Brian moved his wrist and the Rolex glittered in the light. ‘Ron, what can I say? I haven’t really regretted anything yet. It’s been a blast. Thanks.’
Milne kept smiling at Brian. ‘With a bit of luck, Brian, there’ll be plenty more blasts to come yet. I’ll see you in the morning.’
‘Okay. See you then Ron.’ Brian watched the President make his way down the corridor, then Brian turned and went to his room.
Despite having a sleep in the afternoon, Brian was still tired. He was also pleasantly pissed and awfully stoned. He took off his shorts and went to the bathroom then rummaged through his cassettes when he came out. There was a laid-back tape somewhere Milne hadn’t purloined. Brian found it, moved the ghetto blaster closer to the bed and slipped it in. He switched off the lights then lay on the bed and closed his eyes. A rumble of thunder and the sound of rain filled the room for a moment or two, then Beccy Cole started plunking through ‘Storm in a D Cup’. Brian yawned, feeling happy now about staying. That bond between himself, Milne and his father was coming back. And even though there was still something about the devil in Milne, the devil’s hospitality was second to none and he had access to the choicest surfing spot. The ruins sounded positively fascinating. Brian relaxed, breathing peacefully, his mind going every which way but straight. The music faded and there was a break between the tracks. A sudden rustling of the mosquito net startled him. He opened his eyes and framed by the white gauze was a shadowy figure standing alongside his bed. Being off with the pixies, Brian’s mind immediately flashed on the shower scene from Psycho.
‘Ahhh shit!’ Brian yelled.
‘Do not be alarmed, Takatau. It is only me.’
‘Keleu. Thank Christ for that. I was about to call the secret service.’
Keleu climbed onto the bed alongside Brian. She was wearing her shark necklace, some beautiful body oil that smelled of frangipanni, a pair of glossy black knickers, and not much else. Brian ran his hands over her lovely little body as she snuggled up to him.
‘So what can I do for you, Keleu?’ asked Brian.
Keleu ran her fingers through Brian’s hair. ‘I came to see if Takatau was all right. And not still angry with me. That is all.’
Brian smiled. ‘No. Takatau isn’t angry,’ he said. ‘Takatau’s cool, thank you Keleu. And he’s glad you’re here. Though he could have murdered you earlier, you little shit.’
‘That is what I thought,’ said Keleu. ‘Can Takatau find it in his heart to forgive me?’
‘Of course he can,’ said Brian. ‘Takatau has a heart as big as Phar Lap. And Takatau is very forgiving.’
‘That is so good.’ Keleu’s face was almost on Brian’s. She moved her head slightly and kissed him.
Keleu had the sweetest mouth and the softest little lips imaginable; Brian felt as if he was kissing an angel. Then Keleu slipped her hot angel tongue in and Brian felt like he’d just dipped his tongue into a boiling volcano: Keleu was absolutely bursting with fire. She gripped Brian’s hair and kissed him passionately. Brian returned her kisses in kind. His head was spinning and he was seeing and feeling things he’d never seen or felt before. In seconds Brian had a screaming boner a blacksmith couldn’t bend. He kissed Keleu and ran his hands over her pert, firm breasts, across her stomach then over her lovely tight little backside and started to ease her knickers off. Keleu brought her hand down and stopped him going any further.
‘Takatau cannot have me tonight,’ she said.
‘He can’t?’ said Brian, blinking his eyes open. ‘Not even Takatau?’
Keleu shook her head. ‘Not tonight.’
‘Oh.’ Brian was disappointed. But there was no use putting on a drama; it was probably some other island custom. ‘Oh well. It doesn’t matter I suppose.’
‘Is Takatau angry with me now?’
Brian smiled. ‘No. Not really,’ he said. ‘Takatau will get by.’
Keleu smiled back and Brian could see her perfect white teeth, sparkling in the moonlight coming from the balcony like beautiful pearls. ‘Don’t be,’ she said.
Keleu slipped a dainty little hand down the front of Brian’s jox, gently took hold of his rodger and gave it a few strokes.
‘Oooh, Keleu,’ said Brian. ‘You just knocked Takatau cock-eyed.’
Keleu took a small vial of the same body oil she was wearing from under her knickers and drizzled some on Brian’s old boy. She put the vial away then started giving Brian a mind-bending hand job. Brian lay back on the bed with his eyes closed and a big smile on his face, and copped it sweet. Soon Brian’s boner was throbbing harder than ever and after the two-kilogram lobster with cheese sauce, he was pumping body fluids like a broken pipeline. Then his mouth gaped open and his tongue started to loll as Brian found himself fast approaching blow-like-a-whale land, the happiest kingdom of them all. Keleu kept stropping, Brian started moaning like he was going to die. Keleu hit the vinegar strokes and Brian’s body shook. Keleu kissed him again, slipping the tongue in. Brian howled with the sweet pain of it all. Then Takatau dug his fingers into Keleu’s other arm and let go.
It went everywhere. All over his chest, his face, the pillows. Some hit the mosquito net, a bit ended in Keleu’s hair. Brian eyes spun around and he sprawled back on the bed flatter than a yoga mat. Keleu got up, went to the bathroom and came back with a towel. In a minute or two, no matter where it went, Keleu had it, and Brian, wiped off, and she’d returned the towel to the bathroom. Keleu knelt back on the bed and looked at Brian.
‘Is Takatau all right now?’ she asked.
‘Yeah,’ gurgled Brian, still trying to figure out where he was. ‘Takatau’s on top of the world. He’s laughing. And Keleu. Call me Brian. Hey, after that, you can call me what you like. Just don’t call me late for breakfast.’
‘I’m not sure what you mean, Brian,’ said Keleu. ‘But I feel you are happy.’
‘As a pig in …’ said Brian.
‘You like what I just did?’
‘Like it? I loved it. It’s even better than pulling yourself.’
Keleu gave Brian another kiss. ‘Goodnight, Brian. And thank you for being so forgiving.’
‘That’s okay, Keleu. Thanks for the helping hand.’
Keleu got up, the mosquito net rustled again, Brian heard the door close and she was gone.
Brian lay on the bed smiling and wondering when was the last time he felt this good. He was completely relaxed, his mind was clear and he was ready to fall into a deep, glorious sleep. Lou Reed was taking a walk on the wild side when Brian dozed off. Eventually the tape cut out and the only noise in the room was Brian softly snoring and the sound drifting in from the balcony of the water swishing gently in the harbour.
Brian was woken from his sleep the next morning by a gentle tapping on the door. He opened his eyes and peered through the mosquito net. An older woman had her head just inside the room.
‘Takatau,’ she said. ‘Are you awake?’
‘Yeah,’ answered Brian thickly. ‘Yeah. I am. What’s …?’
‘It is six o’clock. Sawi said for you to get ready. Breakfast will be in half an hour.’
‘Oh. Okay. Thanks.’
The door closed, Brian rubbed his eyes for a second then swung his legs over the side of the bed. He yawned and walked across to the balcony. Apart from a wide bank of clouds nosing their way over the rainforest, the sky was clear, and it was comfortably warm with a light breeze blowing over the harbour; several puddles mirroring the morning sun said it had rained during the night. A scattering of seabirds were diving on some fish near the jetty and the water looked blue and inviting. Brian stared at the water for a moment and touched the tiny shark around his neck. He slipped into a pair of Speedos, tossed a towel over his shoulder and trotted downstairs.
Apart from a couple of people talking outside the bakery there was no one else around out the front. Brian automatically looked both ways, then jogged across the road to a stretch of grass overlooking the harbour. He dropped his towel on the gr
ass then ran down the gentle slope and plunged in alongside the jetty. The water was beautiful, with just the hint of an early-morning chill. Brian swam alongside the jetty, splashed around then trod water and peered down into the shadows around the piers. He floated on his back watching the seabirds and smiled as a pair of turtles paddled slowly by. Brian swam around a while longer, then got out feeling on top of the world. There was nothing like an early morning swim in the ocean to start the day and Key Harbour was exceptional. A couple of locals pedalling past as he crossed the road waved and smiled; Brian returned their greetings and jogged back to his room. He had a shower, put on a clean T-shirt and a pair of shorts and walked down to the kitchen looking forward to breakfast.
The President was seated with Ebonee and Keleu when Brian walked in. Airu was by the sink helping the woman who had knocked on his door earlier. Milne was in an old pair of shorts, a white T-shirt and gym boots and the girls were wearing floral wrap-arounds. The older woman had a white tunic on and a red hibiscus in her hair.
‘Hello mate,’ said President Milne brightly. ‘Grab a seat. How was the swim? I saw you splashing round with the turtles.’
‘Fantastic,’ replied Brian, sitting down. ‘The water was like velvet.’
The girls all said good morning, and Brian said hello back. Keleu was very composed and Brian noticed a couple of small bruises on her arm. The woman placed a large bowl of chopped fruit on the table and gave Brian a smile.
‘This is my number one cook, Lengi,’ said Milne.
‘Hello, Lengi,’ said Brian, returning the woman’s smile.
‘Greetings, Takatau,’ replied Lengi.
‘Sawi said he’s taking you to the ruins,’ said Airu, sitting down next to the President.
‘Yeah,’ replied Brian. ‘They sound fascinating. I can’t wait to see them.’ Along with the others, he started spooning some fruit into a bowl. ‘Is that right, people on the island won’t go there?’ he asked, looking round the table.
‘We can’t,’ said Keleu. ‘It is bad for us.’
‘Yeah? Why’s that?’ asked Brian.
‘It just is,’ said Ebonee.
‘Oh. All right,’ said Brian, leaving it at that.
‘Make sure you wear a pair of trainers or gym boots,’ said Milne. ‘You’ll be climbing over rocks and there’s dry coral everywhere. It’ll cut your feet to pieces.’
‘I got a pair of Filas,’ said Brian.
‘Good.’
The fruit was followed by smoked tuna and scrambled eggs on toast, along with a little chitchat, and the President wasn’t lying when he said Lengi was a good cook. They finished with coffee, then the girls gave Lengi a hand and Milne told Brian to get his gear and meet him down the front in fifteen minutes. Brian said goodbye to the girls, went to his room and packed everything he figured he’d need in his backpack, then put on a cap and sunglasses and walked down the front to meet Milne. The President was wearing a cap and sunglasses also, plus a backpack over one shoulder and a rayon holster with a pistol in it over the other.
Brian nodded to the automatic. ‘What’s with the gun? Don’t tell me it’s infested with bloody crocodiles where we’re going?’
‘No,’ smiled Milne. ‘I’m going to call in and see the prisoners on the way back. And two of them being Yanks, it’d be a breach of their constitutional rights if I arrived without a gun.’
‘Would you like me to bring a shotgun?’ said Brian.
‘You want to?’ enthused Milne. ‘I’ll get you a sub-machine gun, if you like.’
Brian shook his head. ‘Leave me alone, will you.’
They crossed the road for the short walk to the marina. There was a scattering of people round the shops and a few others went past on mountain bikes. Everyone bowed and smiled. Sawi and Takatau smiled back. Sohte and Ohlo were standing on the marina and two sailors were working on the yacht. Milne’s boat was a white, six-metre runabout with an Evinrude 75 on the back next to a spare. A blue canvas awning shaded the seats and steering wheel and under the rear seat was an esky. Sohte and Ohlo had fuelled the tank and the motor was throbbing smoothly as the boat sat at its mooring ready to go. They greeted Brian and Milne as they approached and the sailors waved from the yacht.
‘We’ll go for a sail one day,’ said Milne ‘Can you sail?’
Brian shook his head. ‘No. But I like sailing.’
‘It’s not a bad yacht,’ said Milne. ‘Got all the latest equipment. The DEA confiscated it from some coke runners off Guam.’
‘And you confiscated it from the DEA.’
‘Of course,’ replied Milne. ‘Along with a kilo of blow and two bottles of Jackies.’
Milne had a few words with Ohlo then Brian and the President bundled into the runabout and placed their bags on the back seat. Milne got behind the wheel, and with his camera slung round his neck, Brian made himself comfortable alongside him as Ohlo cast off the rope. Milne slipped the outboard into gear, waved goodbye and headed across the harbour to the channel.
The channel was about two hundred metres wide and the tide was going out, forming a strong current when they got there. The cliffs on either side weren’t high, but they were steep with lumpy boulders at the bottom. Above the cliffs, the windmills were turning slowly in the breeze and the tidal generators at the bottom were humming steadily with the fast flowing current. The boat moved along in the rip and Brian snapped some photos of several large seabirds floating above the generators. No waves were breaking when they reached the end of the channel, but going by a steady line-up of swells pushing over the reefs, Brian was certain Windmills would be working later in the afternoon. Milne carefully turned the boat left. He wasn’t talking and seemed to be concentrating on something, when Brian counted ten whale sharks lumbering around the reefs amidst several pods of dolphins.
‘Shit! Look at that,’ said Brian, excitedly snapping off more photos.
‘I wasn’t watching what I was doing one day,’ said Milne, ‘and one of those fat bludgers came up underneath me. Tossed the boat in the air. I lost the fuckin motor, all my diving gear. I was lucky I didn’t break my neck.’
‘What happened to the whale shark?’ asked Brian.
‘Nothing. It just kept going. I can still hear him laughing.’
‘I’ve never seen so many,’ said Brian.
‘Yeah. We get plenty of whales when they’re migrating, too. It’s great.’
Brian pointed to the island off to their right. ‘That’s where you’ve got the prisoners, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right,’ nodded Milne. ‘They’re safe there.’ He winked at Brian. ‘I’ll give you one guess why it’s called Tiger Island. Righto, Takatau, hold onto your girdle. Next stop, the ruins.’
Milne pushed the accelerator and Brian was forced back in his seat as the boat surged forward and the hull lifted out of the water. The beach and jungle flew past on their left and they sped towards the cliffs overlooking the ocean at the end of the mountain range. Before they reached the cliffs, Milne took the boat wide and they started making their way around tiny islets and coral reefs. A heavy swell was running and Milne kept the boat out to sea, well away from the powerful waves breaking over the reefs. The wind had picked up, putting a chop on the ocean, and between the roar of the motor and the hull thumping and banging on the surface of the water, the noise was awful. Brian bounced around on the seat getting the odd face-full of spray and they proceeded further up the island.
Except for the sea life swimming past or leaping out of the water, they were totally alone. Thick rainforest ran down to strips of beautiful white sand then the beaches and coconut trees gave way to long stretches of mangrove swamp and creek mouths. More whale sharks appeared, so Milne slowed down and Brian snapped a few more photos. Milne took the boat further out behind some swells breaking over another reef, then reduced speed and steered the boat back through a narrow entrance in the coral into a wide bay surrounded by jungle, the water dotted with dead trees and clumps of mangrove. Milne cut t
he motor and picked up a paddle while the runabout drifted in on the current.
The water in the bay was quite shallow and several big stingrays scampered off as they went past, leaving clouds of sand and mud behind them. Unexpectedly, a strange blanket of silence now surrounded the runabout, as if something was sucking up all the sound and turning everything whisper quiet. Brian glanced at a row of mangroves going past, when a strange wall suddenly loomed up out of nowhere. It was built out of hexagonal stone logs stacked on top of each other like massive black crayons or pencils. Another wall appeared on the left and another in front of them. They were everywhere.
Brian turned slowly to Milne. ‘What the …?’
‘They’re crystalline basalt logs,’ said Milne. ‘They come from an extinct volcano on the other side of the island.’
Milne took the paddle and steered the boat along with the current, through the walls and mangroves surrounding them to the mouth of a man-made canal. They turned right into the canal and on their left appeared the weirdest, most fantastic building Brian had ever seen. It was a stone monolith made from the same basalt logs, a hundred metres square, with walls twenty metres high and ten metres thick. Palm trees and other trees grew amongst the building and as they drifted closer, Brian noticed the massive stone walls curved in at the top and along the sides like a Japanese Shinto shrine. But it was the way the stones were stacked that amazed Brian. One row would be stacked lengthwise, the next row horizontally, like fingers of toast, and packed in between were smaller stone logs — if you could call any of them small. Most of the logs were ten metres long and twice as thick as a telegraph pole; the base stones were as big as shipping containers.
‘Bloody hell!’ exclaimed Brian. ‘I can’t believe the size of those stone logs.’
‘Yeah,’ nodded Milne. ‘They weigh tonnes. Absolute tonnes.’
In the silence, Milne steered the runabout up to a gaping entrance in the right-hand wall of the strange building. A wide pathway ran all the way round the base of the walls and along the edge of the canal. On the opposite side of the canal was another wall. Milne threw an anchor amongst some stones in front of the entrance, secured the boat and got out. Brian followed him.
The Ultimate Aphrodisiac Page 13