14 Days of Oh by Sarah Bella


“Hello, and welcome to the Azul Isle, where the waters are so blue the island itself was named after them.”  Grace cringed after listening to the cheesy welcome line she’d been hearing for the past three years.

When she looked up to see the new guest, her heart stopped beating – just for the shortest of seconds – as she laid eyes on the hottest piece of meat to ever set foot on her little island.

His hair was dark and shaggy, hanging in his eyes just so.  His strong, straight nose led down to the most luscious set of lips she’d ever seen.  His shoulders were broad and strong, and she couldn’t help but imagine what he looked like with his shirt off.

She just knew his chest would be smooth and sculpted, maybe just a sprinkling of hair, and when she scratched her nails down it —

Where the hell did that come from?  she asked herself, thankful that her thoughts had been just that – thoughts, inside her own head, where no one else was privy to them.

When her eyes made their way back up to his beautiful face, she noticed the strain visible on it and focused on the conversation happening between Sergio, the desk attendant, and her handsome stranger.

“Sir, I understand that you’re having a trying day, but—“

“No, I don’t think you understand the day I’m having.  My flight was delayed.  Then they informed us the plane was having mechanical difficulties and moved us to a different plane.  Upon landing, I discovered that my luggage had, unfortunately, not made the plane change with me.  Then, I was detained in customs for nearly three hours because it was deemed ‘suspicious activity’ that I would travel here without a suitcase.”

‘Here’ was a tiny, three square mile island off the coast of Mexico.  The Azul Isle was a privately owned island turned luxury resort owned by two of the loveliest people Grace had yet to meet.

After her divorce five years previously, Grace had fled to the island for sanctuary and she’d never left.  The divorce had left her with just enough money to buy into a time share, full time, for two years.  She’d moved into the bungalow immediately and begged the owners to hire her.  When they had first suggested that Grace work the beach, she had been skeptical, but her love of snorkeling and her newly discovered love of kayaking had won her over.

“When I finally got out of customs,” her newcomer was saying, “I discovered that the shuttle I had pre-booked and pre-paid for had left without me, leaving me with no choice but to hop a taxi to get to the port.  When the taxi broke down, I took it as a sign and walked the last two miles to the port and barely managed to make it onto the ferry with the amount of cash I had left after I paid the taxi.”

“Sir, what I’m trying to tell you is that although I regret to inform you that your room was inadvertently double booked, I do have a timeshare bungalow that I can offer you for the next fourteen days.  And of course, there will be no charge for the upgrade.”

“Oh,” handsome said.  “Well, in that case, can someone show me to my room?”

“Of course Mr. Shayde.”  Sergio rang a small bell on the counter and when no one appeared, Grace seized the opportunity.

“Sergio, I can show him to the bungalows.  I was just about to head back to mine anyhow.”

“Are you certain, Miss Grace?”

“Of course, Sergio; it’s on my way.”  Grace smiled inwardly at her own sheer genius.  She walked forward and extended her hand to the stranger.  “Grace Stevens,” she offered.

“Logan Shayde.”  His hand was warm and his grip was firm, sending Grace’s mind back into the gutter as she imagined his hands on her body.

“So, vacation?” she stuttered as she regained her faculties.

“Escapism is more like it,” he joked as they made their way toward the time share bungalows.  She gave her best version of the hotel tour as they walked, pointing out the pools, the hot tubs, the beach bar and restaurant.

The back of the lobby lead them to the main restaurant and bar area of the resort – Del Mar.  Beyond that was the beach.  She turned right as they passed Del Mar, and they walked passed a row of buildings housing the gym, spa and laundry.

Behind the gym was an expansive grass area fronting one of the sit down restaurants –Del Mar.  “I forgot to mention it,” she said, “but on the other side of Del Mar is the tennis courts and beyond that, the golf course.”

“The timeshares, you’ll notice, are set up in groups of four, with a common courtyard joining them.  They each have a private hot tub inside a privacy hedge to shield you from prying eyes.”  She grinned a little to convey her meaning.

Logan eyed her appreciatively as she spoke, warming her to her very core.  She nervously smoothed her hands over the khaki shorts she considered her ‘uniform’ for greeting new guests and wished she’d worn something nicer – sexier.

“So what do you do here?” Logan asked.  “You don’t exactly seem like a local.”

“Well,” she laughed, “I’m not a native, but I am a local.  I live in that bungalow, down on the end.”  Logan followed her outstretched arm to the last in the row of little houses overlooking the beach.

“You live right here at the resort?” he asked.

“I do,” she confirmed.  “I bought my timeshare out and I work part time, sort of freelance for the resort.”

“And what do you do,” he asked politely.

“I teach snorkeling, kayaking and scuba.  And occasionally fill in at the front desk.   Most of the staff lives on the main land, but there are a few of us here on the island full time.”

“So you don’t technically work for the resort, not if you ‘freelance’?”  He posed the statement as a question.

“No, I don’t.”

“So there wouldn’t be anything holding you back from eating dinner with me tonight.”

“Not a thing,” she said with a smile.  Grace left Logan on his door step and continued on to her house – odd as it still felt referring to it as a house.  She walked in her door, knowing Logan would be seeing the same thing in a different color scheme.

The small living room directly ahead of her was outfitted with wicker furniture covered in plush blue green cushions.  The floor leading into the full kitchen – and throughout the house – were cool marble slabs beneath her bare feet.

Her unit was new, with stainless appliances and countertops that matched the floor.  Her two bathrooms were outfitted with the latest in island luxury – removable shower heads.  Her bedroom, though, was her favorite part.

The huge room had a king sized canopy bed, covered in gauzy white curtains.  The double French doors led out to the beach, and with no bugs on the island, she loved to leave the doors and windows open at night and listen to the waves crashing on the rocks.

Having done her greeting duty for the day, Grace layered on the sunscreen and took a book out to the hammock where she promptly fell asleep.

Her dreams were scattered, broken images of bare skin and smiles.  There was sand and the sea and not much else.

When she woke several hours later, the sun was sinking slowing toward the horizon, streaking the sky vibrant pinks and oranges that took  the breath away from any one unaccustomed to seeing an island sunset.  She checked the clock in her living room and hurried inside to shower off the sunscreen before her dinner date.

Grace hadn’t been celibate since her divorce – far from it – but her affairs were discreet and rarely with hotel guests.  She was a woman, with needs but she also needed her job.

Her quick shower led to a quick shaving of the legs.  She wasn’t going to put out – not tonight, anyway.  She always saved that for just before they went home; it circumvented the potential for attachments and the like – something she had no use for.

She slathered her body with her favorite grapefruit lotion and slipped on a matching bra and panty set.  She put more thought into her dinner clothes than she had her work clothes earlier in the day.  Silver jewelry and sandals topped off her little white sundress.  Perfect, she thought, casual and easy, but still sexy.

As she stepped out the door, she spied Logan locking his door just a few yards away.  Walking quickly, she reached him just as he was turning in her direction.  His half buttoned dress shirt and khaki shorts made her mouth water, and she made no pretense of hiding her ogling.

His hair had the carefully mussed bed head look, and she wanted to tangle her fingers into it and yank him down for a kiss.  But she didn’t.

He held out his elbow and offered a smile.  “Grace, you look lovely,” he said.

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” she joked lamely.  Oh god, is that really the best I’ve got? She mentally berated herself.  “Do you remember where the main restaurant is?” she asked.  He nodded his assent and led her down the beach.

They made small talk as they walked, filled with general pleasantries and the like.  The conversation was stilted and somewhat awkward, but Grace was determined to enjoy dinner.  She led Logan to a table toward the back that was always reserved for her.

Upon reaching the table, she turned to offer Logan his pick of chairs and the look on his face gave her pause.  His head was tilted slightly back and his mouth hung just open in awe.  His eyes were wide with wonder as he took in the décor.  Grace stepped back and remembered the way she had felt seeing everything for the first time.

The palm frond roof had seemed so unique, and the trees growing through holes cut in the floor gave the restaurant an air of privacy.  The stories-high ceiling was hung with dozens of paper lanterns glowing softly in the open expanse.  The building – porch, really, was only twenty or so feet off the beach, making her feel like she was sitting in the water while she ate.  The white linens and real silver had seemed opulent in the beach setting.

She cleared her throat lightly, drawing Logan’s attention back to her.  “Beautiful, isn’t it?”  He nodded silently, continuing to take in his surroundings.    Snapping back to reality Logan pulled out a chair and gestured for Grace to sit.   She smoothed her dress under her and sat with a smile.

“What’s good here?”  Logan asked.

“Everything,” she said conspiratorially.   She winked and opened her menu. “Tonight I think I’m getting the Mahi-Mahi.  “

“That sounds amazing,” Logan agreed.  They ordered a minute later and got a bottle of white to go with the fish.  The wine appeared a few seconds later and Logan immediately dominated the conversation, giving her the rundown of his life ‘back home’.

“I’m a hair dresser,” he explained.  She raised a brow.  “It’s a perfectly respectable profession for a man,” he defended.

“A gay man,” she joked.  Catching the expression on his face she rushed to apologize.  “I’m not homophobic or anything,” she said.  “I’ve just never met a straight male hairdresser before.  Jeez, I just realized how it sounded when I said that.  I’m sorry; it was really rude. And homophobic sounding.  I am so embarrassed.”

“It’s not a big deal,” he said.  “I’m just not used to people being so blunt.”

“Blunt is one way to put it,” she laughed.  Their meals were delivered before she could continue and they oohed and aahed over the food, eating in near silence for a moment.

“Thank you for the recommendation,” Logan said.  “This is incredible.  The fish is so flaky and unbelievably fresh.”

“They catch their own.”

“Really?”  Grace nodded with her mouth full.  “They have a skiff that goes out each day with a few guys on it.  Sometimes they take tourists; you should try it whether you like fishing or not.”

“I’ll have to do that,” he agreed.  “Though I was also planning on snorkeling and kayaking lessons.”  He winked at her and she laughed.

“Well, I only work Friday through Sundays.  I happened to only have one appointment this morning – that’s why I was in the lobby when you came.”

“Set your own hours?” he asked.

She nodded.  “You do too, I would imagine.  At your shop?  Salon?”

“Yeah,” he said.  “It’s a salon.  I get to choose my own hours.”

“So do you rent a chair?  Or are you an employee?”

“Ah, I rent my chair.”  He abruptly pushed back from the table and signaled for the waiter.  “We’re almost out of wine,” he said.

“The one bottle is plenty,” Grace argued.

“I’d like to get another, just to be safe.”

“You don’t travel all-inclusive much, do you?” Grace asked.

“No, I do.  I just, never mind.  Look, Grace, I’m not going to beat around the bush.  I always get what I want.  And I want you.  So tomorrow, I’d like you to take me snorkeling.  And then afterward, I’m going to take you out to dinner and then back to my room.”

“Well, Logan,” Grace started.  “I don’t generally fuck men within forty-eight hours of meeting them.  So, I’ll take you snorkeling, and I’ll go to dinner with you, but if we go back to your room, it’ll only be to play pinochle.”  She winked and smiled.  “Meet me outside the equipment hut at eight tomorrow morning?”

Logan’s mouth opened, but no words came out.  “Kayaking and dinner it is then,” he agreed.  “But I’ll get you in my bed before I go home,” he insisted.  Grace didn’t respond and instead pushed her chair back, standing a bit unsteadily after her three glasses of wine.  The sun earlier had been hot and the food light.  All told, not a good combination.

Logan steadied her with a hand on her elbow.  “Why don’t I walk you back to your room?” he offered.

“How gentlemanly,” she agreed.  They walked out of the restaurant with his arm around her shoulders and hers around his waist, tucked snugly into the back pocket of his shorts.  Her little clutch purse dangled off her free elbow, swinging as they walked.

She breathed in the intoxicating smell of him, reveling in his proximity and masculinity.  The waves roared in her ears, throwing off her equilibrium, and she stumbled a bit as they approached her door, dropping her clutch in the process.

Logan was quick to retrieve it, leaving him kneeling at her feet.  Grace unabashedly lifted one sandaled foot and set it on his shoulder, baring her pretty lace panties to him.  “I think I like you better on your knees,” she quipped.

Logan stood quickly, wrapping one arm around her raised leg and lifting it with him, tucking it snugly against his waist.  “I don’t kneel for anyone,” he growled into her ear.  He ground himself against her, hitting her just above where she wanted him.  “I like your panties,” he said.  “When we’re done here, I’m keeping them.”

She laughed and threw her head back.  “What makes you think anything is happening here?”  she asked.  “I already told you my ‘fucking’ rule.”

“Actually, you said generally.  And your foot on my shoulder says I’m coming in.”   She bit her lip as she thought about her choices.  Invite a stranger into her bed – not something that hadn’t happened before – or go to bed unsatisfied.  The answer was pretty obvious.

“Don’t expect free kayaking lessons,” she warned as she reached behind herself and unlocked her door.   She grabbed Logan by the collar of his shirt and tugged him in behind her, crashing her mouth against his and nearly ripping his shirt in her haste to get it unbuttoned.  Logan peeled her fingers from his shirt and finished the job before lifting the hem of her dress over her head.

“I love these panties,” he said again.  Grace back slowly away from him, trying to make it to her bed.  He wrapped his fingers around her hip and pulled her to him, pressing his body against hers.  The contact was scorching, lighting her on fire, electrifying every cell in her body.

When his lips met her neck she moaned loudly.  Embarrassingly loudly.  He pushed her back against the counter, grinding his erection into her.  He bent and wrapped his arms beneath her knees, lifting her up to sit on the counter.  Grace wrapped her legs around his waist, digging her heels into the small of his back.

“Where’s your room?” he asked.  “Or would you rather fuck on the counter?”

“What’re we, fifteen?” she asked.  “Through the kitchen and to the right, identical layout to yours.”  He lifted her off the counter and walked down the hall, lips attached to her neck.  She wound her arms around his shoulders, digging her nails into his back and mewling at the feel of his tongue against her skin.

He dumped them both onto the bed, falling in a graceless heap on the mattress.  “Fuck,” he ground out.  “You are so fucking hot with your sweet little sounds.”

“Mmmmm,” she agreed.  Arching her back, Grace reached beneath herself to unhook her bra.  The sides popped free but the cups were pinned in place by his chest crushed against hers.  Logan heaved himself off the bed in one swift movement and rid himself of his shorts and Calvin Kleins.

Grace lay panting and sweaty on the bed, wearing nothing but the little lace panties she’d never intended for him to see.  She scooted up the bed until her head met the pillow, with Logan following up the length of her body on his hands and knees.  When he reached mid-thigh he paused and leaned in, taking hold of the crotch of her panties with his teeth and tugging them down her legs.

Grace lifted her head from the pillow.  “Were you planning on spending the night down there, or are you going to come back up here and put your mouth to use?”

Logan just grinned as he lowered his mouth.

2 Responses to “14 Days of Oh by Sarah Bella”

  1. L.L. MacKinnon October 16, 2011 at 9:30 pm #

    I really enjoyed your story. Good luck – even though I should hate you for being good!

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