The arrival to the island

The moment their feet touched the wooden planks of the arrival dock, John felt the change in the air. It wasn’t just the heat—though it wrapped around them like silk—but something quieter, more elusive. A pulse beneath the surface.

Claire tilted her sunglasses up as they approached the resort lobby, scanning the turquoise water and perfectly manicured paths. “This place is insane,” she whispered, looping her arm into his. “I feel like we just stepped into a honeymoon catalog.”

John smiled, squeezing her fingers. “You deserve it.”

She turned her head to him and smirked. “Don’t forget, this was your idea.”

He hadn’t. In fact, he remembered exactly when he booked it—after one of their late-night conversations, curled up in bed, when she’d told him she wanted adventure. Something new. Something… not so safe.

Now they were here. A high-end, adults-only, couples-exclusive island resort tucked somewhere off the Caribbean grid. The resort’s name—Eros Bay—had sounded just upscale enough to avoid sounding sleazy.

Inside, the check-in desk was sleek, with a polished black surface and a tall woman in a flowing white robe greeting them.

“Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Carter. We’ve been expecting you.”

Claire gave John a look, then laughed. “Ooh, mysterious.”

The woman handed them each a glass of something pink and cold.

“The island’s welcome cocktail. We call it the Island Kiss.”

Claire took hers immediately. “Smells like strawberries and sex.”

John chuckled and took a cautious sip. It was sweet, fruity, but with a subtle warmth at the back of his throat.

“You’ll find it has… relaxing properties,” the woman added, her voice laced with suggestion. “Your villa is ready. And if you need anything—and I mean anything—press the red button on your bedside tablet.”

She handed them a small envelope. “Your fantasy menu, should you choose to explore it.”

John opened it later, once they were in the villa.

⸻

Their villa was ridiculous—private pool, open-air shower, and a bed so large it looked like it belonged in a movie set.

“I’m not leaving this room for a week,” Claire said, tossing herself onto the mattress. “Except maybe to dive into that water naked.”

John joined her, lying next to her, eyes half-lidded from the drink and the travel. “We’re really here.”

“We are,” she murmured. “And you’re gonna spoil me rotten, right?”

He turned his head toward her. “Always.”

She smirked again, and her hand slid across his stomach. “Good.”

⸻

They spent the afternoon floating in the pool, drinking from coconut-shaped glasses, and feeding each other fruit from a silver platter. There was laughter, playful splashing, and long kisses. The sexual tension hadn’t hit yet—this was still their honeymoon phase 2.0.

It wasn’t until dinner that things shifted.

They were seated on the restaurant terrace, candlelight flickering off the ocean. Claire was wearing a red sundress with a plunging neckline, and John had to consciously keep his gaze above it when the waiter came around.

Halfway through their meal, another couple sat at the table next to theirs.

The girl was young—blonde, maybe twenty, wearing a white crop top and a see-through skirt that left little to the imagination. Her hair was in two tight braids, and her lips were full and red. She looked like she belonged in a European fashion magazine.

With her was a man—a tall, broad-shouldered Black man with a shaved head and a tailored shirt that clung to his frame. His presence was quiet but commanding. He pulled out the girl’s chair before sitting beside her, arm resting across the back lazily.

John tried not to stare.

Claire leaned over and whispered, “They look like models.”

The blonde turned, catching her gaze. She smiled—wide and knowing.

“Hey,” she said, her voice bright. “You guys just get here?”

John nodded. “This morning.”

“We saw you check in.” She extended a hand across the small divide between tables. “I’m Laila. And this is Jason.”

Jason offered a slow nod and a small smile.

“I’m Claire, and this is my husband, John.”

Laila’s eyes flitted to Claire. “God, you’re gorgeous. I love your dress.”

Claire laughed. “You’re not exactly hard on the eyes either.”

The banter came easy, like slipping into warm water. They ordered more wine, scooted their tables together, and spent the next hour talking and laughing.

Laila was flirtatious, clearly, but not aggressive. She touched John’s arm once too often to be accidental. Jason said little, but when he looked at Claire, it was with a focused intensity that made John’s stomach flutter—nerves, jealousy, something more.

When dinner wrapped, Laila leaned in and said, “There’s a fire show on the beach later. But most couples end up at the Moon Deck. Bit more… intimate. Music, dancing, some drinks. You should come.”

“We’ll think about it,” John said politely.

Claire smiled. “We might.”

⸻

Back in the villa, Claire stood at the mirror, brushing her hair out. She’d kicked off her heels and was standing barefoot in her red dress, swaying slightly to the soft music from the resort playlist.

“They were interesting,” she said.

John sat on the edge of the bed, unbuttoning his shirt. “That’s one word.”

“You didn’t like them?”

“I didn’t say that.”

She turned around and gave him a look. “You liked her.”

He grinned. “You liked him.”

Claire didn’t deny it. She walked toward him, standing between his knees. “I mean… he was hot.”

John’s breath caught.

“And she was… intense,” Claire continued, fingers sliding through his hair. “But in a fun way.”

She leaned down, kissing him slow and soft.

“Do you think that’s what this resort is?” she whispered. “A place for couples to… experiment?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

Her kiss deepened.

“Well,” she said, unzipping her dress and letting it fall to the floor, “I guess we’ll find out.”

⸻

They made love slowly, wrapped in gauzy sheets and moonlight. Claire was playful, climbing on top of him, teasing with her hips, whispering little things in his ear—“Bet you liked watching her… Bet you liked him looking at me.”

And the strangest part was—he did.

She noticed his reaction. The way his fingers gripped her tighter. The way he looked up at her like she was something holy.

Later, as she curled against his chest, she whispered, “You ever think about… trying something new? Something… wild?”

John kissed her forehead.

“Maybe,” he said softly. “With the right person.”

She smiled against his skin.

“Good,” she whispered. “Because I think we just found them.”