Hula Girl Read online

  “Is this your girlfriend?”

  We both turn to see a boy about eight years old standing with us, his wide eyes ping-ponging between us. He holds a clarinet at his side.

  “No,” we both answer.

  Ridiculously, I’m disappointed in his disavowal of a relationship. Of course, I have no claim on him of that nature. We both know this connection of ours is purely a heat of the moment one that has an expiration date set to match my plane ticket home. Still, his quick reply stings a little.

  Then the little boy grins and shakes his head with unwarranted confidence. “That means I have a chance, then.”

  I laugh, shocked and amused.

  “Eli,” Ford says with the sternness of a taskmaster, “go get on stage.”

  The little Casanova holds up his hands with mock innocence. “I’m just saying, if you can’t close the deal, maybe I can.”

  “Down, tiger. You should know that Ava here is actually my princess.”

  “Princess?”

  “Yes, she’s a hula princess. And she’s mine.”

  I fight back a laugh, tickled by Ford’s sudden show of possessiveness.

  “What’s that make you? A prince?”

  Ford makes an elaborate show of doffing his imaginary hat before bowing slightly. “You may call me Surfer Prince.”

  Eli laughs. “Yeah, right. In your dreams, Ford.”

  “Go make us proud on stage there,” Ford said.

  Looking over at the parking spot that had been designated as the “stage,” Eli puffs out his cheeks dubiously. Then he looks back at Ford and all his earlier bravado is lost as he suddenly looks like the young boy he is.

  “Forty-five degrees?” Eli asks, holding his clarinet out in front of his chest.

  Ford adjusts his hands slightly before nodding. “Forty-five degrees, bud. You got this.”

  The kid seems to absorb the vote of confidence before nodding. “Yeah, I got it.”

  “Break a leg,” I tell him.

  “Thanks, princess.”

  Ford and I share what I imagine to be a “proud parent” type look before he gets pulled away by another performer.

  “I saved you a great seat,” he says as he moves away. “Front row.”

  I smile. “VIP. Thank you.”

  “Well, you are royalty, after all,” he says with a wink.

  The show doesn’t begin right away, but I dutifully sit in the plastic folding chair up front. Looking around, I realize that everyone here knows each other. They must be parents and friends, but also others that are from the area. The support they’re offering is sweet.

  The community vibe spurs memories of the neighborhood I grew up in. It’s where my mother still lives. It’s very working class, but also the type of place where everyone knows everyone—for better or worse. My favorite time growing up was when three blocks were shut down for a summer street party. Everyone put out folding tables and canopies, offering their favorite dishes. It was basically a giant potluck, with kids running freely in the street, someone’s nephew doing a DJ stint at one end, and the old timers listening to Vicente Fernández on an ancient boom box at the other end. By the end of the night, the kids were still going strong well past their bedtimes while the adults were tipsy and dancing like no one was watching. But the overwhelming feeling was that everyone was just happy to be there, to be in the moment sharing a silent understanding of connectedness.

  That’s what this feels like, at least a little bit. I relax into my chair and savor this unexpected experience. Once more, I’m finding that Ford isn’t who I supposed he would be. There’s more depth to him than I presumed at first glance.

  I see him speaking with an older woman who wears a long graying braid over one shoulder. She’s just as involved in the preparations for the performance as he is and I have to assume that she is his mother, though they don’t look very much alike.

  When the performance starts, I give Eli an encouraging thumbs up. When he blows me a kiss in return I laugh loudly and have to cover my mouth while I watch Ford admonishing him. I can’t say the kids have a prodigy-level of talent, but there are glimmers that suggest that with more work, they’ll find their rhythm, especially as by the end of the piece they’ve managed to come together to all play the same notes.

  The crowd rewards them with a standing ovation afterward and the kids beam.

  * * *

  “That was really great,” I tell Ford once he’s found his way to me after twenty minutes of talking with students and parents.

  He shrugs. “They’ll get there. Might have been premature to have a performance, but I think they got a kick out of it.”

  “More than that. You could see their confidence rise by the end. It was really amazing to see them fight their way through and finish so strong.”

  “That’s how I learned—just by doing it.”

  “How long have you been teaching?”

  He takes a deep breath and releases it slowly. “Just under a year.”

  “And before that? What kind of work did you do?”

  “That’s real-world stuff. Are we going to go there, Hula Girl?”

  Damn. What made me slip like that? He’s thrown me in more ways than one, that’s for sure. I do want to know more about him, but, at the same time, I know it’s better to keep things as they are. To just play this all for fun. As much as I like him, there’s no chance for a future.

  “No, I don’t suppose so,” I tell him.

  He nods. “So, you’re dressed to go out. I think I owe you a drink. Maybe even a dance?”

  I smirk. “Are you trying to get me to do a hula?”

  “Always. I love watching those hips move,” he says with a wicked grin.

  “But I never actually did any hula moves.”

  “Believe me, I’ve seen your hips do some beautiful things.” He leans toward me, his lips grazing my ear as he says, “Like when you had your legs wrapped around my neck. Fuck, you’re delicious.”

  “Ford,” I whisper, my face burning with a mixture of desire and embarrassment.

  “I like the way you say my name,” he says before kissing the side of my neck.

  A shiver runs through me. I want him to feel the same kind of tingle, so I tell him softly, “Make me scream it later?”

  He eyes me, his smile crooked and sexy. “Hell, yeah.”

  “Ford, introduce me to your friend.”

  Our reaction at the intrusion into our dirty talk is comical. We both take a big step away from each other and look guiltily at the woman with the gray braid who has approached us.

  “Oh, sure,” Ford says. “Um, Mom, this is my friend Ava. Ava, this is my mom, Rebecca.”

  I shake her hand. “It’s nice to meet you. The children were a delight.”

  “Thank you. We’ll get there. And how do you two know each other?”

  “Just casually,” I say.

  “Do you live here, then, Ava?”

  “No, I’m actually on vacation.” This admission seems to trigger something in Ford’s mother. Her mouth tightens and her eyes go hard.

  “Okay, Mom,” Ford says, “we actually have to get going.”

  “But—”

  He turns to her so that I can’t see either of their expressions. But I can hear him say, “I’ve got it covered. You have nothing to worry about.”

  After a moment, she nods and we say our goodbyes. Ford takes my hand and pulls me away without any explanation and I decide none is needed. Not with the temporary thing we have going on.

  11

  Ford

  I can barely keep my eyes on the road. I’ve got Ava sitting next to me in my truck as we head toward Lahaina with the plan that we’ll get a taste of the nightlife there. But she’s got her legs crossed and her dress has inched up along those beautiful thighs of hers. And I’ve still got her challenge to make her scream my name in my head.

  Truth is, I’ve never liked my name. Not when I know I’m named after my absentee dad. My mom once confessed
she’d named me for him as a sort of passive-aggressive move since he hadn’t wanted anything to do with us. She wanted him to remember that not only did he have a son, but that we share a name. From what I can tell, it was the only spiteful thing she’s ever done and I can’t blame her. She also made a point to tell me many times throughout my life that I’d do better things with my name than he ever would. She reasoned that I had the kindness and compassion that he lacked. That had been true for a time. And then I went and proved her wrong by trying to be exactly like him.

  That regrettable period is over, though. Thankfully, my mom welcomed me back without hesitation and we’ve been able to rebuild our connection. I could see her watching me with Ava earlier, see the fear in her eyes. I hadn’t intended on introducing her to Ava because it would be all too obvious to her that she’s a vacation fling, making her worry that I’d somehow replicate her mistake all those years ago. I didn’t give her time to see that Ava is, unlike my father, a good person. I just cut it off with the reassurance that I was taking all necessary precautions.

  Not that Ava doesn’t tempt me to play a lot more recklessly. Especially now, as she leans toward me and slides her fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck, giving me a show of her breasts down the front of her dress when I glance toward her.

  “You’re going to make me run off the road,” I say, only half-joking.

  “Maybe you should pull over.”

  I laugh but she doesn’t. Looking at her, there’s a flirt in her eyes that has my dick rising to the occasion.

  “Don’t tempt me. I’ll do it.”

  “Really?” she asks with an amused laugh as if she had been joking about pulling over.

  “I’ve wanted to rip that dress off you since the second I saw you in it, honey.”

  Her hand falls from my hair to my thigh. “No need to rip it off. It pushes up really easily.”

  “Fuck,” I groan and she laughs again.

  The sky is in that twilight phase of going dark but night hasn’t truly fallen. Still, there’s a turnout ahead that’s partially draped in overgrown trees and brush, making for a perfect spot to get us a little privacy. I swing the truck off the road and onto the dirt, not caring when branches slap at the windows as we pull to a stop.

  As if synchronized, we both unlatch our seat belts and turn to each other, our mouths crashing together hungrily. This desire is insatiable. I want to consume every part of her. In one swift movement, I pull the lever to slide my seat back and grab her around the waist, sliding her to my side so that she’s straddling me.

  Pulling down the top of her dress, I find that she’s braless. I take one of her small brown nipples into my mouth, sucking and biting as she rocks her hips against mine. She’s pressing herself against my painfully hard dick, free in her pursuit of pleasure as she throws her head back.

  “That’s it,” I tell her. “Ride me just like that until you come.” I squeeze her tits and then cover them with kisses and bites that alternate between gentle and firm.

  “Ford,” she moans as she gets closer.

  I drop my hands to her hips, guiding her in a faster rhythm. I want to be in her. I want to push my cock deep inside her warm, throbbing pussy. But I want to watch her come first.

  “Louder,” I tell her and her eyes lock onto mine. She’s so close. Her breath is jagged. Her cheeks are pink. Her hips are thrashing against mine.

  “Wait,” she says and reaches down to unbutton my shorts.

  I pull her hands away and press her to me once more. “Don’t worry. I’m going to fuck you so hard. But right now, I need you to let go and come for me.”

  She must take me seriously because she wraps her arms around my neck, her face falls forward, and her whole body tenses. “Ford,” she breathes as she comes.

  Okay, so it’s not her screaming my name, but damn if it doesn’t feel fantastic.

  “Ava,” I tell her softly, “you beautiful thing.” I stroke her long, shiny hair over and over until she’s recovered.

  When she wiggles her way off my lap and over to her side of the truck, my eyebrows come together in disappointment. That lasts mere seconds, though, as she’s soon leaning over the center console so she can undo my fly and rub my swollen, slick cock with both hands. She replaces her hands with her mouth, and her hot, firm tongue sends my eyes rolling to the back of my head. I can feel her working my dick deep into her throat, taking as much of me in as she can in a rhythm that is sheer perfection.

  My balls tighten and she must know how close I am because she changes her technique. I’m insanely grateful that she wants to prolong this. Using a combination of her hand and her mouth, she creates a different kind of pressure and suction that has my toes curling. Her moans of pleasure are matched by my own, especially when I slip my hand down and grab her ass. Her skin, bared by a thong, is smooth and tight but shapely enough so that I can get a good handful. I squeeze her with increasing need as I watch her head bob up and down. Pulling a few strands of loose hair away from her face, I watch her take me in her eager mouth and I’m suddenly at the point of no return.

  “You’re going to make me come, honey. It’s too good. I can’t—”

  Her free hand covers my lips and stops me from speaking just as she starts sucking me off faster. And then I’m pushing myself hard against the seat, coming into her unrelenting mouth, groaning deeply. She takes every last drop, only stopping when there’s nothing more. I’m completely depleted and completely sated.

  “Jesus,” I say on an exhale.

  She’s moved up enough so that her face is pressed to my chest and I wrap my arms around her.

  “You didn’t scream my name,” she says, a tease in her voice.

  “Ava!” I shout, drawing it out so that my voice goes hoarse to embody the searing, animalistic heights of desire she just brought me to.

  Startled to laughter, she looks up at me with that pretty smile of hers. I lean down and kiss her, not caring that she’s got my taste in her mouth. All I want is to show this woman that there’s nowhere I’d rather be at this moment than with her.

  * * *

  When we get to the liveliest bar on Front Street in Lahaina, Ava goes straight to the restrooms, while I grab us drinks and a table.

  I’m still buzzing from that blowjob in the truck. And I’m wondering how on earth I managed to hook up with this sexy stranger.

  Someone slaps me hard on the shoulder, shaking me from my lingering lust-filled haze. I turn to find my buddies, Pika and Hiro, standing there.

  “Hey guys,” I say as they help themselves to the tall chairs at the table. That leaves one more for Ava.

  “You shouldn’t have,” Pika says, picking up the Negra Modelo I had ordered for Ava. His name means “rock” in Hawaiian and perfectly fits his short, stocky frame.

  I snatch the bottle from his hand before he can get it to his lips. “Not for you, jackass.”

  Hiro laughs as Pika makes a show of looking around the small bar for my mystery guest.

  Like most bars on Front Street, the heart of Lahaina, it’s just starting to fill up and the music isn’t quite at peak levels yet. The mostly tourist crowd that frequents this place won’t get going until closer to ten o’clock. And by “get going,” I mean, filling the tables and bar stools, and drinking sickly sweet mai tais until they’ve accumulated one too many of those little paper umbrellas that garnish the drink. I had thought this would give Ava and me a chance to hang out before it got rowdy, but now I’ve got these two guys breaking things up.

  Don’t get me wrong, they are my friends. As luck would have it—or rather, not so much luck, but the fact that we live on a very small island—these guys are the same ones I told Ava about. They are the locals who gave me a chance when I struggled to fit in as a kid. I grew up with them before I moved to the mainland. We used to run around our part of Maui looking for adventure together. We lost touch when I went to live with my father and only reconnected out on Honolua Bay when I returned. When we got up
to speed on each other’s lives, it was clear we’d gone in different directions. They’re high school drop-outs and work odd jobs like construction, handy-man work, or tour-guide stuff. I not only finished high school a year early but went to an Ivy League school and became a successful attorney. Our divergent paths might have made regaining a friendship too difficult, but before too long, we understood that just like when we were kids, our love of surfing outweighed any other difference. They gave me a few weeks of hell for being a traitor for leaving before deciding I was okay after all, and we’ve become surf and drinking buddies. We only ever come to one of these Front Street bars when we’re looking for some female company.

  Thing is, I’ve got that part covered tonight. And she’s heading my way now, looking apprehensively at the guys sitting with me. I hold out my hand, wanting to make sure she knows I’m not trying to ditch her.

  Pika and Hiro both turn to see who I’m gesturing to and I see their appreciative expressions as they eye her up and down.

  “Knock it off, you creeps,” I growl.

  “What?” Hiro asks, suddenly all gentlemanly innocence.

  “Who’s your fine lady friend,” Pika asks, not pretending to be anything other than the letch that he is.

  Ava takes the offer of my hand as she joins us. I should let her go, let her sit at the empty chair. But I don’t want to stop feeling the heat of her skin on mine. She meets my eyes and for a moment, it feels like everything else fades away. I’m lost in her gaze. And I don’t want to be found.

  “Well?” Pika asks, breaking the spell.

  “I’ll introduce you, then you can go get your own table,” I say brusquely. “Ava, meet Hiroto and Pika.”

  Ava laughs at my rude introduction. “It’s okay. I don’t mind if your friends want to stay.”