[Friday Flash] Describing Amy

Enter. 

A pressed smile containing a suppressed squeal accompanied the keystroke.  Good bye sad polar vortex.  The ‘sell-offs’ website promised heat in Jamaica.  Pandora filled her half empty apartment with reggae while she packed.  Jeff would be stunned.  Solid Amy never made rash decisions.  Sometime in the coming week, he would call to check on her but she wouldn’t be there. 

The very next day, Amy stood marveling; frozen drink in hand, on the balcony of a Caribbean resort.  That was the beauty of sell-offs.  Book yesterday, travel today.  She was gone before the dreaded call from Jeff asking if Pathetic Amy was ok.  Would he move his furniture and clothes back if she said no?  Give back her ring? Not if that slut Robin had anything to say about it and apparently being pregnant gave her all kinds of liberties.

Conservative Amy stripped off her travel clothes, popped the tags off the first of seven new bikinis, purchased yesterday, and took her kindle, sunscreen and hat to the beach.  She’d been to a beach once before, with Jeff.  A tennis player who hated sand, he left her mostly alone by the pool.

A single beach chair was easy to find, as were drinks.  The tall good looking beach waiter dropped an exaggerated wink on her every time he traded her empty drink glass for a full one.

Several frozen drinks later, her teeth ached, her head spun and she had missed dinner.  At 3:00 am, she woke on top of her four poster bed, dry mouthed, bikini strings awkwardly covering nothing; starving.

Jeff would have laughed and told her to wait for breakfast.  Drinking water, Amy called room service and passed the time by slathering her sun kissed skin with lotion. 

“Hey.” 

“Yasiel.”  The handsome guy from the beach doubled as a room service valet it seemed. 

Amy held up the lotion bottle.  “Would you? Yasiel?”

He hesitated. 

Modest Amy turned her back and shrugged her robe from her shoulders.  Neither expected the electricity that caused Amy to gasp and blush furiously at her obvious showing of excitement when she pulled her robe across her chest a few moments later.  “I’m Amy.”  She murmured.

“See you tomorrow.”  He left with a sultry wink. 

Tomorrow was pink sequins bikini day, which got a lot of compliments, and rum punch.  Amy forgot to think about Jeff until she sat at a table for two alone for lunch.  Yasiel, carrying a Twister game box detoured through the courtyard long enough to drop an exotic flower on her table and wink without the exaggeration.

Braided into her hair, the compliments continued at dinner. Yasiel, a maître de apparently, seated her with a bachelorette party and other singles.  Tequila Poppers and pealing laughter were all she remembered waking late the next morning.

On fedora hat day, the portrait studio rolled several photos of her paddle boarding.  Years of pilates paid off nicely.  The bachelorettes invited her on a catamaran sunset cruise where Yasiel happened to play DJ.  Shy Amy sat on the table next to him picking songs and dancing.  In a club, Jeff’s tongue would wag at such a girl. 

Leaving the gangplank, she slipped.  Yasiel caught her—firmly on her rear, under her dress.  It left them both shocked and Amy, at least, excited beyond measure.

Well after the party moved inside, Amy sat toes in the surf, drinking a rum and coke.  She didn’t hear Yasiel until he sat next to her.  Timid Amy smacked a kiss hard on his mouth before he could say a word.  His smile said all.  That and his arms that crushed her.  He shook his head immediately though, glancing nervously at the resort. 

A group from singles night took the unapproved tour to the Blue Hole on leopard print day four.  Cautious Amy was the first to jump over the falls, almost surfacing topless.  It was worth it to picture Jeff’s jaw dropping.  She missed Yasiel’s winks at the beach party dinner and fire eating show.  The other cute entertainer’s glances didn’t leave behind butterflies.  She made the mistake of taking her phone to the lobby when she couldn’t sleep.   The free wifi turned up no messages.  Jeff should have called by now. 

Metallic silver suit day started in a cloud cover.  Steering clear of the hungover bachelorettes, Amy let the salon girls talk her into a massage.  Self-conscious Amy wore nothing under the towel in the serene bamboo hut.  Without opening her eyes or speaking a word, she knew at first touch it was Yasiel.  Tender, passionate and personal, his hands stroked her to hot fire before he kissed between her shoulder blades and pressed a note in her hand.

“Meet tonight beside the pier?”

Terrified Amy carried her shoes under the pier, acknowledging the guard’s warning that she was leaving the safety of the resort.  Yasiel whisked her away in a small car playing reggae music softly.  No street lights, no traffic, no small talk.  Only the ocean, the moon and sweet anticipation.

The party was as laid back and friendly as Jamaica promised.  All night they held hands, drank beer and kissed for pure pleasure. 

“Are they?”  She asked as the fire died and the beach cleared.  He winked big and within seconds, Amy was skinny dipping too.  Yasiel swam to her smiling.  Wrapping her legs around his hips, Quiet Amy cried out when he claimed her.

The emptiness of her apartment was depressing compared to the life of Yasiel’s where Amy spent her last day in Jamaica needless of her final bikini.  He returned her safely to the resort with a promise.  Her inbox had hundreds of emails but only two that mattered.

My dear forgiving Amy.

Sexy Amy. 

Pushover Amy deleted Jeff’s and sat down to write to Yasiel.