A/N This began as a one-shot inspired by a memorable weekend in NYC with a certain group of lovely ladies, but I felt compelled to continue it.
A special "thank you" to Ms. Numbers for her assistance with the setting of this story.
Last but not least, my betas – Mandy and Musique et Amour. I really wish I could find an original way to express my gratitude, but until I do … Thank you both. For everything.
Working at the Mayan Riviera was a rewarding way for a college student to spend her summer vacation. Life was very slow and laid back here, due in part to the oppressive heat and humidity. Christine knew the day she was hired as a maid was the luckiest day of her life. She had a long, empty summer to fill, having just finished her course-work in architecture from Clemson. The next step for an aspiring architect was an internship. She landed a plum internship at an architectural firm in Charleston, South Carolina, but that didn't start until after Labor Day. A summer spent on the beach in Mexico, with no responsibilities other than simple housekeeping, seemed like a dream come true.
She moved easily through the day, cleaning the common rooms. There were suites, also, but those were highly valued assignments reserved for the year-round help. Christine did not care. It left her time to enjoy the after hour events, such as the live music. The man at the piano bar, known only as Erik, was beyond a doubt the best musician she had ever heard. She spent most evenings listening to him as he played while the year-rounders slaved in the suites, long after her duties were finished. Rumor had it that he had been involved in a tragic accident at the Paris Opera House, but Christine cared nothing for idle gossip.
The summer was nearly over when the resort was hit by food poisoning. The guests were fine; the Americans knew better than to eat anything that had come in contact with the water. The full-time staff, however, was not as fortunate. Christine and the other temporary maids were forced into covering the others' hours.
Christine didn't mind the extra work; she was paid by the hour, after all. But she hated that she was going to miss the piano player. He would not be gone when she finished her duties, but pulling a double shift was hard on her body, and she returned to her room for a hot bath as quickly as she could once her duties were finished.
She was used to being the only person on the floor during the day, and she took advantage of the solitude by singing. Though she didn't care for her voice – it didn't seem to sound like any one else's she might have tried to model herself after – it helped her pass the time, and she loved to sing. Especially show tunes. 'Sunrise, Sunset' was very effective when it came to assisting her clean quickly and efficiently.
Erik, returning to his suite early to pick up some sheet music, happened upon her singing while she was cleaning his suite.
He stopped, stunned. The girl had the voice of an angel. Untrained, true, but the clearest, purest sound he had ever heard. Although he typically did not care to talk to strangers, especially not young women, he was entranced by her voice and he deliberately sought her out. He watched her silently as she scrubbed his bathroom, singing song after song.
Unaware that she had company, she made sure she could see her face in the tubs reflection before she stood up, making a face as her tight muscles protested. She had only taken a couple of steps when he spoke to her:
"Your voice ... why have I not heard you sing? Why are you wasting your talents cleaning a strangers bathroom when you should be singing for all the world to hear?" he asked, incredulously.
She jumped, turning around with a start. "Excuse me, Sir, I didn't realize you had returned. I'm finished here now," trailing off, she began to walk around him to the door.
Shooting out an arm, he stopped her with a secure, though loose grip upon her arm. "I have asked you a question, and you've not yet answered me. Are you this rude to everyone who compliments you?"
She reluctantly looked at his face, and was startled again. The left side of his face was gorgeous; his cheek finely sculpted, his eye a beautiful shade of green with gold flecks; and his mouth ... She nearly glanced down, embarrassed at the thoughts that sprang to her mind while gazing at his mouth, but her eyes continued to travel over his face. She could not hide the shock, and curiosity, in her eyes when they settled upon his mask.
In all of the nights – no weeks – that she had listened to him play, she had not noticed that the right side of his face was covered with a mask. It began at his forehead and ended at his lips, stretching from nose to ear.
Without thinking, he tightened his grip as he watched the expressions move across her face. Christine realized she was rudely staring at him, and began to apologize.
"There is no need to apologize," he said smoothly. "But I do expect an answer."
"I don't know how to answer you, Sir. I've never considered singing in public; my voice sounds nothing like what I hear on the radio."
He snorted at that. "If your voice resembled that, we would not be having this conversation," he assured her. "With training and practice, you could be singing at the piano bar every night of the week."
"I do not have that much time left. I am only here for the summer, and then I return to school."
He was dumbfounded. "You are willing to waste your gift?" he asked. "For what? The opportunity to strain your back, cleaning someone else's bathroom?"
"Im wasting nothing," she retorted. "It is an honest job, and Im not ashamed of what I do." She began to pull away, but his grip on her arm and a spasm in her back stopped her. Using her free arm, she reached behind and started to rub at the sore muscle. "If you will excuse me, Sir, I need to be on my way."
"More rooms to clean?" he asked sarcastically.
"No, I am finished for today. I need to take a hot bath; that's the only remedy for my back."
"I know a bit about back pain. Please, allow me?"
"What do you mean?"
Wrapping his arms around her, he murmured into her ear. "Perhaps you will allow me to rub your back."
Not giving her a chance to answer, he pressed the heels of his hands into her back. At his touch, all rational thought fled. Her arms moved of their own volition, wrapping themselves around his neck. His hands continued their languid movement up and down her back, and she relaxed, leaning heavily into him.
Closing her eyes, she did not even attempt to stifle the moan that escaped her lips as his hands moved over her bottom, cupping each cheek, as he pulled her more tightly against him.
At his insistence, she moved her head just enough to allow his lips to capture hers, and kissed him hungrily. Teasing her, he slowed the pace, tracing over her lips with his tongue. Whimpering as he tasted first the top lip, then the bottom, she dug her fingers into his neck, silently pressing for more. His tongue continued its languid exploration of her lips and she sagged against him helplessly. While his left hand continued its massage, his right hand came up around her back.
She moaned against his mouth, and was rewarded when his tongue slipped between her lips. Feeling his arousal pressed against her belly, she was vaguely aware of moist heat spreading between her legs, heightening with the feel of his tongue filling the depths of her mouth then retreating.
Unable to breathe, she broke the kiss yet he continued kissing her, slowly moving along her neck to her ear. He gently nipped her earlobe, and then laved it with his tongue to ease the sting.
Moaning, she pressed her hips against him as she turned his head again, hungry for his mouth on hers. He lavished rapid, hard kisses on her open lips, and she moved her hand up behind his head, trying to deepen the contact. Smirking slightly against her mouth, he gently pushed her back until her legs hit the bed. He continued forward, wrapping an arm around her to catch her as she began to fall back
Lured to her back, she gazed up at him through eyes glazed over with her desire, feeling one of his legs move between hers. She wrapped her leg over him, trying to increase the contact between their bodies.
Chuckling, he put his hand upon her knee. His eyes never left hers as he began moving it slowly up her leg, drawing small circles with his thumb. He reached her hip and paused for a moment, before sliding his hand under her t-shirt and continuing its move up her body.
She rolled towards him, desperately needing to feel his body pressed to hers, and he took advantage of the opportunity to unclasp her bra. Moving his hand to her breast, he pressed her back down onto her back and drew his thumb in languid circles around her nipple before he lifted her top and put his mouth to her breast.
She arched into him, holding his head tightly as his tongue laved her nipple. Half raising, she rained kisses on the top of his head, sobbing his name as he suckled.
When she thought she could bear no more, he released his hold and though she tried to pull his head up to her face - needing his mouth on hers more than she needed air - he simply moved to her other breast. To torment her further, his thumb and forefinger continued to rub the pebbled nipple that was still moist from his suckling.
Yanking desperately on his head, she was finally rewarded as he released her nipple, then trailed kisses up to her neck. She tugged his head up further, and gasped as his mouth covered hers, his tongue surging into her mouth. Her hips began matching the rhythm set by his tongue and, enticed, his hand slid down her side until stopped by the barrier presented by her waistband. Breaking off the kiss with an impatient grunt, he lifted her slightly and unzipped her skirt.
"Lift up," he ordered gently. She obeyed, mindlessly, and he tugged her skirt down and tossed it to the floor. "Lift up!" he said again, less patient this time and her panties followed her skirt. She sat up and pulled her t-shirt over her head, then reached to unbutton his shirt. He allowed this and shrugged it off once she it was unbuttoned. When she reached for his belt, though, he moved her hand away and pushed her back down onto the bed.
He followed her down, kissing her hungrily as his hand sought the heat between her legs which opened easily for him in invitation. She gasped and broke free of his mouth as his fingers found and gently tortured the center of her arousal. "Ohmigod. Oh, Erik!" she sobbed, clinging tightly to him. Coherent thought fled as the sensations grew, coiling in her stomach, tightening their grip on her. "Please, please, please ... oh, Erik ... don't stop ... please!" her cries grew until his fingers brought her the release she was craving.
He raised his head, and looking at her, licked his fingers. She blushed, knowing that it was her that he was tasting, and he smirked at her reaction. Standing, he shed the rest of his clothes before getting a condom from his night-stand. She couldn't help but watch him, fascinated by the sight of his tightly muscled body as he busied himself with sheathing with the rubber. When he turned, and she saw the effect she had on him, and couldn't help but blush a deeper shade of red.
"That is becoming an interesting shade upon you." Chuckling, Erik laid back down beside her. She turned into his arms, and eagerly met his lips with her own. Their tongues continued their dance as his hand resumed its exploration of her body. When he was certain that she was fully aroused and ready for him, he slid his thighs between hers, and shifted so that he was over her.
His penetration – full and deep – triggered her second orgasm, and she clenched her muscles to keep him buried deep inside of her. "Be still," he ground out through his clenched teeth, and stunned, she complied. He buried his head in her neck as he tried to delay his own release; he shuddered as he throbbed with need inside her wet heat. Once he had himself under control again, he grinned at her. "Almost cut this too short, my dear."
Christine blushed again, stung by his seeming criticism. "I'm ... I'm ... I'm so sorry, Erik. I didn't mean ..."
Her words were cut off by his mouth, and once he had silenced her, he lifted his head. "Do not ever apologize for responding to a man's lovemaking," he advised. She smiled, relieved, then pulled his head back down, eager for the pressure of his lips, the taste of his mouth ...
As he kissed her, long and deep and hard, her hips began to move and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He responded instantly, thrusting, as she sobbed his name, once again. He did not believe he would ever tire of hearing his name on her lips as she reached her satisfaction. Finally, he could hold back no longer, and he allowed himself to bury deep inside of her, as his orgasm erupted.
Once sated, he rolled onto his back, pulling Christine onto his chest. She snuggled into his embrace, wrapping her left arm around him. Once the haze of lust cleared and reality returned, she tried to jump up, but Erik's hold on her was firm.
"I need ... I must ... I must go," she stammered, too embarrassed to meet his eyes. Misinterpreting her words, Erik released her.
"By all means, my dear," he replied sarcastically. "My apologies for keeping you from your ... bath."
Christine grabbed her clothes and ran to the bathroom to get dressed. She could not believe what she had done; could only imagine what he must think of her.
Rising from the bed, he reached for his wallet and withdrew a few bills. Turning to Christine as she re-entered his bedroom, he held out the money.
"It is customary to tip the maid, I do believe."
Horrified, Christine tried to hide the tears that sprang to her eyes. She turned away from him, gathered the cleaning supplies, and left his suite without a glance back.