Thank god for Florence. My little fairy godmother, long appreciated but seldom rewarded for all her hard work. Florence took good care of Julia for me while I got ready for our excursion. I knew Julia was hanging on by a thread, as far as my villainous presence was concerned. She lusted after me, as they all did, but she almost did the unthinkable—she just disliked me.
Most women hated me and wanted to screw me anyway. Julia had an amazing disposition that suggested she really didn’t care. Didn’t care about what I said, what I meant, or what I pretended to be at any given moment. It was almost as if she saw me naked, no matter what I wore. I was not clothed, nor was I protected. I simply was in her presence, bare-soul and imperfect. And she could take it or leave it.
Maybe that’s what was getting to me, above everything else. The idea that Julia really wasn’t as amazed with me as everyone else was. Was I just a career fuck, a stepping stone in her journalistic endeavors?
I had been packing all this time, contemplating my next move, all the while Florence was tending to my guest. I had heard the women talking from a distance and assumed everything was going swimmingly. It was my idea to bring Julia to Devon, a desert island only available to a select few because of the high price. Naturally, it was no expense to me. But I believed that would give me the quality alone time I needed with Julia to set the record straight and give her a damn good interview. If nothing else, she did deserve that—a moment of honesty. Imagine that.
I went back downstairs after backing, but instead of Julia being flirty and excited about our trip ahead, she seemed a bit miffed.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
“What aspect of me particularly are you referring to? There’s plenty.”
“Florence told me you’re planning on kidnapping me and taking me to a desert island.”
“Well, that’s a rather negative spin.”
“What is the positive spin on that?”
“I just thought it would be, you know, romantic to go on a beach vacation. Quiet, alone, peaceful…not surrounded by hordes of loud children and music. It’s Devon, a desert island just south. It’s a wonderful place. You’ll love it.”
“And you couldn’t even ask me yourself. You had your people do it for you?”
“Well…” I smiled. “Florence is wonderful. She’s not my people. She’s like a member of the family.”
“Yeah right, but?”
“But what? Are you saying you don’t want to go?” I shrugged, having no earthly idea why anyone wouldn’t want to get away from it all on a beautiful desert island. “I mean, who turns down a lottery? Who says ‘I don’t want to be queen for a day?’”
“You are so full of yourself, Ray.”
“Come on, it’ll be great. I promise I won’t make you sleep with me.”
“Oh yeah right. But it’s a deserted island, so who could ever hear me scream?”
“It’s a desert island, not a destitute island. Trust me, they have a great beach house there.”
I watched as Julia folded her arms, looking unsatisfied, but finally getting the point that if being whisked away to a beach house vacation was the worst thing that’s happened to you, your life is still pretty grand.
“Florence is packing for you. You’re going to have plenty to wear. We’ll have plenty to do. Sex is optional, as always, Miss Glass.” I smiled a bit devilishly, as they all loved. “But the interview, I’m afraid, is a prerequisite. I need some good publicity and you’re just the person I need to make me shine.”
“Really? After I’ve seen this side of you, you really expect me to write some self-aggrandizing article about you?”
“Well yeah, it’s what you all do in the press. Right?”
She fumed at first, but the more she thought about it, the more the whole deal seemed win-win to her. “Fine but on one condition.”
“Name it,” I said, my heart already skipping a beat in excitement.
“You do not have the right to say no to me. You must answer every single question honestly, and no excuses.”
“Damn woman, you drive a hard bargain.”
“Yes, I do! And that’s what I need from this ‘interview.’” She squinted her eyes and taunted me with a half smile. “And of course, the sex is optional.”
Indeed, sex is always optional but only happens someone throws caution to the wind. Maybe it’s just the way I was raised but sex and nudity were all the same to me. Talking was dangerous. Getting to know each other, testing each other, fucking like animals…that was just the polite thing to do!
Regardless, I was happy as a clown when we finally flew to Devon Island by private jet the next weekend. Florence indeed purchased some great clothes for our journey and I packed only my best. I was as giddy as a kid on prom night, feeling alive for the first time in I don’t know how long.
Devon, the island was practically deserted except for a beach house, part-time staff that only showed up three times a year, and fresh food delivered to the island via jet plane. The island was privately owned but since the owner was good friends with my father, securing a reservation was no problem.
I did watch Julia carefully as we flew to our destination. She was bitter all right and stared holes through me for our journey…but damned if she was fascinated by the way I lived. They all are…
What kind of man has special access to a private island, can fly and retreat to a desert island as lush as Devon and still not flinch at the price tag?
We looked out the window at the marvelously tranquil scene, as fields of grain slowly turned into miles of ocean, and then, nothing but clouds.
As I studied Julia’s face I could almost read her mind. Maybe that was the problem. She knew how extravagant all of this was. And in her mind, everything came at a price. Men like me came at a price. Did she judge me for my wealth or for my immaturity?
To the very minute, we landed and she hopped out of the plane eager to see the playground of the gods, I still couldn’t tell if she resented me for my lifestyle or envied it.
To me, all the mystery, the unpredictability in the air felt natural. Women never trusted me, just as I never trusted them. We simply chose to “be” and to expose ourselves physically and emotionally. We were naked but never weak…intimate but never unguarded.
The idea of taking Julia to the beach appealed to me on an almost primal level. There was no civilization in a place like this, only minimal human contact for miles. The open air, the watery breeze in the background, it felt liberating. It felt like Real Democracy, like freedom from lies. Freedom from regulation, corruption and micromanagement.
Maybe that’s what appealed to me about it, an adventure where two decent people could start over and make the world right.
As I figured, at first Julia just wanted to talk business. She went to the beach house snapping pictures and taking audio notes on her recorder. She even brought a tablet so she could scribble down gibberish—probably beautiful metaphors for what a prick she thought I was.
I enjoyed giving her the tour of the beach house and showing off the fine architecture and the unique style inspired by the great Derek Jarman. I particularly loved the natural gardens and openness of the entire island. With floor to ceiling windows inside and a simple cabana area for a place to eat, the room felt pure. It felt unfettered and unconcerned with the rest of the world. This was the quality I hoped would reach Julia’s heart, appreciating the wonderment of innocence.
But of course, Julia was busy complaining about her poor Smartphone reception.
“What part of desert island do you not understand? This is a place of sacredness, by god, put your electronic blasphemies away.”
“How do you even communicate with people living on an island in the middle of nowhere? What if the pilot just forgot you were here? You’d die!”
“Will you relax?” I said with a chuckle. “Free Wi-Fi. It’s amazing how far technology has come, even able to traverse water. And I also have a shortwave radio just in case. But you see, you’re only looking at the peripherals. I didn’t bring you here to show off the building. I wanted you to see the pure land, the undefiled country.”
“I see it.”
“But you don’t feel it. Come on, let’s go outside.”
“Where there’s nothing? For miles?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
***
It took Julie a little while to get the point, but soon enough she was following me outside catching the breeze. We spun ourselves under the brisk afternoon winds, cavorting about like a boy and his…mum. Julia always so uptight and defensive, even after all the rough and raucous sex that we enjoyed.
I was dressed in a white shirt and slacks, though I was literally itching for every moment that the collar strangled my neck. It felt almost obscene to me to be clothed in such a natural environment. But out of respect for my “date”, I decided not to strip. I got to be professional once in a while, right?
Although I have to give Julia credit—she could sense I was just about aching about now.
“Let me guess…you want to go skinny dipping.”
I laughed heartily. “Would you believe me if I said it’s not a sexual thing?”
“No! I wouldn’t.”
“You see for me, I’m having a hard time understanding why you don’t want to shed those clothes and go for a beach run. It’s exhilarating.”
“You really don’t understand, do you?” she said, followed by a laugh.
“Nope. What? Are you afraid the neighbors are going to see? A bus tour group? Oh wait…pirates?”
Julia finally laughed.
“Come on. Live free. Be unrestrained.”
“I can’t just be deliriously naked like you, Ray.”
“Why not? You have a great body.” I waited for her giggling to quiet down and I went for it again. “Come on, we have no secrets. We’ve already seen each other naked. We had amazing sex, the likes of which made angels blush. You have nothing left to hide from me.”
“Yeah but…you’re sneaky,” she said cautiously, but still sending me a grin. “I never said I trusted you.”
“I can be a little bit of a prick, I admit it. But you know I adore you. You’re the one who’s more untrusting than I am right now. I want to run around the beach naked, with you, like we’re the last man and woman on earth.”
“I am not running around naked with you!” she said, but with a delicious smile on her face that she couldn’t shake off.”
“You’re punishing me!”
“How is insisting you remain clothed like a professional CFO punishing you? You just have a strange view of the world.”
“It’s okay. I can take punishment, Julia. I’ll take it like a good slave.”
She laughed. “Fine you can get naked if you want. But I am going to put your nudism in the interview.”
“Fine by me. It’s about time people learn about the beauty of the human body.”
“And you think of yourself as very beautiful, I take it.”
“Well…you tell me.”
I watched as she grinned, then broke eye contact then blushed, as I began taking my clothes off. I couldn’t wait to get these layers of insincerity off my body. I was so frustrated I ripped my button shirt open, exposing my chest and my tats, which of course Julia had already seen before. But there was something powerful, something breathtaking about stripping down right in front of her. Letting her see all of me with no inhibitions left.
I pulled down my pants and tossed them into the sand, followed by my socks and shoes. The only thing left between us was my brown boxers. I knew she was waiting to see me in full glory and I soaked in her undivided attention for just a few seconds longer. I pulled my boxers down in one swoop, exposing my semi-hard member.
Just knowing her eyes were on me, watching me grow, sent a tingle down my spine. I had nothing to hide from her and yet the feeling of trust—of shared intimacy—came over me. Maybe it was the sun above or the breeze…but it felt different than just another hotel room romp.
“Very impressive, Ray,” she said blushing and smiling as she stared at my growing cock.
“Come on, your turn. I already know you, Julia.” I smiled, sharing all of our naughty memories. Proud of our shenanigans, our mutual attraction, and revulsion. She wanted me to be polite and all I could think about doing was defiling her body, making her laugh inappropriately loud and watching in awe as she turned red from orgasm after orgasm. It was a vicious dynamic, and yet one I doubt either of us wanted to control—we wanted to surrender.
“Come on. Just once in your life live freely.”
“I live plenty freely, for your information.”
“Then show me. Show me you’re not ashamed. That you’re as proud of your body as I am of mine. I promise…no pirates are around. No staff, no peeping toms.”
“What about that pilot?”
“Long gone. He’s coming back in two days. Until then, we’re going to have to fend for ourselves. Say, you know how to crack open a coconut?”
“Very funny.”
“Come on! I promise I won’t tell anyone the secret that I was interviewed by a naked reporter.”
It took a few more minutes of coaxing, but eventually my beautiful work of art decided there was nothing holding us back. Nothing except the sham of politeness, the necessity to argue about out tone, our curt remarks, and our vastly different social standings.
When she finally shed her boundaries she realized that there was no one stopping us, no one evaluating us. She was much more dainty and civilized when she shed her clothes than I was, taking time with each individual button, neatly folding her blouse and shirt after removing them and then putting them down in a straight pile.
When she was done I noticed she smiled at me in relief. It felt like a moment of truth. Like we let our differences wash away with the sea. When she finally stood naked before me we both enjoyed a long laugh…right before we ran around the island, free and in our own private world for just one resplendent moment. We bounced, jumped, ran, and skidded all over the shore, our genitals rolling, our bodies battering in the soothing temperatures.
When I rolled over and took Julia into my arms, I lost my breath for a moment; I gazed into her eyes and time slowed down to a frame-by-frame pace. I remained lost as I held her tight to my chest, my arms firmly against her skin, hugging her tightly and desiring to keep her in this beautiful moment forever. He naked breasts squashed up against my chest, and for a fleeting moment, I could hear—I could feel—her her heart thump. Her uncovered labia rested on top of my lap, gently sliding up and down my knees, which left me in a stupor. Her pussy was just now getting wet, just from this moment caught in between passion and responsibility. My fully erect cock was rudely pressed up against her clit. Our bodies were already communicating long before our minds would bother making the connections.
In that sharp thrust of a moment, I grabbed Julia by the back of the head and kissed her on her full and pouty lips. I fervently kissed her, planting my cheeks on hers, and feeling nothing but illogical, heart-pounding desire. It was wonderfully tense, almost barbaric in my unquenchable greed. The kind of brutish behavior a man ought to learn to control, but when I was with Julia—when my body was bare and intertwined with her delicate skin—I let go of all boundaries.
There was only one way to get closer—to feel closer to this woman I was obsessed with conquering. To be inside of her, like this, in broad view and out on the open shore.
“I want to make love to you. Right now.”
“Like this?” she asked, scandalized at the idea of being so public…and yet slowly realizing that no one could see us. We were merely wrestling with our own codes, our own constructs of moral behavior. She had no reason to resist me…except for her own stubborn mission of pushing my heart away.
Sex had to be loveless, at least in Julia’s mind. She had to win this thing, this contest, even though I had no idea what turmoil lay in her heart.
I simply wanted her wetness. I wanted to feel myself inside of her and to experience our bodies writhing together. What beautiful sounds she would make, what sensations we would feel, grinding together in unrestrained passion as we fucked viciously right there on the sand.
I mounted her from a missionary position and shoved my hard cock in deep, stretching and pushing to every last corner and crevice, eager to own her body and to feel myself breathing in her—growing even harder while deep inside of her, and muttering her name.
I whispered her name, “Julia”!, as I continued thrusting with all my might, picking up the speedy rhythm and plunging my manhood as far deep as I could go. I did feel as if I was soiling her, corrupting her, and ruining her fertility for any man that dared to look at her after me.
I felt out of control in my lust—the dangerous idea that I wanted to control her. I needed her with a fury unmatched by anyone I had ever slept with before.
Just as I began feeling my cock bucking and starting to weaken, I could also hear Julia resisting the urge to scream. Her heart was pounding in my ears, as I lay the side of my head in her bosom, sucking on her nipples so close while I continued firing away in a rage.
She groaned, unable to contain her natural enthusiasm. Invigorated with the smell of sweating skin, shuddering at the way my breath puffed all over her neck, she bellowed in reluctant orgasm. Julia tightened her grip on my cock and forced me to keep fucking her at the same pace and power. I could feel her pussy quivering and creaming me with hot, sticky fluid. Her whole body shook and her pussy lips contracted, almost sucking my cock back inside. The only place I wanted to be was in between her legs, and as she reached a terrified crescendo—grabbing me by the hair and holding on for dear life as our bodies went into convulsions, she screamed my name.
I unloaded every last droplet of life I had into her, losing my calm breathing, and collapsing into giggles. She was still squirming side to side, wiggling her legs and trying to get a few more seconds of hardness to push her over the edge.
When I was done, and huffing and puffing for air, I rolled over in slumber and peace. I wanted to fall asleep in her arms, my face buried in her breasts. Only the Devon Sun knew what we did and how close we were to each other when our souls literally meshed together.
Her sighing and glowering face were the punishment I received for daring to be a rascal and challenging her every view on the world. She still needed to hate me…to mistrust me. The argument, the unresolved issues of who we were and who we were damned tired of pretending to be, got her hot all over again. She loved thinking to herself, in fits of bratty anger, how could I be so blind as to sleep with such a disgusting pig?
Maybe in her mind, a “strong” woman could never love or even like the man she used for her own selfish purposes. I was a man she conquered, a man she would never allow to win. It was clear to me that I would have to show her that I could be as internally naked as I was peripherally naked…and be just as beautiful.
***
I took Julia back to the beach house and we relaxed, chortling over our dalliances, and being wonderfully honest by leaving our clothes out on the beach. It was inevitable that Julia was going to make me get dressed before starting the interview. I personally would have enjoyed interviewing during coitus, but I suppose the business world deem that vulgar and not honest.
“I don’t mind looking at you,” Julia confessed as she sat down on the couch, watching me pull out and prepare our pre-packed dinners. “I just think you’re too comfortable around people. Maybe that’s why everyone at work has a problem with you.”
“Are you claiming the Italian or Caribbean dinner?”
“Whichever.”
“You’re more Caribbean in personality.”
“I don’t know how to take that.”
I smiled back in sarcasm.
“So I have another idea for my newest phone. Want to hear it?”
“It’s a phone, Ray. People will shell out five hundred bucks for an extra camera and a new port that connects to nothing.”
“And they say I’m cynical. We don’t sell gadgets. We don’t sell technology. We sell…protection. We sell comfort. We sell the most precious thing humanity has.”
“I’ll tell you what you should do,” Julia said with a sneer. “Just go on television naked, like this, and show the new Smartphone.”
I snickered at the thought. Most guys might be embarrassed to suddenly realize they’re nude, and their one night stand was mocking their body and their marketing campaign. But hell, the idea actually did sound brilliant.
“You know you’re right. Maybe we need a very female-friendly campaign with a naked model holding one of our new phones.”
“But it would only work if it was you…” she said, squinting her eyes and holding out for another fiery kiss.
And did I give her one! The kind of Tarzan-esque grab and smooch that felt animalistic. I loved the feeling of her surrendering to her baser impulses just like me.
“Seriously though,” I said, after giving myself a moment to recover from her hypnotic but somehow all natural lip balm. “I want this to be the angle for the interview. How sometimes the leader of a company has to step up and take back control.”
“What are you talking about?” she said, with followed by a laugh. “They all have to do what you say, don’t they?”
“It’s not that easy,” I replied bitterly. “I have certain members of the board that are trying to muscle me out completely. You wouldn’t think that could happen but it does. It’s all politics. You think you own something, you receive an inheritance and then corporate stooges shit all over everything you thought was yours.”
She could tell I wasn’t horsing around. And there she found it, the meat of the interview, and the insight she needed into my world to make a good story.
“Let me do the interview right now. Put some clothes on and be real with me.”
“All right…but you know a CFO is so much more dramatic when his dick is hanging out.”
After taking a few minutes to get dressed and then prepare her recorder and tablet, she began digging into the source of my angst.
“Do you feel motivated to stay on top of the world?”
“When you’re in my shoes, especially after the death of my father who built the company, there is a tremendous stress to keep it moving. To keep everyone happy. It’s a desperation most people will never understand. And I don’t expect them to. I only work twice as hard to give them the protection and comforts they crave.”
“Why do you think people in your own company are conspiring against you?”
“Because they say it to my face. They make it pretty goddamned clear how they feel about me. My age. My immaturity. My…lifestyle.”
“What about your lifestyle?” She smiled, though a bit more like mistrust rather than a reporter’s usual smirk.
“Fast cars. Traveling around the world. Goofing off on social media and giving the company a bad name.”
I flinched. “And of course, the women.”
“And what about the women, Mister Valenti?” she said, losing her smile and growing cold before my very eyes.
“Well…” I smiled, trying to laugh it off. “It’s something I enjoy doing. And I guess practice makes perfect because they never complain. Do they?”
I smiled but she only shot two daggers at my face with her ferocious eyes. I shrugged it off, trying to remain confident because that’s what they respect. I mean what were we, anyway? What was I to her?
“And do you ever see yourself…growing up?”
I sighed. “Why is growing up always associated with monogamy, anyway? I don’t see myself as a one-woman man just like the average woman doesn’t see herself as a little wife settling for the first loser that comes along.”
My smile slowly stretched into a frown. That probably came out wrong.
“So is that what this is? Ray? I’m just a loser?”
“That’s not what I meant…”
“I’m just one of many? One of many peons privileged to worship you? But now it’s time to take a number and go.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You know what? Don’t apologize. I’m actually getting to know the real you splendidly, Ray.”
“You’re overreacting.”
“I’m not. I’m reporting. You’re an asshole…a self-centered, corporate sponsored dick-head just like you claim to resent.”
“Oh, that’s low.”
“Is it? Tell me why I’m wrong. You complain that men are trying to take your job away? Why shouldn’t they, Ray? Because you think you deserve something? You think you’ve earned it? Your one great idea is worth the billions of dollars you’re going to get for being an absolute narcissist and scum of the earth human being?”
“I sense you’re holding back,” I said drolly.
“Here’s the last question I have for you.”
“The last? That’s it? You have the whole story?”
“Yeah I do. My question is, why do you care? About any of this. About your job? You’re probably going to get paid off handsomely for your shares. You’ll still be able to travel the world and bed all the top models at your leisure. While those mean, terrible men at work try to seer the company back to being profitable again. So who’s the loser in this scenario?”
I shook my head, speechless for once in my life.
“I’m going to bed,” she replied coarsely. I may be stuck here with you but I’m not defenseless. Don’t even think about coming into my room tonight or you’ll be sorry.”
I sighed and nodded, figuring there was no stopping her stomp-out.”
I tried my best to smooth things over with Julia the next day and even did the unthinkable—at least according to Julia’s own warped perspective of me. I made her breakfast with my own evil, narcissistic, womanizing hands. Bacon, eggs over easy and French toast—the breakfast of champions. The universal food that is the choice of every man, no matter rich or poor.
To my surprise, she sat down and ate with me. Although her cold and piercing stares were admittedly hard to digest—far less easy than eating my delicious eggs over easy.
“I’m sorry for what I said. It was out of line.”
“Hmmm,” she said while munching on toast. Quite the polite woman, she even waited until she swallowed before speaking her piece. “You apologize for what you say. But there’s no sense in apologizing for who you are. Is there?”
“I suppose not,” I said, outwitted by my most passionate lover I had ever met. Whenever she spoke, all I could do was think caustic thoughts about myself. All I could do was listen in worry. What kind of effect did she have on me?
Damn me. Just as I’m starting to feel something, something real and in a completely private place where no interruptions could stop me, she puts up a wall between us.
I have to wonder for just a moment, is the wall going up the result of her cowardice or my own? Could I be self-sabotaging the only relationship in recent memory where I actually felt something? And more to the point, is what she’s saying about me correct?
To both of our credit, we resisted arguing and killing each other, long enough for an early flight back home. Julia was still angry at me, and it was the worst kind of anger: the one that insisted she wasn’t angry, only “enlightened” as to the villain I really was.
“So you think I’m evil?” I asked in amusement since the flight back to civilization was long and awkward—so I figured we might as well discuss what was on both our minds.
“Yes. Evil.”
“Evil as in sadistic or corrupt?”
“A little bit of both. But like, when I think of evil, I really just think of sociopathic.”
“So I’m a sociopath?”
“Yes and a particularly sad and narcissistic sociopath. Which explains why you see yourself as the victim…the poor, poor billionaire heir. Why doesn’t the world appreciate his sacrifice?”
“Well, at least you’re giving my Evil ‘layers’. I appreciate that. I would hate to be a shallow, evil person.”
“No, you are quite complex, Ray Valenti.”
“Good. And I hope you communicate the complexity in the interview.”
“Oh believe me, I will.”
So there we were. Nothing accomplished except vivid memories of breasts, penises, and feet rolling over silk sheets and falling onto the sand. Now she was convinced I am Satan himself and that I had a variety of mental disorders.
I was quite surprised she settled on narcissism and sociopathy when I really was hoping for Borderline. Because truth be told, I’ve always considered myself borderline everything. Borderline hero, borderline villain. Borderline humanitarian, and borderline boyfriend.
But eventually they all leave, don’t they? Or do I leave them? Do I abandon them or do I merely keep walking? Do they desire me to stay in the same place with them, or will they not follow me?
What does a girlfriend do, anyway? What does a wife do? If I were to be honest, I would say have no idea how a husband acts, how a faithful boyfriend is supposed to act. So I just stand still and train myself to look down at the floor every time a woman passes by? It seems idolatrous to me, to gaze into the eyes of one woman for the rest of my life. What if she disappoints me? What if she leaves? Then all I have left is a memory.
***