Island Love

by Curtis Bennett

  Going below I awakened Leïla. We offloaded our personal effects onto the dinghy and climbed down the ladder into it. It took less than fifteen minutes to reach the white sandy beach. After reconnoitering the immediate area, we decided that all was safe and secured. Outside of a few lizards and seagulls, the place appeared abandoned. We made one last trip back to the Blue Oyster for additional provisions, and to retrieve a small generator and two 5 gallon containers of gas to run the generators, if we needed them. We then bid the skipper farewell. He said that he would return by 3:30 PM the following day.

  As we watched his boat fade from view I suddenly realized what it would feel like to be the last man and the last remaining woman on earth. It wasn’t a good feeling, to say the least. The boat that just vanished from view was our only means of returning to civilization. I cannot deny that it was a scary thought being permanently, even temporarily, marooned out here. I, too, had seen a few movies about stranded survivors of shipwrecks and such. To reassure myself, I attempted to call out on my cellphone but I had no signal. I did not consider this a good omen. And to think that we were still in the midst of the hurricane season. But I would be strong, and for both of us.

  Turning, I saw Leïla unpacking the tent a few feet from the forest, which provided some shade, and seemingly without a care in the world. When she turned to face me her smile immediately disarmed me. Putting my concerns on the backburner, I scurried over to assist her. Without a doubt, the moment I looked into her eyes I felt my confidence return.

  From time to time, I’d pick up the digital camera to record our progress. She’d often pose for a shot or make a goofy face. Then she’d take the camera and record me doing silly things. After securing our new residence with additional wooden stakes, we moved our provisions and personal effects inside of it, except for the two gas containers and the generator which remained a good distance away from our island bungalow. Our main source of entertainment was my laptop computer, which could show movies I had stored on the hard drive and music as well. I also had an air card which operated via a satellite link and allowed me to access the internet, provided I could get a signal way out here in the Caribbean Sea. I also had a battery operated combination radio/CD Player and a shortwave radio.

  After we both took turns rubbing one another down with sunscreen, we took off on foot to explore our private island with camera in hand. I wore a beige pullover shirt and desert beige camouflage trousers; she a loose beige blouse and beige colored corduroy pants. We both had on leather sandals and dark shades.

  The skipper was right. Outside of a few birds and small reptiles, there was nothing on the island but trees. A mile and half later we decided to turn around and return to our campsite but not before we stumbled upon a small pond with fresh rain water in it. I immediately made a mental note of it. Walking hand in hand, we continued our sojourn back to our campsite. Only once did I see a passing freighter on the distant horizon.

  Back at our campsite, I grabbed the hibachi grill and positioned it a few feet away from the tent. Walking over to where the generator and a few other items had been placed, I grabbed a bag of quick staring charcoal briskets and placed a few on the grill and lit them with a match. From the small refrigerated unit we brought along, I withdrew two large T-bone steaks that I had marinated at my place a day earlier in anticipation of preparing dinner for Leïla. I then took two round potatoes I had retrieved from a bag inside of the tent and wrapped them in foil and placed them on the grill next to the steaks. In the meantime, Leïla made a delicious Caesar salad and pulled out a chilled bottle of white wine.

  “Well, what do you think, my love, about things so far?” I asked her as we both sat back on full-length lawn chairs as the aroma of charcoal-broiled steaks invaded our nostrils. I could not wait to devour mine.

  “Marcus, I’m having the time of my life,” she answered. “What about you?”

  “I’m feeling on top of the world, myself,” I said smiling. Extending her arm, she took my hand in hers.

  Relaxed and content as two people could be, we watched the sun inch lower in the sky just above the horizon. In another hour and half it would be completely dark, I surmised. Having made this observation, I asked Leïla to assist me in placing twelve solar-powered ground lights strategically around the outer perimeter of our encampment. Talk about being prepared. And speaking of talking, I felt that this was a good time to tell her, as we gathered the lights that I was once a Boy Scout and that I had even advanced to Eagle Scout. She was surprised to hear this. I also told her that I was a member of the Order of the Arrow, a unique club within scouting in which one had to first be invited to join but also pass a rigorous and grueling initiation before being inducted into the group. I added that during the entire ordeal, which lasted five days, no candidate was allowed to talk.

  After we completed the security light perimeter task, we sat down and ate Leïla’s hearty and delicious Caesar salad. By now, the potatoes and steaks were ready to be consumed. The taste was five-stars out of this world. The aged wine only served to cap off an already wonderful day and outing. It made me feel warm inside, almost as warm a sensation as the one I got whenever I kissed Leïla. Here I sat watching the sun go down on my own private island, if only temporarily mine’s to claim; having eaten the tastiest and juiciest steak I had ever cooked; enjoying the most delicious salad a woman could ever mix; and drinking the finest bottle of wine under fifty dollars; and I said to myself, “what more could a man ask for?” Oh, did I say that I was fortunate enough to be in love with the most beautiful woman in the Caribbean and the world and that she was here beside me basking in all of this natural beauty and wonder?

  After cleaning up our dinnerware and cookware, she enticed me to go skinny dipping with her in the ocean. Hell, I thought. This was our very own private beach so I didn’t really have to be coerced into doing it. Besides, this was why we were here, to have a little adventure and a lot of fun. Peeling out of my clothes, I caught up to her from behind and grabbed her as she ran. Nearly waist deep in water, I lifted her up and we both fell sideways into an oncoming wave. Like juveniles experiencing love for the very first time we splashed one another with water, played chase and even hide-go-seek, and playfully doused one another’s head under the water. She was so much fun. I did not want it to end. But before long it was evident that the bright moon would soon take its prominent place in the night sky, so we exited the water. In the spirit of cooperation, we dried one another off.

  Later we sat out in the open on our lawn chairs. Leaning back, we gazed skyward at the stars and listened to a radio station I managed to pick up on my shortwave radio. It was some Brazilian station, according to Leïla who spoke fluent Spanish I learned at that moment. What else I didn’t know about her, I wondered.

  “I am curious,” I said facing her, “what was the special talent you put on display to win the beauty contest?”

  “I performed an electrifying piece by Marcus Roberts, a blind jazz pianist on the piano,” she said.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of Marcus Roberts,” I tossed in. “He graduated from the University of North Florida in Jacksonville, Florida, the same university that Marcus Printup graduated from I believe. So you’re a jazz pianist.”

  “Yes, I am,” she said as she pushed her hair from her face.

  “I’m truly impressed,” was all I could manage to say.

  “Do you play a musical instrument?”

  “I played trumpet throughout middle school and high school,” I replied. “And one year in college but not very much since then.”

  “I love music and I love performing as well,” she said as she picked up a pair of binoculars to zoom in on a rapidly falling meteor a quarter of a mile away which was fully ablaze.

  “Wow,” I exclaimed with wide eyes as I stood up in bewilderment to watch its flaming descent end in a splash.

  “Where were we?” I asked.

  “We were talking about how I love performing,” she said, refreshing my memory.


  “That’s right,” I murmured. “Speaking of performing, I think it is time we made a little music ourselves.” On that note (really, no pun intended) I took her hand in mine and assisted her up from her chair.

  “I was wondering when you were going to get around to this,” she said wearing an amusing smile and looking as hot and sexy as ever.

  “I didn’t want you to miss that falling star,” I replied.

  “Don’t you mean meteor?” she corrected me.

  “That’s exactly what I meant,” I teased her.

  Once inside of our private domain I lit up a gas lamp. Alone it illuminated the entire interior while casting our shadowy silhouettes on the clothed sidewall for all to see, provided they were a lot closer than sixty miles away.

  “So, what do we do now,” she asked, as she twirled a strand of her long hair between her fingers.

  “You don’t know,” I replied as I drew closer to her.

  “No, I don’t,” she answered, backing away smiling.

  “I think you know exactly what we want and need to do,” I insisted as I backed her against one of the inside walls of the tent without any visible signs of retreat for her.

  “I’m just a sweet and innocent damsel in stress, that’s all I know,” she came back as she put on a naive front using a naïve tone of voice.

  “Is that’s so, my young, lovely, and beautiful flower,” I murmured in a deep voice.

  “That’s the truth and nothing but the truth, mista,” she chuckled softly, playfully.

  “I’ve got your sweet and innocent damsel all right,” I leered as I lunged at her with outstretched arms.

  Somehow she managed to dodge my advance as she took off running like a startled jackrabbit. Laughing playfully, she headed out of the tent and into the darkness of night. Woman, you’re going down, I told myself. Coming to life I followed her. I was aroused and determined more than ever to seduce her and then ravish her. The chase was a definite turn on. In a strange primal way it heightened my senses. And it brought to surface urges I never knew that I possessed. Her playfulness and teasing made her more desirous and it made me want her that much more.

  Finally I caught up to her and grabbed her around the waist. Laughing, we both fell onto the soft sand. Turning her over on her back, I pinned both of her hands behind her head with my hands as my eyes took in all of her splendid beauty. I kissed her on the cheeks, her forehead, and moist lips. The excitement from seeing her luscious and partially exposed breasts heaving wildly from the chase awakened an innate desire and wanton lust inside of me.

  Desire and lust; truthfully, I was too far gone to tell the difference between the two as my anxious mouth descended downward to give her round globes a warm and titillating welcome. As I worked my magic, her spicy fragrance only served to enhance my already aroused state.

  “Marcus, please love me forever and ever,” she whispered starry eyed, as she lay there on the beach wearing a short wraparound skirt and nothing else beneath it. “Promise me that you will.”

  “I will love you Leïla, for all eternity, plus infinity,” I promised, my breathing coming quick, my heart thumping wildly inside my chest.

  “That’s a lot of loving,” she purred kissing my neck, cheeks, and lips.

  “That’s why it’s going to take that long for me to love you,” I came back with a dreamy gaze.

  Kissing her, I raised her hemline slowly and anxiously until the treasure I had been seeking was fully exposed. What I beheld was a delicacy most men would fight one another to get at, or die trying. Unceremoniously, I released my grip on her wrists and took her right there on the moonlit beach. Twelve whirlwind minutes later our efforts ended in cries of ecstasy.

  Chapter Eight

  I woke up on the beach the following morning feeling as though I was dreaming. I had to be I told myself as I stirred and blinked in a futile effort to shield my eyes from the bright morning sun. When Leïla rose up and planted a kiss on my left cheek with pursed lips I knew right then that this was no dream. And I was glad of that.

  “Good morning,” I said, after clearing my throat.

  “Good morning to you, my dear,” she replied gingerly, massaging my shoulder blade gently, caringly. “You sleep well?”

  “With the knockout punch you gave me last night, I’m surprised that I woke up at all,” I chuckled.

  Leïla blushed.

  Minutes later, I began my martial arts workout as Leïla looked on. I even showed her a few defensive and offensive moves. She was quite agile and a fast learner. The sista had potential.

  We washed up in the ocean, dried off, and then I prepared breakfast. It was an oversized mushroom and cheese omelet and lean crisp bacon for me, and kiwi yogurt, banana-nut bran muffin, and orange juice for Leïla. We both downed our vitamins.

  “When’s your birthday, if I may ask?” she said as we dined.

  “January 1st, I replied, piercing a bright golden section of omelet with my fork and lifting it to my mouth.

  “Get out of here…you were born on New Year’s Day?”

  “Yep. When’s yours?”

  “April 26th,” she answered, taking a sip of orange juice.

  “That’s good to know,” I smiled, as I wiped my mouth with my palm.

  “I’m twenty-six,” she said.

  “Huh?”

  “I’m twenty-six years old,” she noted with clarity.

  “Twenty-six, you say,” I echoed thoughtfully. “Honestly, I thought you were around twenty-four.”

  “You’re too kind,” she beamed. “And yourself? Or perhaps you’d prefer that I guess?”

  “No, but just the same, I’m thirty-two.”

  “So, I was right,” she replied softly, sounding amused.

  We spent the remainder of the day venturing into areas we had not gone before on the island. At one point we found the remnants of a wooden shelter someone had built and used inside of the forest. It was large enough to house two people, not much more than that. And it was in great condition. I was impressed. After inspecting the wood closely I could tell that it wasn’t from the island. First of all, it was treated wood. Whoever built it had brought the wood here, used the shelter, and was long gone. No, this was not built by someone who found themselves marooned here.

  Just before breaking down our encampment, we prepared lunch. We had corned beef sandwiches and V-8 tropical Blends and bags of potato chips.

  By 3:15PM we were packed and ready to go. True to his word, I saw the Blue Oyster round our private tree-laden cove with the skipper topside waving at us. It had been a wonderful outing and one I would remember for the remainder of my life. Yet, as much as I enjoyed Leïla’s company, her conversation, and lovemaking, I was equally happy to see that boat heading towards us. Every bad scenario one could think of I thought of before I saw that boat. In less than two hours we would be back in the throngs of civilization.

  Loading the dinghy, we made our way to the boat. After unloading our gear and personal effects, we returned to the beach for another load. Leïla assisted me as we gathered the final load, which consisted of the tent, a food chest with meats and milk and other food items stored inside, the generator, the portable refrigerator, the hibachi grill, gas can, and what was left of the charcoal briskets as the skipper returned to the boat with the second haul. I’m not sure why but we took turns posing for still pictures of us and our gear using the digital camera. But she said that she felt as though we were like 16th century explorers visiting a new frontier. God, had there been a way she could have found her way back to that century, I would follow. She had that kind of effect on me.

  “I wonder what’s taking him so long,” Leïla said with a hint of concern in her voice.

  “I don’t know,” I said suddenly realizing that nearly fifteen minutes had passed by and the skipper had yet to return.

  We both turned and looked in the direction of the boat which sat anchored about thirty meters off of the beach. The dinghy was still bobbing in th
e water but other than that the skipper was nowhere in sight. We called out several times but he failed to respond. We looked at one another puzzled. Leïla volunteered to swim out to the boat to check on the skipper.

  “He probably just went to use the head,” she said referring to the restroom.

  “Yeah, you’re probably right,” I replied, having heard the skipper use the term several times on the way here. “Just give me a holler after you check things out there.”

  “Sure thing,” she said as she reached upward and smacked me on the lips with a moist kiss before running off into oncoming waves.

  I watched as she swam to the boat and climbed up the boarding ladder. Even from this distance she looked like pin-up material in her wet pullover top and Daisy Duke Shorts. I never felt more fortunate than I did at that moment. It would not be long before she’d be back in my arms again.

  Two minutes went by, then five, and then almost ten before I called out to her. But I got no response. More than concern now, I peeled out of my pullover and took off running. Once the water was waist high, I dove headfirst into the salty brine and made my way towards the Blue Oyster like I was an Olympic swimmer. I was at the boarding ladder in less than two minutes flat.

  I climbed aboard the vessel and looked around, calling out to Leïla and the skipper. Going down below I entered the compartment and immediately saw the skipper and Leïla gagged and seated, their hands tied behind them. There were three men present as well. Two of them held guns. One was pointed at Leïla and the other at the skipper’s head. A fourth man crept up behind me and placed the barrel of his gun to my temple.