All Inclusive. Farzana Doctor

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ I missed?” Blythe yelled.

      The college-boy group I’d seen at the airport called out, “Hamilton!” The sound of my hometown caused a quiver in my belly. But maybe that was just Enrique’s Atlantis Mantis.

      At the conclusion of the “fun” portion of the presentation, Oscar joined Blythe onstage and together they performed a soft sell of the various crocodile, turtle, beach, city, and waterfall tours on offer. The harder sell would come later at the tour desk; we knew how to make each excursion sound both compelling and essential for a successful vacation. For example, the risk for dengue fever was very low in the region, but I referenced its dangers and sold bug spray for three dollars more than the gift shop did. Roberto said the waterfall tour was a place where his “ancestors communed with the Gods.” Manuela flirted with men until they agreed to shopping trips.

      I was no longer surprised that our tactics worked and wasn’t bothered by the manipulation; shilling for Oceana wasn’t all that different from the other jobs I’d held. I’d door-knocked for the local children’s hospital while in university, telling plaintive stories about kids on ventilators and amazing leukemia remissions. After graduation, and not sure what to do next, I tagged along with a friend to Birkenstock College, paying off my student loans by selling sensible footwear. Later, I followed the advice of a travel agent friend, got my tourism certificate, and sold vacation getaways. I’d learned how to use my bright smile to talk people into buying things.

      Manuela and I left the assembly to open our tour desk. We joined Roberto, who was already there, unlocking and unfolding doors, cupboards, and counters. We set up stools on both sides. I unpacked our receipts and forms, Manuela warmed up the computer, and Roberto restocked the brochure racks. We performed all of these functions quickly and wordlessly, and within five minutes we were ready.

      ∆

      A couple in their thirties approached me an hour later. They were deeply tanned, obviously not part of the recently arrived cohort. I recalled seeing them around the resort in the previous days.

      “Excuse me.” The woman had an Italian accent, olive skin, and coal-black eyes. “The Viva representative is supposed to be here today, but I don’t see her anywhere.” She linked her long fingers with those of the man, who was shirtless.

      I looked over at the Viva kiosk, where a CLOSED sign hung. The tour company served European vacationers. “I don’t think she’ll be back until tomorrow,” I lied, hoping to sell the couple an excursion. Although I was already above quota, the extra sales would look good to Anita.

      “Oh, too bad.” She pushed her lips into a pout.

      “Can I help you with something? Are you interested in a tour?” I smiled first at the woman, and then at the man, holding each of their gazes a moment too long.

      “Well, we leave here in two days. We haven’t gone sight-seeing yet,” the man said hesitantly. He and the woman shared a look, and then she shrugged and nodded.

      “Oh, I see. Well, you can go with Oceana to see the crocodiles tomorrow, if you’d like.” The man’s muscular chest swelled. A brush of thin curly hair ringed each of his nipples.

      “Tell us more about that,” the woman said, lowering to sit on the stool in front of me. She leaned forward, rested her elbows on the desk, her forearms framing her deep cleavage. “I’m Serena, and this is my husband Sebastiano.”

      “Ameera. What a beautiful name.” Sebastiano’s eyes locked on my nametag. “Do you lead the tours yourself?”

      “Thanks. No, I only go when a French-speaking guide is needed,” I explained. I hated tromping in the heat, while Roberto didn’t like sitting at the tour desk. We switched shifts whenever possible.

      While a long line formed behind them, I reviewed the tours at length, and the couple listened attentively. Eventually, they paid cash for the crocodile excursion, and I forgot to tell them about insect repellant. As they walked away, I exhaled, realizing the satisfaction I felt was not from exerting my sales muscle, but from the heat of their flirtation. I silently repeated their names three times before turning to the next person in line. Serena Sebastiano Serena Sebastiano Serena Sebastiano.

      Azeez

      ∞

      My goodbye-cum-congratulations drinks with my roommates left me with a sore head. I had sweat profusely during the night and awoke to damp sheets.

      I never was terribly skilled at drinking, not having had much practice before Canada. At the end of my second year, I joined my students’ celebrations and they taught me about rum, tequila, and vodka. I learned to choose bar rail drinks because they were usually on special before ten p.m. and my budget was tight and my bedtime early. My favourite drink was rum and coke; the cola’s caffeine and sweetness perfectly counteracted the bitter alcohol’s depressant effects.

      I would be fine if I restricted myself to one or two, accompanied by peanuts or pretzels. Too few snacks or an extra drink would push me over the edge into nausea, headaches, and regrets. The previous night on the porch, I’d consumed four Budweisers and skipped my supper.

      I covered my eyes with a pillow and sank in and out of a hungover sleep filled with thoughts of Nora. Over and over again, I dreamt that I was dialling her phone number and inviting her to lunch. Perhaps my unconscious mind was pushing me to make contact. When I awoke I told myself I’d wash up first, dress, and then speak with her.

      I feared that not phoning would be unmannerly. What do you say to a woman with whom you’ve just had relations but will never see again? But I was waffling on that last point. I couldn’t stop thinking about her russet curls. I’d never before run my fingers through such soft hair. And those pillowy breasts and bottom! Her silky white skin.

      I was a scientist and didn’t really believe in kismet or fate or karma, but that morning, in my hungover state, I engaged in the whimsy of maybe we are meant to be! I was entertaining delusional thoughts: I’d return for a visit or she could come see me in Bombay. She’ d planned to study Eastern Religions and what better way for her to learn than to go to the source?

      Perhaps it was because she was my first? Of course I didn’t tell her that — I’d be mortified if she knew. Could she tell? I’d tried to be suave. I kissed her and moved my hands the way they did in the few pornographic movies I’d seen.

      I’d never even crossed the threshold of a girl’s bedroom before, let alone made love. I’d dated a couple of girls in Bombay and fooled around a little. Those experiences were memorable, but not even close to what I’d experienced with Nora. No, Nora was different.

      Obviously she wasn’t a virgin. I couldn’t tell exactly how experienced she was, but besides a little nervous giggling, she appeared to know how to handle herself. Oh how warm and inviting she was! I’ll never forget the sensation of losing myself inside her for those precious few minutes.

      At midday, I dragged my luggage down the staircase. I dialled her number from the foyer phone. It rang and rang and my heart beat so quickly and my stomach churned so violently that I thought I might vomit. When she picked up, I shoved the receiver into its cradle.

      Ameera

      ∆

      I caught Enrique’s eye. His leer sent a wave of heat down my chest, past my stomach, and into my groin.

СКАЧАТЬ