“Oh, so you’re into jazz,” I said wrapping an arm around her shoulder.
“I love jazz,” she quipped as she cuddled up next to me.
“I love it too. Always have,” I added. “So, what jazz artists are you into?”
“Let’s see, Miles Davis, Marcus Printup, John Coltrane, Oscar Peterson, Charlie Parker, Dizzy, Armstrong, Clifford Brown, Marcus Roberts, Duke Ellington, Count Basie, and Thelonious Monk. I love them all,” she said in one breath.
“Yeah, you know your jazz musicians,” I said giving the woman her props.
“Yes I do,” she noted proudly. “Especially all of my Marcus’, Marcus.”
“Yeah, I noticed that,” I chuckled.
“Then know from this point on I will always be partial to that name.”
I thanked her for the gesture. “You know, I never expected to enjoy myself as much as I have since I’ve met you Leïla. And I owe it all to you.”
“I share the same sentiment about you Marcus,” she said as she sipped her drink and without taking her gaze away from me. “I tell you, if I could, I’d take you on a private cruise. Sailing the seven seas, we’d find a private island and I’d have a private good time with you.”
“Sounds like a plan,” I chuckled. “But there’s one problem.”
“I’m listening,” she said pausing, as she peered upward through long lashes at me.
“I don’t own a boat and I have little experience in seamanship,” I told her with a chuckle. “Actually, I have no seagoing experience.”
“Well, we could always hire someone with a boat to take us out to sea for a two day cruise in search of a private island and some fun. We could even set up camp and spend a romantic night together.”
“And what about the captain of the boat?” I asked. “Where will he sleep?”
“He could sleep on the boat.”
“I see.”
“Actually, he could just drop us off and return at the end of eternity to pick us up and return us here.”
“You’re really serious, aren’t you?” I said setting my glass down on the wooden coaster on the glass coffee table.
“Weren’t you?” she tossed back at me.
“Metaphorically speaking,” I qualified.
“Look, you have what, a couple of days left before you return to the States, right?” she said crossing her legs.
“A week,” I corrected her as my eyes were suddenly drawn downward. I was awestruck. Being a full-blooded man, I took note of her skirt, which had worked itself up her shapely nylon-clad legs by two or three inches, exposing her brown thighs.
“Then why not do something adventurous? Besides, I don’t have to return to class until Wednesday afternoon, so that leaves us two days to find that island and spend a wonderful time together.”
“It sounds doable, I imagine,” I muttered, wondering what the hell I was getting myself into. But if that’s what she wanted to do, then that’s what I wanted to do. Leïla had come to have that kind of influence over me.
“Good, together we can make it happen, baby,” she rallied me. “You know, I have a good friend whose husband works on the docks. He probably knows someone with a boat who knows the sea lanes and possibly knows where we can find a small uninhabited island and wouldn’t mind making a few dollars taking us there. I’ll give her a call in a few minutes.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” I just about slurred. The whirlwind currents and eddies that swept about me, compliments of Leïla’s bewitching gaze, matched the warm feeling growing inside of me, compliments of the rum spiked tropical blend she had given to me. It was a powerful combination, no doubt.
True to her word, she made that call and was given the name of a thirty year merchant marine veteran who owned his own thirty-eight foot powerboat and knew the area very well, including several uninhabited islands in the area. His name was Hosea Morales, a fifty-eight year old immigrant from Puerto Rico. Hosea had lived in St Thomas for nearly ten years, having married a local woman eight years earlier.
Leïla called him and for the next fifteen minutes the two discussed what we had in mind. Though initially skeptical of our sincereness, in the end, he said that he could take us out to sea the following day, sometime late morning. He said he knew just the small island we were looking for. It was located about sixty miles north of St Thomas and was the perfect setting for what we had in mind. He said that he’d charge us three hundred dollars round trip. That included the use of his galley, his bathroom, and his dinghy which would transport us back and forth to the island from his boat.
After their conversation ended, Leïla told me that she had always been an outdoors person. She loved to go camping. She said that she had camping equipment and other provisions which included a large field tent, flashlights, and oil lamps. She added that we could rent a generator and portable refrigerator, and other equipment. She said that she had plenty of food there we could take along and what she didn’t have, we could purchase in the morning.
I didn’t remember much after that conversation. My lights went out. When I woke up on the sofa it was the following morning. The aroma invading my nostrils signaled that Leïla was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. Hearing me yawning and stretching, she came into the room where I had stirred. She was wearing pink pajamas.
Joining me on the sofa, she took a moment to rib me playfully for falling asleep on her. She told me I had passed out while she was talking to me, so she covered me with a blanket, tucked me in real good, and kissed me goodnight on the lips.
“I missed out on all of that?” I said in jest.
“That and a lot more,” she said with a wanton gaze.
“You sure you didn’t have more than just rum in that tropical blend?” I chuckled after apologizing for not being good company.
“I’m sure,” she assured me. “Anyway, it wasn’t long after you fell asleep that I grew sleepy myself and went off to bed.”
I was beside myself. I could not believe that I had missed out on an opportunity to be up close and personal with her. I promised myself that it would not happen again.
“What are you cooking?” I asked standing up.
“Scrambled eggs and bacon and blueberry hotcakes and beef sausage,” she replied. “I remember you saying this was your favorite breakfast menu. I also have some goats milk, if you drink that.”
“I don’t think I ever had goats milk before but I am opened to new experiences,” I said studying her lovely face.
“Look, I placed a washcloth and towel in the bathroom for you if you want to take a shower or bath,” she said. “As for fresh clothing, you can put on the shirt and pants I bought for you and was planning to give you as a going away gift before you returned to the States. I left them in the bathroom as well.”
“What about underwear?”
“You’re on your own on that one,” she chuckled, reaching up and kissing me on the lips. “I imagine you’ll have to do without them until we can stop by your villa after breakfast.”
“I imagine I have little choice but to wait until then.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’ll try my best not to excite you during that time, if I can help it,” she smiled. “Now run along, we haven’t a lot of time babe.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” I said as my full bladder pressured me to get into high gear as well.
“Honey, I placed a brand new toothbrush and a fresh bar of soap on the countertop. Toothpaste and mouthwash are in the wall cabinet.”
“Thank you, love,” I said loudly from inside of the bathroom.
“If you need me to soap your back down really good, let me know,” she shouted from afar.
“Hey, I just might take you up on that offer,” I shouted back above the loud running water as it emptied into the tub.
A second later, Leïla appeared at the partially opened entrance of the bathroom, faced me and cooed, “I bet you can’t wait to cash in on that offer.”
By now I was standing in
the center of the ceramic-tiled bathroom adorned only in my black briefs; my muscular frame exposed for her visual absorption, though not by any design on my part. Hell, I didn’t know she was going to pop up at the door. So I answered, chuckling, “Yeah, and I bet you can’t wait to get your hands on me, either.”
I could see that she was enjoying our verbal by-play.
“Whatever,” she said flippantly in a cutesy girlie way as she turned to walk away.
“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be,” I retorted playfully as I reached out and took her by the arm and spun her around. Pulling her gently inside of the bathroom and right into my embrace, I gave her a manly stare, one rich with desire. She reciprocated with wide eyes and parted lips.
Perhaps it was her intriguing eyes, or her sassy tone, or her playful responses, or her soft breasts pressing against my hard chest through the soft silk fabric of her partially exposed pajama top, but whatever the causation, I was turned on. I knew that she could not help but feel my excitement as I pressed back.
Lowering my head, my mouth closing in over her moist lips, we kissed hungrily and intensely. It was the kind of sweet tender kiss that spread heat everywhere inside of me and left me dazed. It was also a mutual and electrifying exchange that left both of us obviously aroused. Not to my surprise, the emotions stirring inside of me continued on long after our fiery kiss, refusing to go away or even dissipate Leïla was dazed as well; her eyes blissfully lost in an intoxicating desire-filled fog of sorts.
“I love you Leïla,” I repeated over and over again between kisses.
“And I love you Marcus,” she echoed, her eyes closing, then opening as if to devour me. Then they’d close again.
I could see that she wasn’t wearing a bra. Backing her up gently against the wooden door, I ripped her pajama top opened, each button popping off from the force of my urgency until both of her lovely breasts had been emancipated. As if time had frozen momentarily, I drank them up visually. For that lust-filled moment, I felt much like a sailor who had been at sea for months on end. The urge to take her right then prompted me to close the gap between us. I kissed her all over and with abandonment in an effort to seek out all of her pleasure zones.
Like frontier explorers entering new territory, we both took great liberty as our hands explored one another’s body. Slowly, sometimes frantically, we took considerable time to massage each other’s curvaceous forms and other places of interest. Leïla’s warm flesh felt wonderfully alive in my embrace. Her lips it seemed I could never satisfy enough with mine as she kept pulling me down again and again for another probing and prolonged kiss.
Slowly, with trembling hands, as if she were unwrapping a wondrous treasure, she slipped my briefs from my round firm bottom and the treasure it once guarded protectively and downward until I could step out of them. In response, I unfastened her pajama bottoms with deliberation and let them drop to the floor where she was able to step out of them effortlessly. Her body was a sculpted work of art and I would venture to say far beyond the talents of even the great sculpture and painter Michelangelo. Her title of Miss Antiqua was rightfully deserved.
Inhaling, I shivered slightly. The musky scent of her womanly desire exploded in my brain, sending me into a heady primal-like state the likes I had never experienced before and with such intensity. Lifting her up in my arms, her delicate back still pressed against the back of the door, I thrust upward as she let out a pleasure-filled sigh. Instinctively, our bodies, deprived for so long of attention, began to undulate together. From that moment on, first slowly, then more rhythmically, we synchronized our pace to match our newfound urgency. The result was pure harmony and delight. It was obvious that we were attuned to one another’s nuances and needs as she matched me thrust for thrust, moving with me in perfect unison, and always longing for more. She was my dream, my love, and the wonderful and caring lover I always longed for. And I hoped that I was everything she wanted and desired in a man, as well. What I felt defied description. The woman I held in my arms defied every fantasy I had but thought could never become a reality. And here she was, a dream come true and in the most desirous of ways.
When the infinitesimal quivers I felt began to percolate inside of me, I knew it would not be long before I succumbed to the rising seismic eruption building up inside of me. The more the fiery tension percolating deep down inside of me increased, the faster my heart rate increased. When the vestige of our control broke, it hit us with the force of a thunderous storm, convulsing our bodies, depleting our energy level, and to the point of near exhaustion. I could imagine one’s heart beating so fast that it took its host to the very brink of a cardiac arrest, but retreated just before tipping the scale completely and forever. That’s how I felt after enjoying the most exhilarating ride of my life. It felt like I had come close to death before being reborn again.
Panting, I eased her shapely form down, the musk-like scent from our sweaty bodies permeating the air. As we stood lovingly embraced, I left a trail of wet kisses along her neck and on her shoulders, mouth and lips. With satisfaction registering in her eyes, she rose up on the tips of her toes and kissed my forehead, which I had lowered slightly.
“Hey, I think it’s time for that soapy back rub I promised you,” she said smiling.
Chapter Seven
Leïla and I arrived at the pier twenty minutes after we stopped by my villa to pack a few things for our trip. While there I called my uncle and told him of our plans. He seemed a bit concerned but said that if that was what we wanted to do and it was safe to do, then enjoy ourselves. He aptly reminded me to take plenty of provisions. He said that he had watched one too many castaway movies where people set out to have a good time at sea only to find themselves bobbing around in shark infested waters for days on end or stranded on some remote desolate island. I assured him that I would take all of the necessary precautions. He seemed comforted by my reassurance.
The boat seemed to be in great shape and definitely seaworthy. The paint was fresh and I saw no signs of rust or other structural neglect that would concern me, an amateur ranked lower than a novice seafarer. But it appeared to have the necessary navigational equipment as well. Thanks to the internet, I was able to garnish some information about seagoing boats and navigational systems and long before I’d ever board this craft.
Hosea Morales, the proud skipper of the Blue Oyster, the name of his boat, greeted us on the pier. He was a large robust looking man with a deep tan, no doubt, from long exposure to the hot tropical sun. He had a tattoo of an anchor inside of a red heart on the side of his neck, just below his combed-back silver hair. He looked as though he could have played the role of a 16th century conquistador in an Earl Flynn movie. The only thing missing were his boots and helmet.
“Welcome my seafaring friends,” he said as he shook our hands generously. “And welcome to the Blue Oyster.”
We reciprocated with warm smiles and our own words of greeting, then unloaded our equipment and provisions from Leïla’s SCION and onto the Blue Oyster. The skipper assisted us in an all-hands effort.
After I parked the car in the parking lot, which provided twenty-four hour security, I boarded the boat for the final time and joined Leïla and the skipper. After he showed us to our quarters, he gave us a tour of the boat. It boasted a state-of-art galley or kitchen, a modern and stylish bathroom which featured a combination tub and shower area, and an Alpine audio/video entertainment system. Its signal source was satellite-based. There appeared to be ample storage space.
He asked if we were on our honeymoon. To keep her untarnished image in good standing in his eyes, I told him that Leïla was my fiancée. Actually, I almost wished that she was at that moment. We seemed to be a perfect match for one another. Oddly, Hosea echoed my sentiment, only he did it verbally.
Before anything else transpired, Leïla presented him with the $300 dollars we had agreed upon. I had insisted on covering the entire cost of the trip but she refused to allow me to. Instead, we compromised
. I would pay half of it, she the other half.
After the skipper checked the weather forecast and deemed it safe to set sail, we pulled up anchor and casted off. Our adventure, which was only a fantasy the night before, was about to begin. My hope was to make our outing as memorable as possible.
The going was smooth the first twelve minutes or so until we ventured beyond the protective break wall. Beyond that lay the deep blue sea and its notorious and dangerous undercurrents. Once we reached cruising speed the ride smoothed out.
While the skipper remained topside, Leïla and I went below deck to watch television and eat sandwiches she had made for us. According to the skipper, cruising along at 30 knots, he estimated our arrival time inside of an hour and twenty minutes at our destination. He said that the island was unclaimed, uncharted, and uninhabited. It measured nearly three square miles in diameter. He said that it was basically used by migrating birds and a few sea otters as a mating and breeding stopover. He also told us that he had spent time there fishing offshore. But few other people frequented it. However, he added that it was once thought to have been used by pirates to hide their stolen booty. As far as he knew, nothing of interest was ever found there.
While I pulled out my shortwave radio and scanned it in search of a news channel, Leïla decided to catch a nap. As I sat there beside her soft form listening to the news, I’d find myself gazing at her angelic face as she lay there with closed eyes and slightly parted lips. After the news began to repeat itself, I pulled out a martial arts magazine I had brought along and thumbed through its pages. There was still some apprehension on my part about this whole trip. As a man who made his living in the business world, I was used to planning things far in advance of the actual event. Spontaneity was never something I felt comfortable with when it came to planning my day. But perhaps that was the very thing I needed right now in my life…spontaneity.
As Leïla slept comfortably, I headed topside to join the skipper. Along the way we passed a school of dolphins and later a school of flying fish. Thank goodness I had the foresight to go topside with my digital camcorder. It wasn’t long before the island came into view. Glancing down at my watch I saw that we had arrived in the area right on time. And what I beheld reminded me of a scene from Gilligan’s Island, a small isolated parcel of land lined with tall palms and surrounded by water. Within minutes of sighting the island the skipper dropped anchor. I assisted him with lowering the dinghy into the water.
Island Love Page 7