The Resort

Claire took a deep breath in, letting the warm, humid air fill her lungs. Even in the lobby of the main building of the resort, it smelled lush and full of life, as green as the palm trees and ferns that filled the courtyard outside, with a hint of salt from the ocean nearby. She exhaled. It was mid-afternoon, and she and her husband James had just completed the grueling journey from their home near Minneapolis to the beautiful island of Oahu. After 12 hours of flying to Honolulu (including a layover in LA) and hour-and-a-half-long drive to the Hidden Bay Resort and Spa on the north end of the island, she wanted nothing more than to sit down on the bed and close her eyes. At least for a little while, until dinner would be served.

Claire and James were in line to check in at the lobby of the resort, an all-inclusive affair that promised to be a refreshing celebration of their 20^th anniversary. After their son had left for college in the fall, the two of them had found themselves with more time—and more of each other—than they really knew what to do with. Suddenly there were no distractions, nothing getting in between them, and if she was being honest, it was more than a little unsettling. With a child to focus on, they had not realized that the intimacy and passion in their marriage had slipped away little by little over the years. But now that they were alone, it was clear that they were out of practice, in a sense, when it came to being with each other. It was as if both she and her husband had grown up physically near each other but not emotionally close, and now they had become—well, not strangers, exactly, but not quite lovers either. She found herself competing for his attention with his job, with his car, with his golf buddies. Not that he had neglected her per se, but without a child in the house, the cracks were harder to ignore. It was as though they were suddenly thrust together only to find themselves distant.

When Claire and James found themselves in the front of the line, they handed over their credit cards and IDs to the nice heavily made-up lady with blonde hair tied up in a messy bun behind the counter. She typed for a moment while staring intently at her screen before she looked up.

"Ah yes," she said, "Mr. and Mrs. Willow. Welcome to the Hidden Bay Resort and Spa. Your room will be 3235, located on the north building of our complex here." She produced a map of the resort ground and circled a portion of one of the buildings with a yellow highlighter. Claire struggled to pay attention through a jet-lagged fog as she continued on to give information about the resort's meal times (their dinner slot was at 6pm, breakfast was served 6 to 10am, lunch was available throughout the day). She continued on to the amenities like the golf course and spa. She hoped James was getting it, but more realistically she hoped that she would be able to look up all that information later. She knew there was no way her husband was paying attention to any of this. Eventually the lady handed the couple their room keys, along with the map and brochures for the spa and golf course. "Enjoy your stay!" she called as the couple took their bags and headed down the hall for the elevator bay. Claire's suitcase seemed to be getting heavier and heavier the longer she had to lug it around. At least it's warm, she thought.

"Are you excited?" asked James as they squeezed into the elevator.

"Of course." Claire forced a smile. She did expect it to be a wonderful trip, but for now she mostly felt exhausted.

"I can't wait to get on the golf course," said James. "I heard they have the best one on the island at this resort."

"I know."

The elevator dinged once they reached the third floor, and they found their way to the room. It had one king-sized bed in the middle across from a TV standing atop a dresser with a handsome desk in the corner. Looking at the desk, Claire found herself wondering what poor soul would need it. Working on vacation was no fun at all, she thought. Across from the front door was a wide sliding glass door leading to a balcony overlooking the resort grounds. Claire rolled her suitcase into a corner. She wanted to step outside and check out the view, but before she could even think her tired legs swung up onto the bed, and she fell back onto the cool pillows. The resort certainly didn't skimp on bedding, thank God. The sheets and mattress were so soft she felt weightless. It was like laying on a cloud. Or maybe that's just how tired she was.

Claire let out an involuntary sigh. "Ahh," she said, closing her eyes and feeling the tension melt from her back. "I could lay here forever."

James laughed and set his suitcase to the side. "Well, just don't make me eat dinner alone." He took off his shirt. "I'm going to take a shower real quick, get cleaned up."

Claire glanced at her watch. It was four-thirty, which gave them a little over an hour before they needed to get ready for their dinner slot. She then looked over her wrist at James, who was digging toiletries out of his suitcase, still without a shirt. A wrestler in his college days, he was still in decent shape for a man in his mid-forties. James was solidly built, with a broad hairy chest and thick arms. While the six-pack he sported in his youth had faded, and his hair receded somewhat, she still found him handsome. His green eyes were bright with energy, and his jaw was strong and square. She sighed, watching him stand back up and walk to the bathroom. Maybe this place would be the spark they needed after all. James closed the door behind him and she heard the shower start to run. Claire couldn't help but wonder if he would like it if she joined him in there. It was no use, though—the moment she closed her eyes again she fell into a nap.

#

"Sweetheart," James said, "it's time to get down there for supper." He was sitting next to her on the bed, one hand resting on her shoulder.

Claire moaned and stretched out, eyes heavy with sleep. "Already?" She yawned.

"I'm afraid so. I wanted to give you enough time to get ready."

"Well, that was nice of you. Pretty brave of you to wake me up from a nap like that, though." She smiled and rubbed her eyes.

James chuckled. "It's less brave when you know that the only thing you love more than sleep is food."

"Hey!" Claire playfully shoved his shoulder as she sat up in the bed. "Give me just a few minutes. I'm sorry I won't look perfect, but you'll have to wait until I have a good night's rest before you see my most glamorous dinner looks."

"You look beautiful no matter what, darling," James said as he got up to put on his boat shoes. He was wearing a mint-green golf shirt and khakis, a silver watch glinting on his left wrist.

"Is that what you really think?" Claire crawled out of bed and walked into the bathroom. Looking in the mirror, she shook out her hair and let it fall down around her shoulders. Thankfully, her nap had not turned it into as much of a rat's nest as she feared. Just a little mussy, but perfectly presentable. Claire splashed some water on her face. Feeling a little refreshed, she walked back into the room to see James reclining on the bed, scrolling through his phone. Claire felt underdressed in the joggers and baggy t-shirt that she had worn for the flights, so she opened her suitcase in the corner of the room opposite the balcony and pulled out a flowery red and yellow shin-length sundress. She changed facing the wall, pretending not to feel James' eyes on her as she pulled her shirt off over her head and took off her pants. She stepped into the sundress and zipped up the back.

"Damn, you clean up nice," James mused from behind her.

Claire rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth turned up slightly in a smirk. "I just need to get some food in me."

"That all you need in you?"

"Hmm." Claire swayed her hips a little extra as she walked over to put her shoes on. She still felt somewhat slap-happy from fatigue, but the anticipation of four days in paradise was also making her feel a little bold. She put on pair of sandal wedges and stood back up. Even with the height added by the heels, James still stood a good three or four inches over her.

"Ready?" He asked. She nodded.

Claire and James navigated back through the hallway and down the elevator to the lobby, and turned down the hall to the restaurant.

"Good evening, folks!" Said a cheery young hostess as they walked in. "Can I get your name and room number?"

"Willow, 3235," said James matter of factly.

"Of course," said the hostess, "right this way."

The restaurant was lovely, the lights were dim but not excessively so. It was partially outside, with a large covered patio area overlooking the beach, and beyond that, the ocean. In the middle of the patio was a well-stocked rectangular bar, with TV screens playing a basketball game. A few people sat at the bar while the bartenders poured drinks and closed tabs. Tropical plants hung from the ceiling and patio canopy, and there were several potted ferns throughout the dining room.

The hostess led Claire and James out to the patio. James took the seat facing the bar—and the TVs—and Claire found herself wondering if that was intentional. It may have been. James' eyes flicked over her shoulder as the hostess poured them water.

"Thank you," said Claire.

"Thanks," said James.

"Of course," said the hostess. "Arturo will be right with you folks." She swung back around and returned to the front of the restaurant.

"This place looks lovely," said Claire.

"It sure does."

"What do you think you'll get?"

James studied the menu. Since it was all-inclusive, there were just a couple of options for each course. It seemed to be seafood night tonight. The entrees were all fish except for a steak option, and the appetizers included shrimp, calamari, and caviar. "The sea bass sounds good," he said finally. "And you know I love calamari. Maybe we should get some to share?"

Claire shrugged. "That's fine with me. Frankly, I think the swordfish is calling my name." She looked up to see the waiter approach.

"Hola amigos," he said, spreading his arms wide. "Hello my friends. How are we doing? My name is Arturo, and I will be taking care of you this evening." He had a thick Latin American accent and wavy chin-length black hair, parted in the middle, that matched his thick stubbly beard. His sharp chocolate-colored eyes sat on either side of a solid, straight nose, and below that was a strong dimpled chin. He wore his black button-down shirt, which fit snugly against his chest, with the sleeves rolled up just below the elbow to reveal muscular forearms and veiny hands. He left the top two buttons undone, creating a V shape with a morsel of hair at the base.

"Thanks," said James, "I'm doing well."

"We're doing wonderfully," said Claire, not taking her gaze off Arturo. She realized she had been holding her breath, and let it out. Was she still dreaming? Why was it necessary to have a waiter who was so hot, she wondered? Why was she so attracted to him? She tried in vain to contain her thoughts.

"I'm so glad to hear it," Arturo beamed a snow-white smile and his eye's met Claire's. Her heart fluttered in spite of herself when he held them there. She hoped that James didn't notice her staring. "Can I get the lovely couple something to drink besides water? May I recommend a wine? We also have a superb selection of cocktails and beer."

"You sure may," said Claire.

Arturo clapped his hands. "¡Muy Bien! In that case, let me suggest our Pino Grigio, which comes to us from a vineyard in Chile and pairs beautifully with our seafood options tonight."

"Works for me," said James. "Claire?"

"L-let's get a bottle" She stuttered, nerves tingling still. What had gotten into her? Something must be in the air here in Hawaii.

"Perfecto," Arturo said. Our sommelier will be right back with your wine, and I will give you a few moments to look over the menu. He strode back to the kitchen as James leaned forward and took Claire's hand in his. He looked straight in her eyes.

"Happy anniversary, dear," James said earnestly.

"Thank you," said Claire, refocusing on the man she was supposed to be thinking about. "Happy anniversary. To us."

"I think we are going to have such a lovely couple of days here."

"I think so, too." Claire squeezed his hand. She really wanted to reconnect with James on this trip, so find some way to bring them closer together. Their marriage had revolved around raising their son for too long. And now it was just the two of them, alone, without the pressures of the world around them to explore their marriage and figure out what exactly their relationship was going to look like in this new chapter of life. No distractions, no intrusion. It was just them, and she knew that she, at least, was willing to do the work on building back the magic that had defined their early relationship. She smiled. "If you play your cards right, you might have a lovely night, too."

James smirked and halfheartedly stifled a chuckle. "Well then, let's get that wine!"

Claire laughed. "Don't count your chickens before they hatch, James."

The wine, when it arrived, was every bit as delicious as promised, and it perfectly complemented the food. As they dug into the main course a short while later, Claire asked James what he wanted to do together the following day.

"Actually, I got a tee time at nine a.m.," he said between bites.

"Wait, seriously?" asked Claire. "When did you do that?"

"While you were asleep. I called the front desk."

"...oh," Claire said flatly. "I was hoping we could do something together tomorrow."

"We'll still have the afternoon!" said James. "We can do whatever you want, it's up to you."

"I know." What Claire really knew, though, was that James would be spending the afternoon at the nineteenth hole, the way he always did when he golfed in the morning. She made a mental note to make a call to the front desk and ask about scheduling a massage at the spa.

"Besides," James went on, "This is just day one. We'll have so much time together. I was just so excited about checking out the golf course. It's legendary."

"I know."

The two of them finished their meal in relative silence, and by the time they got into the elevator, Claire was feeling a surprisingly strong buzz from the wine. Her wedges felt like they were throwing her balance off ever so slightly more than before, and it took a little more concentration to walk in a straight line. She looked up at James, who smiled back at her. She could see in his eyes that he was feeling tipsy as well. His eyes glinted mischievously, and his gaze kept slipping down to her chest and hips, then back up to her face.

"You know," said James, "if we're going to be apart tomorrow morning, we should make time to be enjoy each other tonight."

"And how should we do that?"

"I have a few ideas."

"Such as?"

He reached out and put his big hands on her hips, then pulled her in slowly. Claire felt the warmth of his broad body against hers. His chest was firm, and she felt it expand as he breathed. He smelled woody and fresh. She rested her hand on his shoulder. It felt solid. His hands snaked up her back and shoulders, then back down to her hips. Claire heard herself sigh, and when she looked up at him he leaned in and kissed her on the lips. It was harder than she expected, and she pressed back into him. She heard him inhale sharply, and his hands pressed into her back.

"Someone's excited," Claire mumbled.

"How could I not be, with you wearing that dress?"

"Shhhhh"

#

Then the elevator dinged, and they pulled apart just long enough to tumble down the hall and into the hotel room. Almost as soon as their room door was closed, James' hands were on her again, only this time they were throwing her back on the bed, then he was on top of her, kissing her lips, her neck, her shoulders. She felt his hands run up down her arms and her sides, feeling her hips, snaking back up and squeezing her breasts. She wrapped her arms around him, and she could feel the muscles of his back working as he felt her body. James let out a moan and ran his hands down Claire's thighs and calves, and this time when he brought them back up he grabbed the hem of her dress and pulled it up, up past her knees, past her thighs, past her belly button, past her breasts. Claire raised her arms overhead for him and let him pull off the dress, then laid back in her underwear.

James moved back upright on his knees and pulled the golf shirt up overhead, exposing his chest. Claire reached up and felt him, her hips writhing almost involuntary.

"I want you so bad," James breathed heavily.

"I'm all yours."

Suddenly his hands were grabbing at her underwear and pulling it down. Claire closed her legs, letting James pull her thong down off of her, and immediately his hands began working at his belt. Claire suddenly wished she had taken a shower before dinner, like he did. Her legs were still pressed together. She cautiously opened them for him. What was he seeing, what was he thinking? She took a deep breath as James dropped his pants, and mis manhood sprang up with a bounce as it was freed from his boxers, semi-hard. She felt relieved to see that, to see his excitement growing before her eyes. There was a metallic ding of a belt buckle hitting the floor. She reached down to touch herself, to test how ready she was, to try to get to a place where he could enter her.

With a flash he was back on top of her, kissing her lips. She felt his tongue exploring her mouth, felt his hands grab at her breasts, pulling at her bra. She reached around and unhooked her bra for him, which James promptly thew to the side. Claire felt a rush of cool air on her nipples as she spread her legs wider for him, letting him settle in between them, and then suddenly there was the tight pressure of his cock entering her.

She gasped. "Fuck, yes," said James. He groaned and began to thrust hard, so hard that her body rocked back and forth. Almost too hard.

Claire dug her fingers into her back as moans escaped her mouth. She felt his hips thrust faster and faster, his member now fully erect inside of her. "Oh, James," she said, her voice trailing off.

"Oh yeah," James moaned, "Oh fuck baby, that feels good." He kept thrusting on top of her as she lay on her back, wrapping her legs around his frame. Slow down, she thought. You're going to finish way too fast, and I'm just getting started.

"Mmm, baby," Claire said, "Let me feel you. Let me feel every inch." She hoped he would get the message, but he did not seem to. Her husband laid on top of her with his head beside hers. His eyes were shut, and beads of sweat formed on his brow. He grunted with his thrusts, his hands squeezing her breasts. Claire tried to enjoy it, even though his hard and too-fast thrusts left her wanting. She closed her eyes and held still, trying to focus on what pleasurable feelings there were between her thighs. With every pump she felt a glow radiating from her sex, even if they were too quick for anything very strong to build. She tried to focus on that glow, to hold it and stoke it like a fire. As she heard him groan, she let herself sink into the pleasure. Her hips bucked, and the fire grew a little. Now she was getting somewhere. Like an ember flickering into a flame, the pleasure began to swell in her sex with every thrust. She let out a long moan. Was she actually getting close? His hands dug into her breasts, firmly, almost too much. If she let him keep at this a little longer, would she actually—

"Aaaah! Oh God, fuck!" James groaned loudly as his rhythm stuttered and broke. "Oh my God, Claire." He let out of few more grunts as his thrusts turned into twitches and bucks of his hips. "Fuck, fuck, yes, oh God yes." His grip on her tightened, and his hands skipped from her chest to her sides, her hips, her shoulders.