Island Love

by Curtis Bennett

  I found comfort in her words and reassurance. The woman was a walking magnet for lonely hearts and this lonely heart felt as drawn to her as any man in his right mind would be.

  “So Marcus, what do you look for in a woman,” she asked, averting her eyes momentarily to ask for additional napkins from the waitress.

  “Well, I am attracted to classy, intellectual types, I’d have to say,” I answered. “I like a woman who is highly motivated and going places in life, someone well-grounded in tradition, and someone who is benevolent and has a sense of humility. And I like a woman who can carry herself graciously, yet, be fun and let her hair down occasionally, figuratively speaking that is. I like a woman who is sensitive to my needs and devoted to the relationship. More so, I am attracted to and need a woman who is sensuous in nature and, if I may say, can match my primal appetite and sexual prowess. Not least of all, I like a woman who knows what it means to be committed to the man she profess to love. And she must be a God fearing woman. That’s about it.”

  “Wow, that’s a mouthful, if I may say,” she quipped.

  “What about you,” I said. “What do you look for in a man?”

  Her eyes glittered, as a smile spread across her face. “I’d love to meet a man who is sensitive to my needs, as well. Someone who is strong emotionally, mentally, and physically. I’d love to meet a man who is talented, resourceful, and ambitious. I’d love to meet a man who listens to me and knows how to say the right things when I need him to and without me telling him. Now, that’s a man who is truly in tune with his woman. I would also love to meet a man who is courageous and protective of me, but not overbearing and suffocating. Insecurity is not what I’m looking for or interested in. I’d love to meet a man who is kindhearted, warm and tender, and romantic. A man who can rock my world when I need it rocked. I’d love to meet a man who is supportive and who believes in me and what I stand for and what I want to accomplish. And yes, he must be a God fearing man, as well. Did I leave anything out?”

  “No, I think you have all of the bases covered.”

  “What do you think of that?” she asked. “I mean, am I asking too much?”

  “No-no,” I said, leveling my eyes on her. “Overall, I believe you are looking for a man who loves you for who you are and will be there to wrap you in his love even when you’re feeling down and out; someone who will encourage you to stay the course and advance your goals in life.”

  “I have to say that you’ve hit the nail right on the head,” she replied, as she blinked at me. “That’s exactly the kind of man I’m looking for.”

  “Well Leïla, I have no doubt you will find that special person,” I said, swallowing the last of my dessert. “And hopefully, one day soon,” I tacked on with a prolonged gaze.

  “In all honesty Marcus, I believe this miracle of a man is closer to me than even he realizes,” she replied with a solemn, prolonged stare.

  Leaning towards her, I began, with supplication in my voice. “If that is true, how close is he now, may I ask?”

  “Not as close as he needs to be,” she murmured with those dreamy eyes of hers.

  “Is he close enough now?” I asked drawing mere inches from her lips.

  “Not as close as I need him to be, but he’s getting there,” she whispered with a hint of excitement and anticipation.

  “What about this?” I said as my lips came crushing down on hers in an emotional and passionate-filled exchange. The sweet sensation of her burning lips left me feeling lightheaded, as if I was in a dreamlike state. It was a deep probing kiss one would have to experience first-hand in order to appreciate the full power behind the passion that was released.

  “Oh, he’s there now,” she cooed, her arms reaching outward and around my neck to pull me even closer. I never gave her a chance to say anything else for my lips reclaimed hers in another passion-filled moment of self-indulgence.

  A sudden roar of applause snapped us out of our dreamlike state. Gathered around, as though they were witnessing a rare and poignant scene right out of a Shakespearian play, the patrons of the restaurant stood clapping and cheering.

  Slightly embarrassed, we smiled and nodded our heads. Since the cat was out of the bag, we embraced and kissed once more. As they say in Paris, France…encore, encore.

  Chapter Six

  Over the next two days Leïla and I went snorkeling, visited the Seven Arches Museum, Market Square; which was formerly a slave-trading market but now an open-air fruit and vegetable market where tourists loved to stop and sample the fresh produce, and Blackbeard's Castle; formally Fort Skytsborg but renamed for the 17th-Century pirate who frequently visited the island. Towards the end of the second day, we visited Dronningens Gade, or Main Street, which was the major artery and famous street where many of the unique and glamorous shops were located. I picked up a few things and so did she.

  Some days we ate at my vacation villa, other times we enjoyed eating out for dinner at various restaurants throughout the island, and then we’d take a romantic walk afterwards under a bright full moon. It was on one of these star-fill nights we decided to take a walk along a sparse stretch of beach. Several islanders peddling watches and jewelry approached us along the way but we politely turned them away. Most of them quickly faded from view whenever the local police drove by or foot patrols appeared.

  Wanting to get away from the pesky peddlers, we decided to head out of the area but not too far. Lost in the euphoria of the wonderful time I was having and what I was feeling for this lovely woman, I totally forgot about my friend Dorian’s warning. As we ventured two blocks inland, and from the main tourist area, we passed several groups of youths in their mid to late teens. Some spoke, others nodded their heads in acknowledgement as we walked by them. The last group we passed numbered six or seven youths. I thought nothing of it when two of them approached us after we had past them. Hell, they probably wanted to know if we were lost.

  “Hey mon, yah got a light?” a muscular built lad asked wearing dreadlocks.

  “No, I don’t smoke,” I said then resumed my walk with Leïla.

  “Perhaps we had better head back,” she said, as she gripped my hands tighter.

  “Perhaps you are right,” I replied, not because of any impending danger I sensed but because the area was not well-lit and the road we were on seemed to grow darker and darker as we proceeded.

  Within a short span of time five to six of the youths began to tail us. Leïla appeared worried. I assured her that we were in little or no danger. I told her that they were just probably bored and somewhat curious about the nature of our visit inside of their domain.

  In a short while the group’s pace quickened until they finally caught up to us.

  This time the same youth approached me, this time wielding a knife, “Hey, hold on a second, mon. Give up your damn wallet, and right now, Yank!”

  More perturbed than taken aback by their brazen affront, I remained calm and diplomatic as I said, “Now, why would I want to do that? Better yet, why aren’t you guys home playing video games or helping out around the house?”

  “Hey, we’re got ourselves a smart ass Yankee American tourist,” one of them chuckled. The others joined in with laughter.

  “Yeah, a real live comedian, mon,” another leered.

  “That’s right, I’m an American,” I quipped as I surveyed the situation, my sense of awareness more acute than ever.

  “I’m warning you one last time, Yank, give up your damn wallet,” the youth said in a menacing tone, making threatening circular patterns with the knife he held. It was at least six inches long.

  Speaking softly, I politely instructed Leïla to step out of harm’s way. She resisted at first, but I assured her that I had everything under control.

  With Leïla safely out of the way, I uttered a final warning to these misguided youths. I felt that as a guest in their country, I owed them that much. Pointing my finger at them to accentuate my seriousness, I said, “Once again, I am telling you all t
hat you just might want to reconsider what you’re doing. I am visiting here for the expressed purpose of enjoying myself and the company of my lovely companion here, which you all are giving a terrible fright to.

  “Now, I am not a very religious person. But at this very moment I am asking the Almighty above to restraint me from unleashing the fury I feel growing inside of me. I am a peaceful man by nature. I’m not out looking for trouble. But I am not going to stand for any either. It’s your call, Bubba. Now, what’s it going to be?”

  Looking in the direction of his comrades, as if for reassurance; the youth turned and lunged at me, leading with the knife. Two defensive moves and a quick fist to the nose, the delinquent leader’s homeboys found him stretched out on the ground. Out of nowhere, three of them decided to take me on as well. Quite skillfully, I disarmed the first of the three imploring close quarter fighting techniques and a roundhouse to the face. Another one I decked with a combination of punches to the mid-section. Imploring two roundhouse kicks and one powerful snap kick it was lights out for the third youth. All three dropped as hard as the very first guy. That left one standing. Apparently not wanting to try his luck that youth vanished into the darkness.

  I took Leïla by the hand and we headed hastily back into town. She appeared settled once we had returned to the business district.

  “Leïla, I am truly sorry about what just transpired,” I began, then explained, “God, I warned them to back the hell off.”

  “Hey, you did what you had to do, Marcus,” she reassured me as she stroked the length of my arm and tenderly as we walked and talked. “Besides, I was very impressed by what I just witnessed. My God, where did you learn how to fight like that?”

  “I’ve been studying Gung-fu since middle school,” I answered as we turned onto Main Street. I immediately spotted my car in the distance.

  “You know you’ll have to teach me some of those moves one day,” she said, gazing up at me with a smile.

  “Sure thing, Leïla,” I smiled back.

  “Look, I’m talking close quarter situations,” she smirked.

  “I’ve got you covered, my love…believe me,” I grinned.

  “Okay,” she sighed, taking hold of my hand.

  Late Sunday afternoon Leïla and I got together for a picnic down on the sandy beach, not far from the university. As we dined, we watched the advancing waves wash up on the beach and gazed upward at a squad of pelicans flying in formation. Beyond the shallow section of ocean we spied a school of dolphins swimming together. Much closer, we could see that the tide was slowly creeping in. It would not be long before we’d have to make a retreat.

  The balmy weather and the refreshing cool breeze off of the ocean, along with Leïla’s revealing swimwear, made for a memorable occasion. It was definitely one I would remember for a long time. Such beauty and the pristine tropical setting I found myself in was worthy of a Hollywood scene. I made certain that I put my digital camera and camcorder to full use that day. I wasn’t leaving anything to chance.

  As we made our way back to her SCION, she turned to me and said, “Marcus, would you like to visit my place?”

  Since I did not want her to think that I was on the prowl, just out to seduce her, then leave her to return home, I never bothered to ask her to take me to her pad. I figured if she wanted me to visit there she would let me know. But now that she had asked, I was not going to pass this opportunity up.

  “I guess so,” I said, sounding mildly indifferent.

  “We don’t have to, if you don’t want to, you know,” she threw in with a mischievous smile.

  “Oh, by all means, let’s go,” I said, sounding a lot more enthused.

  After placing our picnic blanket and other items inside the van, we took off. As we rode, I noticed that we drove right pass the turnoff to the university.

  “I thought we were going to your place?” I said, looking at her side profile.

  “We are,” she assured me.

  “But we just passed the turn off to the university,” I reminded her.

  “Oh, you thought that I lived on campus,” she said, with the smile of an inside trader.

  “Well, don’t you?”

  “No, I have my own place off campus,” she came back.

  “Man, and all of this time I was thinking that you lived in a dorm room,” I quipped wearing a broad smile. “Why haven’t you invited me over before now?”

  “I was having so much fun with you the days we spent together, and late into the evening might I remind you, that I just never got around to asking you over. Besides, I was doing all of the driving.”

  I leaned back before adding, “As we say back home, better late than never.”

  “We have that saying too in Antiqua,” she said as she touched her hand to my leg.

  The drive from the business district ran through wooded countryside, with occasional houses visible. Minutes later we made a right turn onto a palm tree-lined street where several bungalows sat back from the road and were enclosed by hedging four feet in height. All had wooden shutters at every window, a protective barrier during hurricane season. Yellow outdoor lights illuminated the main entrances. All had landscaping between the hedging and the dwellings which included a variety of plants, trees, and large rocks.

  Leïla parked the SCION in the driveway and, with house key in hand, led the way to the front entrance. Solar light fixtures on the ground illuminated the winding stone walkway. I followed passively. Once we entered the interior I pulled her gently into my embrace and kissed her long and hard. We were both under one another’s spell, a spell we did not want to be rescued or awakened from.

  After a well-placed kiss on my cheek, she turned on the combination ceiling fan and light. Taking it all in, I stood gazing about an expansive living room area, and a well-furnished one. There was a large 42” HD television on one side of the room and a stereo system against a stone-laden wall to the left of the television. A bone colored sofa, recliner, and love seat were positioned about six feet from the large television. The furniture was made of leather. The kitchen was adjacent to the living room and appeared spacious and modernly equipped. A wet bar was situated to my right.

  “You live here, alone?” I asked, wondering how she could afford all of this.

  “I had a roommate earlier this year who shared the expenses. Her name was Trisha. But she has returned home on maternity leave,” she answered, tossing her belongings on one end of the sofa.

  “And where is home for her?”

  “Trinidad.”

  “If I may ask, how can you afford all of this by yourself now?”

  “I usually don’t go around advertising this Marcus but I am from a very prominent family in Antiqua.” She enlightened me further saying that her father was a wealthy banker and that her mother was a prominent lawyer.

  “You don’t seem to be doing too bad yourself,” she said.

  “I’m holding my own,” I came back, hoping that she did not take my reply as being boastful in context.

  “And that’s what I love about you. Look, darling, could you give me a few minutes,” she said walking ahead of me. “I’m going to take a quick shower and change into something other than this beachwear. I won’t be long.”

  She handed me the remote to the television, kissed me gingerly on the cheek, and disappeared into the bedroom. Left alone, I scanned a few channels but nothing on the tube held my interest so I turned the television off. As I waited, I scanned every picture of Leïla mounted on the walls, pixel by pixel, into my memory bank, then sat down and browsed through a Jet Magazine and Popular Science magazine. It wasn’t the type of magazine I expected to find in a woman’s pad but she was an engineering student, after all.

  When Leïla reappeared she was wearing a white blouse, a form fitting black skirt, seductive black stockings, and an engaging warm smile.

  “Going out?” I inquired.

  “I just want to look good for my man,” she tossed back with a flirtatious gaze. />
  “Well, on that accord, don’t let me stop you,” I chuckled.

  “Care for something to drink?’ she asked me.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. What do you have?”

  “Let’s go and see,” she said smiling as she led me into the kitchen.

  I followed obediently.

  “Let’s see,” she said as she opened the refrigerator, bent slightly, and surveyed the chilled interior. “I have lemonade, a passion-fruit juice blend, grape juice, orange juice and coconut milk. I also have wine coolers and beer. If none of these interest you I have a jar of prune juice I can open and pour over crushed ice for you.”

  Frowning in jest, I said, “I think I’ll pass on the prune juice. I’m pretty regular, if you know what I mean.”

  She laughed.

  “Anyway, I think I’ll go with the passion fruit blend,” I finally decided.

  “I must warn you that it has Jamaican Rum in it.”

  “So much the better,” I said clearly, distinctly and unabashed.

  “I think I’ll have some too,” she quipped as she took the container of juice in hand then walked over to the dishwasher, opened it, and grabbed two clean glasses. I watched in silence as she set the items on the granite countertop then poured juice into both glasses.

  Reaching over, she handed me a glass and the two of us toasted one another.

  As we talked she sipped at her drink and gazed upward into my eyes. The woman had me floating on clouds. I hadn’t felt this buoyed, this spirited, and this relaxed since I drank a glass of Apple Schnapps on a vacation visit to Germany a year earlier.

  Leaning against the counter, I took an occasional swallow of my drink as we continued to converse. She briefly took a seat at the kitchen table but not for long as we retreated to the living room and sat down on the padded sofa. Picking up the remote, she turned on the CD player and soft piano jazz music poured out of the speakers.