My Golden Night

I might go along there tomorrow. Today I’ll go and look at the falls and spend a little time at the pool. There’s a nice bar there. We could meet there after your session and then go and have dinner.” Em booked a two-hour session for four o’clock, an hour hence. She had a shower and came back into the living area of their little suite in a short strapless sun dress. She was wearing her little red bikini top as a bra and its minuscule bottom as panties. Both were held in place only by easy to undo bows. Ambrose gave her a smile. “You’ll be having the resort special then Em,” he said. She laughed. “Maybe,” she said. An image flashed across his mind of Em lying naked on her back, legs apart, with a masseur at her head leaning forwards over her and massaging her breasts. He got hard when he thought about that and hoped Em wouldn’t notice the sudden bulge in his pants. She did. She laughed; a throaty little chuckle really. “Your turn tomorrow Ambrose,” she said. She checked the. After all, she was eighteen and they were very fond of Cole. ‘Just see that he takes good care of you,’ her dad had said. So in mid-March they were off, heading south on I-95 in Cole’s GTO, its trunk packed to the gills with luggage and with music blasting from the 8-track, an eclectic mix heavy on the Bs, from Beethoven and Bach, to The Beatles and Beach Boys. It was just when they crossed into North Carolina that Cole and Ellen had their first fight. Well, not a fight, really, more like a profound disagreement argued vociferously by both. ‘So, it looks like we’re in Vietnam to stay,’ Cole said. ‘A huge foreign policy blunder,’ Ellen said. ‘We don’t belong there.’ ‘I say we do belong there. Communist aggression is a fact of life that needs to be contained.’ ‘No, Cole, it’s a civil war over there. None of our business. Don’t tell me you believe in the domino theory?’ ‘Theory? Come on, El. Look at Eastern Europe. Red China. North Korea. Cuba. All mighty good evidence that it’s more.
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