Cupidity's check-in line was a study in diversity - a serpentine conglomeration of various backgrounds, shapes and sizes, the old and the young - all of them restless and anxious to get their swing on. An inescapable erotic aura was interweaving its way down the line, infecting people with a Molly-like mood, inviting sensory interactions between them, and making it difficult to discern who went with whom.
"Looks like we're not in Kansas anymore," quipped Krystal.
Blake coerced a grin from his pursed lips. He'd been on high alert ever since they'd boarded the shuttle from the Cancun airport to the resort, unable to enjoy the camaraderie that had naturally formed between the six couples in the Mercedes minibus. Sure, they'd only exchanged phone numbers, but very soon, it could be bodily fluids.
Krystal waved her hand in front of Blake's blank stare.
"Hello!" she said, knocking on the crown of his head, "Anyone in there?"
"It's very nice," he said, flatly, as he surveyed the white marble landscape, not to acclimate himself to his new environment, but rather to identify anyone who might recognize him. His panoramic scan landed at the lobby bar where his deliberate scrutiny was disarmed by a friendly face - an elfish redhead whose gentle beckon appeared to be meant for him. He turned to look behind him for a sign he was mistaken, before smiling shyly in her direction.
"For God's sake," said Krystal, elbowing her antsy companion, "Relax. Put your arm around me. Pretend you're having fun."
Blake rested his sweaty palm on the small of Krystal's warm back, feeling the electricity of her quiet excitement race up his arm through the small diamond-shaped cutout in her sundress. When the receptionist waved them forward, he guided her to the front desk, where she proudly announced:
"Blake and Krystal Carrington."
And just a few minutes later, they were on their way to their room. As for the Dynasty reference, it went unnoticed, just as she suspected it would.
******
"I like it," said Krystal, lifting her oversized suitcase onto the luggage rack with little effort.
Blake nodded in agreement, taking in the interesting mix of stark white walls, Mexican-inspired tile floors, and full-bodied mahogany furnishings as he made his way past the two queen beds and onto the small balcony overlooking the expansive pool area. The pool proper was punctuated with hot tubs, and ledged and lined with semi-submersible furniture - clearly designed with more than just sunbathing in mind. Currently, the pool was empty, but Blake knew that soon it would become the epicenter of the extreme flirting that would escalate into the night on the disco's dancefloor, and peak in the wee hours in an X-rated romper room.
"What a view," said Krystal, stepping onto the balcony, "We've got a front row seat!"
She pointed to a series of cabana beds just beyond the pool - one of them occupied by a naked chain of girl-on-girl-on-girl. Blake recognized the pale short-haired pixie he'd acknowledged during check-in. She was sitting cross-legged exploring the elevated backside of a black beauty, who in turn, was interrogating a chubby brunette with a battery-operated boyfriend. A young man sat on the edge of a bed adjacent, his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his steepled fingers, as he studied the steamy soul train with intense focus.
"I think that man goes with the brunette," said Blake.
And shortly thereafter:
"Baby, BABY!" she cried, "I'm going to CUM!" She swept her arm overhead, and he took her hand and squeezed it. And this being the first sighting of such unrestricted debauchery, Blake flushed hot, but only because Krystal was enjoying it with him.
"WOWSA! And good call on the partner," said Krystal, leaning on the railing and turning to face him, "Is that the kind of thing that would get you off, Blake? Watching Barb get her graybeard bisected by a woman?"
She snorted.
"I'd get off if Barb showed any erotic inclination whatsoever," Blake said, squatting slightly to improve his field of vision, "I... um... think he's going to ejaculate on her," he added.
And as if he'd been directed to do so, the young man rose to his feet, positioned himself over the brunette, and unloaded on her face and neck - his powerful howl wafting across the water on the tropical breeze.
"HO-LEE-CRAP! And right again!" Krystal said, slapping Blake's back, "How do you know these things? Must be all that porn you watch behind your office door. Am I right or am I right?"
Blake bent to pick up a stray pebble, dodging Krystal's inquiring eyes.
"I don't watch porn," he said, quietly.
"Like hell you don't," she snickered, waving him into the room, "Come on. Let's get down there before it gets busy; it'll make the transition easier."
"Transition to what?" Blake asked.
"To naked you numskull," she chuckled.
"What's the rush? We don't have to do everything today. I'm happy to just stay here. Like you said, we've got a front row seat."
"Stay here? Are you out of your frickin' mind?" Krystal put her hands on his shoulders and squeezed. "Look, the pool's not clothing optional. We'll have to strip down if we want to hang out there, which of course we DO! (poke) Now let's get this over with."
Krystal lifted the husk of flaxen hair from her shoulders.
"Unzip me."
And a rush of adrenaline filled Blake ear to ear, as his brain processed the immediacy of the impending nudity.
"So... we're about to see each other naked," he said, fumbling with the narrow plastic zipper.
"Yes Blake; obviously that was inevitable," she said, slipping the straps of her sundress over her quadradical shoulders.
"Your turn," she said, matter of fact, as the sundress settled to the floor.
Blake swallowed hard at the sight of Krystal's dandelion demi-bra, heavily weighted by her decoy double-Ds. His gaze drifted down her 5-foot 10-inch frame to her scant panties, then rose again to meet her testy expression.
"I said, IT'S YOUR TURN BLAKE!"
