Hard For My Boss

Trevor stares at his backpack across from him. “I … Y-You told me not to pack anything. I would’ve brought a swimsuit, or beach clothes, or towels, or—”

“I’ll provide everything.”

He shakes his head in disbelief. “Cancún. A private beach on a resort … in freaking Cancún!” He slaps a hand to his forehead. “If my parents knew, or my roommate, or anyone … God, they would be so jealous. I almost want them to know,” he adds with a chuckle.

He spends the next thirty minutes gasping and gawking at every hotel we pass, thinking each one is grander than the last, but all of them pale in comparison to our true destination, the one we will be staying at for the next two nights. Trevor’s response to everything seems to reach an all new, unheard-of level of shock when we pull down the road leading to the front entrance. I beam, loving the excitement that Trevor is arrested by. It floods me with an excitement of my own. Four times I’ve come here to relax my mind and get away from the stresses of my job. Four times I’ve come here all alone. Four times I’ve stared at happy couples across the water, within the restaurants, and along the beaches.

This is the first time I have someone of my own.

The moment the driver lets us out, two bellhops descend on the car to help with the luggage. “Welcome back, Señor Gage,” they each say as they load my bags (and Trevor’s backpack) onto a tall, gold-rimmed cart. “Your things will be waiting for you at your suite.” I thank them and hand each one a hefty tip, including the driver who brought us here. After they’re off, I walk with Trevor down the path lined with exotic trees toward the front entrance and catch him eyeing me with a smirk.

“What?” I ask innocently.

His eyes narrow. “You told me to bring nothing.”

“And I meant it. I packed for you,” I remind him with a cocky grin. “You’re my boy toy this weekend, so your sexy ass will wear what I want you to wear.”

Trevor blushes at once, looks as if he has a clever comeback, but says nothing.

I chuckle. “Don’t for a second think this weekend is about you and your birthday. This is about me dressing you up, dressing you down, wearing you on my sleeve like a trophy wife, and having my dirty way with you.”

“At least you’re honest,” teases Trevor, despite his face still burning a furious red.

I smirk assuredly, then give him a nod. “What did you bring in that little backpack of yours, anyway?”

“Laptop, charger, passport, and my work clothes I changed out of. Ben, this place … this whole experience …” He shrugs. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to repay you. This is too much.”

“It is too much. And it’s about to be more. Wait ‘til you see the room,” I add with a teasing lift of my eyebrows.

Trevor chuckles, shakes his head, then follows me as I lead the way inside. The front desk welcomes us, which is a spectacle in itself, the desk so extravagant that its back opens to a grand hall with columns that seem to touch the sky. The rim of the room is filled with plush seating areas, boutiques, kiosks, and stairs leading up to a second and third floor with other amenities. In the center of the hall is a great fountain that extends through a large opening in the back of the room, which drops off into a waterfall to the resort pool beyond. Large decorative stones with palm trees adorn the lobby, their height as staggering as the columns.

“Welcome back, Señor Gage,” the lady at the front greets us. “Your suite awaits you.”

Knowing the way, I lead Trevor through the great, expansive lobby and out a wide archway that opens to the outside where two large pools glisten in the evening sunlight. The pools have swim-up bars with submerged stools for perching, dramatic slides and tubes, several stone canopies over which water softly pours, and shallow areas where the bottom of the pool slopes up to meet the cobblestone walkway, painted to look like the shore of a beach.

Down from the pool, wooden elevated walkways run along a bank of colorful grass and trees, which gently shade the way. One of the paths leads up to a large cabana hugged by local flora that bursts with color.

That luxurious cabana is where we’re staying.

“Oh my God,” breathes Trevor when we step inside, his eyes swallowing in the lavish space, which looks twice as big inside as it does on the outside.

I close the door behind us and follow Trevor farther inside. He wanders around the place in slow, mesmerized circles. He walks through the long kitchen which opens to a living room. The whole place is lined with enormous windows that overlook the private beach, letting in all the warm evening sun and painting the room gold. Just outside, there’s a table and two chairs on the balcony with a handful of steps leading down to the sand, which stretches out into the blue Caribbean Sea.