
“Miss who, baby? Miss who?”
“My…” she says, her lips quivering. “My…my mom!”
“Shh, baby, shh…”
We sit there for several minutes, Becca’s tears soaking my chest, me cooing softly and rocking her back and forth. I don’t try to get anything more out of her. Instead, I just let her cry. Sometimes that was all you could do for a person.
Finally, she begins to calm down. Her body still shaking, she raises her head from my shoulder. Her eyes are bloodshot.
“Why?” she says, her voice quavering. “Why did she have to be taken so early? She was so young!”
“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know.”
“It’s not fair! It’s just not fair! Why couldn’t it be someone else, someone who deserved to be punished? Why couldn’t it be—“ Catching herself, she takes a deep breath.
“Is this her?” I ask, bending over and picking up one of the photos that has fallen to the wooden balcony. The picture is of a woman not much older than Becca. The woman is holding the hand of a small girl standing next to her. “She’s beautiful. You two look almost identical.”
“I know,” Becca says with a laugh that is just as much a cry. “That’s what everyone always said.”
I pick up a few more pictures and flip through them, Becca growing older before my eyes.
“And this one?” I say, holding up another picture of the two of them. In it, Becca’s back is to the camera. She’s wearing a formal gown and is looking over her shoulder at her mother. Her mother is standing directly behind her, her hands in Becca’s hair, bobby pins between her lips.
“Prom night,” Becca says. “My mother made that dress.”
“No!”
“She did!” Becca says, giggling. “She spent months working on it. I was so proud. She was always like that, always making things, clothes and jewelry and such. We grew up pretty poor, my father having run out on us pretty early. It didn’t matter though. Momma always made sure I never wanted for anything. Who needed a five-hundred dollar dress when she could sew something just as good?”
“She seems like an incredible lady.”
“She was.”
We fall silent, for a while just sitting and staring out at the ocean. Overhead, a breeze rustles the palm trees. Neither one of us is wearing a stitch of clothing. I wrap my arms tighter around her as the cool morning wind sends shivers down our spines.
“I had a dream about her,” Becca says, her voice no more than a whisper. “I was back home. It was before she had cancer, during our last Christmas together, the one right before she found out. It…it was so real! Like she was really there. And then I woke up, and she was gone, and…and…”
“Shh, baby,” I say, pulling her head back down to my shoulder. “Shh, it’s alright, baby. Everything is okay…”
We stay in the chair for a long time. It’s not long before Becca’s breathing evens out and her body slumps against mine. Ever so slowly, I rise from the chair and carry her back into the villa. I tuck her into my bed. You poor woman, I think as I kiss her forehead and pull the sheets over her shoulders. I want to take all of your burdens and hurts away. Give them to me. Give them to me and I will carry them for you.
Back on the balcony, I gather up the rest of the photos. After putting them on the bedside table, I dress quickly and slip out the front door.
In the dining garden, I find exactly who I’m looking for. Cal is standing off to one side of the buffet, his hands in his pockets, his eyes turned up to the sky. Not much to do, it seemed, when the resort was just beginning to wake.
“Good morning, Cal,” I say. “How are you?”
“Rich!” he says, looking down from the sky, his eyes lighting up when he sees me. “Good morning, buddy. Sleep well?”
“Hard not to in a place like this.”
“Tell me about it. You want your normal table? Someone isn’t sitting in it, are they?”
“No, no. I’m actually here because I wanted to ask you something.”
“Shoot.”
“Well, so, I was kind of hoping…umm…there’s that woman, Becca, that I’ve been spending time with and…uhh…anyways, she’s been having a rough go of it and I was hoping, maybe, you could…uhh…I don’t know, maybe help me set something up, like maybe a dinner or—“
Cal puts up a hand to stop me.
“You want to do something romantic for her?”
“Yep,” I laugh. “That’s exactly it.”
“When?”
“Tonight if you can swing it.”
Cal is silent as he thinks.
“Okay,” he says. “I’ve got just the thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. And trust me, she’s going to love it. Can you meet me at the beach tonight at eight?”
“Eight?”
“Yep. Eight.”
“Do I need to bring anything?”
“Nope,” Cal calls back to me, already halfway to the lobby. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything!”
***
Becca is still asleep when I return to the room. Sneaking out to the balcony, I sit down in a chair and let my mind wander while I sip the coffee snagged from the breakfast buffet. When my cup is empty, I go back inside and dig a pair of workout shorts out of my suitcase. As I change into them, I keep my eye on Becca’s sleeping form. She looked peaceful now, her hands tucked beneath the pillow, a hint of a smile on her lips.
Down at the water’s edge, after a few minutes of stretching, I turn north and set off, running as hard and as fast as I can handle. Before I know it, I’m several miles down the beach, sweat pouring off of me, the hot mid-morning sun beating down on my back. Before turning around, I take a quick dip in the ocean. A few surfers wave to me from their boards as I splash about. I wave back. Feeling refreshed, I head back to the resort.
When I arrive at my villa, Becca is no longer asleep. She’s sitting out on the balcony, her own cup of coffee in hand. As I walk up the path towards her, I take a moment to admire her beauty. It was so wonderfully natural. Her cheeks are a bright pink, her skin smooth and creamy, her eyes bright, her hair shimmering. Though I’ve dated my fair share of women, she’s easily the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
“Hi,” she says as I trudge up the balcony steps. Bending down, she picks up a second cup of coffee. “For you.”
“Thanks, darling,” I say, taking the coffee from her outstretched hand as I lean down and give her a quick peck on the cheek. “How are you feeling?” I ask, slipping into the chair next to hers.
“Much better. Thank you for this morning.”
“Anytime. Sometimes all one needs is an ear to listen and a hand to hold.”
We drink our coffee in near silence, the day already approaching noon. The world around us is as beautiful as every other day we’ve been here. God, I was never going to tire of this place!
We end up spending the day not doing too much at all. A lazy sort of day it is to be. After sitting on the balcony for an hour, I change into a pair of swim trunks, Becca already in a bikini. We go to the dining garden for lunch where Cal is our waiter once again. When he comes over to fill our waters, our eyes meet. Eight, he mouths.
After lunch, we go to the pool and pass the afternoon sipping daiquiris and shooting the breeze. About an hour after arriving, like those terrible couples one sees everywhere, we fall asleep in each other’s arms. When we wake several hours later, the sun is well on its way down to the horizon. Yawning, I slip out from underneath Becca and pad over to the lobby. The clock behind reception reads just after 5 p.m.
Returning to Becca, I gently shake her shoulder. “Becca,” I whisper. “Becca, wake up.”
“Mmm…what is it?” she murmurs, reaching her hand out towards me.
“It’s time to get up, darling,” I say, placing my mouth to her ear and running my tongue over her lobe. “It’s time to get ready.”
“Ready for what?” she murmurs, shivering.
“For a surprise.”
Her eyes crack open.
“A surprise?” Her voice is thick with sleep.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“A surprise for who?”
“For you, silly.”
“Oh.”
“Yep. Now come on, we need to be down on the beach at eight. I figured you’d want me to give you enough time to get ready and put on something nice. No swimsuits tonight.”
She’s still too sleepy to move so I scoop her up into my arms and carry her back to the villas. Using her keycard, I drop her off in her room. By now, she’s fully awake and giggling, asking me over and over again to share what I have in store.
“No way,” I tell her, kissing her on the cheek. “You’ll just have to wait. I’ll be back around 7:30.”
Back in my room, I take my sweet time getting ready. First I take a long, hot shower, scrubbing off all the sand and salt and sweat that has accumulated on me throughout the day. Afterwards, I stand in front of the mirror for a good fifteen minutes, twisting this way and that as I examine myself. Though it’s been a while since I’ve lifted weights, there’s no discernible difference in my muscles. I’m as tight as ever.
In the bedroom, I rummage through my suitcase, picking out a nice pair of chinos and a fitted button-down. I have the radio on, tuned to a local station playing a mix of tropical songs. From the mini-fridge, I take a beer, crack it open and hum along to the songs as I sip it, though I know neither the words nor the melody.
Even though I’m moving quite slowly, I’m still ready well before I need to be. The last hour I spend out on my balcony watching the sun sink into the ocean. How many times in the last ten years, had I actually stopped to observe this achingly wondrous world? Not nearly enough, that was for sure.
Too antsy to wait until 7:30, at 7:15 I walk over to Becca’s. She too, I soon learn, has been ready for some time. When the door opens and I see her standing there, I gasp, my words catching in my throat.
“What?” she asks, a blush spreading up her neck as she looks bashfully down at the ground. “You don’t like it?”
“N-no,” I sputter, shaking my head. “I don’t like it. Not at all. I love it.”
She’s wearing a black dress that hugs her perfect curves, well, perfectly. Her hair is done up in an elaborate design atop her head, though a few stray strands hang around her temples and the nape of her neck. She’s wearing only a touch of makeup, just enough to accentuate her already stunning features. Unable to resist, I grab her and pull her towards me. She giggles as I nuzzle my lips against her neck, taking a deep whiff of her delectable scent. She smells just like freshly picked strawberries.
“Too bad we have somewhere to be,” I say as she breaks away from my embrace and pulls me into her room. “Seeing you like this makes me want to—”
“I should say the same thing about you,” she interrupts with a laugh. On the table beside her bed is an open bottle of wine next to two glasses, one of which is already filled. She pours some wine into the second and hands it to me. Clinking them together, we each take a sip.
We leave her villa around 7:45 and walk first to the main dining area where dinner is already in full swing. Skirting around a group of undulating hula dancers gyrating their way through the crowd, I guide Becca over to the path leading down to the beach. Cal is waiting for us down on the sand.
“Hi,” he says, taking Becca’s hand as she slips off her pumps. “I’m Cal.”
“Nice to meet you, Cal. I’m Becca.”
“A pleasure.”
He helps her across the sand towards a boat waiting on the edge of the water. Standing next to the boat is Pace, his face as calm and as contented-looking as ever.
“Hello,” he says, taking Becca’s hand from Cal’s and kissing the back of it. “You look lovely. Absolutely lovely.”
“Thank you,” she says as he helps her into the boat. Shaking Pace’s hand, I climb in after her.
As Pace jumps into the boat, Cal, who is wearing swim trunks, pushes us off the sand and into the water. The waves are hardly more than ripples, the boat having no trouble navigating over them. Waving goodbye to Cal, Pace revs the motor and soon has us out on open water. Turning south, he begins to drive us along the shore.
Not one word is exchanged during the entire ride to wherever it is we’re going. It’s very strange being out on the water at this time of night. To one side is the vast Pacific Ocean, depthless, eerie, and containing all sorts of untold secrets. To the other side is the island glimmering with civilization, though soon enough every light has disappeared, leaving nothing but a forest of dark palms fringed by white beach, the mountains looming ominously in the distance.
We travel for quite a ways. Becca is huddled close to me on a bench at the front of the boat. It’s the same boat from our trip to the reef. The two of us are facing forward, my arm around her, my hand gripping her waist. Behind us, Pace is silent as he steers.
It takes nearly a full hour to arrive at our destination. I can tell we’re close because all of a sudden, a light appears on the water. Larger and larger this light grows. At first I think it’s a boat, but as we draw closer I see that it is actually a floating dock anchored out in the middle of the water. Five minutes later, we pull up to it. Mooring the boat to a pylon at one corner of the square pier, Pace hops out onto its wooden planks. From beneath the small table set up in the middle of the pier, he pulls out a large basket. Setting it atop the table, he then helps the two of us out of the boat.
“For you,” he says, pointing at the basket. Climbing back into his boat, he unties it from the pylon and starts the motor. “Enjoy,” he says, grinning. “I’ll be back in two hours.”
Without another word, he drives away, the two of us listening without speaking until the sound of his motor has been swallowed by the hush of the ocean.
“Well,” I say, turning to Becca. “Here we are.”
“Oh, Rich!” she exclaims, throwing her arms around my neck and kissing my cheek. “It’s absolutely wonderful!”
I pull back a chair and help Becca into it. Not knowing what to expect, I open up the basket. Inside is a veritable feast of food. I take out each plate and set it on the table. There is a bowl of fresh fruit, several small appetizers, two steaming plates of grilled fish and vegetables (I have no idea how the food is still hot), three bottles of white wine along with two glasses, and some sort of dessert in a covered dish. Our repast spread out before us, I uncork a bottle of wine and pour us each a glass.
“To you,” I say, dropping into my seat and holding up my glass. “And to the best vacation I’ve ever had.”
“No,” Becca says, her eyes glistening with happy tears, her hair silvered in the moonlight. “To you. Thank you for being the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”
We eat in silence, at least at first. It’s enough to just sit and take everything in—the moon, the ocean, the stars, the dark silhouette of the island, the beautiful woman before me. It really was just the two of us, not a single other soul in all the universe.
“This is easily the most romantic meal I’ve ever had,” Becca whispers after a while, her voice echoing over the dark water. “I don’t know how you’re going to top yourself after this one, mister.”
“Well,” I chuckle. “I’ll just have to do my best, won’t I?”
“I’ve never felt so completely at peace before. It makes one forget that there could ever be anything other than happiness in this life.”
“Maybe there doesn’t have to be.”
The two hours pass quickly, too quickly so it seems to me. Before I know it, we’ve finished off one bottle of wine and are well into the second. There’s not much need for conversation, not with such natural beauty surrounding us. It was enough to watch the reflection of the moon on the water and to count the innumerable stars twinkling overhead. Never before had I seen so many. It was like looking at one of those pictures from the Hubble Space Telescope. How many worlds were out there that were just like this one, filled with longing, hopeful souls aching for nothing more than love?
True to his word, Pace comes back two hours after leaving us. Long before we see him, the hum of his motor greets our ears. By now, Becca is in my lap and I’m feeding her the chocolate-covered strawberries that had been awaiting us in the dessert dish. She’s giggling as I tease her with them, allowing her only a nibble in between my kisses. The last two glasses of our third bottle of wine are just about down to their dregs.
“Hello,” Pace says cheerily as he pulls up to the pier. He tosses me a rope and I tie him off on the pylon. “Have a good time?”
“The most wonderful time imaginable!” Becca exclaims. The wine has clearly gone to her head, her words somewhat thick as they fall from her mouth. “I…I…I just can’t!”
Pace laughs. “Yes,” he agrees with a sage-like nod. “Yes, that is Hawaii.”
I help Becca into the boat and climb in after her. Before we leave, Pace hops up onto the pier and quickly clears the table, sweeping everything into the basket that he places next to him at the back of the boat.
The ride back doesn’t take nearly as long, though this is probably due to the wine swirling in my head. As before, no one talks. Becca rides with her head on my shoulder; before long soft snores begin to drift up to my ears. I hold her close and let my mind wander out over the ocean, my heart soaring above it. How could one man be so happy? This was the question at the forefront of everything as we skip lightly over the waves. Why was I so blessed? I must have done something good to deserve something as wonderful as her. But I had already led such a charmed life, so why should it get any better? Come on, Rich. Don’t you know never to question life’s gifts?
Cal is waiting for us upon our return. When he spots Pace maneuvering towards the beach, he wades out to us. Seeing Becca asleep on my shoulder, he grins.
“Good time?” he whispers.
“The best. I owe you, buddy.”
“Nonsense. You don’t owe me anything. It was my pleasure.”
I climb out of the boat first, waking Becca just long enough to sweep her up into my arms. Just as I’m about to start back to my villa, Pace having already disappeared back into the waves, Cal puts a hand on my shoulder to stop me.
“Actually…” he begins.
“What is it?” I whisper, Becca stirring ever so slightly in my arms, her face nuzzled against my neck.
“There is something I could actually use your help with.”
“Anything. What do you need?”
“Do you think you could meet me in the morning, say around seven or so?”
“Of course. Dining area?”
“Dining area.”
“I’ll see you at seven.”
“Thanks, Rich.”
“No. Thank you, Cal. You truly made this one of the best nights of my life.”
Leaving Cal on the beach, I set off towards my villa. Though I have plenty of wine in me, I’m not sleepy in the slightest, my mind racing a million miles a minute. Back in my room, I lay Becca gently on the bed. The plan is to let her sleep while I sit out on the balcony and think through some things. There were decisions that needed to be made, big life decisions that I had been putting off long enough.
But no sooner do I set her down than she stirs, her eyes popping open as if she knows I’m about to leave.
“And where do you think you’re going, mister?” she murmurs. “You’re not getting away that easily.”
“No?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she says, reaching up and wrapping her arms around my neck. “I want to take a bath.”
“A bath?”
“Yep. With you. What do you think? Doesn’t that sound nice?”
“Better than nice. It sounds perfect.”
“Well, then, why don’t you relax while I run us some water?” Rising from the bed, her eyes no longer clouded with sleep, Becca pushes me down onto the soft sheets. Grabbing the half-finished bottle of wine from her bedside table, she pours a glass and hands it to me. As I take a sip, she disappears into the bathroom, a moment later the sound of water filling the tub reaching my ears.
Ten minutes later, our bath is ready. Becca comes out to retrieve me. Seeing her, I draw in a sharp breath. She’s not wearing a thing.
“You like?” she teases, turning a full circle. I can only nod. Laughing, she slowly begins to unbutton my shirt. “Then let’s get you comfortable and ready for a nice, long, relaxing bath. And after that, I’ll see if I can’t help you get right to sleep...”