Three weeks prior to being dumped by my girlfriend, Cindy, I had purchased anon-refundable package for two at the Lost Beach resort on St. Thomas in the US Virgin Islands. I was really looking forward to going on this trip with her – she was a "big boned" girl with lots of soft curves, and she really got me hot, but she was somewhat hesitant in the bedroom. I noticed that she loved to sunbathe, and showed quite a bit of skin when she did – not so shy then. I hoped that the warm, Caribbean sun would bring her out of her shell a little bit. That is, I had hoped that spending most of the day on the beach nearly naked, in a string bikini, would make her warmed up at night. Or in the morning. Lunch time. Anytime.
I think I may have been hoping too hard, and may have pushed just a bit, because she said when we broke up that she couldn't handle my "wilder side," by which she meant my kinky side. I occasionally liked to end our love-making by masturbating on her breasts, or face. I had developed a fondness for light spanking play. And God, did she have an ass for it.
Anyway, there I was, with two tickets, and no partner.
I thought about other women I knew who I could call, but it's awkward to call someone like an ex and ask them to go away to a resort for ten days. It's also awkward to ask someone with whom you don't have that close of a relationship, so that knocked out the women at work, and the red-head with whom I flirt at the grocery store.
My problem was solved for me by a phone call I received, from my mother.
"I can't believe I'm over the hill!" she wailed. Her dramatics were only partly exaggerated. She was turning 43 and not taking it well. Every year since 40 had been more and more trying.
