I hate flying. Not because I'm fearful of a crash, but because I suffer every time with the annoying popping in my ears from the rapid changes in pressure, and I'm trapped inside the cabin with a mixed bag of humanity. Fortunately, most of that bag was seated behind me in coach, and I enjoyed the benefits of being able to afford first-class accommodations.
The handsome, young flight attendant offered me a cocktail, but I declined, wanting to be one hundred percent when my flight landed in Cancun. I did accept his offer of a diet Coke, however. His professional manner couldn't hide the fact that he was gay.
Daddy had emailed me yesterday, explaining that my two counterparts would arrive on different flights.
I took the time to check my co-workers' profile pages on the company website so I would at least recognize them. Jasmine, a stunning African American beauty, had gorgeous facial features and a killer body. She had short hair, which reminded me of Halle Berry's style. Jasmine could comb it straight and use the tips to frame her lovely face, add some styling gel, and give herself a wilder animalistic appearance. Her skin was similar in color to Halle's. Jasmine's flight was arriving 45 minutes before mine.
Tiffany, who wasn't scheduled to arrive until mid-afternoon, would best be described as a voluptuous redhead, her curly locks extending halfway down her back. She lacked the milky pale complexion often seen in true redheads, which led me to believe red was not her natural color. Judging from her photo spread, I had to assume she, too, had augmentation surgery. Both Tiffany and Jasmine were at least ten years younger than me.
Daddy was still not at liberty to divulge the names of our client's guests, so I had to wait to see how connected these three gentlemen were.
The direct flight to Cancun takes over four hours, so I had ample time to email Daddy a report on my appointment with Mr. Sebastian and update my journal entries with details of our time together. After finishing, I closed my laptop and stowed it in the overhead compartment, then sat down and reclined my seat. The steady drone of the jet engines soon lulled me to sleep.
"We'll be landing in thirty minutes; please bring your seat upright and fasten your safety belt," my gay attendant whispered in my ear, waking me from a restful nap.
I looked out the cabin window and saw nothing but blue water below and a few puffy, white clouds off in the distance. The captain came over the public address system and explained that weather conditions were perfect, with mid-day highs in the eighties and humidity along the coast that seemed lower than at home. The forecast for the next six days didn't call for any rain.
I smiled, figuring that most of my day would be spent on the beach, and I looked forward to coming home Monday with a great holiday tan.
The screech of rubber-striking concrete and a bumpy ride replaced the extremely smooth flight and signaled my arrival in Cancun.
I began to feel excited because of what I anticipated would be a wonderful three days in paradise. As the plane taxied toward the terminal, a flight attendant walked down the aisle, offering warm towels to each passenger in their section. I declined, knowing a moist towel would do little more than smear my make-up.
The plane glided to a stop, and nearly every passenger began retrieving their carry-on luggage from the overhead storage compartments. I remained seated, waiting for the mad rush of people wanting to get their Caribbean vacations started to exit through the first class section.
As the last of them exited the plane, I stood up and pulled my single carry-on out of the storage compartment above my seat. I had two pieces of luggage to gather at baggage claim, so my small carry-on was slung over my shoulder, and I walked off the plane all by myself.
The terminals at Cancun International Airport were small compared to the major airports in the States. I learned that Terminal One was closed for remodeling, so it seemed rather crowded as I exited the walkway from the gate where the plane had stopped.
I scanned the hundreds of faces, looking for a familiar one that matched Jasmine's profile photos I'd seen the day before.
"Hey, girl!" a female voice said to my right.
I turned toward the voice and was greeted by a wide, brilliant white smile. I wouldn't have recognized Jasmine had I tripped over her; she wore a shabby-looking tee shirt, jeans with tears in the thighs, and an NYFD ball cap that hid most of her face. As she approached, I thought, "So much for looking classy while traveling."
Jasmine stretched her arms out and hugged me like we were long-lost friends, then moved back and asked, "Are you ready for an awesome weekend, Angel?"
I smiled, "Absolutely!"
As we walked down the long hallway toward the airport hub, Jasmine explained, "I've already claimed my luggage and had them stored at the shuttle stop for the Royal Cancun."
I wasn't all that keen on taking a shuttle bus to the hotel, but I figured I'd let her show me the way to baggage claim.
"Baggage claim is over this way,” she said, pointing toward the big sign.
I chuckled as we walked under the oversized sign, "Glad you got here first; I would have never found it."
There were two baggage carousels, each with a flashboard above showing what flight's baggage was being sent out. I didn't see my flight number, so I stood back a little, waiting for my bags to arrive. Most of the tourists who had rushed off the plane were standing around, too.
Jasmine made small talk, "Can you believe we're gonna spend three days at the Royal Cancun? It's just about the swankiest hotel in the entire Zone."
"Zone?" I questioned her.
She explained. "The Hotel Zone is a strip of land separated from downtown Cancun by the Nichupte Lagoon. Security in the Zone is very tight, ensuring that all the wealthy tourists are safe from the locals."
"And if you venture out of the Zone?" I asked.
"You're on your own, girl," Jasmine replied.
"That's good to know," I answered.
She grinned and continued, "Trust me, everything you could need is available in the Zone or from one of the hotel staff members."
I assumed the staff members provided any illegal stuff one might want.
I noticed one couple that had rushed off the plane moving toward the carousel and glanced up at the flash board to see that our flight number had popped up.
"It looks like my luggage has caught up with me," I remarked as I moved toward the stream of luggage headed down the conveyor. In a few minutes, I had my pull-along bag, which contained my essentials, but I had to wait another five minutes for my suitcase to slide by.
"How the hell do two bags get that far apart?" I quipped.
Jasmine giggled, "Some Mexican was probably sniffing your panties."
I checked to make sure the locks were secure on both bags.
"Follow me; Customs is over here," Jasmine suggested as she grabbed the handle of my pull-along bag.
The female Customs agent looked me over carefully but eventually rubber-stamped my passport.
"That was easy," I commented to Jasmine as we moved away from the Customs station.
She smiled, "I'll say they put me through the wringer a little while ago."
"Why?" I questioned her.
"I guess they thought I might be bringing contraband in with me; they picked through every square inch of my luggage, and I thought they were considering a strip search," she replied.
"Perhaps it had something to do with how you're dressed," I commented.
As we walked outside, I was struck by how humid it seemed. The temperature was very comfortable, but the humidity was oppressive.
"Whew, I didn't expect it to be so sticky," I remarked.
"We're close to the jungle now, but the ocean breeze makes it wonderful when you're near the shore," Jasmine explained.
"I can't wait to get there," I answered, walking with her toward a sign for the Royal Cancun shuttle.
An extremely handsome black man smiled widely as we approached, clearly recognizing Jasmine from her earlier visit to store her luggage. His eyes never moved off her as he spoke, his Jamaican accent giving away his true identity, "Are you ready?
I was pleasantly surprised when I noticed that the Royal Cancun's version of a shuttle was, in fact, a Hummer stretch limo.
"Ladies," after loading our luggage in the back and opening the door, the Jamaican said as he waved us inside.
It was cool inside the limo, and it seemed like the driver was a football field away. He gunned the engine and pulled out into the busy airport traffic.
"It takes about 30 minutes to get to the hotel. If you'd like a drink, please help yourselves," he remarked as he exited the airport and steered the stretch SUV onto what I assumed was a Mexican freeway.
Jasmine slid forward and opened the small cooler to see what drinks it contained, "Want a beer?" she asked.
I looked over her shoulder to see what else the cooler contained, then replied, "I'll have a Perrier."
"Girl, we're on a mini vacation, loosen up a little," Jasmine remarked.
I frowned a little at her, "Keep in mind that we are here to satisfy the needs of our client's guests," I remarked, reinforcing Daddy's wishes for me to keep my younger counterparts in line.
Jasmine replaced the beer she held with a Perrier and slid back into the black leather bench seat. I was sure she was thinking I was an old fuddy-duddy spoiling her vacation so soon after it began.
As we rode along, I looked out the front and could see the deep blue ocean in the distance. As the road curved left, we passed what looked like a water park on the right, and our limo skirted along the beach. I'd never seen whiter sand or, for that matter, a bluer ocean, and I couldn't wait to sink my toes into both.
Another few miles, we drove past the Bel Air Collection Hotel & Spa, the first resort in the Hotel Zone. From there on, we passed one resort after another, all looking like fabulous places to stay. A short time later, the strip of land we were traveling on widened, and to the left, I noticed a golf course, its green lawns better maintained than any I'd noticed back in the States.
We drove past the Hilton Cancun Golf and Spa Resort, which looked spectacular, then our view of the hotels and the beach was obscured by an expansive wooded area. As the trees thinned out our driver turned right, then right again driving into what looked more like a small city than a resort hotel.
The Royal Cancun was immense, its main building seven stories above the street. As our driver brought the Hummer to a stop, he announced, "Welcome to the Royal Cancun ladies."
Two male members of the staff approached as soon as the limo stopped, one assisting us from the seat while the other quickly collected our luggage from the back. Both men welcomed us to the Royal Cancun and hoped we would enjoy our stay.
Jasmine knew the routine as she walked toward the massive glass door to the lobby. She removed her ball cap and shook her hair as they slid open. It cascaded down her back, but she still looked a bit frazzled.
I caught up to her just as we approached the front desk, "Hi, I'm Maria. Welcome to the Royal Cancun."
I smiled and let Jasmine handle the details. "We're with the Johnston party," she announced.
"Let me check," Maria said as she typed the name into her computer.
Jasmine smiled at me, knowing Daddy would have booked the best of suites for his clients.
"Here it is," Maria looked up at us and then continued, "There must be some mistake. I have you booked for three Presidential Suites, all adjoining each other."
Jasmine grinned, "That's correct; four other guests will arrive at different times today."
"I understand," Maria responded and then asked. "You will be staying until Monday?"
"Yes," Jasmine answered.
"Very good, your accommodations were paid for in advance," Maria said.
I smiled and whispered under my breath, "Thanks, Daddy."
"The Penthouse level," Maria announced as she reached out to the two bellhops standing to our right, handing them each a key card.
"Right this way, ladies," one of them said as they headed toward the bank of elevators across the lobby. Jasmine and I followed the two men into the elevators, turning to face the doors as they slid closed.
"This is spectacular," I exclaimed as the elevator rose slowly to the seventh floor.
The car came to a stop, and the doors glided open.
"Oh, my God!" Jasmine and I exclaimed at the same time.
Across the hall from the elevator, a comprehensive picture window opened to a fantastic view of the blue waters of the Caribbean Ocean. I felt as though I could reach out and touch the horizon. Far below, the strip of pure white sand was polka-dotted with green beach umbrellas; the breaking waves made that part of the beach look slightly darker.
Jasmine lightly elbowed me in the side. "We should check the view from our suites," she remarked, knowing the two young bellhops stood behind us as we enjoyed the marvelous view.
"This way, ladies," one of them said as they headed toward our rooms.
The hall had a rich, almost maroon carpet that curved up on the wall, ending at a brass or at least brass-looking rail. Above the rail, the walls were decorated with expensive wallpaper with a tropical floral pattern. A polished brass carriage light marked the entrance at each door leading into a suite.
"Here we are, Miss," the bellhop carrying Jasmine's luggage mentioned as he slid the key card through the reader.
I followed the other bellhop to the next door.
"This is your suite, Ma'am," he remarked as he unlocked the door.
I smiled at him, wondering if he called me Ma'am because I looked much older than my companion or because I was dressed more like a Ma'am. Either way, I was too excited to care one iota about how he addressed me, but if the opportunity presented I'd ask him to call me by my name.
He pushed the door open and held it for me to slide by. I walked to the center of the suite, initially stunned at the sheer elegance of the appointments.
"Can I place your bags on the bed?" he asked, momentarily distracting me from my amazed state.
I smiled and walked back toward him, "Yes, that'll be fine," I commented as I opened my purse and retrieved a twenty to tip him.
He quickly placed my luggage on the bed and accepted my tip, "If you need anything during your stay, please call and request Simon," he remarked, accentuating anything in his statement.
"I certainly will, Simon," I answered, repeating his name so he knew I'd remember.
He smiled and turned to leave. Just before he pulled the door open, he turned and said, "Remember, if you need anything, just call me."
Again, his voice accentuated the word anything.
I smiled at him as he left me alone in the fabulous suite.
As soon as the door clicked closed, I almost raced across the room to the sliding glass doors that led out onto a fantastic balcony and afforded the same view I'd marveled at when we exited the elevator. Sliding the door open, I stepped onto the carpeted balcony and approached the wrought iron railing at the edge. I giggled to myself as I thought, "If you could see me now, Barry." Knowing my soon-to-be ex would have booked a much less expensive room floors below,
A gentle breeze softly teased my hair and made the hem of my dress flutter as its cooling effect flowed from the ocean surface far below. This place truly is a tropical paradise, I thought as I stood there thinking about the next three days. The fresh smell of salt water wafted into my nostrils, and as I inhaled the ocean air, my ears popped one last time, finally regaining equal pressure.
I walked back inside, leaving the balcony door open so the beautiful breeze could flow into the suite.
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand next to the largest king-size bed I'd ever seen. It was 2:15 PM. I'd have time to unpack my luggage and explore the Royal Cancun before Tiffany and our guests arrived later.
As I started to hang my clothing in the closet and arrange my other things in a dresser drawer, a light knock on the suite door interrupted me.
I opened the door, and Jasmine came bounding in. She wore a tiny white string bikini with an almost non-existent white cover-up. The beach robe did little more than satisfy the requirement that swimsuits be covered until you were on the beach or at the pool.
Jasmine had the perfect body for a tiny string bikini; only the very tips of her small A-cup tits were hidden by its white top. Her hips were probably a little wider than they should be, but that was partly due to the awesome ass she was blessed with. The bottom of the white bikini barely hid her pussy and totally exposed her ass, with the string almost invisible between her butt cheeks. Jasmine was five foot seven inches, but the fact that the skinny ties of her white bikini bottom rose high over her hips gave her legs the appearance of being longer than they actually were. A sparkling diamond stud adorned her belly button.
"Come on, girl, let's hit the beach!" she exclaimed as she turned to face me.
I smiled, knowing that if I did, my clothes wouldn't have time to hang free, and I'd be wearing a wrinkled cocktail dress for dinner later in the evening.
"I'm going to pass for now. I want to unpack and maybe explore the hotel a little until Tiff and our guests arrive," I replied.
"Are you kidding!" she exclaimed, then added, "This place is crawling with available young, rich bachelors, and I wanna get down there and check out some bodies.
I smiled, hoping I didn't have to remind her that our guests would expect our undivided attention and that she wouldn't have time for any young studs.
"Tell ya what, let's plan on meeting back here at four. Tiff should be checking in just about that time, and it might be a good idea for us to talk a little before the men arrive." I suggested.
Jasmine giggled, "Talk about what? We're just going to suck and fuck them anytime they want, right?"
I just smiled and replied, "Have a good time. I'll see you here at four."
She shrugged her shoulders and headed for the door, "Later, girl," she exclaimed as she walked out into the hall, her ass swinging from side to side.
I finished unpacking and then changed into a pair of white shorts and a dark blue cotton tank top, skipping a bra and letting my large breasts enjoy some freedom for a few hours.
As I rode the elevator down, I tweaked my nipples, giving my tank top an even sexier look.
The elevator slowed and stopped at the fourth floor. The doors slid open, and I was joined by a fat little Italian-looking man whose bald head was surrounded by close-cut gray hair. He wore a Hawaiian shirt that hung open in front and matching swim trunks that his belly protruded over.