Chapter Four. Too soon my body's internal clock woke me

Too soon my body's internal clock woke me. I didn't have to look to know it was after eight. Morning Stretch was in less than an hour. I needed to shower and get some water and protein in my body before then.

I slipped out from under Celine's arm and didn't mind in the least that parts of me were sore. I obviously hadn't stretched sufficiently beforehand, and the workout had been intense. I paused long enough in the bathroom to scrawl "See you later?" on a notepad, which I left propped over the bathroom faucet so Celine would definitely see it.

Smiling, I made my way to my quarters, trudging up the stairs with a goofy look on my face. I knew it was goofy because I ran smack into Tess, and her smile was exactly the way I felt, and it looked goofy.

We stared idiotically at each other. Without thinking better of it, I said, "So when did you give up on men? Or have you?"

Tess shrugged. "Men are men. I just haven't wanted one in a while. I got tired of never feeling safe. And never having anything to talk about. And not getting what I needed nine times out often."

I hesitated. "Was it because of..."

"Geez, Brandy, are you angling for another toaster oven?" Her eyes flashed. "Fine, you get the prize. List me as a reference."

"That wasn't what I meant." But I was talking to Tess's back.

"I need to get ready for Body Pump," she said over her shoulder.

She had an hour more than I did to get ready for her day. "That really wasn't what I meant. Tess?"

Her door closed and I stood there for a few minutes, trying to figure out why the conversation had derailed. I finally decided that coming out was never easy, and Tess was probably just as surprised by it as anyone would be. I'd give her a lot of time and space and eventually my best friend would talk to me about it. I could wait until lunch, even.

Sundays most of the guests sleep in, but there is usually a half-dozen core group of devotees that rises with the sun, jogs on the beach, makes protein shakes for breakfast and then turns up for Morning Stretch. Sunday is the first full day on the premises and the goal is for every guest to take part in at least one activity. We want them to join the Club Sandzibel family, yes we do.

Munching the last of my banana and yogurt, my footsteps slowed as I reached the deck where guests were already gathering. There must have been twenty-five women there, slipping out of their Kangaroos and Tevas, shinnying off beach covers or mopping their brows—and chests—with towels from the fitness center.

Wow. I was about to have at least two dozen dykes on their backs, panting for me. Okay, panting with me, but a girl could fantasize, couldn't she?

I didn't really have to work at fantasizing. Pelvises raised and lowered, legs spread and crossed, and arms reached out in supplication at my merest command. I was a Nathor, Goddess with Upraised Arms, and they were my acolytes, eager to please my every whim.

Wow. This was pretty cool. I felt as if sunlight sparkled in my blood even though I'd been up late. I could have given them all a workout for the entire morning, but Tess showed up to urge everyone to Body Pump, and when nearly everyone went, I tagged along.

Now Tess was Nathor with a barbell and we were all in heaven. I was at the back of the class, and if the landscape had been sublime with all of those lovely women on their backs, it was even better when they all touched their toes.

I guess I was no better than a guy, ogling all that female flesh, but at least I didn't think I owned it or had a right to it. I was just enjoying the view, in all its variety. There was no end to the diversity of women's butts.

Tess caught me at it, and I blushed.

Looking wicked, she said, "Brandy, maybe you'd like to help me go through the arms portion."

Well, damn. I nearly pouted, but as I reached the front of die class and regarded the rows of muscle-shirted, tank-topped and sport-braed figures it was all okay.

Maybe someday I would grow up, but I hoped never to be so closed up that I couldn't look at women and feel the magic of the female working in my blood.

"You were showing off," Tess accused me when the class was over.

"Was not." I put down the twenty-pound weights I'd been using for curls, carefully hiding the wince as my muscles went into spasm. I had no idea what Tess meant.

"You won't be able to raise your arms tomorrow," she predicted.

I couldn't raise my arms right then, but I wasn't telling her that. "First time I've ever seen you use a fifteen," I pointed out.

"I was due to step up."

"Right." I saw the bleached blonde from last night approaching, looking very cool and calm. Studly. Smug. No way, I thought. Even though the very first time with Tess she had said I'd taken care of her better than she ever had been before, it still had taken several times to get scratches-down-the-back perfect.

Bleachie had no right to look so insufferable. Good sex was hard work, and Tess and I had practiced and we were... not a couple, okay. But we were something. What if Tess was looking at the future, too, the way thoughts of it had been plaguing me for the last twenty-four hours? What if she was thinking about forever. Well, she wouldn't find it with some one-week wonder. I don't think she realized that dykes were the same as straight women when it came to vacation conditions—no relationship would last past Saturday.

Tess was already saying hello, flipping her hair. While I stood wondering how to cut Bleachie off at the pass the two of them were falling into step toward the guest rooms in building B. Obviously, Tess had plans for her hour's break.

It didn't seem right that Tess was getting more, given that she was the newbie, while I was wondering if I'd see Celine again before nightfall. I was the one with experience dating dykes. Okay, maybe not so much lately. But wouldn't it be just perfect if Tess went and fell in love with the first dyke she went to bed with?

I stomped back to my quarters and shoved Celine's framed magazine cover in a drawer. Really, Tess had had no right to imply I was being childish by showing off with the weights. Holding back a groan at the ache in my arms, I did some basic cleaning up in case I needed to invite somebody in for some reason. My hour's break was nearly up before I had finished the dishes and sweeping. The laundry pile was just going to have to wait. I had to hotfoot it to KidZone to relieve Rhea and her staffers in time.

There was no sign of Tess, of course. She was busy getting laid, I was sure. Rajid and I showed a group of five-year-olds how to do somersaults. I bandaged a scraped knee—including filling out the incident report—and left an hour later not terribly improved in mood. Tess was in the pool by then, for another round of pool games. Her skin looked flushed and alive and her eyes were glowing with vitality. She looked like she'd had a wonderful morning. Which was just perfect.

It was even more perfect when she clambered out of the pool and I got a look at her back where the swimsuit usually snugged up. Scratches, four on each side, which meant Bleachie had had a good time too.

Time for lunch. I snagged the last three slices of chocolate bread and damn me if I was going to share.

With a little time before the afternoon Body Pump, I took my water bottle down to the beach. I had twenty minutes to soak up the peaceful sounds of the surf, and the turmoil I felt in my head was giving me no peace.

It was the scratches. That meant that Tess had been on top and Bleachie had been feeling really good. I had scratched Tess's back, just that way, when what she was doing to me felt so good I couldn't help it. I wasn't the only one, either. I shivered when I remembered Tess's nails going down my back that first night, not to mention several nights since. But that first night she'd marked me the deepest.

I'd felt a little shy when I'd put on the harness. Her toy was larger than I was used to wearing, and switching the ring to hold it and then readjusting all the buckles had, I thought, diminished some of the magic with tedious technical details. When I was finally set to go, Tess sat back on the bed and openly looked me over.

I blushed. I wasn't used to someone assessing me while I was wearing the thing. I'd feel more comfortable when I was fucking her. I blushed harder as my mind gave me an anticipatory vision of what that would be like, to be on top of Tess and feel her body rise and fall because of what I was doing to her.

"I can't believe we're doing this." Her voice was low and soft.

"I can't believe what you've already done to me."

"I loved it." She slowly brought her fingertips to my nipples, which responded almost instantly to her touch. "Touching you was... not what I expected. I didn't think it could feel so good."

I cupped her hands against my breasts. "You have great hands. They feel wonderful. But if you don't stop, we'll never get to the fun for you."

She gave me a nervous glance. "Are you sure? I mean, that you want to do this?"

My voice raspy with desire, I said, "I'm going to enjoy it. Are you sure?"

"Yes, please," she said quickly. "Everything I felt before, I feel it ten times more now."

I thought about the hours she had spent making every nerve in my body come to life, and I thought how good her skin had felt against mine. Gently, looking directly into her eyes, I pushed her back on the bed. She melted under me, making me feel like a sun goddess.

I kissed her jaw, then nuzzled her ear. "Talk to me, tell me what will feel good."

"Right now," she said hoarsely, "I want that thing inside me."

Resting my weight on one elbow, I reached between her legs.

My fingers were swimming in her hot, thick wetness. Slippery and soft, her lips were the most sensuous thing I'd touched in ages.

She mewled softly. "Please, I can't take being teased."

"I'm not teasing," I said. "I'm going to fuck you, Tess, the way you want it." I sank two fingers in her, then brought them up to circle her clit. "I'm opening you up so you can take it. So it can slide in so easy. So... oh, that feels good, doesn't it?"

Her legs had wrapped around my thighs as I rubbed her hardening clit. She let out a startled cry and I realized she was climaxing, everything rigid and tight against my hand. I hurriedly wet the toy with my slick hand and pushed the head against her opening.

She was gasping for breath, and I saw tears in her eyes. "Please, Brandy, please, fuck me—take me—just have me— please."

I'd never used something so big and I was afraid I'd hurt her, but she knew what she wanted and I pushed in. She was crying and moaning and I started to move, faster and faster. Her chest was flushed with need. Her eyes glimmered with tears.

"I'm sorry." She panted for breath. "Sorry, you have to fuck me so hard—"

I shushed her. "You are so hot and so sexy, Tess. I love doing this. I'm just getting started."

"Don't stop." She grasped my shoulders with her hands. The sound of our bodies meeting was delicious. The level of her abandon was so high I could only marvel. I loved women, and she felt simply fabulous under me. Like nothing I'd ever felt before.

Her eyes were tightly shut and her nails were starting to dig into my shoulders. "Please don't stop, please don't come yet, please—"

"Look at me, Tess." I slid in so deep she gasped and her eyes flew open. "I'm a woman, and I can fuck you all night. All day. I won't stop, and I will love every second of it."

"Brandy." She wrapped her arms around me tight, pulling me down until all my weight was on her. Our hips were grinding together. I stayed with her movements, even as they became more and more exaggerated. I don't know how long we stayed that way, but, like less, I was feeling hungrier and hungrier with each passing minute. I wanted to do this all night, slide in and out of her, feel her dancing under me.

She was close again, close for a long time, then she groaned and I felt her body swell. Very close now. I could feel it in the tautness of her breasts and the grip of her muscles on the toy.

"Until you're done. I won't leave you feeling like this. You feel so good under me, so sweet and hot. God, it's wonderful to fuck this way."

She cried out and her fists came down on my back and we writhed together, arms and legs locked, straining so hard against each other I thought one of us would surely break.

A few minutes later, after Tess had blown her nose and had a drink of water, she managed a weak smile. "That was... closer than I've ever gotten. Thank you."

I was a little puzzled because earlier it had sounded like she didn't stop after two, especially when the first one was pleasing, but small. I wondered if I'd done something wrong, or if she thought if we did more I wouldn't take care of her. I nearly said something inane, but her nipples gave her away. Still hard, they told me she was turned on.

"We're not done." I rubbed the underside of one nipple with my fingertip. "I want to fuck you again. And again."

A shudder traveled the length of her body and her arms were dusted in goose flesh. "You don't have to... I've already..."

"You think I'm tired? That I'm just doing you a favor?"

She didn't answer, but her eyes were clouded with doubt.

"I'm not tired, Tess. And believe me, the pleasure is all mine." I took her hand and placed it on my soaked crotch. "Feel that? I love pleasing you."

"Oh..." she breathed. Her fingers curled into my wet cunt. "You feel good, I didn't know. I could touch you all night—"

"No, right now we're taking care of you," I said firmly.

Tess stared at me with eyes that seemed frightened, not of me, but of herself. "It's just one night," she finally said, in a broken voice. "I'm not like this all the time, I promise."

"Even if you were, what's wrong with that? What's wrong with feeling really good?"

"You're not just a—a dildo to me." She pointed at the heavy toy. "I—"

"And you weren't either, Tess. We're friends, remember? I care about how you feel. And right now, I think we're talking too much. I want to fuck you again."

She gasped and it was all I needed. I couldn't stop talking after that. Words I'd thought but never said bubbled out of me, about how good cold lube could feel drizzled on a hot clit, the way her nipples felt in my mouth when they hardened. I explored her body in more detail than I had even my own. Using just my hand I played in her cunt, opening, stroking, fucking, massaging the inside of her, my groans matching hers as her body responded.

With my hand covered in lube I could go deep. I was in past my knuckles with my thumb on her clit. I'd never done more than that to any woman but Tess might be open enough to take my whole hand. But it seemed like... like I ought to ask, and I didn't want to stop to ask, not when she was going to come for me this way.

I didn't want her to think I was going to hurt her or that I wanted to hurt her. I wasn't sure I wouldn't, even with all the lube and how much it felt like she could take. I'd read about it but never thought I'd be with a woman where it seemed possible. More than possible, it seemed natural to the way Tess felt inside.

I wasn't sure I could do it, either, even though it seemed like it would be easy with her. I wasn't a macho slut, a bedroom daddy or any other Bad Girl I'd read about in books. I was just me. The more I thought about it, the more I wanted to go inside her, fill her completely. I thought she would love it, she felt so hot and open, but doing that to her seemed like something a lover would do, and I wasn't her lover. I could use on her the toy she allowed, but to fist her—she wasn't mine that way.

I turned my fingers to stroke her steadily.

"Brandy, don't stop, oh please."

"I won't, I won't. I'm filling you up and you are going to come on my hand." I pushed hard, spreading my fingers inside her. "All over my hand."

She seemed startled when climax hit her, as if coming this way, with only my fingers inside her, wasn't part of what she thought she needed on a night like tonight. Like the orgasm before she got tight, then astonishingly open and wet. I felt waves of contractions around my hand, then she relaxed slightly.

I looked down into her face, and found her staring up at me. She wanted to ask for more but I could tell something was holding her back. Fear I would say no or laugh? That I'd roll over and go to sleep? "Feel that?"

She nodded frantically.

"I'm getting this nice, big toy all slippery again."

A tiny whimper escaped her.

"Now I'm going to push it inside you, inside you where you want it."

"Please"

I looked down at the toy as I guided it inside her, amazed that something so thick could disappear with such ease. The sound it made opening her up again tightened my spine and we were in each other's arms again, holding tight, straining.

Her body seemed to swell when I went in and flatten when I pulled out. The effect of my every move was profound and I found myself whispering in her ear, "It feels so good, Tess, so good to be on top of you. To fuck you and feel how much you like it."

For several minutes all she could say, in a desperate, ragged voice, was, "Don't stop."

"I will take care of you," I had said, over and over, and when she came we hadn't stopped. I had slathered the toy and my hand with lube and we started all over.

Water trickling around my toes brought me back to where I was. The tide had shifted enough that a particularly energetic wave had reached my shady spot. I rose to dust myself free of sand and tiny shells. Hell, I was almost late to afternoon Body Pump.

Celine was there but to my own surprise, while I felt quite warm and friendly to see her, I wasn't overwhelmed with the desire to drag her off to a private place and repeat some or all of the previous night's activities. She smiled at me with a decided twinkle, but my ego wasn't bruised in the least that she was chatting flirtatiously with one of the other guests. It had been fantastic, but I had to face facts. Fantastic, but Celine wasn't Tess.

And I was a fool to let that matter.

Endorphins, as I've studied and experienced, can work for you, even if you're feeling like an idiot loser dumbshit with no more sense than a baby to go falling in love with a friend and a woman who may just be dabbling in lesbian sex. Tess would be mortified to know how I felt. Lord knows, I was pretty embarrassed.

I led the large group through lunges, lifts, balance workouts and squats, and all the while I was thinking, "You're in love with her, and you want more than you've got with her, and if she finds out it's all over."

Madeline had broken my heart, smashed it into tiny bits. She'd wanted sex with me like crazy, had loved to fuck me, go down on me, everything. And I'd loved being with her. I really had thought she wasn't straight. At a minimum, she was bi. I thought she was in love with me, the person, and that I was a woman who had some definite pluses. She left me for a law school grad with a guaranteed six-figure job at his daddy's firm. I could understand marrying for security, though it wasn't something I thought I'd ever do. What I didn't understand was her parting shot: "Besides, you're a woman. Two women can't build a future and a family. It's just a sham."

At the time, crying too hard to even answer, I hadn't really thought about what a crock of shit that was, and how much Madeline must have hated herself to think that no matter what woman she hooked up with she couldn't make it real.

Just thinking about it pissed me off all over again. I wasn't going to let Tess hurt me that way, but hell, what was I thinking? Tess and I were fuck buddies. We weren't about love and forever and wanting shit like that. We were free to do anybody we liked, and for her, that could include every guy on the premises and I wasn't supposed to care.

Except I did care. Not about guys, but about other women.

I cared about Bleachie and if she'd made Tess feel better than I had. I cared that Tess seemed angry with me about something, and I cared that I had had a fabulous night of sex but had no desire to repeat it if it wasn't with Tess.

I was supposed to be a free bird. I wanted to be. I wanted to act on my feelings, and feel love with anyone who tightened my skin and gave my heart that flutter. Celine had done that yesterday. All of these women had done that yesterday, but today I wanted Tess.

This was a revolting turn of events and as far I could tell, it was up to me to fix it. This was not Tess's problem. Maybe I was just jealous, worried about being upstaged by other dykes. I had to get over being jealous of Bleachie. Maybe I should go to bed with Bleachie. Maybe Tess and I could both go to bed with Bleachie.

My body did respond to that thought. I switched the class over to slower-paced arm lifts and realized that I had no trouble picturing me showing Bleachie how Tess liked to be touched.

But then the fantasy got fuzzy. My mind kept wanting to turn it toward Tess and me sending Bleachie out for ice or pizza or something, and Bleachie being gone for a long time, like, oh, forever, while Tess and I made love and just plain fucked ourselves silly for hours, days, years. Instead, reality intruded. Bleachie learned all my moves and then it was me who went out for ice and found the door locked on my return.

She's a free woman, I told myself. Try to capture her and she'll leave you. If she figures you want more than holiday fucks and midnight brownies, she'll leave you. If you act jealous, she'll leave you. If you do anything but what you've done for the last six months, she'll leave you.

I hate having to think this hard. I hate having to wonder if it's possible to get dumped by somebody who doesn't even think you're a couple.

Celine gave me a friendly wave as she walked off with her new flirting pal. I found the presence of mind to tip a pretend hat to her. My arms were screaming from using the twenty-pound weights that morning, and I stank to high heaven. It was my afternoon off, and what I really needed was a shower and a nap.

I had the shower, but sleep refused to come to bed with me, as no doubt Tess would next time I asked.

The sight of the dining room full of women, women and, for a change, more women, lifted my spirits. I treated myself to a heap of fresh strawberries and Greek salad with chicken in a light pesto.

"I remember how you like it." Marianne—in charge of soup, cheeses and bread—added extra fontina to the bowl before ladling in the French onion soup.

"If you weren't already married, I'd be on my knees begging," I told her.

She regarded me with a twinkle as she dusted a crumb from her matronly bosom. "I tell my husband I have attractive girl who wants to marry me. Know what he say? He say, bring her home, we all have fun."

"Your husband," I observed after we stopped laughing, "is a dirty old man."

If anything, she twinkled harder. "That's why I love him, yes?"

"You give me hope, Marianne." I hoisted my steaming bowl and dinner plate and realized I had enough cheese to harden my arteries on the spot. Well, maybe if they got hard my heart would as well.

Tess was probably scrambling into her Sunday evening costume. Tonight, the LOVE comedienne who'd performed last night was hosting our takeoff of the Gong Show. Tess's belted-out version of "What Now My Love?" usually brought the house down, especially when, during a particularly deep breath, the waist of her skirt popped open to display elaborate pantaloons that said "kick me" on the butt. This never failed to make the children howl, and the louder the kids laughed, the more the grownups did too.

My job for the show was behind the scenes—pinning costumes, drawing the curtains and rolling scenery up and down. I often thought I got off easy. The resort preferred to hire multi-talented staffers, ones who could not only do their assigned work, like reception managers and chefs, but double as entertainers. My "talent" during the interview had been a hastily contrived tumbling routine, ending with a nothing-short-of-miraculous handstand walk.

I had needed the job, and badly. My parents heartily disapproved of my chosen "mannish" major, but their disapproval of my "deviance" was infinitely more hearty. Perverts were on their own. Only in my most generous moments was I thankful they had at least—as promised to both my brother and me— paid for college. Of course my younger brother, Roger, got tuition and room and board so working wouldn't interfere with his business major, while I was tuition-only. Physical education wasn't really studying, you know.

I was on my own after that. Roger, the pig, was as big a homophobe as my parents were. I hoped they all choked on their Baltimore air. Someday I hope no longer to care anything about them.

I had walked across that damn stage on my hands, then back-flipped twice, a feat I'd never equaled since. And I got the job, making a living using my college education. Mostly. It didn't pay terribly well, but I lived for free. The hours were long, six days a week, and management completely arbitrary. I would have liked a car, cell phone and broadband, but I would have hardly had time to enjoy them. And I knew that I could work just as many hours, in just as frustrating circumstances, flipping burgers for the same disposable income. In my odd hours here I got to dig my toes in the sand. The sunshine, pool and weekly morning round of golf were all free.

Tomorrow the circus tumbling lessons began. Thursday night was the big circus show featuring all the kids who were allowed to practice on the trapeze and mats. I liked teaching them and then watching them do it with the lights and music. It beat stuffing fries into paper bags any day.

When I'd dragged myself back out of bed before dinner I decided against my usual practical workout attire. Instead I'd found a lightweight pair of black slacks and a sage green sleeveless shirt. That combination worked well with my hair, tamed with detangling spray. At the very last minute I'd clipped on simple gold earrings. I wasn't sure why I was making an effort. I wasn't trying to catch anyone's attention and Tess had seen the outfit once a week for the last two years. It might have passed for simple elegance but for the Club Sandzibel nametag, required at all but off-duty times. The tag's red background clashed with both shirt and hair, but there was nothing I could do about it.

Randall, who knew how to ruin just about any good mood, commented, "A bit dressed for a stagehand, aren't you?"

I ignored him, which was my usual policy and had so far served me well. I hoped Tess was right and he'd be shipped out soon. The club music in the general seating area was dying down and, forgetting all about me, Randall dashed onstage to introduce the evening's entertainment. The next sixty minutes were busy, but we all knew the pacing. I had the sets down in time and still managed to help Tess out of her costume after her bit.

"Thanks," she muttered as I finally got a knot out of the last tie.

"That's three that weren't right. Were you in some sort of hurry?" I didn't mean to smirk or sound curious, but I did, no getting around that.

"Something like that. Gloria tried to help, but she wasn't as good at it as you."

I nearly asked if Gloria was not as good at other things, but I thought better of it, just in time. Tess sped off to make a quick change for the final dance number.

After the show I filed out with everyone else. The night air was hot and sticky and I noticed most of the women were heading for their rooms. I didn't blame them. It wasn't a night to sit out by the pool. I thought about a cold drink, realized I could have one for free in my own quarters and told myself it wouldn't hurt me in the least to spend the night alone. Even if Celine wanted to do more, my body could probably use a little recovery time. Certainly my arms were still telling me about those twenty-pound weights.

"Brandy!" Celine broke away from a cluster I hadn't noticed and I paused to let her catch up to me. "Do you think we'd have any luck getting the D.J. in the disco to change the music? What do you think?"

"Can't hurt to ask," I said. "They do have to balance the tastes of the whole bar."

"There's nobody in there and I got a kind of a grunt when I asked."

Had to be Emilio, whose attitude drove me nuts. Emilio knew best what we ought to dance to, so of course any requests to the contrary were met with a sneer. I had told Tess that Emilio must have learned customer service at a music store for the fatally hip. Randall liked Emilio because he could get the place hopping and trays of drinks were consumed. Every week was different, though.

I flinched as we walked in the door. I like Aphex Twin as much as the next girl, but not at a volume that induced pain.

The booth was much quieter. Emilio was reading a Cuban newspaper and looking in a foul mood.

"They don't drink, so why should I care what they want to dance to?"

"They have to drink something, and something is better than nothing. I'll tell Trevor it's a well-known fact that dyke moms don't drink, and you did well to sell ice to the Eskimos. But they won't hang around if you don't turn the volume down so they can hear themselves talk, and pick some music they can dance to."

"What? Like the, uh, Beach-a Boys?"

"Yeah, like that. Put on 'Surfin' Safari' and suggest how good an ice-cold light beer would taste right now."

He snapped open his paper as if he was going back to reading, then he threw the paper on the floor. "Fine. Have it your way. Soon we will have nothing but the, uh, flower power crowd and we'll add prune juice to the daily special."

"They'll only be here a week, Emilio. I know you can dance their butts off the floor, too. Queue up five and offer to swing— dykes love queens. You'll be the belle of the ball, trust me."

He gave me a scathing look, but his hands were already flitting over the console. Moments later Lou Vega mellowed the room with "Mambo #5" and there was an audible cheer from the other side of the door. I bowed deeply to Emilio's good taste and hid my smile that he was peeking at the women. He'd be on the floor if any of them looked like they'd dance.

There was applause as I emerged from the booth, led by Celine.

"Please, please," I said, in my best Thanking the Little People manner. "No need to worship the ground I walk on."

"Thank you!" Celine was already moving in rhythm, and several couples were bouncing on their toes, evaluating the room's energy. I didn't realize Celine had moved closer until her mouth was on mine for a firm, not entirely tongue-free kiss.

"Oh!" I couldn't have sounded more gauche, so I tried to cover it by adding, "You like me, you really, really like me."

"That I do," she answered. "There's a whole group that wasn't ready to go to bed yet."

"Me, I'm about to drop," I said hastily. "I didn't sleep much last night."

"Neither did I. I'm not sure I'll sleep well tonight either." She made what I took to be a nod in the direction of one of the LOVE organizers.

"Enjoy," I said without any rancor. "I need to go talk to the bar manager." Last night had been fabulous. Maybe in a few days I'd feel differently about repeating it. Right then, all I wanted was my bed, alone.

Okay, if Tess had been there, asking me to make love to her, that would have been pretty good, too.

I made my way to the bar and told Trevor, the bar manager, that he might do well to run beer pitchers on some sort of special and get some baskets of tortilla chips into the disco.

"You think that'll work? Last night things moved okay, but tonight it was like booze was poison."

"It's too hot to sit out," I consoled. "And the ladies aren't big drinkers usually. Emilio's trying to be a good sport with the music."

Trevor gave me a considering look. "Thanks for being a go-between. Why don't you come work the bar when you're tired of sweating in the sun? You'd be good at it, and you've got a brain, which helps."

I was flattered. Trevor had a brain, too, and it was nice to be noticed.

"I'll think about it," I said noncommittally. Bed was starting to call really loudly.

The night felt heavy and smelled faintly of ozone. Thunderclouds were moving across the stars and the wind was rising. I quickened my step, expecting rain any second, and passed several slow-moving couples strolling along the path outlining the beach, holding hands. They didn't seem to care where they were or what time it was or what the weather was planning to do. They were in their own worlds and part of me wanted to scoff, but another part of me was just plain envious.

I was most of the way up my stairs when I realized that Tess was going into her place, and she wasn't alone. Bleachie— Gloria, I supposed—was with her. They were most of the way in the door, making out like crazy.

I tortured myself for a minute, watching Bleachie unbutton Tess's blouse. It started to rain and I didn't move. My mouth watered at the sight of Tess's nipples and I was suffused with heat. I wanted Tess so much I could feel her skin on me.

I tried to tell myself that I only wanted her because someone else had her. I wasn't in love, just trapped in a competitive lust brought on by all the couple energy in the resort. I didn't want to do anything that remotely resembled settling down. I wanted to go on playing the field. I decided, right then, with raindrops running down my face, that if Celine asked, I would sleep with her again.

I nearly went back to dance, nearly went back to see if anyone wanted to take me to bed. But I knew if I did I'd close my eyes and pretend they were Tess.

Her throaty laughed flowed across the dark night, then her door was closed. The crackle of lightning got me moving up the stairs to my own door. I turned the bolt and stood in the dark for a long while, listening to the thunder but imagining I could still hear Tess's laugh.

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