What She Needs Read Free Page A

you lived out your fantasies and more like a place that came up with the fantasies for you. Which seemed, to her, even weirder. But each guide also possessed a degree in psychology, so maybe it made sense to have someone like that to sort of . . . direct one’s casual sex.
    Geez—casual sex. Gabe still thought she was here for that. Upon remembering, she found herself mumbling a noncommittal, “Oh, okay,” and again feeling embarrassed.
    “You’ll love Mariel,” he went on as he followed Jenna up the small jet’s stairway. “She’s great. Really easy to talk to.” She’d already been given the name of her guide, and apparently so had Gabe.
    “Wow, seems you’re in the know about everything. Next, I’ll find out you’re the pilot,” she teased, stepping onto the luxurious plane.
    “Co-pilot,” he said with a shrug, and she turned to him in surprise. Was he kidding? “Really,” he added, as if reading her mind. “As soon as I get you a drink from the bar and get you buckled in, we’ll be ready for takeoff.”
    A few minutes later, Jenna sat in a plush chair next to a window, peering out over aqua Caribbean waters, sipping a fruity drink Gabe had called “erotic rum punch,” and getting more and more nervous as she approached her final destination. Odd, she hadn’t been nervous before meeting Gabe and climbing aboard this plane—but somehow that had made it all real to her. Lord, she was going to the Hotel Erotique!
    But stay calm. You’re just going for the beach and the sun.
    Only now she was regretting a few things, such as the online questionnaires she’d filled out at Mariel’s request. She wasn’t sure why she’d done it. Maybe she was curious to find out what her answers meant. Although some of the questions were about sex and fantasies, mostly they had been about less risqué subjects, from her childhood to her current hobbies, and seemed to point toward something like a personality profile.
    She supposed she’d also feared if she told them up front she didn’t want the sex part of the prize that maybe, despite Kevin’s theory, they’d take it back. And by that time she’d made firm plans to go, even buying some new beachwear—slightly sexier than her usual wardrobe, just to kind of . . . fit in and not feel like a freak among the sex-seekers.
    Now she wished she hadn’t completed the forms, nor been so honest on them. Not that she’d had all that much to share. Maybe that was part of the regret. Maybe she would appear to be a classic case of someone who needed help in the sex department, just like Kevin thought. When she’d been sitting at home, looking at her computer screen, it had felt like a game—something to do when she needed a break from work. Now it was feeling very real.
    But stop worrying—this will be fine. Nothing had actually changed, after all. Tonight at what the brochure called her “orientation dinner,” she would tell Mariel her decision—not to partake in the sex—and surely the woman would understand, especially if she was as great as Gabe claimed. Then she’d perhaps, out of curiosity, ask Mariel what the analysis had revealed about her. Because who didn’t want to know stuff like that about themselves?
    After that, she would embark on two full weeks of sun and relaxation. She was already looking forward to some of the spa treatments, and she’d packed a few books she’d been wanting to read. All this would turn out . . . okay. Better than okay, in fact. It was a free vacation, after all. In a tropical paradise. What more could a girl ask for?
     
     
    Four hours later, Jenna actually felt relaxed.
    Of course, maybe that had to do with the numerous “erotic rum punches” she’d consumed throughout the afternoon. But better to be a tiny bit intoxicated and relaxed than strung out and nervous.
    She’d found that, in keeping with the pictures on the Internet, the hotel and grounds were immaculate—luxurious with just a hint of casual island flair