Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
KIT
M y first day of work flies by in a blur.
I meet with my first half-dozen consorts for unfiltered conversation about their jobs, lives, and experiences working at Crystal Bliss Retreat. My subjects run the gamut from a cheerful Scottish twenty-something consort whose accent leaves guests swooning, to a muscular, soft-spoken Albanian consort who has purportedly perfected rope play to an art.
I’m taken aback by how much everyone seems to like working here.
“Are you kidding me?” A good-natured Canadian named Jaques laughed when I asked what he liked about being a consort. “I’m paid exceptionally well to have sex with women who enjoy it. What’s not to love?”
The female consorts share similar experiences. “I’m bi, so honestly, I love lots of things here.” Those were the words of the pretty blonde consort I saw earlier today by the pool. Sybil gazed over the ocean and sipped her iced tea. “Threesomes are great, but I especially love giving women their first same-sex experience. When my wife and I were?—”
“Wait.” I glanced down at my notes. “You’re married?”
“To Kora.” Sybil smiled sweetly like someone addressing a slightly dim child. “It’s an open marriage.”
“Of course.” It’s not like I wasn’t aware those exist. “I just didn’t have it in my notes that any of the consorts were married.”
“A few of us are,” Sybil said. “Kora’s supportive of my work. She loves watching if a guest requests it, or just hearing about my enchantments. I never share identifying details,” she added quickly, probably worried I’d have confidentiality concerns. “Kora knows who I’m with through the portal, but beyond that, it’s just imagination.”
“I understand.” But I wasn’t sure I did. I’m an open-minded guy, but that level of openness in a marriage feels foreign to me.
The moan of a pretty brunette jars me back to the moment, to this poolside enchantment with a guest who ordered the Sunblock Bliss Au Deux —a sensuous application of sunscreen performed by two shirtless male consorts.
Since I’m one of them, I try to stay focused. “Would you mind if I unhook your bikini top?”
The guest blushes a bit shyly. “Just for a second, okay? I’m still getting used to all this.”
“No problem, ma’am.” That’s Logan, a former U.S. Marine who got paired with me for this job. He gives me a look that says it’s nothing personal. “Lots of guests feel self-conscious at first. There’s never any pressure to do anything but enjoy your time here.”
With a pleasure-soaked sigh, she closes her eyes and leans forward as Logan smooths sunscreen between her shoulder blades. “You remind me of my ex’s brother,” she murmurs as her eyes flutter shut. “I should have married him . He’s so much nicer. You know what Glen used to tell me?”
“What’s that?” Logan’s attentive as he re-hooks her top and squirts more sunblock into his palms.
“He told me I have pancake tits.” The brunette sniffles. “He wanted me to get a boob job.”
“Not cool.” That pisses me off. “Your body’s perfect exactly the way it is. You deserve to be treated with kindness and respect.”
“You’re fucking hot,” Logan agrees. “Sounds like you dodged a bullet with that guy.”
“I did, didn’t I?” She peers up at Logan and smiles. “Were you really a Marine?”
I tune them out for a bit, watching waves lap the shore. It’s beautiful here, which I kind of expected, but website photos didn’t do justice to the postcard perfection of the place. Palm trees parade along a white sandy shore, with tropical birds swooping through crystal blue skies. Sunset last night was the best one I’ve seen in my life, all orangey and pink as I watched from the balcony of my private suite with a glass of good scotch.
This job is the post-storm calm my soul craved. A break from the long string of blows; my father’s death, my split with Miranda, the choice to leave London behind. Maybe for good. I haven’t decided yet what comes after this.
By the time we finish sunscreening the brunette, it’s time to clock out. Consorts are urged to set our own schedules, but it’s strongly suggested we take breaks in twelve-hour chunks.
As I pick up my pager, a message blinks up on the screen.
Room 24: Are you free for dinner tonight?
Eve. And she wants to have dinner?
The request didn’t come through the portal, but on the private communication channel for consorts and guests. She’s not choosing a service from the menu, where she’d otherwise pick from options like the Luxury Lickity Split—that’s under-the-table oral with a lobster dinner—or the Frisky Foodie French Kiss—gentle neck kisses for the duration of a five-course French meal.
Not that I’d mind doing any of that. Especially with Eve.
But this seems more like a friend date. Or a date date. Is it risky to see her twice in one day? She’s my sister’s best friend. A woman processing a painful breakup. Those things add a layer of complication.
I’m still formulating a response when another message comes through.
Room 24: I know you have dozens of other women to service, so no pressure.
I start to reply as another quick text comes through.
Room 24: Not “service.” Enchant. You have dozens of women to ENCHANT. Still learning the lingo.
I laugh and type out a response.
TOPHER: I would love to have dinner. Name the restaurant, time, and attire and I’ll be there.
Normally, I’d never throw all the decisions on a date, but this is Eve’s time to call the shots. To say if she’s picturing me shirtless, feeding her forkfuls of pasta and massaging her shoulders between bites.
That’s also an available enchantment on the menu. It’s called the Randy Ravioli Rubdown, if I’m not mistaken.
Her reply comes through two minutes later.
Room 24: Just made a reservation at Halcyon Bistro for 7:30. Dying to try their coconut curry scallops. It’s Caribbean dressy, whatever that means. Maybe linen slacks and button-down shirt for you, a sundress and sandals for me? I can ask.
Ah, okay. So more like a date or a dinner between friends. That’s not to say she won’t request more, and the thought of that gets me excited.
TOPHER: I’ll be there. And a sundress sounds perfect.
I hesitate a second.
TOPHER: Sundress for you, not me. Unless you’d like me to wear one.
She fires back a laughing emoji, then the bubbles appear to suggest she’s got more to say.
Room 24: I’ll wear the sundress. A SEXY one. You wear the pants.
I don’t know what makes me reply like I do. Maybe the all-caps on SEXY. Maybe an urge to be playful and flirty. To make sure Eve knows I desire her beyond the job I came here to do.
TOPHER: No panties though, right?
I leave it open-ended, letting her take that how she’d like. A quip about cross-dressing—which I’m totally fine with—or a suggestion she skip undergarments.
The bubbles pop up as she types her reply.
Room 24: I was supposed to pack panties? See you at 7:30!
I grin like an idiot all the way back to the office. Kora asked me to check back by five to review my first day on the job.
She looks up as I enter the office. “Hey, Topher. How’d it go?”
“Great. The guests seemed pleased.”
“And you?” She tilts her head to study me. “You got a five-star review from the guest in twenty-four.”
“Glad to hear it.” I clear my throat. “There’s something I need to mention about her.”
She studies my face and frowns. “Is there a problem?”
“Not for me.” I fill her in fast on my history with Eve. Our one-night fling and Eve’s connection to my family.
“I don’t think it’s a conflict of interest, but I wanted you to know.”
“I appreciate that.” She makes a note on her laptop, a shock of dark hair slipping out of her bun. “I’ll let Mr. Holyfield know, just to be sure there’s no issue.”
“Sounds good.”
Swiveling back, she studies my face. “Do you anticipate seeing the guest again?”
“She invited me to dinner.” I hold up the pager to show her. “It’s not in the portal, so I’m thinking it’s more of a friendly connection.”
My manager nods, but there’s a tiny crease between her brows. “Be careful, Topher.”
Careful? The question must show on my face.
“Our guests can be vulnerable,” she explains. “Some are smarting from fiancés who cheated. Some pulled the plug on their own weddings, but they’ve got baggage around that. All kinds of feelings come up when you plan to spend your life with someone and the plan suddenly changes.”
“I understand.” And I do, more than she knows. “Eve’s sworn off long-term commitments, so there isn’t much chance she’ll go falling for consorts.”
“What about you?”
“Me? I’m just here to do a job.”
She doesn’t respond. Just looks into my eyes and nods once. “I was engaged once before. To a woman who broke my heart and left me at the altar.”
No sense pretending I don’t know part of that story. “And now you’re happily married.”
A genuine smile lights her eyes. “I see you’ve met Sybil,” she says. “And yes, we’re deliriously in love. I’m not warning you off because it didn’t work out for us. On the contrary—” She pauses, choosing her words with care. “I know people can form very real connections here. You’ll probably hear that from some of the consorts as you conduct your research. It’s challenging, sometimes, not falling for another human you connect with as deeply and intimately as we do with our guests.”
“That makes sense.” And it does on a cerebral level. “I promise to be careful with Eve. With all our guests.”
“Glad to hear it.” She turns back to whatever she’s working on and I consider myself dismissed.
* * *
I arrive at the open-air bistro ten minutes early. There’s a thatched palm awning arching over the paved patio, with candlelit tables spaced far apart for privacy. A breeze laced with grilled meat and sea salt stirs colorful umbrellas by the bar. The sun’s easing into the ocean, tossing out ribbons of bright pink and gold.
I’m scouting the scene, hoping to score us a spot overlooking the water. Eve deserves the best view here.
“Kit!”
I turn just in time to see Eve wince. “Sorry,” she mouths as I make my way to the bar. “I’m not used to thinking of you as Topher .”
“It’s fine. Maybe avoid using Dr. Plier though.”
“No problem.” She crosses her legs on the barstool, her light-yellow sundress riding up one tanned thigh. “I’ve never really thought of you that way.”
She’s thought of me?
“Your sisters talk about you tons,” she says, as if reading my mind. “You’re practically a celebrity in their minds.”
All the more reason to keep what I’m doing here secret. No sense upsetting them, especially not this soon after our father’s passing.
“Topher’s a bit of an adjustment,” I admit. “I actually kicked around Chris or Chip or even CJ.”
“CJ?” Eve leans on the bar, holding a glass in one manicured hand. “What’s your middle name?”
“Jonathan. For my dad.”
“That’s right.” Sympathy softens her eyes. “I’m sorry for your loss. And I’m sorry you couldn’t make it to the funeral.”
“So am I.” It’s one of my biggest regrets. Here’s another. “The stupid thing was, Miranda didn’t even want me to stay behind.”
Eve blinks. “Her appendix burst and she didn’t want you there?”
“In her defense, she’s very self-sufficient. She finds the notion of one partner taking care of the other to be oppressive and patriarchal.”
“Wow.” Eve smiles a bit weakly. “Did she kick you in the junk if you held a door for her?”
“Don’t know. I never tried.” I don’t mean to badmouth my ex. “We just had different ideas of what we wanted. Miranda craved independence and autonomy.”
“And you?”
“Guess I’m more traditional.” I shrug. “I saw an opportunity to care for my partner the same way my father took care of my mom when she got sick.”
“I mean, yeah.” Eve looks baffled. “They were always so sweet about that. I remember when your mom had her hysterectomy. Your dad absolutely doted on her. Brought her flowers every day, cooked all her favorite meals. He took pride in being her caretaker.”
“He really did.” My chest squeezes tight, like someone’s standing on it. “Anyway, my decision to skip the funeral and stay with Miranda was probably a mistake. I know my sisters felt hurt.”
“They understood.” Eve offers a kind smile. “They were sad, but they loved Miranda.”
I don’t miss the use of past tense. My sisters adored Miranda. At least until our relationship tanked.
Casting about for a subject change, I survey the rest of the restaurant. Most of the tables are occupied. Couples sit talking, laughing, flirting over plates of fancy food. There’s an occasional table occupied by one woman and two or three men, plus one in the corner with half-a-dozen women all laughing. I spot Sybil among them and wave.
“This place is nice.” I look back at Eve, who’s lifting the world’s most colorful drink to her lips. There’s a small metal spear with six kinds of fruit skewered on it. “What on Earth is that?”
She laughs as a fat hunk of honeydew bumps her nose. “It’s called the Honeydew Me Hard. Want a sip?”
The white paper straw holds a hint of pink lipstick and I’m struck by an impulse to touch my mouth there. It’s an urge overpowering my dislike of sweet drinks, so I lean in and suck down a sip. “Not terrible,” I manage.
“I’m sure they’ll want that glowing testimonial for the menu.” She flags down the mixologist, who’s making a drink at the end of the bar. I smile so he knows there’s no rush.
“What’s it like using a pseudonym for a job like this?” she asks. “I mean, is it strange when a woman screams ‘Topher’ at the peak of climax? Are you looking around to see who else she’s fucking?”
A startled laugh slips out of me. “I’ll have to get back to you on that. It’s only day one.”
Eve blinks in surprise, stirring her drink with the straw. “Given your skills, I assumed you’d have banged six women by dinnertime.”
“You flatter me.” The bartender comes over and I order a Rusty Nail. Eve and I chat while he fixes my drink and she catches me up on the rest of her day.
“I know it’s lame to come to a sex resort and spend two hours reading by the pool, but God, it was blissful.”
“No judgment here,” I say. “You should seize your bliss wherever you find it. Even if that means not shaving your legs for two weeks and lying around in your underwear watching trashy TV and drinking pina coladas.”
She laughs. “I’m sure they’ll want photos of that for the website.”
The bartender hands me my drink and I hold up the glass for a toast. “To your full week of bliss.”
“I’ll drink to that.” Eve clinks my glass as she surveys the space. A soft breeze rolls off the sea, lifting her hair off those flawless bare shoulders. There’s that creamsicle scent, and I wonder if I’ll ever eat one without thinking of Eve.
“They said there might be a slight delay in getting our table ready,” she says.
“Someone’s having sex on it?”
“Close.” She grins. “Apparently, someone signed up for the four-course Italian meal with a foot massage and oral sex dessert.”
“Ah, the Cannelloni Canoodle Cunnilingus Surprise.” One of the cringiest options I saw in the app. “There’s a menu choice you don’t see every day.”
“No kidding.” She crosses her legs and I picture myself spreading Eve’s thighs as she spoons up her crème brulé.
“Is the enchantment taking longer than expected?”
Eve grins. “The guest forgot the oral sex part.”
“Uh—”
“I guess she got preoccupied with the wine and food.” She shrugs. “The consort was still under the table from the foot massage, and when he spread her legs, she kicked him in the balls. Upended the whole table.”
“Damn.” I take a sip of my drink. “They didn’t mention that job hazard at orientation.”
“You should probably wear a cup if you get called in for that one.”
“Noted.” I’m loving how freely we can talk about this. “What’s your most embarrassing sex story?”
“No way,” she says, sipping her drink. “You first.”
“Why me?”
“Because you’ll set the tone. I don’t want to share some story about the time a blowjob went wrong, and I wound up with cum leaking out my nose, while you’re over here with some sweet story about catching your parents making love in the garden.”
“Camille told you that one, huh?”
“It scarred her for life.” Eve sips her drink. “And for the record, the cum-out-the-nose story wasn’t mine, but I’m not telling which of your sisters it was.”
“I appreciate that.” I drag the depths of my memory for a worthwhile tale. “My most embarrassing sex story was a year after grad school. I was hooking up with a girl who loved to be spanked.”
“Mmm.” Eve sips her drink with mischief in her eyes. “I’m not big on impact play, but a little light spanking can be fun.”
“This wasn’t light. At least, it wasn’t light when my hand slipped off her ass and whacked me in the nuts.”
“Oh no!” Eve cracks up. “What did I tell you about wearing a cup?”
“Right? That’s not even the worst part.”
“It gets worse?”
“Yep. I wore this stupid ring on my pinkie back then—don’t ask. It wasn’t making much contact with my date’s ass, but with the sideways angle I hit my own nut, I tore my scrotum.”
“Oh, Kit.” Her eyes fill with horror and a little amusement. “That must’ve hurt.”
“Yep. Also bled like hell. Had to hold pressure on it with what turned out to be my date’s favorite T-shirt while she drove me to the ER.”
“Oh, God.” She’s trying so hard not to laugh, but she isn’t succeeding. “Did you need stitches?”
“Nope. Turned out it looked a lot worse than it was, but it hurt like a motherfucker.” I grin. “That was the end of spanking. At least with that girl.”
“God.” Eve shakes her head, still pink-faced with laughter. “I don’t think I can top that, but I’ll give you my best.”
“Lay it on me.”
“Let’s see.” She looks up at the thatched roof to gather her thoughts. “Okay, this guy I dated in college was the outdoorsy hippie type. Ended up building this rustic, lakefront campground with a bunch of cute rental cabins, but before that we used to go camping there.”
“Uh-oh. Does this story involve bears?”
“Not exactly.” She gives me a devilish grin. “The other guy had a beard, so I guess in a way?—”
“There was another guy?”
“Yep.” She grins proudly. “This is one of my threesome stories.”
“Excellent.” I’ve been curious.
“It was fun, I’ll admit.” The spark in her eyes turns me on. “So the three of us are going at it in the tent when my lady-business starts burning. Like, really burning—inside and out.”
“Ouch.” That’s no good. “Were you okay?”
“I didn’t think so. Made the guys get dressed and drive me to the hospital, which was more than an hour away. I thought I had some kind of horrible disease. The doctor kept looking at these two men, asking them questions about STIs while I’m sitting there in a hospital gown whimpering and feeling judged.”
“Poor Eve.” Probably didn’t help with her sex shame issues. “Did the doctor figure it out?”
“Yep.” Her smile turns sheepish. “One of the guys mentioned bugs at the campground, thinking maybe there could be some mosquito-borne illness. The doctor stares at him a minute, then says, ‘Did any of you happen to apply bug spray this evening?’”
“Oh shit.”
“Yep.” Laughing, she shakes her head. “Turned out I had a very bad reaction to DEET in my vaginal canal.”
“You poor thing.” As she crosses her legs, my eyes drop to the curve of her calf. Fuck, she’s got great skin. “Does it say something about us that our embarrassing sex stories both ended with trips to the hospital?”
Eve laughs. “We’re both cautious people who take our health seriously? Either that, or we have very poor judgment.”
“Let’s go with the former.”
“Works for me.”
There’s a ripple of laughter at the end of the bar and Eve’s eyes trail to the women. “I like the camaraderie here,” she says. “Women sharing stories about who’s good at what and which enchantments are worth trying.”
“Sounds titillating.” My ego nudges me to wonder what they might say about me. “What are you most looking forward to from your fantasy list?”
“Threesomes for sure.” She grins as she says it, sipping her drink with a salacious spark in her eye.
“Plural?”
“Yep. That’s at the top of my list.”
“Have you had other ménage experiences besides the camping one?”
“Three times, total.” Eve looks thoughtful. “Always with guys, though. I’ve been curious about being with a woman. I mean, aside from a two-second kiss with my fifth-grade best friend. That was innocent.”
“Was your ex-fiancé not into threesomes?” I’m taking a risk by bringing him up, and I hate how the light in her eyes starts to dim. “I’m sorry—we don’t have to talk about him.”
“No, it’s fine. Brock wasn’t one of those guys who fantasized about three-ways.”
“Not even two women?” It’s rare to meet a straight man who hasn’t thought about that.
“Definitely not.” Her laugh comes out forced. “He didn’t like the idea of two women together. Said it wasn’t natural .”
“Bet he’s fun at parties.”
“Not particularly.” Eve twirls the spear of fruit in her glass. “Anyway, I’d like to be with a woman. Probably in a threesome with a guy so at least someone’s bringing a dick to the party.”
“Always a popular hostess gift.” I take a sip of my drink. “I saw several threesome configurations on your wish list.”
“Oh, that.” A faint hint of color fills her cheeks. “Yeah, I couldn’t make up my mind, so I ticked a bunch of different boxes.”
“We don’t have to talk about it if you’d rather keep that private.” I feel a little bad for reading her profile. “I wouldn’t have looked at your wish list if I’d known it was you.”
“It’s okay, I’m not embarrassed.” She bites her lip. “Well, maybe a little. But I’m trying not to be. To be more uninhibited.”
“Let me know if I can help.”
She gives me a curious look. “I definitely will.” She looks out at the ocean like she can’t meet my eye while she says this next part. “Okay, so I’d really like to try DVP. Um, that’s?—”
“Double Vaginal Penetration.” I’m familiar. “Two men at once in the same space.”
“Exactly.” Her cheeks turn pink as she turns back to face me. “But I know most straight guys aren’t into that, and I don’t want things to be awkward if the guy I choose feels weird about?—”
“I’ll stop you right there. Don’t worry about the consorts.”
Her brow furrows. “But I do care about the feelings of people I’m having sex with.”
“And I love that about you, but that’s not what I meant.” God, she’s a good human. “Consorts only choose enchantments they’re willing to perform.”
“Oh.” She studies my face for a moment and when her cheeks flush pinker, I know what she’s thinking. “I saw your name listed as an option for that enchantment. The DVP?”
God, she’s adorable. “Are you asking if I have tried or would try a threesome that involved rubbing my cock against another man’s cock inside a woman’s body?”
“Yes.” She somehow keeps getting redder. “I guess that’s what I’m asking.”
“Yes on both counts. Does that shock you?”
She stares at my face for a moment. “Actually, no. Did you enjoy it?”
“Yep.” No shame here. “I consider myself straight, but I don’t mind the occasional sword cross.”
“Huh.” She sets down her drink on the bar. “I liked the other threesomes, but the guys didn’t want to touch each other. We stuck with the ol’ blowjob combo with one guy railing me.”
“Nothing wrong with that.” The mental picture is seriously turning me on.
“I liked it,” she says. “But I’ve always been curious about other combinations.”
Her eyes shift away to the sea, allowing me a moment to study her face as she picks up her drink, plush lips surrounding the straw. I’m more jealous of the straw than those other men, which sounds funny.
“Ma’am?”
We both turn to face a tall waiter in a white apron. He gestures us out toward the restaurant, where a perfect, candlelit table sits right at the edge of the seawall.
“Right this way,” he tells Eve. “Your table is ready.”
“Thank you.” Eve turns and gives me a smile. “That looks great, huh?”
“No kidding.” It’s exactly the table I would have chosen.
“Maybe it’s a sign.”
“A sign?” I rest a hand in the small of her back as we make our way to the spot. “The perfect table means you’re destined for a perfect vacation?”
“Something like that.”
“Sounds like a plan.” With my hand in the warm curve of her spine, we make our way to the perfect table.
Toward a connection that’s rapidly moving beyond just a one-night stand.