Eyes Like Diamonds
The club was steeped in blue light, and whatever tan we got had the chance to seem darker in that hue. The “Space Bar” was on the 10th floor of the Melia Resorts down in Cuba. It wasn’t really a full-blown club, but a rather small room pretending to be one. The dance floor was a small empty circle with four spotlights hanging overhead. The music was too loud, and there was one long bar with three young Cubans working the bar. They were two men and a sharp-looking woman. The short woman had her hair in a tight ponytail; her skin was a gentle light brown, and she had a feminine rectangular jaw. Her eyes were the key; she had seen a lot, and lord knows how many drunken asshole tourists. I knew she was experienced and little would phase her. She instantly won my respect, and she didn’t even serve me a drink yet — which she eventually most certainly did, but she didn’t give me the time of day, and I couldn’t care less. If she wanted to flirt, she would have. Instead, I let my attention wander to where it was actually wanted, and that was with my friends.
The Party Table
We sat away from the bar and created a large ovalish monstrosity of a table for our drinks. The waiter brought dozens of shooters in champagne flute glasses. Measuring the amount of booze was just a myth, and the liquor flowed. I kept my composure. I kept the beast at bay. The liquor wasn’t hitting at all. Throughout the night, our table would shrink and grow with participants. Sometimes, the occasional foreigner would sit in and try and keep up with us and learn that they could not and would bow out. The one thing that was certain was the laughter, and we were all drunk on that.
Alfredo and I got lost in a conversation when a shape caught the corners of our eyes, and we simultaneously turned our heads to look and see who was joining us. There they were — so sharp, so clear and piercing. They were diamonds, or glowing white embers of fire — a stunningly rare pair of eyes I seldom come across. I turned to Alfy, smiled, looked back immediately and, this time, my eyes zoomed away from the jewels. There she sat, smiling at me. “Hello, my name is Iliana. I am from Russia.”
Iliana and her Diamond Eyes
She was beaming. Her sharp eyes were curious, and she wanted to know more about us. I wonder what she thought about my eyes. I lied, “I’m Alex, and I’m from Canada. Montreal, to be exact.” She nodded in approval. “Very nice, but please don’t ask me if I like vodka; everyone always say vodka this, vodka that because Russian.” I laughed at her desperation for normal conversation, as she clearly got fed up of the usual tourist stereotypical reaches in conversations to keep them going. I told her, “no, I won’t bring it up; I know there’s more to Russia than vodka. I’m more interested in who you are.” She was delighted and lowered her left shoulder, tilting her head and seducing me with her eyes.
She shifted back to her normal posture in snap and I was thinking, “okay, that’s interesting... I hope she isn’t a nut or something.” She said, “so, what do you in Montreal, are you here…” Alfy and I looked up and there was a big Russian — not a six-foot Russian, but a six-foot-four Russian. He was not too pleased with her, it would seem, and he grabbed Iliana by the arm and pulled her away. They began to talk, and Alfredo and I turned away. What the hell just happened? It was just tourist talk, but maybe her husband knew something we didn’t.
“Never Have I Ever?” Well...
The night went on and we played “Never have I ever.” The game quickly became a sexual inquisition, and I drank my lion’s share. Have I ever had a threesome? Drink. Never have I ever had sexual fantasies about someone at this table… drink! Never have I ever been tied up… drink! I was screwed. I was a pervert.
Getting Some Much-Needed D
The next day I woke up early despite the heavy drinking from the night before. My body always seems to be incredibly resilient and willing to take more and more. It was 8 am and the beach was calling us to play in her sandy playground. It was sunny and I could finally get the tan going and feed the body the heavily-deprived vitamin D, as the doctor had ordered.
The day was filled with the usual shenanigans, except I dramatically cut the drinking to a minimum. My body and mind were sharp, energized, and ready for the night. We took our mandatory nap to regain even more strength and we decided to meet in the lobby bar. It was only a handful of us, and our conversation was light. Time at the resort was running out, and we wished we could have some more time.
She Caught Me in Her Spell
I was sipping on my third Cuba Libre and I could feel my aura being pulled away from me. Someone was watching me; someone was wanting me. I turned, and there she was, the Russian, with her diamond eyes glistening, so sharp and bright I couldn’t look away. Her hair was thick and wild but kept in place by some magic I couldn’t understand. She wore my favorite kind of dress, a sundress; it was red with flowers strewn across it, and her legs! Man oh man, those legs were so strong and defined. She was not tall nor short, but a beautiful balance of strength and femininity. I would have drooled, and maybe I was. She had wedged open-toe heels and I couldn’t help wondering…
She walked by me, blasting me with her eyes, and I was caught in her spell. As she pulled away, I could see her dress was open in the back and the lower part of the dress couldn’t fall flat because of her perky buttocks that begged for a spanking or more. She looked back and smiled. In a trance, I did nothing. She kept walking. I gathered my wits and proclaimed, “I need to drop a load,” and scurried off, trying to find those diamonds.
I didn’t want to look like a creep, so I walked normally. Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Maybe that would be the last time I saw her shine. I walked, wondering if she would be at the other lobby bar, and I almost blew past her save for that beautiful dress that caught the corner of my eye and like a hook through a trout’s upper lip. I jerked to a stop and tried to look cool. I wasn’t a creep, but a real-life Kramer who had one too many. I got my shit together and stood beside her waiting for the elevator to arrive. It felt like an eternity; there was still five floors to go. I just looked straight ahead, never even attempting to fire a glance her way. Who knows? Maybe she was staring at me the whole time, but I didn’t dare look over. I closed my peripheral vision, but there was something I couldn’t escape. My nostrils flared open as such a sweet, delicate odor wafted its way into my brain. The beast inside grumbled.
The doors opened, and that’s when our eyes crashed through the mirror lining the elevator wall. Smiles were inevitable, and we stepped inside in sync. We turned and faced each other as she reached for the close button on the elevator panel. I took a deep breath, and my whole body embraced the oxygen. The hormones had reached their boiling point. Her diamonds were burning bright like a thousand suns. The elevator had windows on its side, and the view was magnificent. I swear, if you were watching the elevator, you would have seen a small explosion as our lips hit. The chemistry was instantaneous, and one hand found her thigh. Her looks weren’t deceiving; she had strong legs, but they were so soft and tender. My other hand got lost in her hair, squeezing tight as tension began to grow between us.
We made it to the top floor and she stopped kissing me while one of her hands was holding “it” firmly, her other hand just below my throat caressing my chest. She asked, “Where is room? Shall we go down?” I pushed the number four button. The elevator jolted and made its way down. I lost my balance, making me press her up against the window, and she moaned as I palmed one of her supple breasts. The elevator came to a stop, but it wasn’t our floor. The doors slid open, and I wonder what the old couple saw and what stories they would tell tomorrow.
We composed ourselves and stood as we had outside the elevator on the ground floor. We looked straight ahead. Iliana’s bra was showing, and her hair looked like a wash of rosy locks. My hair was jagged and twisted, and my lips were full of red lipstick; it was plain to see. The old couple smiled; maybe they shared their own elevator fun when they were young... maybe it was today? Why not, right?
Back at His Room
The fourth floor had arrived, and the doors slid open. In sync once again, we excused ourselves by the old couple and stepped out. The old woman blurted out, “your secret’s safe,” she chuckled. “That’s how I met Harry, and look at us now! Hahaha!” The doors closed as they laughed, and I took Iliana’s hand and strode to my room. The key card flashed, and we were inside.
She walked to my bed and sat on the edge. She crossed her legs and sent a blast of light from her diamonds at me standing by the fridge. She reached with her hand to one of her shoulder straps of her dress and slid it off. I took off my shirt, thinking that it was a good day to get a tan — mocha Marco was back! She reached for the other strap and slipped it off, too, and there was no bra. Her breasts were round and firm, and her nipples were begging me — let me rephrase that — I was begging for her nipples to fall into my mouth but I didn’t say a word. Instead, I walked right to her and tilted her head up and kissed her deeply. Our fluids exchanged, and the flames rose.
I cradled her head and picked her up off the bed, and she quickly wrapped her legs around my waist. We kissed, staring into each other’s eyes. I kissed her neck. I wanted what I wanted. I lifted her higher so that her breasts were in my mouth. I made sure her nipples were lavished and adored. She whispered in my ear, “animal.” I couldn’t help but oblige. I gave her what she asked for. The animal in me roared as I threw her onto the bed and got to my knees at the foot of the bed. I grabbed her ankles and pulled her towards me, hooking her legs under her knees. Her buttocks were hanging on the edge of the bed, and her vagina was glistening, a soft pink with small petals at the top of the labia. I dove in and the animal feasted.
Iliana’s hand was kneading my hair like dough until she eventually slid away from me. Her cheeks were flushed, and her aura was rosy, too. She sat up and reached for my pants, and she pulled so hard I swear I heard them tear! I stood there naked and her mouth was filled, her eyes staring up at me. She had me mesmerized. She loved what she was doing, and her eyes confessed that over and over again. I kept my composure as best I could, with some near calls of ending things prematurely. No, the beast wanted it all.
The foreplay was complete. I was rock hard as I rolled down the condom, and I watched as she rubbed her clitoris. I looked away to finish my task and she pounced. I once again stood with her in my arms, her legs around my waist. It was a replay, save for one thing — we were truly connected in this instance. Damn, she was strong. I got pushed into the wall and she held on as I thrusted, slowly at first. As she opened up, I fell into a nice rhythm of long, deep thrusts, alternating speeds but never going too fast. Every inch mattered. Every inch was felt.
My legs fatigued and I fell back onto the bed. She was on top of me and her eyes burst with passion. She thrust her hips and she began to sway, her back curved. She accelerated as she changed gears. She gasped and shook as she caught her breath and picked up the pace. I was in awe as she made herself cum only to pause and go even faster. I nearly came myself, but I managed to escape. It was the beast’s turn to release.
The Beast’s Release
I rolled her over, and I went long and deep, my pace quickening. Her legs shook as I took a bite and left a lick. My time was cumming, and I felt her orgasm approaching as the stars aligned. We had one final big, shared orgasm.
Once the smoke settled, we laid in the bed trying to gather our wits because our brains apparently exploded as well. We looked at each other and smiled. “You’re incredible,” I mumbled. “In another life, we would be married,” I laughed. “I guess we will never see each other again,” Iliana responded coldly. “No, we will not.”
She sat up and looked around, taking inventory of her clothing. It was all there — no earrings lost or bracelets. She stood up and went in the washroom. She came back dressed up and looked gorgeous, and her diamonds were glowing yet again. I was leaning against the headboard and said, “Lipstick. You had lipstick on.” She sighed and said, “pity I won’t have your taste on my lips.” She pulled her lipstick out of her purse and reapplied it. Good as new, I supposed.
I wished her a good life and thanked her. She said goodnight and walked towards the door. I heard it open, so she must have been standing in the doorway when Iliana said, “Thanks for not talking about vodka.” I laughed and the door closed.
This story was submitted by one of our members to the My Lifestyle Vacation Erotic Writing Contest. SDC announced the winner of this contest on November 12th, 2020. Our editor made minor adjustments to this story for length and clarity.
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