Jessa

Jessa took advantage of the time for a quick plunge in the ocean to cool down. In the semi-finals, they were matched against a team closer to them in height. This time, they fought for every point and managed to win by only one. Jessa collapsed in the sand and refused to move to the bemusement of Torah. By the time the finals started, much of the beach life had gathered to watch. Again, they were up against a team of nearly equal height, the man a tad shorter than Torah. The woman may have actually been a bit taller than Jessa; it was hard to tell in the sand. They traded points back and forth, working hard for every one.

At game point, it was tied evenly, and the opponents' serve. Jessa had to dive in the sand to save the serve, Torah was right there to set it up for her, but she just couldn't get her feet back under her in time to jump for the slam. One leg slid away and she almost did the splits, just catching herself as she fell face forward in the sand. For a time she just lay there, wondering if Torah was going to be mad at her, but then someone was pouring ice cold water on her back and she squealed, trying to roll away. That of course just opened up more targets for the icy water, and she found she was squealing and laughing and covered with sand. A moment later, Torah had scooped her up and carried her out into the waves, where he unceremoniously dumped her.

Jessa dove through the waves several times to wash the sand from her body and her hair, and when she turned back to the beach, Torah was waiting for her with a clean dry towel. She took it gratefully and wrapped it about her. As they walked back up the beach, she found herself being subtly guided toward the patio, and almost without realizing they were sitting at a table and a waiter was scurrying to bring refreshing drinks.

Torah lifted his drink toward her. "To almost winning." Jessa laughed and clinked her glass against his. "Listen," Torah said. "I was thinking that we could have, like, a platonic date on the ocean cruise they plan for tomorrow."

"A platonic date?" Jessa drawled.

"You know, so if some chick was bugging me and I wasn't interested, I could say I was with you, and vice versa. Make it easier to keep the riffraff away," he whispered conspiratorially.

Jessa considered. She was already growing bored with the ocean and starting to work on a sunburn. Maybe that would be a good way to spend the day. They served food and drinks on the cruiser, there would be a pleasant ocean breeze. She glanced over at Torah and again was pleased to see that his eyes were resting steadily on her face, as opposed to the cleavage at the top of her towel. "Okay, sure," she agreed.

Jessa made it through dinner that night with fewer hassles. People were beginning to pair up or form groups of like-minded individuals that then formed random and temporary pairs within the group. She left before the dessert and was actually glad for a little extra rest after all of the exercise of the day.

The next morning, they took a shuttle to the docks and boarded the cruiser for the trip that would take them up the coast a way, then back along a chain of islands a short distance off the coast. Again, it actually turned out rather pleasant. Torah chatted up a few women, but mostly he used her as an excuse to avoid unwanted attention, and she used him as an excuse to avoid any attention at all. She ended up taking a nap in a deck chair and missing most of the islands, but that was fine with her. That evening, it seemed most of the would-be couples from last night had already decided they were incompatible and were on the prowl again. Her store of sarcastic or scathing ripostes was starting to wear thin. She went to bed without dessert.

The next day, she was still in avoidance mode. She went downstairs only for food and drink, ran into Torah a few times, but politely declined his offers of activities. To all the others, she was not nearly so polite. That evening, she found herself assigned to the same random table as Torah. They chatted pleasantly through most of the meal, and found that other individuals assumed they were together and were avoiding them for the most part. That was fine with Jessa, but she wondered why Torah didn't seem to mind. He had finally admitted to her that it was his fifth year and that he was definitely looking for a wife. It just didn't seem like he was looking very hard. But then, she figured he was handsome enough, he could wait till the last day, crook his finger, and have it in the bag with pretty much any woman there. Especially once those women figured out that most of the men were only in it for the sex, biding their time until their fifth year to get serious.

Jessa continued to hear rumors about some titled elite, but she never saw anyone wearing a crest and she couldn't believe such a secret could have been kept these four days. No one particular guy seemed to be demanding a massive swarm of attention, so she had mostly discounted it. Still, she kept one eye out, just from curiosity. Of the fifth year men, there seemed to be three groups. There were the quietly attractive, like Torah. They seemed to prefer the low profile, wearing subdued but fashionable clothing, not calling attention to themselves. There were the desperate ones, usually not so attractive, and totally lacking in personality. Some of them would flash money or expensive clothes to attract women. Then there was the vast majority. Most of them were reasonably attractive, usually a bit flashy, a bit desperate, and even if they had succeeded in winning the attentions of a woman, terrified that she would change her mind at the last minute. Those were the so very clingy, needy ones. They were possibly the most annoying to Jessa. The really desperate ones were far too intimidated to even approach her. The quiet, handsome ones didn't need to try to batter down her aloofness when there were so many easy pickings for them. So it was the clingy, needy ones desperate at a shot to win her over - especially if they'd had too much to drink - that continued to buzz around her like mosquitoes. Having Torah nearby gave her some protection from that annoyance, and she found she was accepting invitations from him more and more often. Like after dinner, when he asked her to the bar for a nightcap.

One drink turned into three, and that was on top of the three she'd had at dinner. Jessa was pretty good at holding her liquor, but six of Summer's End's drinks were a bit much even for her. The bar had gotten fairly quiet; most of the guests had found sexual mates for the night, if not for life and were snuggled up in rooms somewhere. The booze was making her sleepy, but she was too tired to break away and head for her room. She finally ordered a coffee so she could wake up enough to go to bed. Meanwhile, she hadn't really noticed that Torah had been scooting ever closer on the curved bench that formed their booth. Jessa was staring at the candle in the center of their table.

"Why do you go to bed alone every night?" Torah asked her, speaking low near her ear.

"Told you. Not looking for a husband." When you're tired, it's permissible to leave words out of your sentences.

"Doesn't mean you can't have some pleasure while you're here," Torah argued persuasively. "You know there are guys out there getting every little bit they can. Wait, you aren't gay, are you?"

She laughed. "If I were, I would have come out to my folks and saved myself all this hassle."

"You could just say you were," he pointed out.

She smiled ruefully. "Unfortunately, they caught me fooling around with a neighbor a couple of years ago. Mind you, we were taking all the precautions, but, well, it was pretty clear where my preferences lay." She giggled. "They practically kept me locked in my room after that. Except for Summer's End."

"He wasn't highborn?" Torah asked.

"Highborn but not Elite. They would have been thrilled if he was Elite. Hell, if he was Titled, they would have had us married right on the spot."

Torah smiled thoughtfully. "So if you've tried it and you liked it, why not?"

"I don't want to, you know..." she explained.

He chuckled softly. "No, I don't know."

Jessa straightened and tried to piece her thoughts together. "If I'm messing around with some guy, that means he's not out there looking for who he should be looking. For. Whom." She shook her head to clear the cobwebs and gratefully accepted the coffee that was just arriving.

"What if the guy has already found who he's interested in?"

"Then he should be with her," Jessa stated firmly. She studied her coffee, then poured some sugar in it to help the caffeine along. "You know, sealing the deal." She peered at Torah across the top of her cup as she took a cautious sip. "Like you should be."

He shrugged. "I found who I want."

"Then you should be sealing the deal," she insisted. "What are you doing sitting here with me? You're like a Greek god, for crying out loud. You could be screwing every woman here."

"I don't want every woman here. Just one."

"Well, then, go screw her."

"Thank you," he replied, taking her coffee cup from her. "I'll take that under advisement. In the meantime, I think we should get you to bed."

"Alone," she agreed, but when she didn't move, he scooted around the bench to the other side of the booth, then helped her stand up and led her toward the elevators.

Jessa awoke late the next morning, still in her dress, though her heels had been removed, but at least she was in her own bed. She wasn't totally positive how she had arrived there. When she realized she had missed breakfast, though, she swore at herself for ten minutes straight. Today was beach party day. That meant the only way she was going to get something to eat now was to mingle at the festivities. Her plan had been to eat a big breakfast then avoid all of the hoopla until as late as she dared. Unfortunately, her stomach was already growling for food. She rolled off the bed and went to the windows. Sure enough, the beach party was already in full swing, drinking included.

Jessa showered and donned a swimsuit, determined to find food as fast as possible then return to her room. When she reached the patio, she found out to her dismay that the food was being served way down the beach near barbeque pits. Music was blaring, making her hangover headache throb even worse. To get to the barbeque pits, she had to negotiate dancing bodies, a plethora of beach balls and Frisbees, a few volleyball games, and heaven only knew what else. Swearing under her breath, she tried to scope out the clearest route and started off. She was halfway there when she encountered her first drunk of the day, the most obnoxious one of the week.

He grabbed her arm and pulled her across the sand. "Come on, baby, dance with me," he whined. "Don't be so god-damned stuck up."

"No!" she said as sternly as she could manage and fought to pull her arm free of his grip. Drunk as he was, though, he wasn't letting go. When she tried to pull him off-balance so he'd fall, he took her down with him, pinning her in the sand. The nearby partiers were laughing uproariously and not making any effort to come to her aid. He yanked at her bikini top, tearing the shoulder strap and exposing her breast. He grabbed her breast and made to hump her, saying, "See baby, you don't know what you're missing. You could be having some of this right now."

"Well why don't you get me a magnifying glass so I can see what you have to offer," she snapped, then bit the arm that he was trying to keep her pinned down with. When he howled and pulled away, she applied her knee as close as she could get to his balls. It wasn't a direct shot, but it got him off her. She jumped to her feet, holding her top in place and stalked off, glaring at the nearby partiers that hadn't bothered to help her. At least they were now laughing at his misery, instead of hers.

"Jessa!" She could hear Torah shouting from somewhere behind her, but she was too angry and embarrassed to stop. She had reached the lobby when he caught up to her.

"I'm sorry I couldn't get there in time," he apologized. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" she snapped, fighting to keep her bra cup in place. She strode into the elevator and spun around as he followed her gingerly. After the doors closed, she seemed to sag. "I'm sorry," she apologized. "It's not your fault."

She appeared totally deflated as she stepped off the elevator and turned toward her room.

Torah reached out to lay a supporting hand on her arm. "He'll be out of here tonight."

"Whoa," she said, fumbling for her key card in the side of her bikini top. "Look at you throwing your weight around."

She thought she felt him stiffen momentarily, but then he laughed and said, "Hey, if ya got it, flaunt it."

She gave a small laugh, but then she shuddered and said, "I just want to hide away in this room until it's time to leave."

"Why don't you?" he asked as they entered the room.

She scowled. "My parents, in their infinite wisdom, won't let me get room service. It's mingle or starve. Not to mention, no media."

"Well, I don't think you should be alone tonight. How about I order us a dinner on my dime and we just relax and kick back here tonight."

"I can't ask you to do that! You'd be paying for two meals on top of the reservation that's already covered your meals!"

"I can afford it," he stated, bluntly ending that conversation. "Why don't you put something more comfortable on and I'll see if I can transfer my media down here and order us something to eat."

"Um, my parents made sure I didn't exactly have anything "comfortable" to wear, you know, so that the next best option would be wearing nothing."

He laughed heartily. "They really covered all the bases, didn't they? Did the resort at least leave you a robe?"

She glanced at the bathroom. "Yes, there is that."

"So there you go." he exclaimed. "Take a nice long shower, put a robe on and we'll watch a movie. Chic flick or shoot-'em-up?"

"No, this isn't right," she protested. "You are here for a purpose and taking care of me is not it. You need to go back to the beach party and - forgive my bluntness, but - take care of business. Seal the deal with the woman you picked out."

"Time for that tomorrow. Friendships are important, too. Now go hit the showers, or I'll throw you in there myself." He pulled his phone out. "I've got business to take care of."

Jessa backed into the bathroom, feeling a warm glow. If she was to desire a significant other, he would be just like Torah.

A half hour later, she emerged wearing the terry cloth bathrobe that barely covered her nether regions, and she was pleased when Torah turned from the low chair he had settled in and looked up to meet her eyes, and not at that triangle between her legs. "Feeling better?" he asked.

"Much," Jessa answered.

"Great, because I've got the asshole taken care of, a delicious dinner lined up, and an outstanding chick flick queued and ready to play. I don't mess around, baby."

"I'm getting that. But I still feel guilty."

"Don't," he said sternly, taking her hand and pulling her down to sit on the floor between his legs. "Sometimes, marriages are more about convenience, compliance, complicity, convolution. I'm running out of 'C's here, but the point is, friendship should be real between people."

He began finger-combing her wet hair, drawing it back from her face even as he pushed buttons to start the movie. Jessa shook her head slightly, but she didn't argue anymore. She rested her head against his knee, wet hair and all, and watched the movie with him. With perfect timing, dinner arrived just as the movie ended and they both sat on the floor and ate. After dinner, huge snifters of some fruity drink arrived. Jessa was shaking her head as Torah walked back from the door with them.

"I really don't think I'm ready for alcohol again."

"Nonsense," he said with a smile. "Hangover cure. Really. Electrolytes, remember?"

She still shook her head, but she took the snifter from him - with both hands - and took a sip. It was delicious, and like so many of the drinks here, hard to tell just how much alcohol was actually present. She sighed. "Fine. Got any more movies?"

"It just so happens I do. Let's go sit on the couch." She sipped at her drink as he fiddled with buttons and finally found the movie he wanted. He glanced over at her. "It's foreign, a love story."

"Chick flick," she said with a nod.

"Yup," he replied proudly.

Jessa had drunk most of the snifter by an hour into the movie. The plot was highly elusive, she suspected the translation wasn't the greatest, but the onscreen action was hot and the star was drool-worthy, so no sense complaining. When she put her snifter down on the far side of the table, determined not to drink any more, Torah draped an arm over her shoulder, pulling her closer on the couch. She snuggled against him and tried to figure out where the man in the trench coat and black hat fit into the story line.

By the end of the second hour, the main couple had fought three times and engaged in make-up sex after each fight. Both the fights and the sex were getting hotter with each event. At some point, Torah's left hand had drifted down from her shoulder to her thigh, resting just where the hem of the bathrobe was hitching up on her hip. His other hand was resting on her arm, which happened to be wrapped around her waist, just under her breast. Although Jessa was concentrating on the movie, intrigued by the tangled plot, she wasn't exactly unaware of the drift of his hands. Neither was she particularly displeased, being human, after all. She just didn't want her life to become as tangled as the movie plot and avoiding sex at Summer's End seemed like the best way to insure that. But the crook of his arm felt good, the soft rise and fall of his chest, and his warm hand so high on her leg, so near her other overly warm parts which were being stirred to life by the onscreen action. Even the sneaky thumb that was lightly rubbing against the underside of her breast through the terrycloth of the robe was taunting her resolve. Jessa realized that if she didn't pull away now, she wouldn't be able to at all.

She straightened and his far hand moved to grip her left shoulder, while his other hand tightened on her right arm. "Where are you going?" he asked, his voice low.

"I just think we need a bit of distance. You know, to remember where we are and why we're here." She started to stand up, but he firmly pulled her back down.

"We're right where we need to be tonight."

"Torah, no! You need to be with your lady and I just need to get through this in one piece. I can't do that with you so close."

"Then fall to pieces. I'll put you back together. You know you want this."

"Torah!" He let go of her shoulder and she twisted away. As soon as she had twisted, he had released her other arm and grabbed her right leg, lifting it over his head to the back of the couch. When she fell back, he lunged over her, pinning her down. She was so surprised by his sudden moves that he easily captured her wrists and pinned her hands next to her shoulders. Her left leg was still on the floor, with much of his weight holding it there. Her right leg was pinned against the back of the couch. She could hardly even squirm, nor did she dare, knowing the bathrobe would lose even more of its coverage.

"Stop! Don't do this," she begged.

"Don't do what? What have I done?"

"Torah, please. I don't want to do this."

"So if I touch you down there, you won't be wet and ready?"

"The movie..." she said, giving the best excuse that she could think of.

"And if I eat you out, you won't come? Did your neighbor eat you out? I bet you liked it. Was he good, because I'm real good?"