Caribbean Climax

Content warning: Adult content

John's wife, Alison, emerged from the blue-green Caribbean water at the Paradise Point Resort. She adjusted her top, gathered her hair behind her head, and scanned the beach for familiar faces. I waved to her. She waved back, her mouth forming my name, "Peter." I glanced at my wife, Nora, laying on her stomach in the sun, barebacked, with her top unfastened, her breasts flattened against the sand. Nora was nothing to sneeze at, but it was Alison, the forbidden woman I coveted ever since the four of us became friends a year ago from today.

***

Nora and I met John and Alison Lanski when we'd first moved to Chicago due to my work promotion. They were our downstairs neighbors in the duplex we rented. At first, we paid little mind to them, just saying hello, exchanging pleasantries, or discussing the weather when we met on the street.

           It could have been difficult in a new town, but Nora and I were also newlyweds. We played house and fucked like rabbits in those early days, sometimes not making it past dinner before we were at each other. But soon, we missed outsider connections and found ourselves starved for the company people other than ourselves.         

           When John and Alison invited us to dinner, we enthusiastically accepted. John was a Systems Analyst, and his wife, a lovely-looking woman who worked from home. Like us, they were newly married out-of-towners, though they'd moved to Chicago earlier than us. Alison, a fabulous cook, made a lovely Ricotta Gnudi with lemon and sage sauce. We knocked off the two bottles of Pinot Grigio that I'd brought. Alison stayed behind to clean up while the three of us retired to the living room. John muted the TV's sound and played a vinyl recording of Coltrane's "A Love Supreme." I didn't even know Nora liked jazz, but the two of them sat cross-legged on the floor near the speakers, acting like long-lost friends rather than strangers who hadn't said more than "Hello," ninety-five minutes ago. Or, maybe they'd already been closer than I realized.

           They touched hands as he passed the jacket for her to read, and it seemed his hand lingered on her long, slim fingers. He said something I couldn't hear over the drone of the saxophone. She laughed softly and touched him again.

           I preferred my music electric, so I remained on the sofa, but watching baseball on a muted television did nothing for me, so I wandered into the kitchen where Allison had shooed Nora away earlier, directing her to join "the boys." That led to the mutual music appreciation ceremony happening on the floor.

           Allison was bent over the kitchen sink, doing dishes. "Want some help?" I asked.

           Alison shook her head. "No thanks, Peter. Go back to John and your wife. I'll be done soon."

           Instead, I grabbed the towel hanging from the refrigerator handle and dried a plate from the draining rack. "They're listening to Coltrane," I said. "No interruptions allowed."

           Allison screwed her face into a scowl, but before she could say anything, I said, "Anyway, I prefer the company of redheads." Her eyes sparkled, then, and freckles garnished her cheeks like paprika.

***

Alison was toweling off. "I only came out to reapply my sunscreen. Then I'm going back in. Come with me, Peter. Leave these two sleepyheads here."

           I looked at John, lying under the cabana, his skin a pale white. His book about some new kind of programming had fallen to his chest, and he was out like a light. I turned to Nora and said, "I'm going in with Alison. You should get out of the sun for a while."

           "I've got to do my other side," she said, turning over, but she'd forgotten that her top was undone. Her breasts came tumbling out.

           "Hey, this isn't a topless beach," I said, loud enough that the guy next to us looked up and caught an eyeful. Then he looked away, pretending he hadn't noticed.

           Nora retorted, "I bet John wouldn't complain." Then she calmly covered herself. I glanced at John, but he hadn't stirred.

           Meanwhile, Alison had been lubing up. "Peter, can you do my back?"

           I looked at Nora, but she shrugged and closed her eyes.

           "Oh, that's cold." Alison flinched when I lifted her hair and squirted sunscreen on her back. I worked the lotion in, applying slow but firm pressure, slipping my hands underneath her ties to cover every last inch of her skin. She sighed audibly, and my breath deepened. The walk to the water was going to be an embarrassment.

           We splashed and played like teenagers, body surfed, and took turns dunking each other, her body soft and buoyant in my arms. When we finally got out, we found the cabana abandoned. John had left a note. "Got tired of waiting. Nora and I went for lunch and Mai Tai's."

           "They could have come and got us," Alison said, although she didn't seem the least perturbed. "Comm'n," I said, grabbing her hand. "We can't let them win the Mai Tai contest."

***

All of us were drained from a lethal combination of sun and rum. We decided by unanimous consent to rest before dinner in our separate suites. Nora had showered and fallen asleep on the edge of the king-sized bed. I flopped onto the other side. We were like two continents with an ocean between us.

           I lay there, wondering if this vacation with John and Alison had been a good idea. Maybe too much togetherness is a bad thing. There'd always been inter-couple flirting and latent desire. We'd always kept it in check, knowing when to pull back, but this vacation with its sense of freedom felt different. I felt like a wishbone, torn between desire and obligation.

***

I dressed in a polo and shorts. Nora looked good in a long, sleeveless dress, turning heads in the open-air lobby as we waited for our friends. John suggested one of the resort restaurants within easy walking distance. I heard the jazz as soon as we opened the door. When Alison noticed the music, her face turned sardonic. She tried to catch my eye, but I had decided to behave myself, so I looked away.

           The dinner was delicious, and the music soft and nonintrusive, but when John suggested we stay on for drinks and Nora agreed, Alison said she was having none of it. She looked at me for support, but I stayed silent.

           John asked me, "Where do you stand on this issue." He was play-acting, making light of Alison's objection.

           All eyes were on me. "I'd rather do something else."

           Nora snorted, but John said, "It's settled, then. You and Alison go off and do whatever it is you want to do. I'll keep company with Nora, but don't wait up. The bands here play deep into the night."

           I stared at him, incredulous. He'd given me an invitation to fuck his wife. It wasn't until Alison and I were walking the boardwalk that I realized his motive. He wanted Nora, and if the price of that was Alison, he was willing to pay.

***

Alison and I walked in the wet sand, holding our shoes, and letting the water splash between our toes. I took her hand. She rubbed my knuckles with her fingers as the moonlight illuminated the gentle ocean waves, the waves cresting, breaking into soft crescendos. Alison asked me to take her picture with the ocean as a backdrop. She looked exquisite in her halter and shorts. I snapped several shots, and then Alison did one of me. "So we remember this night," she said. I nodded, thinking I wasn't going to need a picture.

We walked further along the beach. Suddenly, Alison pointed to the sky, "Did you see it?"

           "See what?" I asked.

           Her eyes twinkled. "The shooting star," she said. "It means the gods are watching us."

           I shook my head. "Sorry, I missed it."

           "I feel lucky," she said. "Let's go to the casino."

           But we were already in the casino of life. This night is fate, I thought, the gamble of my life. I shook my head. "Let's go home," I said.

***

I swiped the fob to my suite, astounded that it was Alison at my side, her hand on my shoulder, her breath in my ear. Inside, I removed her top. Her breasts felt soft and warm against my chest. We played under the sheets, gently at first, but we were hungry and eager. I banged her hard. She laughed, egged me on, and scratched my back with her nails. Her head hit the headboard once, twice.

           "More," she wailed.

           I drew her down, away from the headboard, and thrust again, throbbing inside her until there was no turning back. She gasped, screamed, and spanked my side as if I were a sprinting thoroughbred until I exploded inside her. It was everything I'd wanted, and then, it was over.

***

I last saw Alison at John's funeral service, several years after the Caribbean events, even though they'd divorced. Neither of them had remarried, but John and my Nora, to whom I'd remained married, continued to see each other on the sly. Their accident bore it out: they'd both died in the same car crash when they supposedly hadn't set eyes on each other since we moved out of the apartment. She had no legitimate reason to be riding with him in his car. John had driven off the road clean and sober. But the police report listed the cause of the accident as distracted driving, noting that Nora hadn't been wearing her seat belt and that John's pants had been undone.

           Alison lingered, dressed in black, her hand on the copper-colored casket until John was lowered into the hole. She cut a sharp, dark image against a sky of grey. I watched her from where I stood on the road above. She hadn't wanted me by her side, and for that, I was grateful.

           I'd sent Nora's body Cleveland to where she had a family. I'd be driving there, alone for her funeral, and I wasn't sure I'd be returning to Chicago. I needed a fresh start. I hadn't turned in my notice at work, but lack of protocol meant little to me. My eyes fastened on Alison's lonely figure until a cold gust made me shiver. I climbed into my car and drove away.

***

I recognized Alison's voice even though it had been five years since I'd seen her in the cemetery. "I'm in Cleveland for a business trip. Can I come to see you?"

           Years of resistance crumbled—overpowered by the gentle tang in her voice. I offered to pick her up, but she was already in her rental car. I quick-changed into something presentable and set about straightening the apartment. At least the living room was presentable by the time she arrived.

           Her hair was cut short and appeared more brown than red. Even her freckles had faded. She wore a dark gray pants suit with a slim-fit blazer. Very professional, I thought. My eyes found their home in hers, and all seemed well.

           "I just got out of a conference, and I'm starved," she said.

           I suggested a nearby restaurant where we could sit outside.

           The sun had gone down by the time we'd eaten and finished our bottle of Pinot Noir. The waiter asked if there'd be anything else and left the check. I noticed we were the last guests remaining.

           The night air had begun to cool. I pulled my chair close to hers and wrapped my arm around her.

           "You know I love you," she said.

           "You're half-drunk."

           "It's still true," she said, her eyes downbeat.

           I smiled a sad, mournful smile. Alison rested her head in the crook of my arm. Then, suddenly, there came a fleeting streak of white light in the sky.

           "Did you…"

           "I saw it," I said.

           "Good," she said. "It means things will turn out better this time."