Part 1 (1/2)

All the Wrong Places.

Karin Kallmaker.

Brandy Monsoon is looking for love. Since there's never a shortage of casual playmates at the tropical resort where she works, most of the time she gets it, too. And if Brandy tires of the perpetually curious a but primarily straight a women, there's always her best friend Tess for a friendly encounter...

When an all-lesbian tour group arrives for a week, Brandy is sure she'll be in paradise on earth. Among the guests is lesbian celebrity comic Celine Griffin, who has an obvious interest in an after-dinner Brandy. Celine and Brandy do find explosive pleasure together, --so why does Brandy feel as if that's no longer enough for happiness?

With days and nights so delicious... who cares about tomorrow?.

Chapter One.

”Now lace your fingers behind your left calf and stretch those toes toward the crown of your head.” I kept my tone in the blended range between soothing and energized. Experience had taught me one could be too perky at nine a.m. for people on vacation.

There were nearly twenty for Morning Stretch, a good turnout for a Sat.u.r.day morning. Most would be heading home in a few hours after their week of Florida sun, food and activities, but one last stretch in the cool, early-morning air was a popular event. For many it was a last chance to enjoy the shadiest portion of the private Sanibel Island beach while it was still quiet.

”Now the other side, and count slowly to ten.” I felt a twinge in my knee and eased up on the pressure. A glance at the partic.i.p.ants told me most were following form. Tomorrow it would be nothing but first-timers, but that was part of the fun of my job. There were always new faces.

Through my lashes I watched the palm fronds overhead move easily in the light breeze. The sky was an endless pale blue this morning and the sun had not yet risen over the resort buildings. It was cool and peaceful. The only other time of day I liked more was first light on a golf course.

A minor commotion made me look up again and I quickly hid a smile. The late arrival was Paige, a woman I had been exchanging glances with since her arrival last Sat.u.r.day. Paige- oh no, or was it Penny, penny for your thoughts? Paige, like a book, I recalled. When you meet as many new people as I do, mnemonics are useful. It was a trick I'd learned from my father, and one of the few things of his for which I had any use at all.

Paige, like a book, had no trouble with the inner thigh stretches, and I seriously doubted she was unaware that her mat was turned so I could see just how flexible her legs were. Bronzed, fit, generously curved with thick curls of sandy blonde hair-Paige was my type. But then, as my best friend Tess would say, all women seem to be my type.

Paige really only had one drawback as a potential playmate, and that was the boyfriend with whom she had arrived. Scuttleb.u.t.t was he'd proposed two nights ago, but there was no sign of a ring and he hadn't seemed all that happy when I'd caught a glimpse of him slamming serves on the tennis court.

”Take your left elbow in your right hand and stretch, gently, over your head. That's it! Just think how many of these exercises you can do sitting at your desk at work.”

”Sure, Brandy.” The woman nearest to me, whose name I'd never picked up, was always good for a wisecrack. ”Like I'll remember how to put my left heel over my right shoulder while I press down through my inner left hip and relax my right pinky.”

I chuckled. ”It's not that bad. Whatever feels good you'll remember. It's time to breathe and relax. Knowing how to truly relax is very important to our well-being. Let's all stretch out on our mats.”

For a minute there was only the sound of surf on the sand. I fought a yawn. I hadn't been up that late but morning had still seemed to arrive early for a Sat.u.r.day in April.

Paige, like a book, was the last to rise from her mat when I called a close to the cla.s.s. The white swimsuit she wore was barely covered by a crimson beach cover-up. She smiled at me, her eyebrows making suggestions as they had all week, then she turned to pick up her mat. The view was very nice, very nice indeed. It was a real pity about the boyfriend.

”Who's joining me for Body Pump?” Tess, looking as bright and cheerful as the light sparkling across the offsh.o.r.e white-caps, gestured in the direction of Club Sandzibel's fitness center.

I don't know how she managed to look so wide awake when she'd probably closed the bar the night before. She'd told me that the new bartender, Jean-Paul, seemed fun, and there was no reason to think she hadn't explored some possibilities with him.

”Hey, Brandy,” she said to me as she bounced happily on the b.a.l.l.s of her feet. ”I need to show you the new Bosu lunges. Better for inner thigh work and easier for first-timers.”

”I'll be along in just a bit then.” I checked the area to ensure the mats were back in their covered storage container and that all the guests seemed content. Of course, this meant I eventually had to make eye contact with Paige.

”Must you go so soon?” She spoke with a soft drawl that was musical but not cloying.

”You'll be going soon, for good.” I waved at Tess, who gave me a knowing wink as she left. I watched her blonde ponytail sway against her back, then turned back to Paige.

”I've had a wonderful week. There are plenty of reasons to come back here. The setting, the great food... the wonderful staff.” With that she gave me the same, almost involuntary once-over that had sent a wicked jolt down my spine last Sat.u.r.day, when she had arrived.

I'd been working at Club Sandzibel for two years, and it was Tess who had first told me that some of the guests presumed the staff were available for private romping, and that was why they chose a resort oriented toward younger, more active guests and staffed with younger, more active personnel. Management denied any pressure at all, and there was even training on how to graciously refuse an overture. But higher-ups also clearly said that activities carried out while we were off duty were not of concern unless other guests were made in any way uncomfortable by them.

I wondered how uncomfortable Paige's boyfriend would be if Paige and I hopped back to my quarters for an hour. The idea had appeal, though I wasn't sure why. When I'd first started working at the resort I'd been like a d.y.k.e at a softball game. So many women, so little time. But the allure of straight-but-looking-for-thrills Paiges had paled along the way.

I gave Paige a long look, though. The fact that she was in the mood and so was I made a.n.a.lyzing whys and wherefores less important at the moment. Something about her appealed. She had sought me out and as far as I was concerned, her actions and conscience were her own business. But, I remembered, time was short and I had places I needed to be.

”Is there someplace we could talk for a few minutes? I know you have to go to the next cla.s.s.”

”Why don't you walk over to Body Pump with me?” If she wanted to make some sort of confused declaration then I could make time to listen. But there wasn't time for anything else, at least, not the way I liked to do it.

A walk wasn't what she had in mind, but she fell into step and I caught the complicated scent of a lilac blend that I'd noticed before around her. She was perhaps four inches taller than me, but then so is most of the world when you're five-two.

During the walk to Adult Fitness I changed my mind. Maybe it was because she was leaving. Maybe it was because from the moment she'd arrived she'd looked at me like I could teach her more than aerobics and stretching. Maybe it was because she smelled good and it was still early on a glorious spring morning. What was it Tess had said on my birthday? That when she'd been twenty-six she wished she'd noticed the mornings more. At nearly thirty-two, Tess claimed time was already making her hate first light-that is, when she was lucid enough to see it.

Paige followed me past the gathering of Bosu ball devotees and into the gym. The TV at one end was blaring CNN talking heads while the opposite monitor was competing with equally loud MTV. Clanging weight machines added to the cacophony. I stopped for a sip of water to fight down a nervous flutter. My throat was suddenly dry. My crotch was not.

I think if she hadn't looked a little bit vulnerable, like she really didn't do this sort of thing all the time, I might have turned back to Tess's cla.s.s. But Paige seemed hesitant, as if she'd gotten this far on bravado and a good flirtatious line, not practice.

”We can get some more towels from the supply room.” I led the way.

”Staff only,” she read on the sign.

”We make the occasional exception.” My tone was not as light as I had hoped. I swiped my pa.s.s card with all the nonchalance I could muster and opened the door for her.

It was her choice then. She knew at a minimum we would do some heavy petting if we both moved to the other side of the door. She gazed at me for a moment, then swallowed hard. She said something I couldn't quite hear over the music.

”What?”

She leaned closer and I realized that the taut outline of her nipples was visible through the suit and the light cover-up. ”I don't have a lot of time.”

Performance pressure, great, I thought, but she'd already gone inside the little room. Just as the door swung shut I found the light switch. I had it barely locked when I felt her hands on my shoulders.

”I don't know why I'm doing this,” she said.

I surely didn't know why she was doing it either, but my heart was pounding. My reasons were about mood and need, that simple. I wanted to feel a woman against me, listen to her voice. I wanted to get my fingers wet.

”Are you sure?” Her eyes, a cloudy deep brown, were saying yes, but I needed to hear it. ”I can unlock the door.”

”I'm sure. I've always wondered...”

Our hands began to wander. I loved the feel of her hips under my palms. ”Wondered what?” I nuzzled at her throat and inhaled the sweet scent of her hair. ”Wondered what being f.u.c.ked by a woman would feel like?”

Her skin jumped under my hands and I felt more confident knowing that I'd read her correctly. It was only then that I realized I had hoped she was somewhat experienced, because the thought of being touched by a woman was what had been circling my mind for the last few minutes. In my early days here, however, I'd learned that inexperienced straight women usually had no clue how to truly pleasure themselves, let alone another woman. Giving ”feel that G-spot” lessons had ceased to be fun.

But I wouldn't say no at this point. It was all d.y.k.e ego, and I could live with the idea that there would be plenty of times when a guy would try his best and she'd think longing thoughts of the red-haired babe named Brandy at the resort, the one who had made her feel things she'd never felt before and hadn't felt since.