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After a traumatic breakup with her college sweetheart, Aria Davenport meets an older, more sexually experienced businessman who promises to change her life forever.
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Nine Weeks Ago
Friday
I wake up to an empty bed. Phoenix is up, bright and early as usual. I hear hushed tones, but I don't see anyone. I get up and follow the murmuring. It sounds soft and caring. It's Phoenix, on the phone out on the balcony.
Who does he keep talking to? A friend? Is it a woman?
It's none of your business. He's with you, so there's nothing to worry about.
Remember how Sebastian turned out.
Can't live in the past forever.
"No, Mom, I'm fine. You worry too much . . . ." Phoenix leans over the balcony railing.
See?
I shrug it off. Wearing his white tank top which fits like a short dress on me, I tiptoe to the shower, so I don't disturb him. The gigantic, square showerhead beads water down beautifully on my body. With the temperature as hot as I can stand it, I soak in a steady flow of steam and enjoy an intense, massaging waterfall, just for me. I find myself in deep relaxation, when Phoenix decides to join me. He enters the fogged-out glass shower and begins laying hands on my back. His fingers penetrate my tense muscles. I'm putty in his hands right now. Mold me!
The man has skills. This is something I can get into.
____________________
People watching on the street-facing side of the wrap-around balcony, is sort of like National Geographic for the concrete jungle. So much can be learned just by watching. The girls down there are wearing bikinis. In public. I've seen it on TV a trillion times, but never in real life, right before my eyes. They're dressed like that in stores, restaurants, boutiques, everywhere. Rarely am I seeing jeans. A few dresses and some shorts, but everyone's wearing mostly bathing suits and sandals. I'm feeling adventurous. It's time to get out of my comfort zone. As the saying goes, when in Rome . . . .
Mia, Penelope and I have a little pow-wow out on the main balcony.
"I say it's time to go shopping."
Penelope points to me. "She's right. How else can we look like we belong, if we don't shop at their stores? Mistake me for a South Beach hottie any day!"
"When you're right you right. We need to get that new-new, not these tired old bikinis we brought from Milwaukee." Mia flings her bikini top across the balcony.
"Cause I ain't trying to be out here looking all haggardly. No, Penelope don't do that. Ya girl gotta be crisp and clean. OK!"
"Then it's settled."
An hour later, I'm trying on an emerald green and white polka-dot bikini. The boutique sales girl says it looks amazing against my skin and with my hair curly, I remind her of her visits to Brazil, somehow. I'm sold on the fact that the bra, which is made of two tiny triangles of fabric on strings, makes my breasts look a full cup-size larger. My tan leather-and-cork sandals and an oversized tan hobo bag complete the look.
