C.J. SHARKY

PLAYA

PUNCH

Copyright

C. J. Sharky 2010

For

Kysa, Garett and Skylar

The best of the best

                                        

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This is a work of fiction. I have used several names of real persons but the characters attached to these names are fictional and their fictional behavior bears no resemblance to their real life counterparts.

In other cases, characters that closely resemble real life counterparts have had their names changed to protect the innocent, the guilty… and the author.

You only go around once,

Or twice,

Or three times,

Or forever…

The time to stop is…

Never

Chapter 1

WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED to me last night?  I remember, sort of. You… an amazing woman, or at least it seemed that way at the time.  Maybe I was just drunk or high. But you were intense.

You had that long tawny hair, looking silver in the moon light, a tight tube top, I didn’t know anybody still wore those things, but on you, hot, hot, hot…tall and lean with an incredibly scrumptious body.

You showed me a smile that barely touched your cheeks. Hiding something that would be hard to find, but worth it if you could… the pink tip of your tongue licking your upper lip, reflecting in the moonlight.

That’s it. We were at the full moon party on the beach, between Puerto Aventuras and Akumal, where the glowing globe of the moon reflected on the surface of the Caribbean like dark jade, with a liquid surface of slightly rolling mercury. 

Five thousand Riviera Maya party animals fueled by tequila, cerveza, pot, coke and of course X.  What would a beach rave be without the necessary ingredients for instant intimacy? 

NOW I REMEMBER…

I was hanging out in my bar on Tenth in Playa with the usual assortment of locals and tourists.  A bunch of college girls who had enough sense to avoid the forty peso cervezas on Playa’s beautiful, exotic and quite commercial brick pedestrian walk way, La Quinta, Fifth Avenue…in search of adventure with the locals.

All of the locals were in the house:

Billy Bob, a big Texas boy, spending daddy’s money as fast and loose and in as many ways as he could discover.

Fat Guido, the name says it all. A wayward real estate developer from Chicago, who always worked <i>the boys</i> into a conversation.

Big Jim, seriously overweight but not so big otherwise.  Always fired up by his own personal mix of cuba libres and whatever his found drug of choice was at the moment.  Totally convinced that any electronic connection (television, video, music, whatever) was a cleverly concealed listening or watching device, allowing the FBI to keep track of his every move.  The excuse he used one night, when he used a pair of wire cutters to clip all my satellite cables.

Jungle John, a Canadian ex-motorcycle racer (we have a lot of ex´s in Playa) now running a jungle ATV adventure tour.

Tennis John, an all inclusive hotel tennis instructor, who spent most of his time using his slightly disheveled Tom Cruise good looks, to introduce one of the many and constantly interchanging beautiful, lovely, sexy, exotic, wild and crazy tourist women to the wild side of Playa,  John’s studio bedroom.

Proud Mary, 36 double D’s, from the finest plastic surgeon in Miami (her words) who almost always drank for free thanks to an occasional flash of the merchandise.

Hollywood Sarah, a talented, beautiful, red/blonde haired, freckled, faux painter from LA, who lived off her ability to create fantasies in the living rooms of the seaside mansions on the Phase one Playacar beach and her killer instincts at Texas Hold'em.

Kat-man-do, her nickname from her pro-clivity to pick out her date for the evening and cut him out of the herd with the whispered phrase, “Kat can do…almost anything you want to do.”

And many others:

Tour Guides, Dive Masters,

Dive Instructors, Boat Captains, Musicians, Artists,

Scam Artists, Writers,

Dopers, Drunks,

Ex-Drunks (sipping club soda and virgin marys),

Dancers, Shamans, Comedians, Ladies, Ladies of the Night,

Healers, Workout Instructors, Juiceheads, Potheads,

Fisherman, Time Share Salesmen, Cons, Ex Cons,

PHD’s, High School Drop Outs, Trailer Trash, Euro Trash,

Backpackers, Adventurers,

Teachers, Believers, Seekers,

Patriots, Hysterics, Mystics,

High Tec Moguls, Dictators,

Cops, Crooks, Undercover Operators,

Aliases using Aliases, Mathematicians, Morticians,

Rock and Roll Idols,

Whorehouse Owners,

MD’s, Dentists, Chemists,

Software Geniuses,

Ballet Princesses, Arm Wrestlers, Mud Wrestlers, Snake Wranglers,

Politicians, Clinicians, Beauticians,

Actors, Directors, Screenwriters,

Art Directors, Board of Directors, Brain Surgeons,