Elena's Lovers

Chapter One They played along the shore as if they’d been lovers for a long time—shedding their clothes to each other’s eyes showing what intimacy was possible. Feasting on the sun-washed, wind-burned skin of thighs and undulating bellies, and well defined hips and shoulders that crooked at the neck where there were places for first kisses, the two found themselves matched, a destined pair of souls uniting in the simplest of touches, until it was clear there would be profound peace taking this union to an erotic conclusion. She forgot how it began, how he’d descended on her as she looked out across the wet, salt sand to the azure blue sea and the sky beyond. His eyes drifted to her, lifted her to her feet so she could take his hand and move to the water’s edge where magical things would happen. It must have been the eyes that lured her: dark, deep-set, cavernous places where there were the stories of centuries locked inside. With the glint of their odd hues, he colored the world for her in vibrant and brilliant shades so she’d never feel empty again. Once she was naked and he cupped her pubis in his steady hand, she was drifting with him, clenching him tightly as their arms intertwined. Did it matter that there were others on this beach? It seemed they were alone even amidst a crowd of passing sun-worshippers. Perhaps they were simply in another dimension, or perhaps their love was too pure for anything but the eyes of those that could understand unpretentious passion. He took her at the water’s edge, while his eyes peered into her squinting ones, as she tried again to make out more of his astounding face. She saw the depth there once more; and it reached her between her thighs where she was aroused. Drawing her down to the sand with him, he was entering her with a stiff erection, and riding her along the sand. So hard the surface of their bed, and yet it felt as if she were floating on a cloud being in his arms. Something unrehearsed and unexpected resulted when his organ swelled inside. The climax shook every atom in her body, making it spark with celebration fireworks. She drifted in his embrace until it seemed that he was vanishing, the sight of his body disappearing from her, as consciousness was drawing her away, so all she’d remember was the eyes, the cavernous, dark eyes. *** “Miss, the drink you ordered.” She heard the sound of a man’s voice, and woke to see the waiter at her side. Such a pleasant expression on his face. She loved Spanish men, how they moved with such ease. “Yes. Thank you,” Elena replied to him kindly. I guess I dozed off.” “Sorry to disturb you.” “Oh, that’s okay, I think my dream was over,” she said. Though her meaning was incomprehensible to the man, he smiled anyway and left her with the tall, cold glass of liquid. “Are you planning to stay here all day, Elena Merino?” A blonde bikini-clad woman stood over her looking down, for an instant blocking the sun. “This is my vacation,” the reclining woman with the flawless bronze skin and the wealth of brunette hair answered her friend. “And I was just having the most wonderful dream. If you let me, I think I could close my eyes and return to it.” There was a dreamy expression on her lips. “Tell me, what did he look like?” Sandra asked. “You think it was a man I was dreaming about?” Elena answered. “Well, it was wasn’t it?” “So, if it was. Wouldn’t you be dreaming about men, if you could?” “I’d be doing something about them, not dreaming.” Sandra’s message oozed with sarcasm. “So was he gorgeous?” “I can’t really say. It was one of those dreams where the faces are so fuzzy it’s hard to tell. But I will know him when I find him.” Elena’s brown eyes twinkled lustfully as she watched the blonde sit down on the chaise lounge next her, the sensuous fair-skinned beauty appearing to melt into the easy sensuousness of the well-aroused, as she laid herself out, offering nearly every gift of her body to the Mediterranean sun. She was wearing the tiniest bathing suit Elena had ever seen, three triangles of cloth, each barely covering the appropriate space of womanly flesh; it made Elena’s small bikini look like nun’s garb. “Why do you bother wearing anything at all?” Elena asked her. It seemed to her that the fluorescent pink of Sandra’s suit screamed to be noticed, of course, being noticed was exactly what she was after. Sandra’s blue eyes danced for her, her lip turned up with a devious intent. “Scandalous, isn’t it?” she said. “You see, I do something about my plans to capture a man while I’m on vacation. While you’re dreaming of it, I’m making it real.” “Well, if all you want is someone inside that thong bottom, I’m sure you won’t have a problem getting a dozen offers.” “I’m looking for more than s*x,” Sandra retorted. “I want good s*x, great s*x, the most nasty, death-defying encounter I’ve ever had. After all, we’re on vacation. When are we going to be in Spain again, anyway? We’re supposed to act like sluts; everyone expects it.” “Especially you. You’re doing a great job,” Elena replied. “Well, Miss Prim and Proper, you’re not exactly Mother Theresa. I hope you haven’t given up sex.” “Not at all. In fact, if someone was looking they probably saw my hands between my legs while I was lying here sleeping.” Sandra laughed. “Sounds lovely, but while I’m having the screwing of my life—real s*x, you know the c**k/cunt thing, you’ll be dreaming. You’ll go back to LA with nothing but wishes, while I relish my conquests. We’ll see who has the hotter vacation.” “I always have hot times,” Elena reminded her. “Don’t forget last Saturday night.” “You even remember that?” Sandra asked. “Perfectly,” she replied. “The best airport f**k I’ve ever had.” “You slut,” Sandra droned, as if Elena had scored one over her. Elena smiled self-satisfied, then took a sip of the concoction of fruit juice she was holding in her hand. She went back to sunbathing, while Sandra looked coyly around for possible male conquests, scouting out her next meaningful walk down the beach. Elena was drifting about in a dreamy half-awake, half-asleep state, looking for her elusive fantasy man again when she was aware of someone at her side. Her eyes popping open, she turned to see that Sandra had left, and there was a well-tanned man sitting where she expected to see her friend. He was dripping wet, toweling himself off with a red beach towel. Slim waist and hips, muscled thighs and chest as if he spent hours working out in a gym; it was hard not staring. But what was most startling about the man was the tousled blonde hair, cut short on the sides, longer on top, and then the eyes—riveted on her so she couldn’t quit looking at them because they seemed to draw her inside him as if she could stand I inside his body. It was the most bizarre feeling, and for a first meeting, unnerving. They could have been hazel, the eyes, though she couldn’t quite tell what color they were, shifting from gold, to green, to blue, and then looking darker, brown perhaps—but cavernous, like the man in her dreams. She was stunned. Then again, maybe she was just horny. “This seat is taken, isn’t it?” he said to her. “I have friend somewhere,” Elena answered him, looking around to see if she could spot Sandra. “You won’t mind for a minute, will you? There aren’t many places left, and the idea of looking at you seemed perfect.” “You’re not Spanish,” Elena remarked, hearing the familiar sounds of American English, thinking it had been days since she’d heard her own language spoken so easily. “Greek, actually, but I’ve recently returned from school in the States.” She nodded. “And you’re in Spain now?” “On vacation. Like you.” “Of course.” “Nikos,” he introduced himself. “I’m Elena.” “Elena?” He looked at her, head c****d, it was rather sexy, that, and the way beads of water were falling down his body across his chest and the skimpy bathing suit, where if she really looked, she’d see the outline of his male parts so distinct he might as well have been naked. It made her practically crawl inside with the desire to touch him there. “Elena? Short for Helena?” he asked. “Yes, but I like the shorter version.” “I like Helena,” he replied, “it’s too beautiful a name to waste.” “You’ve learned an American’s way of flirting,” she said. “No, just my way,” he countered. “I like your hair.” He reached out and ran his hands through the wavy brunette locks. It billowed about her face, the unruly mass made curlier by the salt air. “Thank you.” “It probably suits your savage nature,” he remarked. Savage, she wondered to herself, though she let the comment die, not knowing how to respond to him. “Let’s take a walk,” he said, offering her his hand. Before the willowy brunette could think of any reason not to go with him, he had her hand in his and was leading her down the beach, both stepping lightly on the hot sand until they reached the water-cooled shoreline. They walked for nearly a half hour in one direction before they turned back. She was explaining herself while he offered questions it was easy for her to answer. “You play the cello, you cook Mexican food like a professional, you wait tables in an LA Bistro, and now you’re looking for love on a Spanish beach,” he said, summing up the bottom lines of their conversation that centered on her life—and she knew nothing about him at all. “You added that last yourself, looking for love. Why?” “Single women coming to Europe are looking for romance, to be swept away by a lover. Shall I sweep you away?” he asked. He joked with her cleverly, with an almost nasty turn to his grin. Such boldness! So direct and to the point! Such muscles, and such hands! “I think you’re already sweeping me away,” she said. “Even though I think I’d better watch my step.” “I’ll go slowly then,” he said. They broke hands and she watched him dive into the water, his lycra covered round buns disappearing into the surf, his head popping up a few yards away. He waved, dove in again, and then pulled himself dripping from the water. Returning to her side, he kissed her on the mouth briskly, then took her hand and started down the beach again. “So, why do you need to watch your step?” he asked. “That’s perfectly plain to me; I know nothing about you,” she remarked. “Has that always stopped you before?” He said it as if he knew her s****l history intimately. “Perhaps that’s not your business,” she said. “All right then, what do you want to know?” She thought a moment. “I want to know if I can trust you,” she said, thinking it was a tall order, but expecting this shrewd man to answer her with something to take away her fears. He was just that kind. “You can’t trust me from a single conversation,” he said. “But I don’t think that’s what you want anyway.” “You’re a smart-aleck, you know that?” she said. “Rude and witty too,” he retorted. “So what do you think I want?” she asked. “I already told you. You want to be swept off your feet on a foreign shore, madly screwed and completely adored for as long as it lasts.” Elena couldn’t argue. “I’m right aren’t I?” “Maybe,” she smirked, thinking how much she liked the feel of him, how much he’d already engaged her easily aroused body. “Let me assure you, Helena,” he said. “I’ll adore you, focus every ounce of myself on you alone, and give you the best time you can possibly have on this Spanish coast.” “You sound sincere,” she replied. “And if I want a brief affair, I might have myself a conquest, as Sandra would say. So, why did you pick me out of the crowd?” “I like your hair,” he said running hand through the dark tresses. “And your thighs.” His hands were there too. They weren’t standing side by side anymore, but face to face, their chests practically touching. Even though they’d just met, this didn’t seem strange. They’d been physically close almost since the moment they met. After an hour, strolling down the beach hand in hand, they looked like lovers. He stroked her thigh with one hand while gazing into her beautiful, bashful eyes. “I like the line of your lips,” he said, tracing that line with his finger, generating a shiver that traversed her body in an instant. “And the way your breasts move inside your bathing suit, the way the n*****s poke through.” He took one between his thumb and index finger and rolled it between them. “You’re going to make it bigger,” she said. “Isn’t that the point?” She blushed, though she didn’t back away. Her longing for him was intense and getting all mixed up with sincerity and hope and recklessness. She knew he was wooing her to bed, and she couldn’t wait. Sandra would be happy for her. She’d be happy for herself! All this with so little effort. She hoped he was as good as she imagined him.