Spring Break Arrangements
(c)2000 by Virago Blue


I'm not sure what made me pause and take a second look
at the wavy blond-haired man sitting in the booth in
front of me. I just felt the urge. That little
personality flaw of mine, always taking things a step
too far, has put me in more embarrassing positions than
I care to admit.

I was sitting in an international airport waiting for a
flight to London. How many people passed through here
everyday and I thought I knew the man in the booth in
front of me. How rare is that? Over an espresso and the
Wall Street Journal I would glance up every now and
then. How many curly heads, viewed from the back no
less, could possibly be familiar? More than one, 
unfortunately. I glanced at the back of his tanned
neck, a somewhat thick neck with a light strip of
skin just below the hairline, like his hair had been
newly trimmed and the sun hadn't quite browned
him. It bothered me. I wanted to ask if he needed sun
screen or maybe a hat. Anything to make conversation or
get him to turn around. With a mental shrug I continued
on with my morning paper, trying to bury myself in some
serious-minded article or stock quotes. It was no use.
That curly blond head reminded me of someone. 

It was spring break, seven years ago. I was a Junior in
college at Syracuse.  He was a Senior at Syracuse. A
few times a week I would pass him by in the student
union and drool. He was so ruggedly handsome. He was
always surrounded by the silliest group of coeds, all
dubious sorority sisters. I was no skank but he never
seemed to notice me. Why would he? He had the pick of
the best of the best. It didn't really bother me much.
Besides, I was seeing someone. Honestly, I only
fantasized about Scott. Tall, broad-shouldered and
narrow-hipped, he oozed sex. He also had this
endearing little dimple in one of his cheeks;
absolutely melted me when he smiled.  More than
once I would catch myself studying the way his faded
button-fly 501's skimmed his thighs. Was he
really packaged that nicely or was it the clothes? It
didn't matter. He was only a fantasy. That's
what I told myself.

But every once in a great while, usually when I felt
things weren't going well with my ongoing
relationship, my fantasies would become bolder, almost
desperate. I wondered how Scott would
react if I threw myself at him. Would he just dodge
aside with those slim and sexy hips and leave
me nose-down on the floor?

Spring Break at Daytona Beach was always a wild ride.
My girlfriends and I hadn't missed a year since our
senior year in high school when our parents unwittingly
let us take off on what was the beginning of a very
hedonistic tradition for us. We had a pact. Our pact
was to have the wildest, craziest week we could manage,
all in the name of fun, before we buckled down to
finish out the rest of the year away at school. It was
our reward for keeping up our GPA. The week was always
filled with all-night parties, dancing naked on
balconies, flashing any and all guys we ran across,
just for the wolf whistles and grabs. It was crazy. We
were crazy. A varying diet of liquor and not
enough food kept us from becoming too concerned about
how we appeared. Everyone was riding the same boat. It
was a time none of us would ever forget. 

Tammy, my best friend since third grade, always managed
to get laid first.  She was a scream. She
was very open and never shied away from sex in the
oddest places. We had hardly settled into our room when
she ran into some hard-body sophomore from NCU who
happened to be passing by our room at the exact moment
Tammy declared the holiday had officially started. We
all watched as she propositioned the guy, telling him
she would fuck him for the beer he was carrying. She
had one condition, though: He had to do it with her on
the fourth floor balcony with all of us watching! Did
he turn her down? Hell no. It was Spring Break, sort of
like a free love Woodstock of the 90s. All six of us
staying in that room, not to mention about forty people
partying around the pool, got a show they weren't soon
to forget. That was Tammy. She always put me in the
mood to make mischief.

That's what started that fateful day. Management threw
us out of the hotel, right on our asses. We had no
place to stay except my old 87 Pathfinder. That
wouldn't do. All six of us, one or more of us drunk at
one time or another, had to come up with a plan. Leave
it to Tammy to think of something. 

We had parked my truck and started to walk the beach.
Halfheartedly we tried to come up with a
plan, anything to get a place to sleep. There was no
chance of finding a hotel room anymore, everything was
booked solid. We didn't have the money to afford a
condo or private home and staying a hundred miles away
in some small town wasn't an option. That's when Tammy
stopped me in mid-hip-swing with a forearm across my
belly. "Look at that." I followed Tammy's eyes and
nodded.

"Yeah, cool, but how in the hell can we afford that?" I
asked her.

"Money is not necessary."

"What's that supposed to mean?" But I was beginning to
understand. This was coming from Tammy, my sex-hungry
best friend. My eyes focused on the group of
sun-bronzed gods guzzling Corona and rocking to
Metallica.

Leave it to Tammy to think of something. "Follow me,"
she said, tugging at her bikini bottoms.

"Hold on," I said, gathering more courage from the Big
Gulp of a poor college students idea of a screwdriver,
orange soda and vodka, heavy on the vodka. I shrugged
and followed Tammy's lead, the others not far behind.
My inhibitions had slipped away after the first liter
of screwdrivers. I was well into my second Big Gulp by
then.

All six of us sashayed up to the nicest beach cabin for
miles. There might have been enough fabric between all
of us to make one size 8 t-shirt. Heads turned as we
stepped over a passed out redhead, a few blow up dolls
and a couple of studs in Speedo bathing suits intent on
oiling themselves to a sheen and frying. My eyes, and
I'm fairly positive all the eyes of my friends, were
on the group of six hunks partying around the stocked
bar. And wouldn't you know it, Scott was standing
second from the right, eyeing me from behind his
upturned Corona.

"Hey, what's up?" Tammy flirted. "I was wondering if we
could, like, borrow some ice?"

"Sure," one of the guys said. "Help yourself. The ice
chest is right back here." 

"Thanks. Oh, my name is Tammy and these are my
friends." She smiled, daintily stepping over his leg to
open the ice chest. I smirked when Tammy leaned over to
open the ice chest on the ground without even bending
her knees. She was good. She also had all their
attention.

"Ronni, come here. You're the one who was so hot." I
blushed a little and smiled, stepping over to
Tammy, almost afraid of what she was going to do next.

Tammy turned around, an ice cube in both hands. "Here,
hold still." She started to rub the ice cubes on my
neck. I was a little shocked at first but decided to
follow along. I arched my neck back and groaned. "Oh,
yes. That feels much better."

Tammy smiled, turning to the guys with another sweet
request. "Excuse me, could you hand me another ice
cube? She is so hot, look how fast the ice is melting."
Tammy was working it. She rubbed lower with the ice,
the sliver now disappearing between my wet cleavage. My
cleavage wasn't overdone, but it helped when I squeezed
my arms closer together against my sides, something I
was doing at the time. Tammy giggled as the chip of ice
disappeared beneath the string of my bikini. "Thank
you." She reached for the offered ice cube and
continued to rub me down. At the time I was wearing a
baby blue string bikini, the kind where the tops were
little  triangles slid onto a string. Tammy was now
sliding the little triangles farther apart on the
string, giving a really great view of my breasts.

"It's such a shame. She could get heat stroke or
something." I moaned again on cue. "Could you
help me please?" Tammy quirked one eyebrow behind her
glasses. "I think someone should do her
back."

Scott was the first to offer his services. Before I
could say "more, please" he was coating my
lower back with melting ice. He lifted my curtain of
straight dark blonde hair away from my
shoulders and rubbed with the slivers of ice. "Did
something happen to you guys?" Scott 
asked, just a little concern in his voice.

"We were kicked out of our hotel room and we have been
forced to walk the beach all day, for
hours really, and we just can't find anything
available. We're desperate." Tammy answered. The
other girls nodded their heads in agreement. I noticed
from the corner of my eye that two of them
were being handed drinks by the guys. "I mean, we are
really at the end of our ropes.  Ronni
could have like, permanent damage or something. That
old manager at the hotel just didn't care."

"I think we caught it, whatever it was, in time. She
seems just fine," Scott replied, a cold hand
stroking the back of my thigh. "So, you girls have no
place to stay?" 

Tammy nodded, taking an offered beer. "Thank you." She
rubbed the remainder of an ice chip on my lips. My
tongue slurped it up thirstily. Maybe I should consider
changing my major from marketing to theater. 

I felt an arm slide around my waist and guide me
towards the pool. "Why don't you just rest here
a minute. Let me get you something to drink." It was
Scott. I stared up into his blue eyes
dreamily, hoping he didn't recognize me behind my
sunglasses. 

"You're so sweet. Water will be fine for now." I slid
into the pool, dipping my head back to wet my hair.
Suddenly and on purpose my chest was on wanton display.
The ice had hardened my nipples, slipping into the
unheated pool had kept them that way. I knew they were
visible. I always had such lengthy erect nipples
anyway. I was positive Scott had a good look at them 
nearly piercing through the wet, clingy fabric of my
bikini top. I took my time standing up
straight, making a show of squeezing the water from my
hair. 

"We're at the point right now that we would do anything
for a roof over our heads for the rest of
the weekend. Just anything," Tammy pouted.

"Anything?" This brought a few nudges and smiles from
the guys.

Tammy opened her mouth in a little gasp, her glossed
lips in a little "o". She then bit down on her
bottom lip. "No, that wouldn't be a good idea."

"What?" Dutch, a stocky guy with a Cubs baseball cap
asked.

"Well, I was thinking, this is Spring Break and things
can get a little, you  know, crazy. And my
friends and I, well . . . " Tammy paused for effect.
"Our parents would be so worried about us if
they knew about that misunderstanding at the hotel."

"Yeah?"

"What if, for the weekend only, you could give each one
of us a job to do, in return for bathroom
privileges and a place to sleep, like the living room?"
Tammy bit her lip again. I snuck a glance at
Stacy, Renee, Desiree and Gina to see their reaction.
They were smiling.

"Like, to clean up after us and stuff?" John, the tall,
lanky-looking jock asked.

"Anything. I guess we could clean up, maybe serve
drinks to you and your buddies." Tammy
smiled, a fake shy smile.

Dutch shook his head. "I don't know. This is a really
nice place. It's  costing us a lot to stay here.
Hell, we had to rent it a year in advance. There's
probably a lot of women that would do more
than chores to be able to stay here." He smiled smugly,
licking his lips. Tammy had met her
match.

"I never said we wouldn't put out." 

I bit back a smile when we were greeted with "Dudes!",
high fives and "All rights!" 

"Is that a yes?" Tammy asked, beaming.

"I think the plan is workable," said Brad.

"Then why don't we take the time to get to know each
other a little first, you know, like, introductions and
in an hour you guys can pick who you want to be your .
. . um . . . personal assistant," Tammy said.  

"Cool."

"Fuckin' A."

"Jammin'." 

The next hour was spent drinking, flirting, kissing and
feeling each other up. 

Lady Luck smiled on me that weekend. Scott chose me.  I
spent that weekend doing something I thought
impossible. I served Scott's every desire. More
importantly, I enjoyed every minute of it. When he
asked me to pleasure myself in front of himself and
some of his friends, I immediately began stroking the
silky wetness between my legs. The thought of doing
something so forbidden in the open with so many
watching brought me to climax sooner than it would have
taken if I were alone. And he asked me to go down on
him in front of another woman while she fingered
me to orgasm. His shooting sperm and my climactic
groans nearly choked me to the point of
unconsciousness. But my best memory of that weekend was
the last time we had sex. He just lay back on the bed
and told me to do whatever I wanted. It didn't matter
if he came at all, he said. He wanted to watch my face
as I came. I was only too eager to lay my naked body on
top of him and open my thighs. I slid his penis inside
me, not breaking the contact between our bellies. This
was one of my favorite positions. I pushed my pubic
bone into his flat belly and felt my clit
rubbing against the rough hair at the top of his shaft.
I moved up and down on him that way, our
eyes never breaking away. 

I'm sure I said things to him. I know I did. I tend to
talk a little dirty at the most exciting times.
Like, "my pussy is so wet,""fuck me and don't ever
stop," and "I'm going to come all over you"
flowed from my mouth, along with many groans, growls,
and obscenities.

The combination of being the one in control, the slight
pain of brutal rubbing and the thickness of
him moving deeper and harder brought me to throbbing
orgasm after several heated moments. The orgasm shook
me, and I'm sure I threw my head back and cried out,
sitting back far enough to force him deeper inside me
as he spurted against my cervix. 

It was a hell of a weekend. 

I never felt guilty about it. Not once. It was part of
our secret pact. Besides, it was for good reason we
sold ourselves to these guys for the weekend. The idea
that Scott was in control of my every action was
exciting. It was a huge turn-on for me. It was all part
of the game that I enjoyed playing with him and his
friends. 

And then it was over. We went back to school and
pretended we had never met. There was a possibility he
didn't recognize me. I managed to stay away from the
student union for quite some time. And, while in
Florida, my looks were somewhat different. Normally I'm
not much of a sun worshiper although I tan very easily.
At school I usually wore my hair up in a pony tail,
sometimes with a baseball cap. In Florida I kept it
long and straight. It was also slightly lighter from
the sun. I also didn't wear makeup during that week.
The sun had tanned my skin to a deep gold and
makeup wouldn't have been right. Besides, my blue eyes
stood out even more against my bronzed
face. Another thing, I go by the name Veronica at
school. Only Tammy calls me Ronni and she
didn't attend our University.

I suppose it was best we didn't meet afterwards. It
would have ruined the hedonistic flavor of that
weekend. We would have actually had to talk and
communicate. I think I preferred it this way.

But now, here I sat, staring at the back of this man's
head and wondered if it was my "master"
from all those years ago. 

My reverie was interrupted by the boarding call for my
flight to London. I shoved my unread copy
of the Wall Street Journal into my carry-on and slipped
past his booth. As I rounded the corner I
braved a look. As luck would have it he was turned the
opposite direction gathering his overcoat.

I boarded my flight earlier than usual since I had a
seat near the back of the airliner. I immediately
requested a Stoli on the rocks and a bottle of water,
stashing the water for later. Flying sometimes
made me nervous. I nearly choked on my cocktail when I
looked up at the man taking the seat ext to me. He was
stashing his overcoat in the overhead compartment but
in that instance after shutting the compartment door
and lowering himself to his seat, I got a good look at
his face. It was him. It had to be him. I could never
forget his face, even after several years. Although now
dressed as professionals, I still remembered every inch
of that hard body of his. I was blushing, and obviously
I was choking loudly. He glanced over at me, a look of
concern on his face as I continued to choke. I tried
desperately to stop, I didn't want to draw his
attention. I willed myself to stop, I begged my throat
to calm down so he would look away. It was too late.
Something lit up in his eyes. I believe it was
recognition.

"Ronni?"

"Dammit." I choked louder. I leaned over, turning my
face from him, and grabbed the bottle of
water poking from my carry on.

"I'm sorry, you look so much like someone I know," he
said.

Must have been my red face. I suppose it could
masquerade as a tan. And I suppose it hadn't been
that long since that remarkable weekend. What? Seven
years ago? "Pardon me?" I asked, creasing
my brow in question.

"It is you. Oh man, who would have thought. How've you
been?" he asked, thumping me on the
back.

I calmed down long enough to lean back and take another
sip of my Stoli. "I'm sorry, I can't remember your
name." That was stupid, I thought. Now he'll really
think I'm a bimbo. "I mean, of course I remember. How
could I possibly forget. How long has it been?" I was
mortified. Embarrassed beyond belief. He noticed.

"Scott. That's okay. You were pretty drunk as far as I
remember. Then again, so was I." He
grinned. I got the feeling he was going to make me
suffer just a little.

"Drunk? In college during Spring Break? Of course." I
paused before taking another sip of Stoli,
opting for the water instead. "Yeah, that was one
bitchin' weekend." I managed a little laugh.

Scott grinned and looked away for a moment before
meeting my gaze once again.  "It was the
best weekend of my life so far."

The flight was readying for take-off. I gulped the rest
of my cocktail and handed the empty glass
to the stewardess. "Sorry, I get a little nervous when
flying." Excuses, excuses.

He reached over and patted my hand. "Relax. I'll get
you another as soon as she passes by again."
He smiled at me. I couldn't help but notice the
adorable dimple. He'd only grown more handsome.
His blue eyes were mesmerizing. I looked away and
closed my eyes.  After another hour of
conversation I found myself more relaxed. Scott was
easy to talk to. He graduated that summer
from Syracuse and went on to law school. He was on his
way to London on business also. 

Still, I had to wonder, how much did he remember of
that weekend? The man had women
crawling all over him every time I saw him.  Probably
still did. I was just another notch in the
headboard. 

"So, you're a buyer for a major chain of department
stores? Seems like you would have to fly
often. You should be used to the routine by now," he
said, squeezing a sliver of fresh lime into an
open bottle of Corona. I don't know why I thought it
was funny that he was drinking the same
thing he had been drinking that weekend. I smiled as I
watched him take a sip. 

"I manage. Of course, running into old--um--friends
sometimes makes me a little nervous. I don't
think it would matter if I was on an airplane or
sitting on a park bench. Unnerving, you know."
He nodded, clinking his beer bottle against my glass. 

"Here's to old and new friends then. Don't be nervous." 

I clutched Scott's hand the moment the plane lurched
with turbulence. "Now that I can't get used
to." I fastened my seatbelt, maybe a silly thing to do,
but I had heard of people getting knocked
unconscious during unusually rough bouts with
turbulence. Scott did the same.

We continued on that way for the next thirty minutes
before the pilot announced that the plane
was experiencing a mechanical problem that will require
immediate attention. We were clear to
land at a small airport in the Bahamas. Estimated time
of arrival: ten more minutes. I must have
guzzled the remainder of my drink and handed it to the
flight attendant without noticing. 

"Now I'm nervous," Scott commented.

I try not to be the kind of person who worries too much
or needs to lean on other people too often. This case
was different. It seemed natural for Scott and I to
hold hands during the next ten minutes and during the
tense landing of the airliner. When all had come to an
end without flames, smoke or flying debris, we actually
hugged in relief. We listened as the flight attendant
directed us to an airline host who would see us to some
accommodations for the night. 

We sat together in one of the shuttles to a hotel. We
followed some of the other passengers into
the lobby and waited for the reservations clerk to
clear our way to some rooms, courtesy of the
airline. 

Unfortunately, it was high season on the island and
hardly any rooms were available. We waited patiently,
still a little numb from our experience. "I'm sorry,
Ms. Spell, this is the only room we have left." The
clerk looked behind me at Scott and smiled. "I can
place some calls at some other hotels and try to find
you a room, sir. There may be a few rooms available at
some of the motels on the outskirts of town. The night
manager is on the phone right now with the airline
trying to arrange transportation to some of the other
islands for the night."

It struck me just then. How brilliant. How convenient,
in fact. We were adults now, unattached and free to do
as we please. The past few hours forced us to question
our mortality. Besides, I believed it was my turn to
play master. "Oh, I'm sorry. You must have
misunderstood. Mr. Webster is with me." I turned and
smiled back at Scott, reaching for his hand. Instantly
I felt his fingers entwine with mine. "We'll take the
room."

Well, it wasn't a complete weekend. Only one night. But
he promised me another two nights so I could get my
fair share of playing master. We would meet in one
month in Napa. And my favorite part? The time I told
him that I was going to lay back and let him do what he
wanted. All I wanted to do was watch his eyes when he
came.