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Authors: Wendy S. Hales
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poked Maggie in the arm. “Ready?”
Maggie smiled at Enrique. “Oh, hells
yeah.”
Chapter
Eight
“I’ll be right there. Thank you so
much.” John snapped his phone closed. Finding someone to follow
Gwen in Central America had been surprisingly easy. The GPS had told
him exactly which archaeology site she was at. When he’d flown
in a few days ago, he walked up to the first driver he saw with a
Jeep. Jorge had been sympathetic to John being abandoned by his wife.
Of course he knew the trails … sure he had a cousin who needed
to make a few bucks taking pictures. Very accommodating natives.
He’d shown Jorge a picture of Gwen with
Maggie in it. It was a stroke of luck that Jorge owned the off-road
truck rental business where Maggie got her Hummer.
He checked his reflection. “You need to
go, sweetheart. I have some business to handle.” Tan hands with
pink nail polish snaked up his chest from behind.
“I go with you?” The girl pouted
like the child she looked to be, though she’d told him she was
nineteen when he asked. The blossoming age between sixteen and twenty
had always been his weakness. The memory of Gwen at nineteen still
made his mouth water. John reached in his billfold and handed her two
hundred dollars. “I not … whore!” She crossed her
arms over her perky breasts.
John wrapped his arms around her stiff form. “I
know you’re not, sweetheart. I just thought you might want to
go shopping for a few hours while I get some business done.” He
placed a kiss to the top of her head and she instantly melted against
him. He racked his mind trying to remember her name. She took the
money and dressed, giving him smiles probably meant to be coy. He
hardened behind his zipper at the demonstration of naive sexuality.
The girl left with a promise to return the next
day. He just nodded, though by then John would have his insubordinate
wife to deal with. Maggie had pulled Gwen out of the jungle, giving
him the opportunity he needed.
Removing the black ball cap respectfully, John
stopped at the front desk of his hotel and asked them to move him to
a different floor and room. Of course they would see to moving his
bags and personal belongings. Of course they would upgrade him to a
full suite for no extra charge. Accommodating.
The taxi dropped him off in a dirty alley behind
the bar. The back door opened and Jorge stood smiling in a plume of
cigarette smoke. “Come, come. You’re wife just arrived,
señor.” John ducked in and Jorge led him to a line of
chairs set up behind the dark screen backdrop of the stage. A couple
of kitchen workers rose and wandered off when they approached.
“Why are we back here?” John felt
the need to whisper.
Jorge waved to a large man leaning against the
wall with his arms folded. Bouncer. Just like the US. “My
nephew owns this bar. I recommended it and made a reservation for the
Maggie girl. This is where employees can watch the shows without
bothering the patrons.”
The stage lights came on. The black draping
light from behind became nearly sheer from the backside answering
John’s question even if Jorge hadn’t. John’s eyes
were instantly drawn to the halo of white hair sitting front stage
center. Gwen and Maggie sat side by side. It was the two men on the
ends that had John sinking into one of the chairs. The seductive
mannerisms of Gwen and the muscle-head Indian when they drank. If she
hadn’t fucked him already, it would happen by the end of the
night. Unbelievable.
Jorge gave him a look of pity. “I’m
sorry, señor. This must be very difficult to see.” He
handed John an envelope. “These are from my cousin.”
“It’s not her fault. Her friend
leads her down the wrong path,” John assured Jorge … and
reminded himself. Of course, Maggie had just arrived, and Gwen seemed
too comfortable with the man to have just met him.
John flipped through the pictures as Maggie and
Gwen croned out a lame Dixie Chicks song. Most were images of
Maggie smiled at Enrique. “Oh, hells
yeah.”
Chapter
Eight
“I’ll be right there. Thank you so
much.” John snapped his phone closed. Finding someone to follow
Gwen in Central America had been surprisingly easy. The GPS had told
him exactly which archaeology site she was at. When he’d flown
in a few days ago, he walked up to the first driver he saw with a
Jeep. Jorge had been sympathetic to John being abandoned by his wife.
Of course he knew the trails … sure he had a cousin who needed
to make a few bucks taking pictures. Very accommodating natives.
He’d shown Jorge a picture of Gwen with
Maggie in it. It was a stroke of luck that Jorge owned the off-road
truck rental business where Maggie got her Hummer.
He checked his reflection. “You need to
go, sweetheart. I have some business to handle.” Tan hands with
pink nail polish snaked up his chest from behind.
“I go with you?” The girl pouted
like the child she looked to be, though she’d told him she was
nineteen when he asked. The blossoming age between sixteen and twenty
had always been his weakness. The memory of Gwen at nineteen still
made his mouth water. John reached in his billfold and handed her two
hundred dollars. “I not … whore!” She crossed her
arms over her perky breasts.
John wrapped his arms around her stiff form. “I
know you’re not, sweetheart. I just thought you might want to
go shopping for a few hours while I get some business done.” He
placed a kiss to the top of her head and she instantly melted against
him. He racked his mind trying to remember her name. She took the
money and dressed, giving him smiles probably meant to be coy. He
hardened behind his zipper at the demonstration of naive sexuality.
The girl left with a promise to return the next
day. He just nodded, though by then John would have his insubordinate
wife to deal with. Maggie had pulled Gwen out of the jungle, giving
him the opportunity he needed.
Removing the black ball cap respectfully, John
stopped at the front desk of his hotel and asked them to move him to
a different floor and room. Of course they would see to moving his
bags and personal belongings. Of course they would upgrade him to a
full suite for no extra charge. Accommodating.
The taxi dropped him off in a dirty alley behind
the bar. The back door opened and Jorge stood smiling in a plume of
cigarette smoke. “Come, come. You’re wife just arrived,
señor.” John ducked in and Jorge led him to a line of
chairs set up behind the dark screen backdrop of the stage. A couple
of kitchen workers rose and wandered off when they approached.
“Why are we back here?” John felt
the need to whisper.
Jorge waved to a large man leaning against the
wall with his arms folded. Bouncer. Just like the US. “My
nephew owns this bar. I recommended it and made a reservation for the
Maggie girl. This is where employees can watch the shows without
bothering the patrons.”
The stage lights came on. The black draping
light from behind became nearly sheer from the backside answering
John’s question even if Jorge hadn’t. John’s eyes
were instantly drawn to the halo of white hair sitting front stage
center. Gwen and Maggie sat side by side. It was the two men on the
ends that had John sinking into one of the chairs. The seductive
mannerisms of Gwen and the muscle-head Indian when they drank. If she
hadn’t fucked him already, it would happen by the end of the
night. Unbelievable.
Jorge gave him a look of pity. “I’m
sorry, señor. This must be very difficult to see.” He
handed John an envelope. “These are from my cousin.”
“It’s not her fault. Her friend
leads her down the wrong path,” John assured Jorge … and
reminded himself. Of course, Maggie had just arrived, and Gwen seemed
too comfortable with the man to have just met him.
John flipped through the pictures as Maggie and
Gwen croned out a lame Dixie Chicks song. Most were images of
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