But you didn't notice me leering at them. No, not this time, I made sure of it. I had to sneak a peek here and there when you weren't looking. One of those times was when you were devouring your dish of patacones. It was quite a generous portion they gave you, and it’s a good thing I shared with you. You’ll need to go easy on the fried food if you are going to be with a man like me. Fried food is a quick way to pack on extra pounds. And I like my women curvy, not plump. You'll need to know and remember that detail.
I suppose I could pay for a personal trainer if you go beyond my desired weight range. But that's just another expense I don't need right now. I could be your personal trainer if I had to. I would work those extra pounds off you—free of charge.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. You still have curves in all the right places. We just have to make sure we keep them where they belong.
I mean let's be honest; I’m not going to lie. When we met, you were a cocktail waitress. You captured my attention. That little uniform of yours fitted you perfectly, showing off your shapely body. When you leaned over, setting the glass on the table, you wouldn’t want to know what I was thinking. If you did, you probably would've reached out and slapped me across the face.
But when my eyes met yours, I could tell you were different, unlike the others. The other gals are there to work what they got, shake their little tail feathers in hopes of landing a rich guy to whisk them away in some fairytale romance. But I don't believe in fairy tales.
When I first saw you, I could tell you were there to work and earn a living. You kept things professional when we spoke. Then over time, you opened up a little. Not too much, but enough to share your hopes and dreams. Dreams you’re determined to fulfill on your own.
Sometimes, though, it's not that easy. In some instances, we could all use a little help. That’s where I come in. I like to help. I like to fix things. I'm really good at fixing things. You'll see. Time will tell, but time is ticking away. I have to make sure we're on the same timeframe.
Speaking of time, we'll be leaving shortly for our next destination. I hope you like what I have in store for you. Do you like surprises? On second thought, you don't strike me as the type of woman who does. You’re probably more organized and would rather be prepared and ready for things ahead of time. Am I right?
I stroll over by your window and peek into your room. I can see you packing right now, preparing to head out on our next adventure. I do hope you'll be okay with the small island hopper plane. I hope you don't scream and squirm in your seat like the last one did when we landed on the tiny airstrip.
I told her to remain calm and to hold onto my hand as the plane dipped toward the sea. I told her not to worry and not to be scared that the pilot had flown the route a thousand times and that he could land the plane with his eyes closed. But she refused to listen. She just kept screaming and crying; she lost all control. I don't like it when things are out of control. I don't like it when women don't comply with my wishes.
She didn't obey me that day. Needless to say, it didn't end well.
11
Valerie
The next morning I had woken up to David’s arm wrapped around my waist. Prying myself from his grip, I quietly dressed and crept out of the room to fetch some coffee. We had a plane to catch and couldn’t be late since it was the only flight available that day.
Once we arrived at the airport, we picked up our tickets and hopped on a shuttle bus that drove us to the tarmac. We boarded a small airplane, and less than an hour later landed along the Caribbean Sea.
When our taxi pulled up to The Green Tree House, I was thrilled to see it was located by the ocean. With its open-air wooden houses nestled in the trees, we were steps away from the white sand beach.
We were greeted by a young tanned and toned couple who managed the ecolodge. They informed us of the yoga classes, water sports, and guided tours around the area. David had mentioned he wanted to go zip-lining, but the excitement quickly faded from his eyes when I shared my great fear of heights.
“We may have to change rooms then?” he said, turning to me.
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
I cautiously followed David over a sloped wooden suspension bridge that led to our room—the treehouse room. As the walkway swayed and bounced under my feet, I was thankful it was only about fifty feet long and ten feet high.
Inside the room, massive tree trunks rose up from the floor. Off to the right was a small kitchenette and to the left, a king-sized bed with a white mosquito net draped above it. The best feature of the treehouse was the wrap-around deck with a panoramic view of the ocean. David slid one of the windows open, and we listened to the sound of the crashing waves.
“So, what do you think?” he asked, a wide smile appearing on his face.
“This is a really cool place. I've never been anywhere like it.”
“I apologize for the room; I had no idea you were afraid of heights. Do you want me to see if there’s a ground level room available?”
“No, it’s fine; we're here now.”
“Okay, well, you take the bed and I’ll take the hammock out on the deck.”
“You don't have to.”
“I have no problem sleeping out there.
