5. Chapter 5
I’m a stellar pervert
My flight from Denver was 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?”
I grit my teeth. “I didn’t personally book the trip. My former fiancée did. It was supposed to be our honeymoon.”
Kat presses her fingertips over her lips. “Oh my. And she didn’t tell you?”
My head shakes back and forth in the negative. “No.”
“Am I to assume that you’re not into the lifestyle?”
Rubbing a hand down my face, I utter a simple, “No.”
The woman purses her lips, looking displeased. “If I may be so bold, perhaps it’s best that she's your former fiancée.”
“Yeah, no shit,” I grumble, anger at Leia bubbling in my gut. How the fuck could she think this was okay?
Kat pats my arm. “The most important thing about this lifestyle is communication. It’s something that needs to be discussed in depth and most definitely not something one would spring on their partner without their permission. Especially not as a honeymoon trip.”
“It’s not that I find anything wrong with it. I think people should do whatever the hell they want in the bedroom, and it’s no one else’s business. It’s just not something I’m interested in.”
“Totally understandable. It’s not for everyone. ”
A long sigh escapes me. “I know my stay is probably not refundable, but I guess I should cancel. Is there another hotel on the island where I can stay until I figure out what to do?” Just go home, Swain. This entire trip has been a bust so far.
Kat presses her lips together and shakes her head in apology. “I’m sorry, no. The island is privately owned, and we’re the only resort here.”
“Shit. Okay, so is it all right if I stay here for the night? I’ll just book a flight home as soon as I can get one.”
She props her elbows on the glossy countertop, folds her hands together, and rests her chin on the backs of her knuckles. Her shrewd green eyes regard me.
“I have another suggestion. Since you came all this way, why don’t you just stay here and enjoy yourself?
” When I open my mouth to protest, she lifts a single pinky to quiet me.
“Hear me out. Pineapple Island is a stellar resort, if I do say so myself. Yes, we do accommodate those who like to indulge in adult activities of their choosing, but we also offer many other amenities. Our restaurants alone are worth the stay. The beaches are the absolute best in the Caribbean, and I dare you to find scenery more beautiful anywhere in the world.”
I give her a polite smile. “Everything I’ve seen so far has been top-notch.”
“First and foremost, we’re a vacation destination.
People come here to relax and unwind, and by the tense set of your shoulders, I can tell you need that.
” She’s not wrong there, and I make a conscious effort to lower my shoulders.
“Our guests usually don’t indulge in much more than some overt flirting in the public areas.
They save the rest for their private cottages or the playrooms we have available.
Things do get a little more playful in the clothing-optional areas, so if you stay away from those, I’m sure you won’t find anything offensive to you. ”
I pull at the back of my neck, which seems to have developed a bit of a crick. “I’m not offended. At all. It’s just that…” a long breath heaves from my lungs, “I had a not-so-great experience with a… group activity once.”
The tilt of her head is sympathetic. “Well, it’s not like anyone is going to tie you up and force you into a polyamorous situation.” One of her brown shoulders lifts and falls in a casual shrug. “Unless you’re into that.”
The twinkle in her amused eyes is so cheeky, I bark out a laugh, feeling myself loosen up. “Good to know.”
Kat’s smile widens. “We’ve left a welcome basket in your cottage along with a card that explains all the rules, which can basically be summed up with the three Cs.” She straightens and ticks them off on her fingers. “Consent. Communication. And consideration.”
Cracking a smile, I say, “Those are big ones for me too, but a couple of them were missing in my last relationship.”
Kat tucks the map back into the yellow folder.
“Seems so. Now, a few things you need to know. Breakfast and lunch are casual here at Pineapple Island, but dinner is a bit nicer. We try to spread it out so everyone doesn’t show up at once, so we ask that you sign up for your dinner time on the sign-up sheet.
” She points a manicured finger toward the end of the reception desk.
“We put it out down there first thing in the morning, and the times are first come, first serve.”
“Got it. Anything else?” I’m suddenly very hungry and extremely tired.
“One more thing. You’ll find a bracelet in your basket. Like this one.” She taps the pineapple charm on her wrist. “If you wear the bracelet, it signals to the other guests that you’re open to play. If you’re not wearing the bracelet, they shouldn’t bother you with offers to join them.”
I nod, feeling a little better. “Makes sense.”
“We’ve found it works well to keep everyone comfortable. Sometimes a couple finds that they need some time just for themselves, and the bracelet system helps avoid any unwanted invitations.”
“Thank you for being so welcoming, and I hope you don’t think I was being judgmental at all. I’m not. I was just caught off guard. ”
“I totally understand. We welcome everyone here as long as they are respectful, which it seems like you are, Mr. Swain. You were just put in an awkward position.” She hands over the folder and nods toward the front doors.
“If you’ll head out those doors, you can follow the signs on the path to the left.
I’ve put you in cottage five. I think you’ll enjoy the… scenery there.”
She gives me a wink and a sly smile that I can’t quite decipher.
As I walk along the limestone pathway, winding myself through the immaculate landscaping, a sense of calm comes over me. The farther I walk, the quieter the music becomes, giving way to the crooning melodies of tree frogs and nocturnal birds.
A wooden arrow sign directs me toward cottages four and five, and I follow the curved path through the trees to find two cozy white cottages with light-blue shutters. Jogging up the steps to number five, I use the key card from the folder to open the door.
The inside is casual yet nicely decorated, and my eyes light directly on a platter placed on a small dining table.
Removing the lid, I’m a little shocked. I expected maybe a grilled cheese or even a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, but when I lift the top layer of toasted Focaccia bread, I find what looks like brie and prosciutto with crisp arugula and some kind of balsamic dressing.
My stomach instantly makes its needs known, and I sit, picking up the sandwich and taking a huge bite.
“Damn, that’s good,” I mumble around a mouthful.
Kat wasn’t lying about the food here. The sandwich is accompanied by hand cut truffle fries, and I quickly scarf down every bite, licking my fingers when I’m done.
With my belly satisfied, I dig out a bottle of water from the welcome basket and down it in three gulps.
I wander into the bedroom, where my suitcase is sitting neatly on a luggage rack. Ignoring it, I open the vertical blinds and then the back door.
The gravitational pull of the soft blue moon drags me onto the back porch, and I shove my hands into my pockets and stare out at the water. I’m not directly beachside, but it appears to be less than a five minute walk.
My hand falls on my phone, and I pull it out, snapping a pic of the ocean lit by the moon with palm trees framing the scene.