Monday, January 20, 2014

Girls, Wine, and an Entire Plantation

The entire plantation was rather well designed and quite pretty. The room had its own private patio, which delighted both myself and the Artist. The weather was cool but not cold: overcast and light, but without sun.

“I got us four bottles and a bottle of champagne.”

“That might do it.”

“Do you think it's enough?”

“Knowing us? We're probably going to have to buy another bottle.”

We smiled at each other some more. There was that moment again. That pause. That first time being together after being away from each other for so long. But we were just sort of there. Both of us wanted to do something, but neither of us knew exactly what to do.

I closed the space and kissed her, long and lingering, taking her in with all my missing and longing.

We smiled and held hands.

“Now, let’s go get breakfast before we fail to leave this room!” I pulled her hand and we walked arm in arm down the winding halls. I hadn’t really eaten much the day before, and even though I’d had a late-night sandwich, I was rather used to having breakfast after working out, and the extra-large coffee was only going to go so far.

I had studied the maps while waiting for the Artist, and knew there was supposed to be a little restaurant downstairs. We found it just on the floor below our room. We were greeted by a rather friendly and very chatty hostess.

“Well, you ladies, you want the buffet? It’s lovely. Where do you want to sit? I know. You will sit at my favorite table. This one here; this is the best table. And what do you want to drink? Do you want some juice? Orange juice, I think, or maybe coffee? I’ll bring you—" She had this habit of talking and asking questions and answering all of them, which was pleasant in some ways as it prevented us from having to do any of the work, while at the same time being mildly annoying as we could not get a word in edgewise. Also, I found her onslaught of English friendliness to be very confusing, because sometimes friendliness in general made me clam up.

“Not orange juice.” the Artist managed to stop her, with all the pleasantness and southern charm she rightfully owned. “I’ll have a cranberry juice, and she wants a coffee, black, and yes, we will have the buffet.”

We smiled as she hurried off to serve us. We looked out the window for a bit before heading to the buffet table. The buffet really was lovely, complete with about five different cheeses and plenty of salmon and capers, which was really all I wanted to eat. There were also dozens of baked goods, fresh grits, lots of pork sausage and bacon, homemade jams, locally imported treats, and a few more mealy cereals and general products for children who could not go without having their overprocessed sugars.

“This is really lovely. And it’s perfect for you,” the Artist exclaimed.


We sat looking out over the ocean as we ate.

“This really is the best table. There's no one behind us and nothing in the way of the view.”

“I think this whole thing is rather lovely; this was a good idea,” I replied.

“I still can’t believe you did this.”

“I had nothing better to do.”

“Is this a sex thing?”

We giggled and smiled and filled up on good food, then took a short walk around to inquire about the possibility of the sauna, which we had planned less well. Being that it was a holiday, all the massaging and pampering was booked up, so we were rather out of luck on that front. We walked about the courtyard, looking at the outdoor fires and pools, and I lamented that I had not brought a swimsuit after all.

“But it's too cold to swim,” I remarked.

“Honey, all these pools are heated.”

We noted that there was a nice oceanside restaurant, and they were having a three-course special dinner for New Year’s, so we stopped in and asked about getting a reservation. Our options were for an early dinner, or a later dinner around 9:30.

“It is New Year’s Eve and I have no intention of going to bed early.”

“Let’s do it then,” she said and we agreed to take the 9:30 spot for dinner.

That done, we retired to our room for an entirely different kind of feast.

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