Announcement

"And the winner of the employee's profit sharing draw for the one week, all expense paid vacation is Miller Hunt from Inventory Records! Congratulations, Miller, please come to the human resources office and see Mrs. Lowney for your prize."

"Hunt, you lucky son-of-a-bitch! How much you want for it?"

The tinny announcement was still echoing in Miller's head as the harsh slap stung his shoulders. Had he heard correctly? His name was drawn for the EPS prize – a week all expenses paid? He suddenly felt the crowd of co-workers gathering about and jostling him, teasing and congratulating; some pleased for him, some envious of him.

"C'mon, Hunt; I'll give you week's pay."

"I already make more than you, Howard," Miller laughed, wrapping his arms about his stocky friend.

"Where's it to?" Somebody blurted.

"Don't know but anywhere is better than here with you lot." More laughter and back slapping as he broke away from the group and jogged eagerly up to the company offices.

Chapter 1 - Kickoff

Mrs. Lowney looked up from her desk as Miller bounced into her office and managed a congratulatory smile as she held up the company envelope containing his prize and all the necessary information.

"You can read all this at home, Miller. There's still the rest of the afternoon to finish up." He accepted it with an abbreviated bow and grinned like a fool. "You should be very grateful, Miller, Mr. Haines and Step Lively Shoe Manufacturing is always looking out for the well being of their employees." The pink rimmed glasses tipped down the nose and a pair of pale blue eyes underlined her emphatically delivered corporate commercial.

Miller said thanks and backed quickly out of the office, his tongue firmly between his teeth. Haines calculated it would be considerably cheaper for the company to provide a free holiday for one rather than increases and bonuses for all. The highly touted profit sharing plan suggesting joint investment in the success of the company meant more for everyone even if the rewards were unevenly distributed.

In the washroom he nervously tore open the envelope and took out the brochure and his eyes and mouth opened in tandem. Windy Palms, a sprawling yet intimate resort on a knuckle of land called the Vigia Peninsula. Jutting into Olas Bay, an arm of the Pacific Ocean, about a third of the way down the Mexican coast in the vicinity of the city of Mazatlán. He read greedily about the Spanish conquistadors and their silver mines, about the film made there, Treasure of the Sierra Madre with Humphrey Bogart. Miller excitedly pictured himself lounging in a local cantina, feet and legs in dusty boots and chinos, outstretched while he sucked on a bottle of cerveza and let the brim of his bush hat shade his eyes.

The washroom door opened and Miller froze. Outside his stall he heard the familiar sounds of male ablutions and held his breath almost to the point of bursting until the person left. He stuffed the brochure back in the envelope, catching a last glimpse of a bathing suit clad couple with perfect skin, hair and teeth, both fit and trim and having the time of their lives skipping along the shore of an impossibly blue sea. He tapped the envelope and nodded; this would be the new Miller Hunt.

Back in his department, the last hours of work were endless. Co-workers harassed him the entire time with good humoured taunts and blatant innuendo. He answered the expected barrage of questions, feeling the resentment, which seemed to outweigh the congratulations after revealing the destination. When quitting time came, he was cheered out of the building with demands for post cards and souvenirs and lots of pictures.

The thirties era, red brick apartment building squatted determinedly, cheek by jowl among clusters of new town houses that replaced less fortunate structures of the same era. Inside, the door was slammed with a bang followed by a loud cheer into the tiny, top floor space he called home. "Paradise, here I come!"

The airline ticket was economy but the resort looked first class and the prospect of a long, arduous flight did not spoil any of his keen anticipation.

The Corporation

He moved with confidence and an air of authority as he entered the hotel meeting room that was set aside for the realtor's seminar. He shook hands, patted backs and threaded his way to a table that only held two other people. The recipients of his bonhomie may have appeared puzzled but they returned the greetings in kind and let the moment pass. He seated himself and smiled at the couple.

"Are you together?" A flashing smile accompanied the question.

The woman sat up and leaned slightly away from her companion. "No, we uh- we arrived on the same bus. I'm working freelance at the moment and Rob here is with- who did you say again?" Fingers automatically touching her hair.

The man cleared his throat and produced a business card. BlueSky Realty it read. "We're in the east mostly." Rob nodded as if to confirm it to himself.

He pocketed the card and turned his attention to the woman. "Freelance? Are you looking to start your own agency?"

"No, just picking up tips and tricks of the trade." Her smile spread as he shifted in his chair to face her more directly. "How about you? You an old hand or a new one?"

"Let's say I'm a new old hand." He watched her eyes crinkle in amusement and Rob looked away with a pout. "Is there a bar in here? Can I get you both a drink?"

"It's over there by the stage," Rob answered.

"Great. What would you like? By the way, my name is Winston Graves." He stuck out a hand.

"Shelia Burrows. My pleasure, Winston."

"Rob, how about you, what's your pleasure?"

Rob stood and cleared his throat again. "I think I'll go and get my own thanks, there're a couple of fellows I'd like to talk to." He gave Shelia a short bow and strutted stiffly away.

"Oh dear, I hope I didn't spoil anything here."

"God, no. I was wondering how I was going to deal with having him as a companion for the speeches." She leaned forward with a suggestion of intimacy.

"That's wonderful then, I'll be your companion, Shelia." Their eyes held until he asked her for her drink preference and broke the silent exchange.

Shelia watched him cross the floor speaking to different people, smiling, generally behaving as the host instead of an attendee. He was about fifty-two or so, she thought. Trim build. Nice hair, greying just right. Wore his clothes and carried himself very well. She mentally approved the first impressions. Opening her purse she took out a compact to check her face and with a few deft touches from her little kit, she wet her lips and sat back to await the return of Winston Graves.

******

Shelia lay back panting. The sheets were all scrunched up beneath her body and damp from her perspiration. Winston rolled off the bed and walked to his jacket on the back of the chair, digging out a cigar and his lighter. He turned and stared at the woman on the bed with pleasure while he carefully lit his cigar and blew a satisfied cloud of smoke into the room.

"That was almost magnificent, my dear," he said, standing boldly in the dim glow of the bathroom light. "With a little mentoring we could have a perfect union."

Shelia rolled her head over and stared at him. His partially shadowed naked body hid the interesting parts while exposing the arrogant gleam in his pale blue eyes. "I guess you'll just have to try harder," she replied flatly.

"Ho! Very good, my dear. Very good indeed. We might just have that perfect union already."

"Speaking of unions," she said, pushing up on one elbow and allowing an ample breast to rest on her forearm. "This Windy Palms business you mentioned before, it sounded very interesting. How exactly would we work it?"

We! He liked that. She was hooked, now all he had to do was teach her the process. He walked back to the bed and stood beside her. "It requires a considerable amount of moxy and a strict adherence to procedure... very strict." He smiled as he smoked, watching her eyes flick back and forth from his to his nakedness. "A certain amount of seed money is necessary to start but that comes back right at the start as I explained." Winston set his cigar in the bedside ashtray and knelt on the bed. "I'll run through it again for you."

When morning came both partners were sated, signed, sealed and delivered.

Day 1

The mind-numbing lineup to check in continued on with a hideous sockfoot walk through security then boarding pass lines, finishing with cramped seating, cheesy treats and very expensive drinks. Half the trip, it seemed, was spent standing in line for the washroom. To pass the time he studied the other passengers, marking on his mental list those he hoped weren't heading for the same resort and one or two he sincerely hoped were; one attractive and apparently alone young woman in particular.

Miller played his fantasy variations over again including, this time, the fascinating young woman. His daydream was abruptly shattered as the plane finally touched down with a gentle bounce and taxied to the front of a cavernous warehouse that comprised the arrivals area. Five shuffling lines leading to as many small tables each attended by two uniformed guards was the initial welcome to Mexico and Miller joined obediently.

The Tourist Entry line was the busiest of course, and shuffled slowly to the table where he was greeted by seriously, authority challenged officials, followed by a confusing wait beside a grungy, screeching conveyorfor his baggage. More officials waited, demanding an address where the arrivals could be reached and after a deliberately careless search of each bag that left bits of clothing hanging like untrimmed pastry, the passengers were finally released to the anticipated splendor of Mexico.

Still upbeat and excited, Miller felt his armpits release and his carefully chosen shirt cling like wet Kleenex to his body with the first step into the blazing sun and a retina scalding sky. Immediately, a toothy, happy-faced driver wearing a peaked cap that read Windy Palms Resort repeated the name in a singsong voice and held a sign bearing the same information high above his head. This drew a small cluster of travelers about him, all dragging bags and few dragging children as well.

Miller noted some of the people he'd hopefully checked off as no-shows were in this group along with the only one he had wished for; the pert young woman with fluffy brown hair and huge white-rimmed sunglasses. She stood with her shoulder bag hanging across her front but Miller had already noticed the ample superstructure and was now appreciating the long legs when the sign holder bellowed a welcome that silenced the group.

"Bienvenida. Welcome," he sang again in his singsong manner. "My name ees Orlando please hear me, por favor. I have a leest of sixteen names for transport to the resort. When I'm calling them please leave your luggage and climb aboard the bus." He began calling names and the group started shuffling about, moving their bags closer to the bus and straining to decipher the slurred accent. Soon they were all climbing aboard, list be damned, and Miller, trying to follow the rules and the young woman, found himself outmaneuvered and balancing on a tiny luggage platform at the rear of the vehicle.

She managed to get seated comfortably near the front while he faced two sour-looking pre-teens that bickered with one another in whiny voices. With a blast of choking exhaust and a shrill cheer from the driver, the bus stuttered away from the curb and chugged out of the airport into the lush, tropical landscape.