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Copyright © 2013 | 3rd Edition 2016

Written by Perri Forrest

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All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. Without limiting the right under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form by means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.



This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.


Perri Forrest

Image credit

Vinicius Amano









There will always be something, and someone to acknowledge. First and foremost, I need to give thanks to my Creator who consistently blesses me and who I have some of the healthiest conversations with. I’m coming into my own a little bit more each and every day and I am immensely thankful.

I’m always humbled when I pull another publication off. So, can I share? Okay, here goes. I’m still at the point where I get teary-eyed when I hit the publish button—as well as when I’m writing this section—which by the way, comes easier to me than writing the story, or the synopsis.

Most won’t understand the emotions around this because they don’t know me or my struggle with believing in myself and how far I’ve come to finally get to that point. I’ve always known who and what I could be to everybody else, but whenever it came time to be that to me . . . for me, I’ve struggled. To be able to finally leave the fear behind, be confident, and get my butt in gear for something that will make me proud of myself means the entire world to me. I’m holding on tight. I am at the point where I can say, “You got this, girl!” and mean it with everything in me.


Special Thanks:


I’m thankful to the readers who clicked the Subscribe button to join my mailing list for this free eBook. I hope that you enjoy Rendezvous, and that after reading it, you’ll want to discover other works written by me. Since the book isn’t on Amazon, thus you’ll be unable to leave a review, please feel free to reach out to me to let me know your thoughts. I love hearing from readers!

Again, I thank you for your interest.







I’ve loved limousine rides since my very first one—prom night, ten years ago. There’s just something so leisurely about being able to relax, be hands-free, and let another individual drive to said destination. It removes all pressures of the road. This morning’s limo ride to San Francisco International Airport is pleasantly erotic. I’m definitely relaxed. My hands are free . . . free to clutch the leather above my head as I receive the ride of champions from my sometime live-in lover, Robert. Always the pleaser, he certainly has consistency—and girth, might I add—on his side. I’m thanking the gods for Bay Bridge traffic right now! Normally, I’m cursing the road minions who seem to think cruise control and the all too frequent use of brake lights is the way to drive. Today, however, there are no complaints from me. As Charlie Sheen says, “Winning!” With his stellar performance, Robert might just get a frequent thought as I play the nights away in Rio de Janeiro and Bahia. We’ll see.

When Robert and I met, some three years ago, I told him that one of my fantasies was to get fucked in a moving object . . . airplane, car, train . . . as long as it was in transit. He obliged me on our first date night, and more than a few limousine and Amtrak rides in between.  I can give credit where it’s due, and I can without a doubt, say that the man gives a whole new meaning to riding in style. Robert is a skilled and thoughtful lover; there is no denying that fact. If for no other reason, it is the one I keep him around for. Shit, don’t judge me, good sex is extremely difficult to find!

The grand finale is a forceful thrust that pins my clitoris firmly beneath its hood and sends me shivering, and weak-limbed. As the pleasure fills me, I can only think of how there’s no better preparation for a long flight than multiple orgasms; they make for instant relaxation. Robert slowly retreats, all the while planting lingering kisses in several places along my face, and neck. I know what he’s doing. He’s trying to create memories. I’m onto him. He’s always his most passionate before I embark on one of my trips. I noticed the pattern long ago.

“Thank you, Play Date.” Play Date is my pet name for him. “That was so wonderful. You make such magic, baby.”

“And you make it easy,” he responds, while removing his condom and disposing of it in a small plastic bag. He breathes a heavy, satisfied sigh while readjusting his pants. “Being parked inside your cul-de-sac is nothing short of sensational. I love fucking you.”

And there it is—mood assassination.

Way to go, Robert. Way to go.

Moments later we pull into a curbside parking space behind a procession of cars. As I’m fixing my clothes and re-applying my lip gloss, Rasheed, our driver, emerges and opens the door to allow me out; a shrewd look rests upon his face. We exchange knowing smiles, and all I can do is nod my head. Rasheed is no dummy. He’s chauffeured us on countless trips since the inception of our relationship. So, even with the music turned up, and the privacy glass secured in place, I don’t doubt for one second that he knows what happens in that backseat.

Rasheed extends his hand to me so that he can assist me with stepping out of the car. I step onto the sidewalk and then turn to Robert and blow him a kiss. “Miss you already, baby,” I tell him as I excitedly make my way toward an awaiting paradise—Paraiso Belo. It’s a place that’s forever engrained in my memory. I had no idea that places of that nature, and so exotic, even existed. I was in awe. I’m still in awe and this trip marks my sixth year returning, and I love it!



Robert ponders when he’s alone in the car. He knows it’s just wishful thinking that Gabriella will give him a second thought once she’s walked through the sliding glass doors. She can’t possibly miss him going away to an exotic land that millions flock to at this time every year. It’s the place that some only dream of, but only ever see on television or read about in magazines. They say the women are beautiful, but he’s heard that the men aren’t too bad either. Not that he swings that way, but it’s a known fact that there’s nothing but eye candy everywhere you look. He sighs aloud and thinks back to her last words: Miss you already, baby, was what Gabriella had told him as she exited the car.

Yeah, right,” he says aloud. “I call bullshit.”

Actions speak much louder than words and where her visits to Brazil are concerned, her actions have always said the direct opposite—that she doesn’t miss him at all. She never even calls when she leaves. He’s only ever able to reach her via email, and even then, she barely responds. She always cites that it’s because her time with the girls always causes her to lose track of time. She’s said that by the time she thinks to check email, she’s way too exhausted to log on, let alone read anything on a computer screen. He suspects there’s more to the across-the-world travels, but never questions it because it was a tradition in place long before he came into the picture. He knows enough about Gabriella to know that she’s fiercely independent and inquiring about the status, or the nature of her trips, might shut her down and send her away from him permanently. So, he leaves it alone. Besides, sooner or later everything comes to the light; and if there is anything for him to know, it will reveal itself in due time. For now, the fact that she returns to him, is enough.



A New York layover, and many hours later, sheer excitement sets in when the blonde-haired flight attendant announces over the intercom that we’re descending over Rio.

Thank you for flying United Airlines. Welcome to Brazil, we hope you enjoyed your flight. The weather is beautiful and Carnival is in full swing! As you can imagine there will be lots of activity so be safe and enjoy. We hope to see you again soon!”

There are two people I can’t wait to see: Valentina, my mentor, and Natalia, my best friend since childhood. The two of them have been such an integral part of my life over the years, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. It was through Natalia, that I came to know Valentina. And Natalia, I met when my family and I used to make our annual trips to Brazil for Carnival. Natalia and I became quick friends, keeping in touch regularly, even when I would return to the States. Our phone bills used to be insane! I was even placed on punishment a few times because I didn’t heed the warning my parents issued after having to pay hundreds of dollars for the bills! Now, however, with new technology—Facebook, Skype, and good ol’ text messaging, it’s like we never part.

When my family traded vacations in Brazil for retirement and a new home in Montclair, I was devastated because I thought that my visits to see Natalia would come to an end, but my father arranged it so that I could still travel to Brazil as a guest in the home of Natalia and her family. It was the perfect experience for a girl just getting to know the world on her own.

I’ll never forget my first solo trip. It was after my stupid boyfriend decided that he was going to break up with me before he left for a full football scholarship. I was devastated. But my parents gifted me with an impromptu visit where I could heal my heart. It was on that trip that Natalia confided in me that she was working for a woman by the name of Valentina. She then extended me an offer to accompany her to her place of employment . . . a place called Paraíso Belo. Before she spilled the tea about what this place was, I remember Natalia smiling big before telling me, “Manter uma mente aberta, Gabriella.” Meaning, “. . . keep an open mind, Gabriella.” I didn’t know what to expect, but I heard her out and was mesmerized as she laid out the details of her ‘other’, shall we say, secret, life. It was an extravagant description of beautiful men, beautiful women, and an unsupervised playground. Just the parts that she told me had my interest piqued and I couldn’t wait to see this Paraíso Belo.



Paraíso Belo (Beautiful Paradise) is a spectacular resort situated near the coast of Bahia. It goes unnoticed from a street perspective to maintain privacy, and exclusivity. Since it’s Carnival season, and the busiest time of year for the resort, activity is in full swing.

Pulling up to the grounds, guests are immediately greeted by six feet six-inches, two hundred and fifty pounds of masculinity who we affectionately call, ‘Paulo the Man’. Once Paulo authorizes entry, several yards ahead awaits a fifteen-stair entrance to the handsomely staffed concierge standing by to cater to the needs of the arriving guests. Paraíso Belo boasts three floors of beautifully structured architecture; with twenty-five suites, spanning across several acres of land. There is an endless lap pool, and an 18-hole golf course, with all the amenities of the office for the man that simply can’t leave the hustle behind. Panoramic views and a plethora of other amenities greet its visitors. The resort also features an open area of interconnected networks that includes a horizontal pergola. It is truly a unique structure, and I would go so far as to say that it is, one of a kind. Thirteen months, a lot of thought and detail, had gone into the construction, and design of this palace.

On the inside, there’s a restaurant that serves cuisine from around the world, an indoor swimming pool with sauna, and suites beautifully designed to keep you in—if you want to stay in—which most guests usually do. All that anyone could need is onsite. If that was the sole intent when the resort was built . . . many can attest to the fact that the mission was fully accomplished.  



Immediately upon my arrival, I meet Valentina and Natalia near the pool for a light lunch where we catch each other up on the goings on in our lives. It’s been a year since I last saw them, and while we’re mostly caught up with current and personal affairs, there is never a shortage of girl talk when we come together. We go over it all: Has Robert become suspicious yet? Do I plan to settle down with him? Do I ever feel guilty about lying to him when I come here? As always, I respond with a solid “No” to each inquiry. If Robert is suspicious, he’s never said anything to me. As far as settling down with him, it’s not something that I’m interested in yet – if at all. And feeling guilty? Absolutely not. As far as I’m concerned, Robert should be happy that I have this outlet because without it, he may not have lasted as long as he has. With everything that I have going on in my regular life with my businesses, trying to maintain a relationship and whatever else in between, this trip provides just the break I need.

When I get with the girls, conversation includes talk about Natalia’s dreams of finding the perfect American to take her back home with him and Put a Ring on It. She is the ultimate, hopeless romantic if ever there was one, and I must admit that I’m surprised it hasn’t happened for her yet. The girl is beautiful with striking red hair that sits mid-back, a fair complexion surrounded by mesmerizing green eyes, and a nice svelte figure to complete the package. 

“Your time is coming,” Valentina assures her. “Once you stop looking, he’s sure to find you. When you go looking, unfortunately, all you will ever find is trouble. That’s something none of us needs.”

“I wouldn’t say I’m looking, necessarily—”

Sure you are,” I interject, before we all fall into laughter.

“Excited about tonight?” Valentina asks, shifting topics.

“I’m ecstatic…but then again, I always am,” I tell her.

“Yeah, what she said,” Natalia responds, smiling.

“Well, I think both of you will be satisfied with what I have for you.”

Natalia and I exchange wide-eyed looks, and almost simultaneously, we sing in unison, “When aren’t we satisfied?” Laughter once again erupts. There are a whole lot of silly school girl moments when the three of us come together.

“I can’t speak for Gabriella, but I stopped questioning a long time ago, Valentina. I already know that you’ve got my back. My front and my back,” Natalia says, playfully batting her eyelashes, and smacking her lips.

Valentina playfully wags her finger at Natalia. “You are sooo bad!”

“I know! And I’m so not ashamed,” she confessed.

After about an hour, our chit chat dies down. With promises to catch up again later, we finish our meals, and head off separately, to get dressed for tonight’s reception.



Back in my suite, first line of business was to email Mr. and Mrs. Sandoval, my parents, to let them know that I’d arrived safely. It doesn’t matter how old I get, those two will always be protective of their only child, and I love them for it. After sending that message, I scan the ones in the inbox to see which I’ll address, and of course there’s one from Robert right at the top:


Hey Gabby,

I just finished jacking off thinking about you…


First of all, I hate when he calls me Gabby. Hate it! Second of all . . . what the hell?! Who does that?! Does he think that’s a turn on? Clearly, he does, and I more probably have myself to blame. I’ve told him in the past that he needed to be more vocal sexually, and he’s just taken that to a whole other level. This shit, is not sexy. Repeat. Is not sexy. His message continues:


…and that ride to the airport. I miss you and can’t wait to see you in two weeks…


Okay, he’s somewhat redeeming himself here, but geez! Even as explosive as our sex is, a girl likes to be sweet-talked. At least this girl does—some of the time, anyway.


…I was thinking that if you’re up to it when you get home, we can drive up to Monterey for the weekend. I don’t know how cold it will be, but there’s plenty to do indoors, if you know what I mean. Lol.

When you get a moment, let me know you made it safe, and how that trip down the coast sounds to you.


After replying with a simple one-liner: “Made it. Monterey sounds wonderful. Thanks for checking in, Play Date”, and logging out, I head to the closet to take the royal blue, one-shoulder, jumpsuit out of the closet. I laid it across the bed to stare in amazement. When I saw the outfit in that cute little boutique in San Francisco, I knew immediately that I had to have it for this trip. And especially after trying it on and seeing just how the color not only complimented my own light-brown hue, but how immaculately the material wrapped around my curves, it was a sure-buy. The platinum link drop earrings, with the matching bangle bracelet that I lay next to the outfit, is striking. “Showtime,” I say to myself, as I go to grab the red stilettos that will complete the ensemble.


“Good evening, Gentlemen. I hope you’re feeling good tonight, that you had nice, comfortable, flights in, and have settled comfortably into your quarters. I don’t plan to keep you long. I’m sure you’re eager to begin interacting and relaxing. I wanted to officially welcome you to Paraíso Belo. I’ve spoken to you over the past few months, as we laid out logistics for your stay, so it is very exciting to finally meet you in person.”


“As I’m sure you know, my name is Valentina, and I am the executive hostess. I am so very pleased that you chose to visit. You are here because you came highly recommended, and with top-notch references. We are a professional establishment and stick firmly to a confidentiality clause that one-hundred percent ensures your privacy. If you feel at any point that your privacy has been compromised, please do not hesitate to contact me directly.” 


“Our goal is for you to have a memorable—if not the most memorable time of your life while you’re here. No matter what ranking we receive from you . . .” she says, with a dazzling smile. “What is guaranteed is that you will be thoroughly satisfied at the end. I know that you could have chosen to relax anywhere in the world, and you chose us. We appreciate you!”


“I don’t know how many of you have been to Brazil for Carnival before now, but there are many festivities that happen over the course of the next two weeks. You are free to request transportation to any of those activities—some of which a few of the ladies participate in. You are also welcome to remain indoors with your hostess and enjoy all that we have to offer inside,” she says, clearing her throat for emphasis. “I’m sure you don’t need to be coerced into taking me up on that offer, now do you?”


When Valentina is done with her welcoming speech, a loud round of applause and whistles fill the room.



I love Valentina. She is the epitome of a sophisticated woman that has it all together. With her fitted red evening dress, flawless jet-black chignon, nicely pulled back from her evenly golden-toned face, diamonds adorning her wrists, neck and ears, she looks every bit of the millionairess that she is.

Graceful. Elegant. Beautiful.

At forty-one, Valentina has a life that dreams are made of: a beautiful Brasileira born to an Architect father, and a mother who was an educator. When her father moved to America to partner with a friend in an architectural firm, her mother accompanied him. However, since she was eighteen and old enough to be on her own, Valentina made the decision to remain in the only home she’d ever known. Just one day after her twentieth birthday she met Dionisio, a businessman twenty-nine years her senior, as she walked out of a café. Dressed casually in a white cotton shirt and khakis, Valentina said that he had the most beautiful mane of wavy hair sitting atop his head. She said he looked much younger than his forty-nine years. She was even more impressed when he showed off his bilingual skills by addressing her in Portuguese and English, saying, “Bom dia, Bella. Of course, not right this moment, but in the very near future, I could see you as my wife.”  The rest was history. He turned out to be the love of her life.

Of course, her parents weren’t pleased. After all, Dionisio, at forty-nine years old, was only two years younger than Valentina’s own father. Valentina was unfazed by her parent’s disapproval. She felt that hers and Dionisio’s love couldn’t be denied, nor matched. They were fated.

Paraíso Belo was the brainchild of both Valentina and Dionisio. They realized one day while awaiting Dionisio’s flight for yet another business trip, that it would be nice for businessmen to have a place to go in between major deals, mergers, and acquisitions, to clear their heads—away from the hustle and bustle of real life. Paraíso Belo was born of that idea, and as a result, Valentina’s first clientele consisted of an array of Dionisio’s colleagues from around the world.

After Dionisio passed away, Valentina took a new business partner in his best friend, Alexio, who’d promised Dionisio that he would be around to look after her. By all accounts, he kept true to his word. In all my interactions with the two of them together, it’s very easy to see that Alexio loves Valentina. It’s just that her loyalty to Dionisio keeps her from surrendering to the temptation. I don’t want to pry because as close as we are, she is very tightlipped about her love life.

No intrusion from me, I will just stay in a friend’s place and support her on living life the way she sees fit.



When the introduction concludes, following tradition, Valentina invites questions from her guests. We all look around and I chuckle lightly at the silence around the room. The vets know the spiel and for the most part just showed up as a formality and to show their respects for the place that is so good at catering to their needs. The newcomers are more than likely too preoccupied with seeing just how fast their dicks can get wet, to care about engaging in a Q&A session.

“Well then . . .” Valentina concludes, “. . . since there are no questions, without further ado, I introduce to you the beautiful hostesses: Gabriella, Lili, Natalia, Valéria, Eva, and Bella. They’re a triple threat of beauty, brains, and talent, and each is ready to meet all your needs!”

Lili and Valéria, identical twins from Miami met Valentina as she vacationed on their turf one year. Both were aspiring models with a couple of Latina magazine covers and a few rap videos to their credit. They had always dreamed of travelling to Brazil. They were all too happy when Valentina proposed that they move to Brazil—all expenses paid. They are a part of the few who work at the resort all year around. Eva, and Bella, best friends from Rio, had done a few of the circuits around Säo Paolo entertaining foreign visitors, and Natalia was recruited directly from Carnival. Anyone looking at the present roster of beauties can see that Valentina selects with much care.

Valentina smiled at all of us standing near her on the stage. “Ladies, please step forward and claim your men!” 

We all casually leave the stage and join everyone on the floor. Each of our names is placed next to our guest’s names on a placard at designated booths. Each booth has been set up with candles, the lights are dim, and soft jazz is playing through a state-of-the-art sound system, poised throughout the lounge area. As I move toward the table with my name on it, and where my guest is awaiting my arrival, I slow my tracks.

Pace yourself, Gabriella.

He’s standing next to the table, holding a single white rose in his hand. The closer I get to him, the faster my heart pounds. Of course, it’s nerves. After all this time, I still get nervy about it all. This time is no different. I don’t know about the other girls, but for me, there’s always a little bit of anxiety with a new man, because although Valentina has screened them, they’re still new—to me. All while this one is new to me, he’s gorgeous: 6 foot-something. Fair-skinned. Athletic build. Beautiful. Just my type. The one desire with these encounters is for the individual to be someone you wouldn’t mind spending time with. Someone you wouldn’t mind waking up next to. Someone easy on the eyes. In short, you basically wish to have someone who is nicely packaged. From what I can see, this man is definitely that. I’m taking him in and so far, I like.

My mind starts to relax, but speeds up at the same time. Freaky thoughts are circulating and the reaction is full body, from my head to my core and below. I’m feeling a strong sexual attraction to this man already. Every step toward him is putting me in a place of wanting to ditch the formalities and jump right into the good stuff. It’s when I get close enough for our eyes to meet that alarm bells begin to sound off.

Oh no! Oh shit!

An alarm is sounding loudly. This isn’t happening, I try to convince myself. But it is happening. There’s no mistaking it. He takes a few steps in my direction to meet me half way, and my heart is pounding out of my chest, and pushing out rushed breaths with it that I can’t contain. I’m trying to keep it together and keep a tight leash on my composure because it’s coming apart at the seams and threatening to expose my sudden burst of fear.

What do I do?

The smile greets me. Instinctively, I search for signs of a bulge pressed against the front of his slacks, and it’s definitely there. Just the way I remember. Chills spread through my body. The familiarity of it…of him. I’m begging silently that my legs don’t give, that I’m not transparent. Please!

He’s looking right into my eyes, and the beautiful white rose is planted firmly in his hand. He leans forward for a light kiss on the cheek, and gifts me with the rose. I’m speechless.

What’s happening right now?

I casually glance around for Valentina because surely there’s an explanation. Or perhaps Ashton Kutcher is going to come running from the kitchen telling me I’ve been Punked!

I reciprocate the smile he is wearing, giving him one of my own. Seconds later, I manage to open my mouth to speak, unsure of how I even sound. “Thank you for the rose, it’s very pretty,” I say accepting the very kind gesture. “Thoughtful.”

The moment is awkward. At least for me it is. But I keep the smile in place. It’s mandatory that I do that. He gestures for me to take a seat in the booth before following my lead and taking the spot directly across from me. I nervously pull the rose close to the edge of my nose to indulge in its sweet scent before placing it on the tabletop. Afterwards I quickly remove my hands from view so that I can be free to fidget with the bracelet around my left wrist. It’s my security blanket right now. I’m in no position to let him see just how uncomfortable this is for me—especially since he is clearly unperturbed.

Breathe Gabriella, breathe.

“Valentina told me that I would be extremely pleased with the woman she chose for me and she couldn’t have been more correct.” He pauses for more than a few moments. “You are everything I remember,” he says. “And a little bit more.”

So, he remembers…

Relax, Gabriella.

Our mutual silence has managed to eclipse the moment. He’s looking right through me. While I’m praying that I’m not transparent, everything inside is screaming to me that I am and that he can see all the emotions I’m trying to hide. Or maybe it’s me who’s trying to gauge what he is thinking . . . what he is feeling. I just don’t know. What I do know is that a drink is in order. Something straight, perhaps. No fruity shit today. My mind is in overdrive trying to make sense of this encounter, and why of all the places in the world that we could’ve run into each other, that it would be here, with him. Baffling, is an understatement.

Whatever the case, he’s now my client, and I need to kick into gear and out of awkward silence. Business is business. More importantly, it’s Valentina’s business, and I can’t jeopardize that. Suddenly, as if she sensed my thoughts, Valentina arrives at our table. Excitement and pride is all over her face. She loves what she does and I don’t blame her. People are happy, business is thriving. A successful entrepreneur can’t ask for much more than that.

She looks from me to my guest, and with a smile, she greets him. “Hello, Mr. Augustine—”

He interrupts her midsentence. “Please, Valentina. I’m crashing your party . . . Ken is fine. Besides, I think you know enough about my life, my business, to earn an honorary pass to first name basis.”

We can’t help laughing. It’s a fact. She does dig deep into their lives.

“You have a point, Ken. It’s so nice to meet you in person. Welcome to your first visit to Paraíso Belo. Thank you for joining us this year. So glad you came.” She gives me a look that lets me know she’s aware something is pending. “You two look stunning together. It looks like a good match of beauty here, that’s for sure.”

“I couldn’t agree with you more, Valentina,” he replies. “You said you’d make a choice I would be sure to love, and I must say . . . you were absolutely correct.” He then turns to me, and with emphasis, he repeats, “absolutely correct.”

Valentina nods, and extends well wishes for the evening, blows me an air kiss, and quickly departs.  




After taking a sip of my Apple Martini, I can no longer wait. I have to ask the question. I am tired of my stomach rumbling and thoughts scattering around in my head. It’s way too much to bear. I came to enjoy Brazil and to relax, and the stress of the current situation is getting in the way of that.

“So, Ken . . . you know I have to ask, right?”

“Ask away,” he says, casually.

“Why didn’t you mention to Valentina that we know each other?”

I pose the question to him under the assumption, and with much hope, that Valentina doesn’t already know. I would like to think that it isn’t something that she would deliberately partake in, and keep from me. 

He bit down on the corner of his lip as if pondering his response. “Why didn’t you, Gabriella?” he posed. “You could have done the same. Yet, you didn’t,” he retorts, with a slight chuckle. “It’s probably best that we make this moment, its own moment. Agreed?”

I don’t know exactly how to react to his response, and admittedly it stings a bit and comes off slightly condescending, but I decide to let it go. This is neither the time nor the place for a full-fledged conversation about us—and who knows, it probably never will be.

“You’re right,” I reluctantly agree. I figure if that’s how he wants to proceed, who am I to interfere? Let the past be the past and move forward. Clearly, he has…

“Can I just say that you’re breathtaking?”

I break my own tension with a smile. “Of course, you can, Ken. Thank you. You are something like breathtaking yourself.”

“You still have the most beautiful brown skin I’ve ever laid eyes on. And I see you’ve straightened your hair. I love the cut,” he compliments. “When did you start wearing your hair short? Got the whole Halle Berry thing going on, huh? It’s sexy. It fits. It puts a lot of emphasis on your high cheekbones, as well as those big pretty eyes of yours.”

I’m enjoying the attention…his attention. He’s actually got me blushing with all the compliments. As good as it feels, I can’t help but feel a certain level of sadness that he prefers to not discuss any part of the past that we share. It’s weird that he can be so candid in one area of our interaction and so closed off in the other. I’m cursing myself on the inside because while I’m reveling in it all, I’d be telling a bold-faced lie if I said that it wasn’t getting under my skin.

With a whole lot of effort, I break away from my own inner thoughts long enough to re-shift my attention to the present. The past needs to stay where it is and it’s probably best that I leave well enough alone. What hadn’t occurred to me was that Ken might’ve already passed judgment on me. That might be the reason that he’s chosen not to explore. The fact that he hasn’t made a single inquiry as to what I’m doing here . . . in a place like this . . . yeah, that’s probably exactly it.

Oh my God! I hadn’t even thought of that! I wonder if he thinks of me as a whore!

I mean, even if he does, he had to pay a very pretty penny to be here, so clearly not a cheap one if I am. I’m in my own head right now fighting desperately to silence the voices, but unable to do so. I’m starting to believe that partnering with him may not be such a good idea.

Stop, Gabriella! Regroup! I silently urge myself.

“Gabriella . . . did you hear me?” he asks, breaking into my inner dialog.

“I did, Ken. The cut! I’m so sorry. Thank you,” I say, playfully turning my head side to side to offer up a full view. “I’ve been wearing my hair short for about two years now. It’s easy-breezy, just the way I need it to be. On the go too much to have to deal with the task that long hair brings. I can run my fingers through it and be on my way.”

He circles the brim of his Caipirinha-filled glass. “Is this at all awkward for you?” he asks. “You seem distracted and a little on edge.”

Finally, an acknowledgement!

“Not really,” I lie. “Is it for you?”

“No. I’m too busy being pleasantly surprised,” he offers with a smile. “I know I said to let this moment be its own . . .” he says delivering a momentary pause. “But I had to ask because I don’t want you uncomfortable.”

“No worries, Ken . . . at all. I’m not uncomfortable.” Another lie.

With my drinks finally taking effect, a welcomed state of relaxation begins overtake me. The shy walls are gone! Good ol’ alcohol to the rescue. It sure as hell took long enough. Looking over at him, I’m reminded of how proud I used to be as his plus one. He’s got something Taylor Kinney about him that makes him undeniably…irresistible. It’s the dirty blond hair, the perfect mustache, the build, and that tight-eyed look that Taylor has. Yes, they definitely have a slight resemblance. With the liquid courage having taken over, I’m finally able to look at him in the way that I’ve wanted to look at him and without fear. Now, I just want to show him how much I’ve matured from the seventeen-year-old girl he used to sex in the afternoons while our parents were at work . . . while we were supposed to be up to our ears in school work. My Delilah, to his Vanilla Cucumber . . . or “Q”, as I used to call it for short. We had absolutely no business having nicknames for our private parts as teenagers, but we did.

I reach across the table and circle the top of his hand with my forefinger. “Did you get all the way settled into your suite?” My nerves have completed dissipated and flirting comes easy. “I’m asking because I wanted to know if you’d like to show me around. Or, I could show you around my suite. We are right next to each other, you know? For ease of access.”

“Ease of access, huh?” he says, grinning. “Is that literally or figuratively?”



We can’t get back to Ken’s suite fast enough. Inside the elevator we kiss long, and passionate. My hands are on his face, his neck and combing through his hair; all while his hands freely explore my body. When we finally make it back to his suite, yet not quite through the door, we’re at each other hungrily, tongues intertwined, taking each other in. I can taste the lime on his breath—bitter, yet sweet. How we even make it inside escapes me. But as soon as we are, clothes are peeling off around us with such ease that it just heightens the sensuality of the moment. There are multiple forces at work here in this room . . . him, me, and both of our bodies screaming to become one. We are everywhere, yet together in our swift movements. Offbeat, yet in sync as we navigate our way around familiar, yet matured territory. Lust is in the air, grabbing feverishly onto what once was.

Pressed firmly against the now closed door, I can feel his manhood nestled against my newly-waxed mound. It’s pulsating against me—active, and warm. The more he leans his body into mine, juices are summoned, and beginning a slow escape down my inner thigh. Breathing is heavy, anxious. He teases at my entrance before sending digits past the wetness. He begins a paced stroke causing my petals to throb beneath his sensual assault. He lifts me with such ease I almost don’t feel my feet leave the carpet. My legs snake around his waist, as he carries me to the bed. The anticipation is peaked. Our kissing is frenzied, our tongues refusing to part ways. I’m ready, and so is he. “I want him . . .” I whisper into his mouth. “I want him . . . now.” As my back touches the soft sheets below, Ken pulls back slightly, eagerly grabs his cock in one hand and guides him to the territory it once called home.

There will neverever…be a feeling as erotic and as sensual as that initial penetration. It’s the most enticing feeling, ever. A deep sigh escapes my lips as the intensity of all that we’ve become in this moment, engulfs me. I can’t help it. I don’t want to help it. No reason to hold back from something that feels so good . . . that feels so right. It’s as though Kenny never left. With every stroke, the memories come flooding back, and with them a single tear escapes and runs down the side of my face.

His hands touch my body with experienced navigation. Our bodies are now moving in sync, to the same rhythm. As more tears try to appear, I close my eyes as to experience the ecstasy in its entirety. From my head to my fingertips, to the heels of my feet, I can feel this man’s entire essence . . . and it’s beautiful . . . purposeful.

Prolonging the inevitable is an impossibility. My body wants to surrender. My nipples have become so erect, they’re almost painful, my nether regions have begun to contract and my legs have weakened. All signs are there for a potent orgasm, but it’s me . . . the individual . . . who isn’t ready, who doesn’t want it to conclude. But, shit! Before I know it or can fight it any longer, my walls begin to contract uncontrollable around his cock. Whether I want to or not, the time is near. Pulling my knees closer, I reach around to palm his ass to not only pull him deeper inside, but in an effort to secure myself in place.

Ken’s jerking form alerts me of the impending explosion, and as his arrives, so does mine. Sensational is the best way to describe what we’ve just shared. Our breathing is heavy—my labored pants invading his ear, and his spreading warmth across my shoulder blade. I’m holding him tightly, not wanting to let go. It feels too good wrapped around him to let the time end—even knowing we still have plenty of time—it’s this moment I’m connected to.

We lay in silence for more than a few long moments. Neither of us speaking a single word, as our labored breaths slowly regulate to a steady pace. The longer we lay there, the more I start to wonder what thoughts have taken up residence in his mind because I notice that he’s grown way too quiet. I can feel his heart’s patter against my chest, but that not a single word has come from him. So, while my mind is on how amazing it feels to be back in his company, it seems that his has wandered elsewhere and it has me nervous as hell.

He plants an informal peck onto my cheek, and then rolls over alongside me. I feel immediate emptiness when we separate, but I’m unable to react in the way that I really want to. Once on his back, Ken folds his arms behind his head and stares upward. While he’s in deep thought, my eyes instinctively travel down low to the area that recently gave me so much joy. I can’t stop looking at its beauty as it glistens against the moonlight that’s now peeking through the balcony.

The room is eerily silent. You would never know that just minutes before we were grinding like our lives depended on it, and howling like wolves in the wild. It’s as though he’s having a telepathic conversation with the ceiling. I don’t get it. How do you go from hot, passionate, sex…to deep thought? When I can no longer take the agony, I burst into his thoughts. “Ken, Is everything okay?” I ask turning to face him.

When he doesn’t offer a response, I’m even more taken aback, bordering on pissed. After waiting a few seconds to see if he is going to answer, I decide that I won’t force one from him.

Taking his silence, and lack of response as a hint for me to exit stage left, I lift up and, placing my legs over the side of the bed, I begin scanning the room for my clothes. The more I move around the more my emotions begin to evolve from anger to sad. And the moment that sadness enters my realm, I feel the need to escape before he catches on. I can’t allow vulnerability to be a part of this—not again. Especially now. Fuck no!

Suddenly, I’m startled when I feel Ken’s hand on my waist. He slowly moves his finger up and down my back and as much as I don’t want to be affected, his touch sends chills up my spine . . . and beyond.

“You leaving, Gabriella?”

Is he serious right now?

“I hope not because I was hoping you’d spend the night with me.”

I jerked my head around to face him. “Huh? You went missing on me, Ken. I took that as you being…uh…for lack of a better word…done with me for the night.”

He releases a light chuckle. “Yeah, right!” he exclaims, pulling me to him. “That is far from the case. Don’t take that personal. Me drifting off, I mean. I’m sorry. I was just kinda having a moment.”

Having a moment?’ I wonder what the hell that’s about. You just got grade-A pussy! What the fuck is the moment about? Another woman? Because that shit wouldn’t sit well with me at all. I don’t want to care, but let’s face it, what girl isn’t going to be shaken—even if just a little bit—if a man makes love to her and drifts the hell off shortly after?

“Nothing for you to worry about,” he offers. “I’m good. I’d be way better if you’d lay back down with me. Come back to bed, please,” he pleaded, still trying to lure me toward him.

This man has me feeling all kinds of bipolar! I have no idea how to be with him. I want to be pissed, but I can’t. I want to ask questions, but I’m afraid. I turn on the charm and get into mode.

“I like a man begging,” I tease. “There’s something kinda hot about it.”

“I’m hot…for you,” he says, causing me to flash him a forgiving smile.

Sooo, then you’re not done with me, Sir?”

Exposing those trademark dimples, he responds, “Nuh uh. Just trying to catch my breath, that’s all. “Need to get a second wind to handle you, young lady.”

“Oh well,” I said, smiling even wider. “Glad to hear it. I’ll admit; you had me worried for a bit there. I was thinking I might have to meet with Valentina about switching out a couple of ‘dates’ so you could be freed up for another girl.” I snuggle against the comfort of his chest. “You do know that at some point I do have to grab some overnight stuff from my suite, right?”

“You’ve become quite the comedian over the years,” he chuckles. “First of all, there will be no switching of dates. We got us a contract,” he says jokingly. “Second of all…what stuff? All the stuff you need is right here in this bed with me.” 

I look down at his impressive package. “Damn. You’re right…that is all I need.”

“I’m so happy we agree,” he responds. “Now get as close as you can to me,” he says, pulling me into an even tighter embrace.

“Oh yeah, mister, there’s also that thing called eating that we need to do in the very near future. I’ve managed to work up an appetite. And you gotta feed a girl. You can’t just take her to bed and leave her famished.”

“You’re absolutely right,” he says slyly. “Eating is a must…”

A short time later, and with my clitoris securely nestled between his lips, being licked and suckled like the last skittle in the candy jar, I’m blessed with yet another supergasm. I swear, it’s just the gift that keeps on giving. Amazing.



Ohhh…the memories. Sexcapades. This whole scene is reminiscent of our teenage years. There were many days we skipped classes to sex into the afternoon hours. We were two hyper-sexual youngsters exploring love and lust, and enjoying every single moment of it. We were so into each other that our parents were concerned that we had become too codependent. But it was just that from the time that we met, our connection was so potent.

I had returned from Brazil one fateful spring, a deflowered 16-year-old girl, and I wanted to conquer the world. I wanted a world that included more lessons in the language of penis. Along came Ken invoking feelings I had never experienced before—not even with the person that was my first. It was a whirlwind, young love; one I was naïve enough to believe was also a forever love. When the two of us were a couple, you never saw one of us without the other.

My parents, of course, didn’t like the idea. They thought we were way too young to be so involved. Ken’s parents shared that sentiment. The only difference was that my parents were slightly more reasonable when they saw that I not only cared for Ken, but that I still managed to maintain high grades, so they loosened up. His parents on the other hand, regarded me as a major interference in any successful future their son might have. They had their own plans for him—plans that didn’t include me. In fact, if I’m absolutely sure that if his mother had even an inkling that he was here in bed with me, she would whip her broom out and be here in nanoseconds. Witch!

When Ken broke the news to me that he was leaving on a football scholarship to Miami, it was just after we’d made love, and without remorse. I suspected that he’d grown tired of what we shared. Perhaps it was too intense for nineteen-year-olds who had been in a committed relationship for three years. There was no, “I want you to come with me”, or, “I’ll miss you…we can make this work.” I was devastated. And I’m sure that word is greatly understated in my case.

Reluctantly, I followed Ken’s progress for a few years. I had to. I needed to see what he gave me up for . . . what he gave us up for. He’d gone on to play pro for a bit, had more than a few women, and finally a sidelining injury that propelled him in the direction of his own sports management firm. By all accounts, he’s very accomplished. Not too many can afford to luxuriate at Paraíso Belo; let alone know people in such high places to even be recommended for accommodations, so I guess his parents were about us. Maybe he was better off without me there to hold him back…



During a break at samba class, Natalia and I finally had a chance to catch up. We had both been so immersed in our guys that the time hadn’t presented itself. She told me about Ross, her Texas millionaire, and how she was falling for him. She also questioned me on whether she should surrender to the feelings, or accept it things for what they were—and a very expensive, emotionally detached encounter.

Questioning emotions happens all the time in this business. How can it not? You spend volumes of time with wealthy, attractive men in romantic settings, getting to know them in intimate ways—ways that they may not discuss with most. It makes catching a feeling for them as natural as breathing air.

So, even though I knew that it was much easier said than done, I told my best friend to, “Try removing the emotional attachment from all interactions and focus solely on the sex.” As soon as the words fell from my lips, it sounded like I was defying our relationship with by treating her to lies and advice that I wasn’t even following myself. And who knows, the advice might have been more for myself than it was for her considering my current predicament with Ken. I didn’t want to get hurt—again, and I definitely didn’t want Natalia hurt either.

“You know, sweetie . . .” I told her. “It’s because you want love that you might think you have feelings for him. So it might be hard for you to just leave it at sex, but I need you to. Because we don’t know what he has back home or what he’ll do or say if you do tell him. I’d say just go with the flow and if you pick up on a vibe from him, then maybe act on it. But don’t just offer up how you’re feeling. Okay?”

“Okay,” she’d said, with a light smack of her lips. I could tell that she was more or less dismissing me.

I pursed my lips and gave her a side eye. “Talia...”

“Yeah?” she asked looking down at her manicured set.

“Look at me,” I instructed her.

Natalia might think that Mr. Texas Millionaire is the Americano she’s wanted for so long but he’s more than likely just like all the others that come to the resort to partake in the lust of the unsupervised playground. He’ll set off after two weeks to return to the wife and babies after six-figure sex.

She stubbornly trains her eyes on me. “É tudo negócio,” I’d said to her. “Okay? Treat it as such, irmã.”

I know it’s just business, Gabriella…but it’s so hard,” she’d responded.

“Even harder is getting over a broken heart…just tread carefully, okay?”

“You’re right,” she had finally agreed in the end.



Back at the resort, some of the other couples are enjoying themselves near the pool. Music can be heard throughout and the whole ambiance reminds me of the times I visited Brazil as a kid and being mesmerized seeing the city that never goes to sleep. The same applies for Paraíso Belo. It’s so alive here…just like a Little Rio!

It doesn’t take me long to spot Valentina. She’s in the restaurant area having dinner with Alexio, the two of them looking extremely cozy and comfortable with one another. The scene brings a smile across my lips. Even from a distance you can see that their body language is complementary of each other. They want something that both are afraid to venture into. I just hope that one day Valentina gives into her happiness and at least sees where things can go because I think Alexio would be good for her.

She looks up from her conversation and takes a double take when she sees me. She raises her hand to wave and then blows me a kiss; I do the same and then I scurry off to my suite for a desperately needed hot shower after all the dancing we did in preparation for Carnival.



Fully refreshed, and much more relaxed, I’m now ready to continue on into the night, I head back down to the festivities. I look around and notice that Valentina and Alexio have abandoned their spot, but it doesn’t take me long to spy Ken in the bar area joking with Natalia and who I assume, is Ross. Just as Natalia is preparing to wave me over, I twitch my head left to right then put my finger to my lips to shush her. I sneak up on Ken from behind, wrap my arms around his waist and then plant an affectionate kiss on the back of his neck.

After my display of affection, I step from behind Ken to greet everyone. “Hey, y’all!” I exclaim excitedly. I go over to greet Natalia, kissing her on both cheeks.

“Hey irmã,” Natalia says. “This is Ross,” she smiles.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gabriella. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you as well, Ross. I’ve heard a lot about you,” I tease.

He chuckles lightly while placing his hand across Talia’s lower back and kissing her on the neck. I take my place next to Ken. “Hey baby…” I say to him, this time kissing him on his lips.  

“Hey, you,” he says, smiling. “You’ve been MIA today. Damn, Samba!” he says jokingly.

“Don’t be jealous of Samba,” I say, teasing him.

“Well, Samba was running interference,” he sulked. “Not cool.”

Awww…That’s so cute. I missed you too.”

“You did, huh?”

“I did.”

He leans in close and says so low, that only I can hear, “Looking really good in that dress. Trust and believe I’m already trying to figure out how I’m going to get it off around that perfect peach. As jealous as I am that Samba had you for most of today, it looks a lot like Samba does a body good.”

“Yeah . . . I can’t really complain. I do approve of what I saw in the mirror before I came to you.”

“Got me a curvalicious beauty with the nice big ol’ booty!” he blurts out, against a guffaw. I happen to catch glances from both Natalia and Ross. Natalia is smiling hard, while Ross is probably wondering what a white guy is doing using that slang! It’s hilarious, but I keep my chuckles to myself. “Not that it wasn’t always nice,” he continues, with a grin.

Natalia clears her throat, deliberately making a loud noise in the process. She tilts her head to the side and squints her eyes slightly, silently summoning me for answers. Immediately, I know what it is. Something has registered with her. I turn my gaze away from her trying my best to divert her attention elsewhere—and away from me.

But it doesn’t work. “Hold on,” she says, determined to get answers. “You two know each other?”


Ken and I trade quick glances with one another. I wanted to tell Talia earlier when we were together, but I didn’t because for one, she was enjoying the discussion about Ross and I didn’t want to interrupt any of what she was trying to tell me. And for two, I didn’t want to dredge up the past and telling the full story was exactly what it would’ve done. I wasn’t ready for that. Later when I do tell Natalia, she’s going to remember everything because she knows the whole story. She just doesn’t realize in this moment that it’s Ken that the story was about.

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