She was all too aware how easily he would be able to achieve this goal. Any of the miniscule outer islands were totally unpopulated, reachable only by hired fishing boat. Bouscaral’s accompanying entourage was so large, including four women, who would notice one missing on the return voyage? Money closes many eyes, as she knew all too well.
By the time the three fishing boats anchored in a small inlet of one of the smaller islets, the sun was high overhead, blasting down waves of intense heat. A crew had arrived earlier to set up a large tent compound on the only flat space on the entire rough-hewn rocks. Upon landing, she joined the scramble for the protection of large awnings to escape the searing heat of the sun. She chose the one under which Kolina had scurried, but she was forcibly removed. One guard firmly latched on to each of her arms, marching her to a small tent up against the cliffs, the farthest away from the master’s tent. She was shoved inside the sweltering interior and Tweedledee sat not far away under an outcropping of rock, keeping the front of her tent in constant view.
The blazing sun had diminished in intensity when Honey later emerged from her tent. Clad in a coral string bikini which barely covered her mons veneris and her protruding nipples, she pranced down to the water’s edge.
To the young guard watching her through sleepy, bored eyes, she was a bolt of exotic lightning. She was a vision of white marble skin and sensuous curves, her legs as long as a thoroughbred’s, her rounded hips provocatively alluring, her flat stomach emphasizing the sudden, awesome sweep of her proud breasts. He got a hard-on just watching her ripe, pear-shaped ass sway into the water as she waded out. She surface-dove, submerging completely and refusing to break for air until she had swum her usual one hundred strokes. When she finally surfaced, she slicked back her hair and surveyed the beach encampment from a distance halfway to the first anchored fishing boat.
Tweedledee stood at the water’s edge, a look of relief on his face—as if he had been concerned by the length of time she had been out of sight underwater. She waved to indicate that she was fine and swam the length of the cove and back again. All the while she was taking mental pictures of the topography, hoping the information would come in handy later. Until Bouscaral made his move, she could only wait.
Both guards watched her exit from the water, as did every other male in the camp. She searched for Kolina but did not see her among the gaping faces. Inside her tent she changed into a filmy beach gown and sat in the shade of the tent awning, watching the many prehistoric-looking iguanas resting in the crevices of the island’s volcanic rock.
When she was called for dinner, the sun had dipped far behind the cove’s cliffs. The temperature had dropped considerably and there was a bonfire, around which were clustered the serving and maintenance staff. As she sat on a camp stool off to one side, eating the spicy, native stew of fish and octopus, drinking a dry sauterne, she eyed Kolina with Bouscaral at a table for two some distance away.
Dinner was not even concluded before the elegantly attired Bouscaral went into his tent, to come out a short time later dressed in a tropical bush jacket, fatigue pants, pith helmet, and high leather hiking boots. Then the crew began rounding up an odd assortment of gear—large nets, torches, and rifles. Some sort of night hunting party was being formed, but Honey could not imagine what their quarry might be.
It was not until a bowl of fruit was brought around by the elderly cook that Honey learned the real purpose of Bouscaral’s visit. “The female iguanas,” the old woman whispered. “That’s why the master came here.”
“The iguanas?” Honey echoed, mystified.
“The female ones,” the elderly Frenchwoman explained, as if to a child. “The natives swear eating them increases one’s potency.”
In disbelief, Honey stared at the old woman. “You mean they kill these harmless creatures just for that?” ‘
“Oui, absurd, no?” cackled the old servant. Still chuckling to herself and shaking her head, she hobbled away, leaving Honey sitting in amazement.
Killing iguanas to test an old wives’ tale! How absurd could Bouscaral get? But at least his planned festivities did not include Kolina; the girl was still dressed as if for dinner at Maxim’s. That eased Honey’s concerns and she returned to her own tent in a state of hope, in spite of the native guard outside.
Through the mosquito netting she observed the final departure of the hunt contingent. Almost all the men had joined, leaving only two for guards—one for her, one for Kolina. The women servants had withdrawn to their tent and Honey could hear them drinking, playing cards, and laughing. She waited until the sky grew dark.
Wearing boots, jeans, and a T-shirt, she took a sharp knife she’d stolen from the cook’s utensils, slit the rear wall of her tent, and eased out. Hidden in the shadows of the cliff, she made her way to the section she’d observed earlier. Carefully she began her ascent, inching up the rock facing. Upon reaching the top, she slid behind a rock and stood to scan the horizon. Then she walked gingerly along the edge of the cliff above the camp spread out below, until she had circled around to Kolina’s side. Finding the point she had planned to use, she began descending the steep incline.
In back of Kolina’s tent she knelt and using the same knife, cut open a deep slash in the canvas. Kolina gasped in surprise as Honey slipped in to join her. A finger to her lips, Honey doused the kerosene lantern and drew the girl into her arms, kissing her passionately. Like an ice cube in the afternoon sun, the girl melted into her, pressing her full breasts against Honey’s, as her hands explored Honey’s ass. With reluctance, Honey had to take the girl’s arms away. “Kolina,” she whispered, “we do not have time, not even to talk. I must leave at once.”
“Leave?” the magical blonde cried softly. “Where to? How? Why?”
“Hush, please,” Honey urged. “I have every reason to believe Henri will leave me here when all of you go.”
“No… he wouldn’t,” the girl protested halfheartedly. “Would he?”
“I can’t take that risk. That’s why I’ve come to say goodbye. I’ve spotted a light on a nearby island. I’ll make for that. It’s a lovely night for a long swim.”
“We’re over five miles from the nearest island,” Kolina cried, and threw her arms around Honey’s neck. “You’ll never make it!”
“It’s surprising what one can do when faced with no other choices.”
Tearfully the girl’s beautiful face rose in the half-light of the outside bonfire. “How about one of the dinghies? We’ll take one of those.”
“The dinghies are well watched. Besides, what’s this ‘we’ business?” Honey asked. “You are in no immediate danger. Once I get free, I will be able to rescue you more effectively.”
“You won’t know where we are,” Kolina wept. “You’ll never be able to locate us! Henri will see to that.”
Honey kissed the girl’s cheek. “I promise that I will seek you out and get you away from him.”
The girl pulled back, her voice firm as she said, “I’m coming with you, and that’s final. I will not spend another night with that horrid man.”
“Kolina, my pet,” Honey began, “I love your offer, but it is too risky. One of us has to get out of this in order to help the other.”
“If anything should happen to you, I would never forgive myself,” Kolina said with a quavering voice. “So don’t argue. We haven’t the time.” Abruptly she began disrobing, her womanly figure appearing briefly before being covered by an outfit similar to Honey’s.
Before Honey could voice too many arguments against the girl’s plan, Kolina was dressed. Together they crawled out of the tent through the back opening, and silently made their way up the steep incline behind the camp. At the top, Honey pointed to the faint light twinkling so far away across the black water. “It’s a good distance,” she said softly. “Still game to try?”
“More than ever,” Kolina uttered. “We’ll be there before anyone finds out we’re missing.
Honey took her by the hand and sta
rted walking her across the rough, craggy rocks. “Unfortunately our closest point of departure is on the same side of the island where Henri and his men are picnicking.”
“You mean eating those ugly lizards? Ugh! Honestly, Honey, what will that horrible man think of next?”
As quickly as possible, the pair made their way in the near darkness toward the yellowish light of flickering torches down by the water. Skirting the hunting party, Honey hurried Kolina through the giant boulders to the lapping water of the cove. They began pulling off their clothes and boots, stuffing them all out of sight in a chasm in the ledge. Naked, Honey pulled Kolina close, smothering her face in kisses and copping a quick feel of the silky skin and smooth curve of her buttocks before releasing her. Giving Kolina a thumbs-up gesture for luck, Honey walked out hand in hand with the girl into the water, where they struck out for the tiny speck of light on the horizon.
The sea was warm, inviting, the waves minimal and almost free from tugging tides or undertow. “Slow and easy,” Honey whispered between strokes.
Farther and farther into the blackness they swam, away from the flickering circle of light and the boisterous group of iguana killers.
Above, beneath, all around them was velvet darkness. If it hadn’t been for the far pinpoint of light, which never seemed to grow any nearer than it had been when they commenced their flight, Honey would never have known which way she was heading.
After several hours, Honey began to feel an undeniable tide tugging at her legs, sweeping her along. After a few moments she concluded that the tide was carrying them directly toward the island from which the light beckoned them. Kolina’s spirits perked up when Honey relayed the good news.
Suddenly the sky above them was rent by a blinding flash. “A flare!” Honey cried out in alarm. “They’ve discovered we’re gone!” Almost at once the rumble of engines could be heard across the water.
“They’re out in the boats!” Kolina gasped. “He’ll know we set off in this direction. It’s the closest point of land.”
The sound of engines drew steadily nearer, and flares periodically burst above them. From behind them, slashing searchlights pierced the night as the boats closed in.
Pushing her screaming muscles harder, Honey set a quicker pace, pleading with Kolina not to give up. The pursuing flotilla was so close she could hear the crews calling to each other across the water. Kolina began whimpering, and Honey felt the cold hand of fate clutching her own throat.
Then, a miracle! Out of the blackness ahead, an unlighted craft materialized, astonishingly close and unexpectedly large. They were so close to it, they could hear the water lapping on the wooden hull, the decks creaking in the constant rise and fall of the sea. Honey hailed it as loudly as she dared, and almost simultaneously a rope ladder clattered down the side of the now clearly visible fishing boat. With a cry of relief, Kolina floundered for it and grabbed hold of the ropes. Honey had to push the girl’s sweet ass up the steep steps, and had difficulty hauling herself up, her arms and legs were so worn out. Strong, calloused male hands grabbed her arms and lifted her aboard.
Their rescuers were a crew of four young, rugged Ecuadorian fishermen who were struck dumb by the naked but weary mermaids they had been so lucky to land. Half drunk on brownish wine that they quickly shared with the girls, they had been just drifting about, curious about the approaching boats. Now they responded to Honey’s pleas in Spanish to get the boat under way without lights. Hopping eagerly to their duties, the young brown fishermen soon had the craft moving rapidly away into the protective darkness. Wrapped in a smelly but welcome blanket, sipping the warming, fiery homemade wine, Honey stood in the unlit pilothouse and watched the searchlights of the trio of boats fade far behind. By her side, Kolina, also blanketed, jumped up and down excitedly at their apparently successful escape, her zestful energies fast returning.
By the time Honey was assured that Bouscaral’s boats no longer presented a threat, all four of the squat, strongly built young crew were pressed into the pilothouse, gaping admiringly and jabbering jubilantly at their good luck, one playing merrily on an ancient concertina. Kolina was soon drunk on strong wine and liberation. She threw off her blanket, launching into an impromptu dance of such playfully funny and teasing erotic sensuality that Honey had to warn her to cover up or face having to service the four long-at-sea men. Laughingly the girl took to the suggestion with the fervor of one free at last to make her own choices. She grabbed one of the young sailors and soon had him stripped; his hard brown body testified to his difficult and strenuous lifestyle. His rigid harpoon was so appealing that Honey could not resist the temptation. She tossed off her blanket and set to work thanking her rescuers properly, tugging the remaining three outside, where she had no difficulty getting them out of their clothes and into her.
The resulting party on the poopdeck was a lustful scene of rousing good times. Spread-eagled flat on top of the largest of the three, she took his long staff straight up the butt while, on top of her, kneeling between both pairs of legs, the second pumped ecstatically into the most beautiful hairless pussy he had ever even dreamed existed. The third knelt beside his lucky buddies, up close to her head, and with very little neck strain, she was able to suck on his mast. It did not take the randy sailors long to fire their weapons, and even less time to grow stiff again.
With the wheel lashed so the boat made a large, lazy circle, Kolina and her first mate were soon added to the quivering quartet outside. New combinations and contortions were tried, with satisfying results. The action was fast and furious, athletic and adventuresome. As the sailors came again and again in every possible orifice of the obliging young sea nymphs, their periods of recovery grew longer. During these rest periods they contented themselves to sprawl on the deck, fondling their never-empty weapons, watching the two ladies go down on each other, Honey on top, her head jerking up and down as if bobbing for apples. The two luscious female bodies meshed perfectly, their lustrous skin catching the lantern light, creating an arousing collage of arms and thighs, breasts and hips, asses and wide-open quiffs.
When Honey came up for air, she was pleased to see that the young crew was so ready to go again that they were doing each other unabashedly. The homoerotic activity of their slim brown bodies reminded her of paintings an ancient Greek vases. They were having such a good time that she hated to interrupt, but she was so tired that all she wanted to do was come once more and fall asleep for days. Her good-natured pleas quickly brought two stalwart, ready-to-perform crewmen to her side, the other two leaping upon Kolina.
With one in her pussy and one in her ass, her own finger urging her lust trigger to hurry up and fire, Honey threw every last ounce of energy into her swansong. Her gyrations and enthusiasm were so heated that the sailors were, in short order, exploding their submerged torpedoes deep into her nethermost regions. The warm bath set off her own buttons and, with a deep cry of complete satisfaction, she eased into a tidal wave that hurled her along its seemingly never-ending crest. Miles and miles she rode, balanced on the very lip of curling white water, squealing with joyous release. She did not remember ever coming down, for she drifted into a deep, contented sleep before reaching the end of the longest climax of her life.
18.
DIRK
At Lanai, the Wildon winter home on Kauai’s lush northeast coastline, he sat in a large wicker peacock chair on the cool veranda, sipping a piña colada, watching with intense interest Barbro’s erotic harem dance. Framed by a backdrop of shimmering golden sands, sparkling blue-green ocean, and vivid tropical flowers, she swayed and rolled her hips in time to taped Middle Eastern music—violins, drums, ouds, bouzoukis wailing spiritedly into the late afternoon. Wearing only a filmy sarong draped low over her wide hips, her large breasts swinging free with the sensual beat, Barbro spun gracefully, arms raised over her head, her hands speaking their own language with a tinkling of small finger cymbals. Behind one ear, in her light blonde hair, she had tucked a large pink hibiscus t
hat matched the delicate hue of her nipples’ aureoles.
The music slowed, and her artistic dance evolved into an expressive collection of hip undulations. Barefoot, she sidled closer to him, her eyes locked on his in total communication between performer and audience. Her creamy stomach rolled and dipped, expanded and rippled, her arms liquidly shaping the fragrant air. Dirk felt like a pasha dallying away an otherwise tediously frustrating afternoon with his favorite concubine.
On a whim he had stopped off in Cartagena, Colombia on his return flight from Spain and picked up this delectable creature, wanting her to come with him to Hawaii to await Honey’s promised arrival with Kolina. Barbro, more than eager to accompany him, had promptly quit her job to be free to join in the maddening vigil on the spectacular shoreline of the Garden Island. Though the scenery could not have been more inviting or the company more appealing and satisfying, the days seemed endless and Dirk struggled with mounting frustration and increasing anxiety. He felt impotent, helpless, useless in whatever plan Honey had up her sleeve.
The attempt on his life in Menorca was proof positive that he and his sister were playing with fire, dealing with a desperate and driven Bouscaral, who would stop at nothing to keep what he felt was rightfully his. More than anything, Dirk wished he had never involved his sister in his quest to free the girl with the magical face. It was not knowing what was happening to Honey and Kolina, not even knowing where they were that caused him greatest fear and concern. If it had not been for the quieting, steadying influence of Barbro—a magical presence in her own right—he was positive he would have gone berserk hanging around, waiting on razor blades for Honey to show up or send word.
The Erotic Quest of Dirk and Honey Page 19