Everything is neat, clean, overly manicured.
We go down to the hotel beach, lie on deck chairs, in the hazy surroundings of wealth.
You are topless. I notice but ignore the glances of other men.
We leaf through magazines.
Me, impressed: Salome is making news. Cover after cover after cover.
You, smiling: And the thieves are nowhere to be found.
Me, a figure catching my attention: She’s worth twelve million Euros.
Me, overheated, oversaturated with images of our act: Go for a swim?
You, dropping your magazine to the side table: Absolutely!
Hand-in-hand, we run to the water, sand burning the soles of our feet.
We splash in, submerge, come up and float on our backs.
You, turning onto your stomach: Race you to the breakwater!
But you’ve already started. Your stroke, controlled, powerful, determined. I will never catch you.
At the harbor’s mouth, we tread water. The Mediterranean is vertiginously clear, its bottom seemingly just below our feet.
A helicopter drifts overhead and out to a yacht. Rotor blades thwap like a luffing sail.
We come up on the beach, flop wet down on the deck chairs. I order us two Lillet.
Me: After this drink, I think I’d like to have a closer look at your tan line.
You: Oh, really?
Me: Really. I’d like to do a bit of the eunuch inspection.
You: Jesus, we already have our old jokes.
Me, smiling: We do. We do.
The drinks are cool, cloyingly sweet. I feel the alcohol sitting in the bottom of my belly, churning up my desire.
Back in the room, you drop your bathrobe to the floor as I close the door.
We lock hands and I walk you backwards until you fall onto the bed.
Me, hooking fingers into your bikini and pulling it down to your ankles: Now, about that tan line.
Me, admiring the contrast of dark and light on your flesh, brushing a hand against your pubis: Nice work!
You: Do you have anything to give beyond complements.
Me, bringing the bridge of my nose to your clit and drawing it upward: Perhaps.
I bring my tongue gently to the tip of your clit then apply pressure. Hold it there, breathe on you. I taste sea salt and you.
I start to roll my tongue in big lazy circles. You move your hips with me. My knees, chafing against the carpet. My cock swells.
You: More. Like that.
I bring a thumb into your cunt, pull downward with my fingers cupping your ass. My tongue slides in behind.
A surge arrives. You are pulling at my hair, digging at my back with your feet, moaning.
I won’t let this end. I keep my tongue where it is, make you come twice more so that you’re dazed, catatonic, lost.
I lick you lightly, blow on your lips. Draw my hands up and across your breasts. Our breathing matched.
You, staring out to sea: I love you. I love you.