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My competition was light. Six of the men were similarly attached, which left Paulo – a Brazilian, Michél – a Frenchman, and Samuel – my fellow ...merican. There was only one other American with us on the trip, Annabeth. I spoke decent Spanish, at a conversational level, but not fluent. I was able to understand less than a fifth of the Brazilian’s Portuguese, but I was a hit with the Latin American women in the restaurant the first night, flirting my best in their native tongues. We single people. He didn’t answer; making her squirm was his goal tonight. One of them. She kept quiet as he finished tying one wrist, then tying the other – a length of free hanging rope hanging off of each wrist. He got off her and told her to slide up onto the bed farther. She slid up slightly, still scared but getting wetter by the second. “Lie down. Head on the pillows. Now.” She immediately did. Hands glued to her sides, legs pushed together and biting her full, cherry red bottom lip. Jesse got on top of. “OK. I’ll take it from here,” Taylor said, “I really appreciate all the help. Now get back to your family, and try to stay safe.”“I have one thing that should help you,” Sebastian said, shutting off the vehicle and climbing out, circling around to the truck bed.Pulling off the canvas sheet, he revealed a beat-up motorcycle that looked like it might date all the way back to World War II.“What’s this?” Taylor asked, following him out of the truck, confused.“You’re out here by yourself, and I. I stopped instantly, watching the steamy sight in front of me. Carrie and Sarah, naked, glistening with oil, locked in a passionate sixty-nine, with Sarah on top. My head was just clearing the stairway, so I knew they probably couldn’t see me, and as engaged as they were I could have walked right by them and they probably wouldn’t have noticed. The grunts and squeals were getting louder, and Sarah let out a small shriek and stopped moving. If I had to bet I’d say she was covering Carrie’s face.

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