When up-and-coming model Isabelle meets talented but jaded photographer Milo, sparks fly despite their age difference. Their romance becomes the talk of the New York City fashion scene, fueling rumors and speculation about their scandalous affair. A...
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The next day they were all set to go on a boat.
"It's kinda my thing," Milo explained, as they woke that morning. His fingers traced patterns on her skin.
The sun streamed in, filling the room with light. Isabelle felt that she may have died on the way here and gone to heaven. His arm on hers made her feel things, turning her on.
Isabelle cleared her throat, "Milo?" She asked. "What's going to happen after?"
"After," he continued moving his fingers up and down her arm, "we will gave the best oysters you've ever tasted," his blond curls fell across his eyes, and Isabelle reached out to brush them to the side.
"No, I mean," she was careful not to ruin the moment, but she had to know, "I mean after this trip, when we get back to New York?"
"Hmm, well we'll have to see how things play out, won't we?" Milo moved his fingertips across her stomach.
Isabelle was slightly disappointed. She wanted a concrete answer from him. But she knew that this would have to do for now. Maybe he was right, she had to learn how to live with a certain level of uncertainty. Just not let it break her.
"I wouldn't worry about that for now," Milo leaned over to kiss her, whether out of desire or to stop her from asking any more questions, she didn't really mind.
His fingers started moving down, towards her thighs. At that point, she wouldn't have been able to talk anymore even if she wanted to.
Only emitting gasps, seeing sparkles behind her eyelids.
After they got dressed, Isabelle wasn't even hungry but Milo made them coffee and toast - "one of the few things I can cook".
She gathered a beach bag with her polaroid, book, notebook and swimsuits, coverups...When she saw Milo eyeing it mockingly, she defended herself, "yes, I'm going to need all of it."
He threw his hands up in innocence and went to grab his keys.
They made their way to the green convertible, and they drove to the marina.
There, Milo greeted somebody who gave him the keys to a boat.
"Wait," Isabelle started, "you're driving the boat?"
"Yes," Milo responded briskly, as they got to a small yacht-type sail boat, and Milo started assessing it, moving the tarp off to the side, looking at the knots. "I do more than take photos you know," he winked at her.
Isabelle nodded, taking the sights in.
"So, where are we going?" She dropped her bag.
"Beach," Milo was still fiddling with the knots.
Isabelle understood him to be a man of few words, but that didn't bother her. She gelt that a lot of their communication was near telepathic anyway. A lot of it was body language.
She was excited but also a little nervous. This was her first time on a sailboat, and she had no idea what to expect.
Milo, seeing the mix of emotions on her face, squeezed her hand gently and reassured her. "Don't worry, Izzy. Sailing is a lot of fun, and I promise to keep you safe. You'll love it."
With a hesitant smile, Isabelle nodded, trusting Milo's experience and enthusiasm. She trusted him completely, for better or for worse. With a blind belief.
Milo wasted no time in getting the boat ready. He checked the lines, hoisted the sails, and ensured all the safety equipment was in place. Isabelle watched in awe as he expertly moved about the boat, his confidence infectious. She felt lucky to be sharing this experience with him.
Once they were underway, the boat glided smoothly over the water, propelled by the gentle breeze. She marveled at the feeling of freedom that came with sailing. The wind played with her hair, and the rhythmic sound of the waves against the hull was soothing.
As they sailed further away from the marina, the coastline began to change. Towering cliffs gave way to smaller, more secluded beaches.
On the boat, once they were free sailing, Milo went down to the cabin, and brought out a bottle of rum.
"I know this isn't the Caribbean, but it'll have to do," he said with a mischievous smile on his face.
Rum was a dangerous drink to Isabelle, so she wasn't that surprised with herself, when she called him to the cabin after a few drinks, and he found her there completely naked. Lounging on the leather chair.
She wasn't sure what came over her, but it was enough to give Milo a certain soft, resigned look in his eyes, that made them both sure that they'd have to put it on autopilot just a little longer.
They finally got to a beach that vas virtually empty. She had no idea where they were but she didn't care.
Docking the boat, they spent the rest of that afternoon, lounging in the sun.
