2 - ADAM
Candy…
I yawn and smile, remembering the sensational blonde from last night. I grab a pill and swallow it. Takeoff only makes the hangover worse. Feeling more centered, I let the memories flood back.
“Thinking about the busty one?” Olavo slaps my shoulder, snapping me out of it.
“Go to hell!”
“Come on! I know that look, biting your lip like that. You’re thinking about those melons.” I stay quiet—not worth arguing with him. It’s been like this since kindergarten. “Hey, would it be okay if I invited Tatá to the wedding?”
“The prostitute?” David sounds scandalized from the other seat.
“Oh, come on! You gonna tell me you didn’t like Titi?” Olavo challenges. “Look, she gave me her real name and her cell number. Nobody’s even gonna know she turns tricks.”
“Do what you think is best”—I won’t stop my friend from having his flings or bringing a date to the wedding—“as long as she keeps her mouth shut.”
“For sure!” David pulls his straight blond hair back into a ponytail. “If Paula finds out about this little party, she’ll castrate me on the spot.”
“Oh, wow, so scared of the boss lady…” Olavo mocks. “But that was the bachelor party of the century!” he shouts, throwing his arms up and drawing stares from the other passengers and crew. “And that was just the engagement party—imagine the wedding one!”
“Is everything all right, gentlemen?” One of the flight attendants appears beside David’s seat, attentive. “Do you need anything?”
Olavo holds back his laughter while David fights to contain his anger. I glance at the name on his badge.
“We’re fine, Alexandre. Thanks for checking.” I keep my tone polite. He smiles and moves off to continue his rounds.
David nearly throws a left hook at Olavo’s mug.
Our straight-laced friend hates disturbing other people’s peace.
I can’t help but laugh at the two of them acting like kids in a fake fight.
I know they’ll try to set up another one of these parties.
I’m already thinking about how to dodge them—I can’t fall for it again. I really can’t…
I look out the window. The clouds below bring back her scent, drowning out every other sound, leaving only her sweet voice. I make a deal with myself: these hours still belong to her, but the moment I set foot on the ground, it all needs to evaporate. Disappear for good.
The kids got tired of fighting and fell asleep—they must have the same hangover. I cross my arms and settle into my seat, remembering how we went from a crazy erotic dance to wild, scorching sex.
I had no intention whatsoever of sleeping with anyone—it was a bachelor party where I’d have fun with my friends and that was it.
But that lustful look of hers made me lose my mind completely.
Impossible to resist all that sensuality.
I didn’t even tell anyone. I just left, led by the softest, most determined lips I’ve ever tasted.
I suggested the motel; she just nodded, kissing me nonstop.
I can still feel those delicious lips on my skin, tracing every muscle, moving up and down. Her legs wrapped around my hips, burning. That tongue… Oh, God! It was insane.
How we went from wild sex to intimate conversation is still a mystery to me.
It felt so natural. It must have started when she confided she was crazy about sweets, and I ended up discovering her favorite drink.
She giggled, saying she didn’t even know it was the drink from Sex and the City, then played with the show’s title as she slid one leg over me and restarted our own entertainment.
Caught up in some wild impulse, I had them fill the bathtub with the drink—with cherries, obviously.
The fruit floated around us and she smiled at the craziness.
We had plenty of reasons to lick each other all over.
Between shy glances, innocent lips, and restrained gestures, she “revealed” she was an anal virgin.
I found it funny. Who even says that?! Well, if she wanted that kind of fantasy, I wasn’t going to deny her.
Maybe she thought I was into that sort of thing.
Whatever—I played along. I’d play along with all her little games.
At some point, before I even realized it, we were talking about our childhoods and teenage years. Strangers sharing secrets—imagine that. Maybe because so few people are really willing to listen. And she was. I was.
According to the blonde, her family was dysfunctional, crazy as hell, living in a messy house where the only thing that made sense was her own room—organized.
She’d practically planned her escape, going to college far away.
Gradually she cut all ties, which they made no effort whatsoever to resume or maintain.
They were all so different from her. Honestly, I wasn’t sure I believed the whole story.
Though it would make sense that she’d fallen into this profession.
Completely surrendered, happy, she gave me a nickname.
Because I was a chubby kid, they used to call me Cookie.
I never liked it, but now, with her saying she loves eating cookies until she licks up every last crumb…
I actually like it, moaning as her tongue works over me.
The delicious blonde didn’t waste any time.
“But that nickname doesn’t fit you anymore.” Her languid eyes devoured me.
“Yeah, true, unless you focus on my biceps…” I smiled, nibbling at her arm where it rested on my shoulder.
“Not because of that… It’s just… Well… It’s big, right?”
I laughed at the comment as she lowered her hips once more, filling herself with me. I moaned at the movement, gripping her ass tight.
“Mmm... Cookie...” She panted into me. The waves of Cosmo surrounded us. “Ball... Big and thick...” Her breathless voice continued. “Super... Super Bowl!!!” Her cry of pleasure sent me over the edge once more.
Her head tilted forward, nestling into the curve of my neck.
I felt her hot tongue trail upward, sucking my earlobe, tugging gently with her teeth.
Then she straightened up on top of me, gazing at me so deeply I felt disconcerted, a bit lost in that labyrinth of desire.
I slid my hands over her, up to her face, threading my fingers through her long, wet hair, lifting it back as I drew her to me. I gave her an almost chaste peck.
“You’re so beautiful, Candy.”
“Candy? I like it!” She didn’t tell me her name, and I didn’t bother asking.
She smiled as if about to unravel the secret of the universe.
“You know, we only have now, SB, so let the world explode. There’s only us and this exact second, and this one,” she said, giving me a little kiss, “and this one, and this one, and this one more... Enjoy it with me.”
We enjoyed every moment. The minutes after that bathtub were deliciously sticky. Deliciously memorable.
I step off the aircraft. I realize I’ve already taken a few steps on solid ground. I’m still thinking about her. Shit! I have an impossible mission: forgetting the unforgettable.
My phone vibrates repeatedly as soon as I turn it on. Messages and missed calls pile up.
“Forget about that for now, man,” Olavo tells me, grabbing his last bag from the carousel, and I’m surprised he can still tell Candy’s on my mind.
“We’re back to work tomorrow. Better take the day to rest.” Hmm, right, nothing to do with the blonde.
He may be the biggest show-off, but nobody handles business like he does.
“Our first meeting is at 10 a.m. tomorrow. Take it easy—we need a good night’s sleep.”
David says this as if we didn’t know Paula, my cousin and his wife, would be waiting for him at home.
We get our cars from the airport’s private lot and go our separate ways. We’re wrecked, no hiding it. I collapse onto my bed.
I wake to full darkness outside, the annoying beep of the alarm filling the room.
Not even a cold shower can chase away memories of that woman.
I put on my best Armani and take a deep breath to face the family dinner.
My parents can’t even suspect I spent the night with a stranger, especially... better stop thinking about it for good.
I park my Rolls-Royce La Rose Noire Droptail in front of the mansion, handing the key to Ronaldo, the family valet.
I look at the imposing structure, breathing deeply.
Not that I have terrible problems with my parents, but it was a relief to leave home.
I even bought a mansion in this same high-end gated community—living near them was Mom’s blackmail condition.
It didn’t work out very well. Unlike Olavo, who loves clinging to his mother’s apron strings, I needed more space.
I moved to a more distant, less luxurious community.
The soaring ceilings have always given me chills, but tonight, exceptionally, the mansion feels almost warm.
Rosália greets me, taking my suit to put away.
Dad has this thing about suits not being for the table where you feed the body—only for business, where you feed the mind—as if he were so good at separating the two.
Mom, a petite Black woman with deep, sweet dark eyes, floats over to me and wraps me in a hug like we haven’t seen each other in a month. The detail: it was two days. Two days of travel that ended insanely. How did I let Olavo and David talk me into that?!
“Come, my love, Dad’s waiting for us in the dining room,” she says, wrapping her arm around mine and leading me with care.
Dinners in this house are always an event. If only they knew that sometimes I don’t even eat dinner.
My father extends his hand in greeting, indicating my place. It’s the same as always. He knows. Mom knows. I know. The staff knows. Everyone knows. The customs remain. I settle in.
“Did you make good contacts on this trip?”
See how good he is at separating the two?
“Always, Dad,” I say with a smile, and they both return it.