Emerald's Secret

CHAPTER 11 - BOATHOUSE 2

An hour later, Greg sat between the open French doors of his hotel-room balcony, balancing his chair on its two rear legs, propping his feet on the railing, looking out over the blue-black ocean, and played his flute for an audience of stars.

Behind him the door to Terry's adjoining room opened, and she slipped quietly into his room, following the music. The lighting was dim, but she could see that he wore pajamas pants and nothing else.

It was the second time she had seen (and appreciated) his muscular physique, and she still had not fully recovered from seeing it the first time, in the rodeo shower room. She moved to stand close behind him.

He paused, breathing her scent mixed with the saltwater and jasmine aromas wafting across the balcony. He continued looking straight ahead, toward the sound of gentle waves shushing onto the sand.

"You should play the guitar, Cowboy," Terry said softly. "Aren't you afraid of being called a sissy, with that flute?"

Greg pointed to the lamp on the nearby dresser and mouthed the word bug.

Aloud he said, "But, I am a sissy, remember?"

"A candy pants?"

"That's right."

She twined her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He closed his eyes for several breaths.

"A wimp?" Terry said. "A ballerina?"

"That's me."

"I guess you hate women?"

"With a passion."

The palm of her hand glided around his neck, over his chin, and across his cheek.

"Even your sister?"

His hand left the flute to press her hand against his cheek. He turned his lips into her palm and kissed it. His tongue followed her lifeline to her fingers.

"Her most of all," he said, and sucked her fingers, one after another.

A man's voice startled them with, "May I suggest that it is past time for good little boys and girls to be in bed. Separately."

Terry jerked her hand out of Greg's mouth, but he didn't release her wrist. She stood stiffly behind his chair.

Behind her, Stefan emerged from the shadows in his bathrobe, put one hand about Terry's waist, and gently pried Greg's fingers from her wrist with the other hand.

"Let's keep our minds on the weekend before us, shall we? Once we are home again, alive and well, there will be ample opportunity to make beautiful music together. Come, Teresa. Goodnight, Gregory."

Stefan escorted Terry back to her room. Greg's eyes had never left the distant horizon. When he heard Terry's door close, he rose and placed the flute in its case.

Greg disappeared into his bathroom.

Stefan returned from Terry's room, found Greg apparently preparing for bed, shook his head in fatherly concern, and returned to the room he shared with Irene.

Saturday dawned bright and clear, and after a luscious breakfast on the hotel patio, three members of the Dupree family convened on the sugar-white sand beach to sunbathe.

Leaning back in her lounge chair, Terry remarked, "Sure beats doing laundry on a Saturday morning. You guys look real good, by the way. Old Dad looks like the mayor of Omaha, and Greggy Dearest looks like the queen of Key West."

Stefan said, "Thanks. Irene took one look at us and made us trade outfits before we left the room this morning. Any sign of your mother?"

Greg scoffed. "She'll never get in that boathouse in broad daylight."

"Here she comes!" said Terry.

Irene was flouncing along the beach on the arm of a gorgeous, bronze and buff lifeguard. She excused herself from him long enough to jog to Stefan's side and give him a peck on the cheek.

"Hello, my darling hubby. Pass me the lotion, so my young friend will know I got what I came for."

Stefan complied, with an envious look toward the lifeguard. Irene rubbed her arms with the lotion.

"Did you get what you came for, dearest?" Stefan said.

Greg began, "Of course she didn't g—"

"I've just had the loveliest guided tour of all the boating facilities," she cut in. "The Emerald C's yacht should be back from an overnight trip to the Bahamas by this afternoon. Not a slot machine in sight at any of the on-shore facilities, but they could certainly be on that boat. Happy hunting, darlings. I must fly."

She tossed the lotion back to Stefan and pranced back to the side of her lifeguard. They strolled on down the beach.

Terry looked at Greg's disgruntled face. "How's that for detective work, Cowboy?"

" 'Detective work'? Same kind you were doing on the dance floor last night, Nancy Drew?"

"I kept Gino off your back."

"It wasn't my back he was jumping on—"

"I think I'll collect your mother and play a round of shuffleboard," Stefan interrupted. "Teresa, dear, why don't you and Gregory explore a bit?" He gave them both a behave yourself  look and walked away.

Terry snatched up a towel and stomped toward the water.

Greg glowered at her from behind his sunglasses. Two really schwinnggg bikini babes sauntered right across Greg's lenses, but he did not seem to notice them. He stood up and followed Terry.

AUTHOR'S NOTE:  This week I'm writing to you from my quarantined little apartment in Miami, and I'm hoping you are keeping yourself away from contagion and staying healthy.  We need to read good stories more than ever now, if we're going to avoid depression and anxiety over the Covid-19 situation.  So, thanks for reading.  I hope you'll vote and comment, and I hope you will keep writing and posting your own stories for the rest of us to read here on Wattpad.