Journey

Chapter 1

April

Jack

Stepping off of the plane, I feel a surge of excitement.

She staying with you? George asks me as we wait for our luggage.

I’m not sure.  We didn’t exactly talk about it.

Journey is my annual spring break fling and has been for the past three years.  The first year we spent together, it was truly a vacation fling.  We met at a local bar called The Green Monkey on the first night of our respective trips.  We connected and spent the remainder of the week together, much to the chagrin of our friends.  At the end of the week, we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways.  I knew little more than her first name, despite having some of the best sex of my life with her.

The next spring break, we each went to the same bar as we had the year prior, in my case, hoping the other would be there.  We reconnected as if no time had passed and picked up right where we left off.  We actually exchanged numbers that time, but beyond a few cordial texts, we didn’t communicate until just a few days before our following trip when I received a text from her that read,

See you again this year?

I replied,

Same place, same dance floor.

She responded simply with an emoticon of a smiley face.

Last year, we began to talk about deeper subjects, allowing the other to gain a little more insight into who we are.  Journey talked a great deal about herself, her future plans, her family, and revealed other personal information.  I, on the other hand, am far more careful about the personal information I willingly give.  I was raised to believe that personal information is just that, and should remain so.  I have nothing to hide or cover up, I’m just not an overt person who feels the need to be the center of every conversation, nor do I dish out all of my life’s details.  Plus, the less others know about your professional dealings and family business, the less likely you are to be taken advantage of.  Trusting others is difficult for me.

During our conversations, I was able to divert the attention back to Journey when we broached a topic upon which I did not wish to expound.  Each time I did this, Journey would gladly chatter on and didn’t ask a great deal of questions.  I nourished myself with every detail about her life and personality that she fed to me.  Over the past year, we texted and even spoke on the phone a few times.  Each time I communicated with Journey, my hunger for her grew.  I’m more than ready to see, hear, and feel her again.

In a way that remains inexplicable to me, Journey often consumes my thoughts throughout the year.  I tell myself that she is nothing more than a spring break buddy, but I think I’m only trying to convince myself that this is the case. And not fully succeeding.  When I attempt to date other women, the thought of Journey seeps into my conscious, and I am no longer interested in anyone else.  Why I’m so twisted by a woman I’ve met three times, I have no idea.  I’ve told myself that I’m going to try to be more open with her, but old habits die hard.  At least that’s what they say.  Truly, I think I’m afraid that if I open up to her, I will ultimately be crushed since I don’t really know how to define our relationship.

You know you two are going to see each other at The Green Monkey, then all that romantic movie music will play in your ears and you’ll only have eyes for one another.

I shove George with my hand in jest.  He replies with a good, hearty laugh.

My friends George, Marshall, and Hal always accompany me on this trip- an annual even that’s been taking place since we were in high school.  By now, they are used to my absence on the golf course and don’t bother hassling me.  This year, I have my own condo at a resort community so that Journey and I can spend time together uninterrupted.

I arrive early at our usual meeting spot, The Green Monkey by late afternoon.  Just in case, I scan the room, looking for Journey, but she isn’t here.  I grab a seat at the bar and hail my annual bartender, Rico.  He spots me and immediately moves in front of me.

Jack! he greets me.  How are you, buddy?  Rico extends his hand toward me and we shake.

Doing great.  What have you been up to?

Oh, you know…same old.  Rico halts and lifts an eyebrow.  Meeting someone?

Yeah.  You know the tradition.

I have visited Cabo regularly since my youth.  My parents own a house here, and we used to stay in it about three times a year.  Rico has been working at The Green Monkey for as long as I can remember.  He used to create non-alcoholic concoctions for me, and as I got older, began gradually slipping alcohol in so that I would feel good, but my parents wouldn’t notice.  This place is slightly off of the beaten path, which is why it was a bit unreal that Journey and I wound up at the same bar at the same time two years in a row.

What’ll it be?

I think I will just have a Captain and Coke for now, Rico.

You got it.  How are the parents? Rico asks with a smile as he pours my drink.

They’re good.  Just traveling and enjoying retirement...

Must be nice.

I know.  Just put it on my tab, please.

Sipping the bubbly liquid through the tiny black straw, my head turns to see the sun creating a dark red glow from the long, wavy locks atop Journey’s head.  She stands in the large, open doorway of the building in a flowy sundress with large flowers all over it.  A wide smile spreads across her face in recognition as she walks casually over to the stool next to me.

Jack!  Hey there!

Hey yourself.  Long time, no see.  My arms embrace her before I have time to think about anything else, and my lungs breathe in her familiar scent of flowers, coconut, and Journey.  Her body seems to be molded just for me, and as I feel it against me, I’m reminded how she manages to stay in my thoughts long after our week together.

She breaks our hug and sits in the seat to my left.

Rico smiles at her as well.  Do my eyes deceive me?  Do I see the infamous Journey sitting at my bar?

Hi Rico, she smiles at him.  I’ve missed you.

Same here, he says.  How have you been?

Fabulous, Rico.  She spins around on the stool, now facing me.  I’m going to medical school at Berkeley!

Really? I ask in excitement.  Congratulations!

Yup.  AND we won nationals this year!

This is cause for lots of celebration!

Rico follows my lead.  One round of shots and drinks, coming right up.

Rico turns around to the back of the bar, and I admire Journey’s green eyes, sparkling in excitement.

At the University of Kentucky, she’s a member of their championship cheerleading squad, and her athleticism and flexible body certainly make our bedroom romps for more interesting.  She is small and petite, but not delicate.

I take a moment to allow my eyes to scan her body, lingering on the exposed, milky skin of her shoulders that I know will bronze more as she spends time in the Caribbean sun.  Excitement heats and moves up from my core as I think about getting back to the condo and feeling her body against mine.

Berkeley...so, California, huh? I ask, still smiling from ear to ear.

Yeah.  It’s the school I wanted, and it’s on the coast, so I’m pretty happy about it.

I’m really proud of you, Journey.  That’s awesome news.

I had no doubt she would get into the medical school of her choice. She’s undoubtedly extremely intelligent and she has determination to make it happen

Red liquid splashes out of three shot glasses as Rico sits them down on the bar.  Following those, two glass tumblers filled with a kelly green liquid already beading with condensation are placed beside them.  On the house, Rico declares.

The dark red, loose curls that cover her shoulders bounce as Journey laughs.

We all smile, moving our eyes between the three of us, and pick up our shot glasses.

To Journey, Rico says.

Blush spreads lightly on the apples of Journey’s cheeks as she looks to me gratefully.

To Journey, I repeat.

*****

Journey

Sweet, chilled liquor meets the back of my tongue and washes down my throat.  I slam my shot glass on the wooden bar with a sense of accomplishment.  Jack and Rico’s glasses reconnect with the surface in quick succession.

Still a pro, Rico smiles as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

You didn’t doubt my abilities, did you?  I know it’s been a year, but I’m not a slacker.

"Nope.  I’ve never once doubted you or your abilities.  Rico’s eyes blink over at Jack, then back to me.  I’m going to go see if anyone else needs anything.  I’ll come back and check on you guys later."

Thanks, Rico.

Each year I see him, Jack seems more handsome than the last.  He’s at least six feet tall and has the clean and polished look of a man from an upscale upbringing with dark, classic, Mediterranean features.  His hair is almost black in a fairly short cut that frames his chiseled face.  Thick, dark eyebrows combined with his olive skin make his chestnut eyes, which are set back in a brooding way, align with a perfectly proportioned nose and chin to make a very masculine profile.

He hasn’t confirmed it, but it’s pretty obvious that he was both raised in high society and continues to maintain a wealthy lifestyle.  His money doesn’t impress me, though.  I’ve lived a privileged life.  Granted, we were not movie star or reality show starlet rich.  We were more like yacht club, get-invited-to-big-parties-hosted-by-celebrities rich.  My parents sent me to the finest private schools, I dated the most popular boys, and was part of the most elite cheerleading squads.  Then, there were the parties- and I could party.  I partied all day, all night, and into the mornings: on land, sand, and sometimes even the sea- on a spectacular yacht, of course.  

I’m still a fairly regular attendee of the party circuit. Even through the partying, I still manage to keep up with my studies, which come rather easily to me, and my commitment to the cheer squad. I never have to worry much about paying my bills or whether or not I will get a great internship.  My father is a well-known architect who has connections everywhere, and I mean everywhere.  I never disappoint the family name because I do pull my weight, but let’s just say that when you grow up in Greenwich, Connecticut with a famous architect father and an equally famous model-turned-activist mother, people tend to bend over backward to give you what you want.  

Jack is someone who knows nothing about me and my family name or pedigree.  When we talk, there aren’t conversations about the next soiree or who is dating whom.  We simply talk about us as human beings, and it’s refreshing.  We both enjoy indie music and the arts.  We’re both fluent in Spanish and love to travel.  When I texted him to see if he would be here this year, I was thrilled when he responded affirmatively.  I literally jumped for joy, causing my roommate and best sorority sister Lexie to check and see if I was okay.

Jack’s lips meet the straw of his green drink creating a tingling response in me as I remember how they feel on mine.  For a man I consider to be just a fling, he drives me wilder than he truly should.  

How does it taste? I ask Jack.

Hmmm? He asks as we come back down from the clouds and back to the present.  The drink?  Good.  Not the best thing I’ve ever tasted, but it has a good flavor.  Jack winks at me.  Taste it.

It’s very green, I observe just before I take a big swig.  Mmm…  You were right.  It’s is quite delightful.

As are you, he says, eyeing me mischievously.  My legs feel wobbly in response.  Where are you staying while you’re here?

We have our regular hotel on the beach.  I allow my eyes to travel down his torso, then say, But, if you play your cards right, I’ll be staying with you.  I shrug.

A spark ignites in Jack’s eyes.  I do love card games.

I bet you do, I giggle.

I gaze over Jack for another moment.  He’s everything I remember- handsome, tall, built, and ever so polite and formal.  He’s fantastic to feast your eyes upon, and he’s even more fantastic in bed.  Throughout the year, I’ve found myself lost in thought, picturing his body intertwined with mine and remembering our shared pleasure.  He affects my emotions in a way that is almost indescribable.  It’s as if I am attracted to him in ways beyond our physical encounters and very casual friendship.  

He’s such a change of pace for me.  I’m used to guys who play hard and party even harder, but rarely take the time to ask about me or simply give me their undivided attention.  Jack listens to me intently, and he’s romantic and playful.  We come up with games that are sometimes sexy and other times quite benign.  With him, I can let go and forget about the pressures of the person everyone else wants me to be.  He’s bold, but tasteful, commanding, but considerate.  

Conversation comes easily, as always, and we catch each other up on what we’ve been doing over the past year.  He’s still in business school at Columbia, his parents are still in good health, and he plans to stay in New York for work after he graduates with his MBA next year.  I’m an intelligent person, but business is one area of which I am completely ignorant.  Nothing about business has ever interested me, but I see the excitement in Jack’s eyes when he speaks of it, so I listen and try to follow along.

Now, remind me again, you’re a flyer? Jack asks genuinely.

Yeah.  Have you ever seen cheerleaders toss someone up really high into the air?

Yes I have.

That person is me.  I get tossed into the air for tricks, I stand on the tops of pyramids, and do other stunts where I’m in someone’s hands or on their shoulders.

It sounds like you’re pretty important.

The bases are just as important.  They don’t tend to get the recognition I do because they’re not flipping high up or balancing on one foot, but trust me, they’re very important and probably even tougher than me.

I don’t know.  You seem pretty scary, Jack laughs.

Shut up, you.  I will kick you.  I kick his shin playfully with my foot.

I have no doubt.

I swallow more of my drink, then stir it with my straw.  Did you come here with the usual suspects?  

Same band of misfits- George, Hal, and Marshall.  How about you?

Yup.  Lexie, Emily, and Anna.  You know Lexie likes to sample the local ‘cuisine,’ so she will join us a lot.  Emily has a new boyfriend that she’s all syrupy over, so I have a feeling she will be busy texting and brooding.  Anna usually just hangs around with Emily, babysitting her.

This should be an interesting vacation, then.

It always is.

With our glasses empty, Rico approaches us.  Another?

Does the ocean have salt in it? I ask dryly.

I’ll take that as a yes, Rico says with a smile.

Jack turns his head to Rico and asks, What was that green drink?

I call it a Fat Frog, Rico responds.

I’ll have another one of those, I chime.  Jack nods his head indicating he will have the same.

Coming right up!

As Rico mixes our drinks, I turn my knees toward Jack and put my hand on his thigh.  What do you want to do today?

The beach, dinner, and you.

Electrical current moves throughout my body, and it comes to life.  Sweet, sexy Jack...  I didn’t expect any other response.  You must have read my mind.

Chapter 2

Jack

Journey and I spent the remainder of our first of seven days drinking at The Green Monkey, on the beach, and back at the condo.  Having Journey in the flesh for the first time in so long is like awakening from a year-long coma, allowing your entire body to experience all of the nuances of life that you tend to ignore any other time.  My memory does not do her justice as I re-discover her when I’m able to run my hands all over her silky skin, connect her body with mine, and gaze into her eyes.  I’m in the moment and nowhere else but with her.  I only have seven days a year with her, so I try to make every one count.

Since we did not fall asleep until very late, we don’t wake up until around noon.  Journey’s hair is wild and everywhere on her pillow.  I would have her this way at every moment, if I could.  She has a particular glow in the mornings of which I have grown quite fond.

Journey groans and holds her hand to her head.  Anticipating a hangover, I already have two ibuprofen on the nightstand next to her, along with a glass of water.

I pick up the pills and water, holding them out to her.  Here, you’ll want these.

Sitting up, sheet still wrapped around her torso, she says, You’re the best, in a gravelly voice.  I don’t know what Rico’s Fat Frogs had in them, but I think he failed to warn of their potency.

They have a bite, don’t they? I laugh as she gulps water with her medicine.

Isn’t that the truth? she sighs, hand still on her head.  She grabs her phone from the nightstand and moves her fingers across the screen.  I need to text Lexie and let her know I’m still alive.  I think she planned to meet up with us today.

That’s cool.

What about your friends?

I think they’re golfing and plan to meet us at some point later in the week for dinner and some dancing.

Awesome.  Journey places her phone back down and looks toward the French doors that lead to the beach level balcony.  Holy frijoles!  We came back here after dark, and some of it is a little fuzzy, so I didn’t see the view from here!  She gets up, white sheet still wrapped around her, and walks over to the double glass doors.  Salty ocean air fills the room as she opens them and steps out into the bright exterior.  I follow her lead.

Her large grin looks back to me in awe.  This is the amazing.  We are literally steps away from the ocean!  Did you do this for me?

Maybe, I reply coyly, but don’t let it go to your head.

Looking back up at me with her verdant eyes, Journey blinks slowly in gratitude.  Never, she says in a breathy way.  You really shouldn’t have, but I’ll take it!

Journey stands on her toes in an effort to be closer to my eye level and connects her lips to mine in a gentle, closed-mouth kiss.  I close my eyes and milk the short interaction for all that it’s worth, trying to keep my arousal at bay.  My lips long for her the moment she releases mine.  Journey begins walking back into the room as I stand still, continuing to revel in her previous touch.

She glances over her shoulder and smiles.  I’m going to take a shower.  Join me, if you want.

I don’t need any more prompting than that.  Shaking my head out of the state I’m in, hurriedly, I move past her and tease, Not if I get there first!

Journey laughs, trying to push me over as she runs past me into the bathroom.

Together, we emerge from our lengthy and physical shower, still breathing heavily and red in the face.  Journey has on a white, plush robe provided by the condo.  I selected to simply wrap a towel around my waist.  My eyes move with Journey’s body as she retrieves a bright pink, string bathing suit from her suitcase and slips it on.

I’m going to make a drink, she declares walking over to the minibar.  You want one?

Starting already?

Did you expect anything different?

Nope.  I’ll have whatever you’re having.

As I slip on some board shorts, I hear Journey open and close the fridge, then the sound of liquid going into glasses.  Is Jack short for something? she asks passively.

No, I’m just Jack.

Isn’t that what a character on a television show used to call himself?

"Yeah, except he was Just Jack," I emphasize with some makeshift jazz hands.  

Journey chuckles.  Nice.  She hands me my drink.  To Just Jack.  She then clinks her glass against mine.

Do we have to toast every time we have a drink?

Pretty much, yeah.  Now, let’s go catch some rays.  The girls should be meeting us here in an hour or so.

We walk out of our condo straight onto the beach, grab a couple of chaise lounges, and lie down in the ocean breeze.  

This is the life, Journey exhales.  So, tell me, how did you know I would even stay with you when you reserved this place?

I suppose I didn’t know for sure, but you could say that I had a pretty good idea.

"You are pretty irresistible."

Not like you.

I’m actually a financial investor in this condo’s complex, along with a few others in the area, but for some reason, I don’t want to share that information.  Just part of my belief of keeping personal information to myself.  I don’t know much about her personal life, but I know enough to understand that her parents must have some money.  I assume she can figure out that I too come from wealth, but it’s not something I advertise.  I come from a family of shipping magnates in the Mediterranean, thus money has been around for generations.  

Although I am an only child, my parents were determined to instill in me the value of a dollar.  I’ve held a job of some sort since I was sixteen.  My parents helped me financially with my first couple of investments, but I’ve since paid back every penny and then some.  With their assistance, I’m quite successful for a man in his early twenties, but money isn’t really the measure of success for me, and it doesn’t seem to be