She moved forward through the curiously-staring crowd, elbowing past a couple of elderly ladies in true New Yorker fashion, a tactic she’d managed to learn, though California was her real home. At the crowd’s edge was a taut, heavy rope, carefully placed just far enough back to keep prying hands from the thousands of dollars worth of expensive equipment. As Jessica started to lift the restraining rope, one of the agency’s hired private police hurried to intercept her; he was a frightfully old, rather rheumatic gentleman, unusually absurd in the blue uniform of the law. He looked as though he could possibly, and only possibly, be a marshal in a retirement home.

The Mendosa family had been in Cuba for generations as had the de Vanquez family. The Mendosas owned a large tobacco plantation where the tobacco was grown for the cigars Cuba was famous for. Leonardo had been promised since birth to the young Isabella, but he didn’t mind, it would not be a loveless match for either of them, in fact the sooner they were married, the better, for they were already fucking like they were man and wife.

Suddenly everything that her mother and aunt had told her about sex had surged into her mind, putting back up all the barriers she had erected against feeling as her mother and aunt had felt about men. It had been Uncle Max’s eyes! Something had been in them since he entered her bedroom, and then his whole face had taken on an expression that Melanie hadn’t understood. He had looked at the slender contours of her fresh unexplored body as if her flesh were something separate from her, his nineteen-year-old niece, and merely an object that had been placed there for him to treat as he wished. “You’re beautiful all naked,” he had said. “Dreaming about Uncle Max?”

She wasn’t a beautiful woman, she knew that, but she was attractive. The obvious attributes of her body were nothing out of the ordinary when taken individually, but together, that was another story. That she knew how to highlight what she had only added to the enticing picture she presented to Michael’s eyes.

This past month in New Hampshire, she had relieved her sexual tensions–discreetly. Her eyes homed in on Sandor’s big prick, so deliciously outlined by the thin cotton shorts.

M. was the same age as Mike. They had grown up with each other, practically. Although they had not been all that close, each with separate friends, Laura saw the attraction between the two now. She thought M. was somewhat of a tease, wearing her short shorts and those T-shirts that left nothing to the imagination. But she could not help liking the girl anyway. No one could help liking M.

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