Back Home for the Holidays Ch. 02

John was jealous. I had not known that. Well, at least not consciously. I thought I had found someone who could love me and share my lifestyle at the same time, but now I found out that he was jealous that whole time. I wasn't so upset at the revelation itself, though it was a little troubling that he had really never said anything about it. No, what really upset me was the realization that I must have hurt him so many times without even realizing it.

All that was bad enough, but now here I was being jealous. I didn't understand the source of it but I knew that it was completely out of character for me. One time, at The Sophisticate's Club, I had watched John get blown by two girls at the same time while a third sat on his face, and I hadn't a single twinge of jealousy. On the contrary, I had felt proud of him.

I knew he loved me and we would always come home together. He wasn't going to leave me for anyone. I knew how hot I was. True or not, I had that confidence. So, why was I jealous this time and not at any time before?

When the elevator let out I walked through the lobby and out into the street. I flagged down a taxi and told him to take me to a secluded beach. I needed to get away and that was the only thing I could think to do.

The driver appeared to be Cuban and I didn't think he really understood what I was asking, but I didn't really care since he took off driving immediately. That's all I really wanted him to do; just drive. I didn't care where I ended up at that moment.

I needed to make sense of it all. It was a beautiful day, the sun bright and the sky clear. Happy people roamed about, most heading for the beach.

Though I wiped the tears from my eyes, more followed. I had to figure this out. How could I face them again?

I had to get away. I needed time to think.

The cab driver headed east toward the beach and then turned left. With the ocean and the rising sun to my right, we travelled north quite a ways. I wondered for a moment where he was taking me and how much the cab ride would cost but I really didn't care.

My phone rang in my purse.

I knew from the ringtone that it was John calling. Tears filled my eyes as I realized that I was too embarrassed to talk to him. What was I going to say? 'It's okay for me to be crazy-jealous but don't you be jealous at all'? Besides, how could I explain my jealous feelings to him when I didn't understand them myself?

Now, I knew that most women get jealous of other women trying to take their man but I was raised entirely differently than most. I was taught from a very early age that jealousy was bad. Jealousy was about wanted to hold on to people and that 'having' people was wrong. It was akin to slavery. It was wrong to want to enslave someone and it was equally wrong to willingly allow yourself to be enslaved. So, I had no frame of reference for these feelings. I didn't know where they came from and I didn't know what to do with them.

I just needed some space. I needed room to breathe and think. I needed to figure out where these feelings were coming from before I went off and said something as hurtful as 'you snooze, you lose' to him again. I was so embarrassed and ashamed that I had hurt John like that. He deserved a little time away from my craziness.

"Are you okay?" the cabbie asked me with a thick Cuban accent.

I said, "I'm fine."

The cabbie took that as a 'mind your own business', just as I had intended. He didn't ask me anything else as he drove.

I looked at him as best I could through the tears and studied his license picture. He was handsome in a rough and exotic sort of way. Well, living in Denver, he was exotic to me.

If it had been just the day before, I would have taken him back to Kate's and fucked his brains out. I would have told John all about it or, better yet, invited him to join in. I would have thought either way was fine. I had no idea that it would probably have hurt John. Now, all I wanted was everything to be alright between us.

What was wrong with me? I felt jealousy, embarrassment, shame, guilt, and anger. All emotions I hated and tried to stay as far away from as possible. Maybe, if I had such feelings more often I would have known better how to deal with them.

Now, even at the time I knew that running away was stupid. I knew I was being immature and acting like a child. Problem was, I couldn't help it. What happened to all of the maturity and worldliness I knew I had? Where had it all gone?

The cabbie pulled into a beach called Haulover. I had never heard of it before but if it was secluded and I could have some time to think, I didn't care. As I paid him the fare, I wondered how I would get back to Kate's, but then decided to worry about it later.

My phone rang again in my purse but, again, I ignored it. I knew it was a stupid thing to do. I couldn't avoid everyone forever. Still, I hadn't figured anything out, besides the fact that I now felt stupid in addition to all of the other negative emotions. I supposed that emotion was self-pity, one that I hated more than most. Why was I feeling like that?

There were several cars in the parking lot, which made me wonder just how secluded the beach really was. One of the cars had apparently just arrived as four men got out and headed out of the parking lot. They were smiling and laughing, all dressed in very small swim trunks.

I decided to follow them as they headed toward a tunnel. I walked around a couple of cars and saw that the tunnel was short and led to the beach. The tunnel was clean and the walls were painted pink. I ventured inside.

The air was warming up nicely and I was starting to feel a little better. When I emerged on the far side of the tunnel I glanced at the typical beach sign indicating no glass bottles and such like that. But I noticed that a smaller sign below that one warned that I was entering a clothing optional section of beach.

A public nude beach in Florida? I had no idea such a thing existed. This was real progress.

I walked over the rise and saw the men veering to the left where, beyond, there were quite a number of men and a few women. A beach volleyball game was in progress and the men playing were all completely naked.

I noticed to my right there was a mix of couples and groups of older men dotting the beach, also all completely nude. There were lifeguard stations with men on duty. I was glad to see that.

Ever the procrastinator, I put off thinking about my problems to sit and watch a game of nude beach volleyball. Many of the spectators were still wearing clothing as they waited for it to warm up a bit more but the nude participants were sweating.

I laid my towel down beside a pretty dark-haired woman with a deep tan. She wore a jacket over her bikini as she watched the game, whooping and hollering encouragement like most were. When she saw me she flashed me a smile.

She was very pretty, despite her nose being a little on the large side. She looked faintly Italian, which I found very attractive. I smiled back at her as I adjusted my towel in the soft white sand.

After turning her attention back to the game for a moment the woman looked at me curiously and asked, "I haven't seen you around. Have you been to Haulover before?" She had no accent that I could discern.

I shook my head. "I had no idea there were any public nude beaches in the whole country."

"I think there's another one in New Jersey," she said. "Anyway, just so you know, this isn't like South Beach. The cops don't look the other way here. That makes it a bit safer, even though it's more restrictive."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I'm just saying that the cops on this beach won't stand for any lewd behavior like they will on South Beach," she told me.

"I guess that makes sense," I told her after thinking about it for a moment. "If they legally let you take your clothes off but then look the other way when people take it too far then the nude beach becomes notorious and they have to shut it down."

She nodded. "We need to protect our right to be nude at the beach by showing everyone that we can behave ourselves."

I nodded sagely at that and then smiled at her. I said, "My name is Robin, by the way."

"Nice to meet you Robin, I'm Claire," she told returning a smile. "This is an awesome beach for avoiding tan lines, but I hardly ever see redheads at the beach. Can you tan?"

I shook my head. "I freckle and burn." I fished out my sunscreen and said, "SPF 50! I just like the beach. I see you tan well, though. You are so dark."

She nodded as she shrugged off her jacket. Her shoulders were quite dark. She then pulled the tie behind her neck and let the front of her bikini drop down, revealing her large tits. They were darkly tanned and the nipples were naturally dark as well, making them blend together. "See? No lines," she told me, proudly.

"Wow," I said, suitably impressed. A woman boldly taking her top off in front of me in public was turning me on, but I didn't know if she swung that way so I tried to remain diplomatic. I asked, "But don't you worry about these guys ogling you?"

She laughed. "Not these guys. They're all gay."

I was surprised by that. "Really? All of them?" How did she know?

She nodded. "This is the gay section of the beach. The straight section is over there," she told me pointing to the south where the couples and old men were sitting.

I looked at Claire and realized something. I asked, "If this is the gay side, then you're a lesbian?"

She shook her head. "No, but as a single girl, I get harassed much less in this section. Besides, I love watching these guys play volleyball."

I let Claire turn her attention back to the game. I didn't want to ruin her day by coming on to her, especially if she wasn't open to something like that. Besides, my real concern, John, was lurking in the back of my mind.

I took out my sunscreen and began to apply it all over my body as I watched the game. When it came to my breasts I went ahead and took my top off. I left my bottoms on, though.

My head really wasn't in the game as I watched it. I was instead consumed with trying to figure out what to do about my feelings of jealousy.

Where had it all gone so wrong? Why was I so jealous when I found John getting that blowjob? Any other woman would, but I wasn't like any other woman. Would I have been that jealous if I had caught him with his sister? No, that would have been a turn-on. Would I have been that jealous if I had caught him with one of my friends back home? Maybe.

Whoa! That answer surprised me. I had never been jealous before but the image in my mind of walking in on one of our friends, like Dana, Raine, or Heather, blowing John made my stomach hurt a little.

Was that how John felt when he looked at me? If so, how many times had I hurt him? Why hadn't he left me if I had hurt him that much?

Still, even though the thought of walking in on him with a friend in Denver hurt a little, why did it hurt so damn much to see him with Kate? Was it just because she was my mother? Did I really feel threatened by her that much? Did I really think he would leave me for her?

The volleyball game was over and the men were dispersing in front of me, most heading for the ocean and a dip in the cool waters. Everyone was so happy and full of life, except me. What was happening to me?

I scolded myself for not seeing John's jealousy earlier. Surely fucking Raul and then telling John 'you snooze, you lose' had to be the worst thing I had ever done to another human being. I needed to apologize to him, but it had to be one that carried some weight. It had to carry assurances that it would never happen again.

In order to make assurances I had to uncover where these new feelings were coming from. I had always thought that my lack of such negative emotions stemmed from a confidence in my own worth and a respect for the worth of others. Surely, if you are self-assured and respect your boyfriend as a separate individual with the freedom to make his own choices, then you can't be jealous of anything or anyone no matter what anyone else says or does. Right?

Had I lost that self-confidence? Or had I lost my respect for John as a free person to make his own way in this world? Did I want to own him and possess him like some trinket or, worse, slave?

The classic explanation would have been 'love', but I dismissed that out of hand. I loved John. I had loved him for a long time. Sex and love were not the same. Sex was physical and love was emotional. I had always thought that it was the shallow and less-sophisticated people that equated one with the other. Now, suddenly, I wasn't so sure.

***

I awoke to the sound of another volleyball game starting up. I was disoriented for a moment before realizing that I had simply laid back and fallen asleep. I squinted up into the sky. The sun was almost directly overhead.

I slowly stretched and sat up.

Claire was still sitting on her towel beside me, though she was completely naked and her hair was damp. She said, "Robin, would you like a sandwich?"

I was hungry. "How long was I asleep?" I asked drowsily.

"A few hours," she replied. "I tried to wake you up but you were sleeping so soundly."

I looked down at my body to see if I was burned. Not yet, but I might be feeling it later. "I'm going to be so burnt," I groaned.

"I tried to wake you up a little earlier," Claire repeated, apparently feeling guilty that she hadn't succeeded.

I nodded and said, "I didn't sleep very well last night." I thought of lying in bed next to John. John! I gasped. He must be so worried about me.

I grabbed my purse and pulled it open.

Falling asleep like that had really put things into focus for me. My mind had never been clearer. I needed to talk to John. I had to explain everything to him.

Claire watched with concern as I pulled out my phone. It had five notifications, specifically, two text messages, and three voicemails, all but one from John. What must he be thinking?

I read the text messages from John. The first one read, *Please call me.* The second one read, *I'm sorry. I love you. Please call me.* That made me smile, but I also saw that the timestamp was nearly three hours prior.

I pulled up the voicemails and listened. In the first message, left three and a half hours ago, John said, "Hi, Robin. It's John."

My heart leapt when I heard his voice. I had been so stupid and all I wanted to do was be with him. I needed to make things right.

The message continued, "Listen, I just read the text message you sent to Kate's phone."

Message? I didn't text Kate.

John said, "I can't believe that you said you are done with me and for her to send me back to Denver. I mean, I saw the look on your face when I told you I had been jealous in the past, so I know how mad you were, but it's not as bad as it sounds. Please call me back, babe.

"It can't end like this. All I'm asking for is a chance to explain. Please, Babe, your mom has me packing my stuff. She's got Raul by her side and I know if I don't go ahead and pack up she'll sick him on me. He's so big. I can't believe you fucked him. It must have hurt.

"Anyway, she's on the phone right now getting a flight lined up for me to head home. I can't afford the hotel prices around here but I don't want to go, Babe. So, look, I know from the expression on your face and reading your text on Kate's phone that you probably never want to hear from me again. But I just want the chance to talk to you. That's all. Please call me," he concluded. His voice was so despondent at the end.

I began to cry again. Kate had faked a text message to get John to leave. I instantly knew that she was doing what she thought was best for me. She didn't trust men and she saw how upset I was. She must have misread me and thought I was upset over John's admission when, in reality, I had been upset at myself. I shouldn't have run off like that.

Claire moved closer to me and put her hand on my shin. She was concerned about me. I appreciated the compassion, even from someone I had just met.

The next voicemail had been left an hour prior, while I slept. It was from Kate. She said, "Hey, Robin, it's Kate. Listen, I took care of your little problem for you, like I always do. So, you can come on back home any time you want. Please call me back."

I didn't like the sound of that. If she took care of my problem, she had to mean John. Thinking back on how she took care of things for me in the past, I knew things may have gone a little far. If only I had taken that first call from John, I scolded myself.

The last voicemail had been left only thirty minutes prior. I listened intently, despite dreading what I might hear and knowing that Kate was very efficient at getting rid of unwanted men.

John's voice was very subdued. He said, "Hi Robin. It's me, John. I wish you would call me back. Kate paid for a taxi to take me to the airport and for a one-way ticket back to Denver. Raul made sure I got in the taxi and rode with me to the airport. I just passed through security, leaving Raul behind, and am sitting at a little restaurant waiting for my flight. I left our tickets with your stuff. Maybe you can get some of your money back on mine.

"I paid the cab driver extra to drive around town looking for you but there are so many people and the town is so big that I couldn't find you. Besides, after a few minutes Raul realized what was happening and had the cabbie continue to the airport. So here I sit.

"Look, Robin, I love you and I really hope that you find what you're looking for. Anyway, I'll pack up your stuff when I get home so you don't have to worry about that. I just wish I could talk to you one last time.

"Oh, that's my flight. Well, I'd better go. I'll have to turn my phone off on the plane but I'll turn it right back on when I get to Denver in case you call me. Bye Babe."

"What? No!" I cried. "How could this be happening?"

"What's wrong?" Claire asked.

"My mother convinced my boyfriend that I didn't want to see him anymore and sent him back to Denver," I said.

"Why?" Claire asked.

"Oh, she thinks he's too jealous and possessive, but she's wrong. I'm too jealous. He didn't do anything wrong and now, thanks to my mother, and my stupidity, he's gone."

"Sweetie, it'll be okay," Claire offered.

I burst out sobbing and said, "I want John."

Claire scooted closer, sitting beside me, and put her arms around me. She comforted me as I cried. Her warm bare breasts pressed against my own but all I could think about was John.

I cried there for several minutes, just feeling so lost and alone despite Claire and the naked people around me. How had my life fallen apart so quickly?

A man walked up to us. I could just make out his shoes through my tears as I rested my chin on Claire's firm shoulder. Was he a cop? Had I done something wrong by hugging Claire? He wore tennis shoes and jeans, which were totally overdressed for the beach and not police issue either. Tentatively he said, "I hate to interrupt, and I know you don't want to see me anymore, but-"

It was John!

I looked up at him, my face wet with tears, and squealed with joy. Now, I don't squeal. The last time I made any sort of sound like that was when I was twelve. I didn't know how he had found me or why he wasn't on that plane. I didn't care. Nothing mattered except that he was there.

I pulled away from Claire, and cutting John off in mid-sentence, I leapt to my feet, crossed the three yards between us and threw myself into his arms.

I'm shorter and smaller than John but he was unprepared for me and I pushed him down into the sand onto his back. Thankfully, the sand was soft.

John wrapped his arms around me and held me close as we lay there in the sand. He was fully-clothed, in a white tee-shirt, jeans, and tennis shoes, but I didn't care. I knew there would be sand everywhere but I didn't give a shit in that moment. "I thought-" he began to say.