Antigua Allure
"Yacht charter captain Grace shows first-time sailor Ethan the 365 beaches of Antigua—but they spend most of their time anchored at the most private one, making waves of their own."
"Yuh ever sail before?"
Ethan looked at the yacht, then at its captain. Grace was thick in white shorts and a navy polo, dark skin against the Antigua sun, confidence in every movement.
"Never."
"Perfect. I'll teach yuh everything."
She taught him to trim sails while her body brushed against his. Taught him to read the wind while her breath warmed his ear. Taught him to anchor in private coves where no one could see.
"This beach," she said, dropping anchor at a tiny crescent of sand. "Nobody comes here. Is mine."
"Beautiful."
"Yuh not looking at the beach."
"I know."
They swam naked in water so clear they could see their shadows on the sand below. Her thick body floated beside his, dark against the turquoise.
"Yuh know why I became a captain?" she asked.
"Why?"
"Freedom. To go where I want. Do what I want." She swam closer. "Who I want."
"And what do you want?"
"Right now? Yuh."
On the beach, salt and sand and her. That thick body under the Caribbean sun, her moans mixing with the waves.
"Yes! Right there! Don't stop!"
He didn't stop until the sun started setting. Then they moved to the yacht.
The cabin was small but the pleasure was endless. She rode him with the boat swaying gently, her thick thighs gripping, her hands on his chest.
"Best charter I ever had," she gasped.
"We're only on day one."
"Then we better pace ourselves."
They did not pace themselves.
Seven days, thirty-two beaches, countless ways to bring each other to the edge and over.
"Come back," she said at the harbour, "every year."
"Or I could just stay."
Grace smiled, that captain's smile. "Yuh hired. First mate. Personal duties."
Ethan sold everything back home. Bought a sailor's wardrobe.
Now he helps Grace run charters.
And at night, at their private beach, they drop anchor together.
365 beaches in Antigua.
But they only need one.