Ahh, illicit pleasures.

The dock is a perfect sunning spot and from my vantage point, floating on the crystal, clear blue sea, I look up toward Dion sitting there, exquisite. His brown body is drying in the sun as he half reclines and takes another bite of the soft, sweet, Jamaican brown bread we'd been sharing.

He is sanguinely looking off toward the endless Caribbean sea. I wonder to myself if he is off in a Bond-like fantasy of intrigue and adventure.

As for me, I am in one.