Hotel Heiress: Cancun
Hotel Heiress Valerie Masters On One Night Stands:"Hotels are the perfect spot for them. People will assume you're already lovers. But always make sure it's a grand hotel and done in style".....
It's like opening an envelope of dirty photos you don't want anyone to see.
When I look back on the summer of '93 when I was twenty-one and drinking for the first time in Cancun, Mexico, having the time of my life with friends, the memories of that one unforgettable night is like watching a porn film locked up in the recesses of my mind. I've told no one about it, not my most trusted friend, not a soul. That was a night devoted to unlocking desires and fulfilling fantasies. How it happened was so innocent, so casual, so unexpected. It was after a single look............ He stared at me from across the hotel lounge at the fabulous Hotel Tesoro Cancun which rose high over the coast. What was I wearing exactly that night that made him look at me that way? I don't even remember. It might have been a simple white cocktail dress or "little white dress". The neckline plunged downward and revealed my cleavage. The dress was short and my long legs were in full view. His eyes could not have been fixed on my dress at any rate. My hair was made up in a French twist and I had light blonde streaks over my nut-brown hair. I must have had on some perfume. He could definitely smell me from his stance by the lounge sofa. A huge pair of palms and dark green shrubs cast a dark shade in his seat, so when I first saw him, I could not see him clearly and distinctly. I knew, of course, he was a man. A man's profile - the heavy physique, the eyes, the chin, lurked in the shade. Also, I could hear him breathing.
The fragrance of vanilla and a tropical scent filled the air of the lounge. The hotel's theme was an "island" theme and even the vast carpet beneath my feet, the same carpet that was everywhere - in the lobby, in the halls, in the restaurant - was decorated and speckled with tiny little tropical flowers and birds. It was night time. I think it may have happened sometime before midnight. I was exhausted. I had been dancing and drinking that night and earlier had gone shopping with my girlfriends. These girlfriends were now probably asleep - either by themselves or with bed buddies- or were still partying somewhere. I wanted to go to bed myself. But the thought that this was my last night in Cancun, the thought that the next day I would return to California, to my comfortable but often dull and lackluster life. Most of all, I wanted to go back to a country where they spoke the same language I spoke. So, although part of me wanted to sleep and dream something sweet, I also wanted to experience one last bit of fun. It's possible the man who had been eyeing me all that time was thinkingthe same thing. No one can just jump into bed without having had the itch first. Sex does notcome out of the blue.
He walked up to me and in the clarity of the lounge lights, I finally caughta good look at him. Truth be told, he was hot. I still remember him. If you can remember someone you slept with years ago, in a foreign country, then that signifies they were hot. So there he was.Hispanic? Of course. He was not a "gringo" tourist which is what locals called white American tourists. He was not that. He was definitely a Mexican male. He might have been a local himself. His skin was not too dark like the skin I'd seen on other Mexican men. His was more of an olive or light tan color. His hair, though, was coal black. He took excellent care of his hair, which was slicked and short, almost like the hair you see on Italian mafia gangsters. He had hair on his chest. That was probably what I noticed first. His beige Hawaiian shirt was unbuttoned and most of his chest was showing. It was a strong and sturdy chest. His body was sturdy and big, like a football player's. But at the same time, he was no Neanderthal. He had a European gentleman's demeanor and a casual elegance, like he had been born into money like me. His eyes were dark and his face was ruggedly handsome. The man was probably in his forties but God was he hot. Oh, and he had a cute butt.
He threw away the cigarette he had been smoking.
"May I offer you a drink, senorita?"
"No, thank you", I said, "I've had too many."
He boldly got closer to me. He offered me his hand. Upon taking it, he plante a gentle kiss over the flesh of my hand. No one had ever done that to me before. But I knew that could also mean he wanted more that night.
"I'm Fernando," he said, his accent heavy but sensual, "I come from La Ciudad de Mexico, Distrito Federal. I own a hotel there and have been working on establishing a beachside hotel here in Cancun. Please to tell me your name."
"I'm Valerie Masters," I said and thought he'd know who I was.
I was mistaken. He smiled politely but did not look as if he knew who I was.
"My family owns several Seasons Hotels across the world," I said.
He only smiled and kept a cool face. The damn guy didn't even recognize me from all the magazines that printed my photos. I had been a model and had appeared in soap operas.
"Mejor vamos a otro lugar, no?"