The Bajan Beach Boy never expected more than three weeks at a hotel, all expenses paid.
Those who were good at it might leave their town jobs to pick up work around the Hotel. They’d become involved in various amusements or activities which allowed them to become fixtures at the Hotel, no longer needing a tourist to bring him in.
He could walk along the beach front, making his selections.
He would always be respectful and respectable, polite and decent. He didn’t think of marriage or long term, love or VISA.
It was what it was, a foreign woman hiring a Beach Boy to tend to her needs.
It was cash and carry and whatever sweet nothings were passed were nothings, for she was returning to wherever she came from as if she had done no more than what her official itinerary contained.