📚 maing trouble in paradise Part 1 of 6
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ADULT ROMANCE

Making Trouble In Paradise Pt 01

Making Trouble In Paradise Pt 01

by randy_summers
20 min read
4.44 (3100 views)
adultfiction
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NOTE: This is my first posted story. It's part of a longer series, describing a young woman's adventures in Tahiti, where she explores herself, her sexuality, and her perspectives on living a balanced life. If you like and would like to read more, please vote and comment. Thanks!

CHAPTER 1

"Madam?"

Jennifer woke with a start, her eyes fluttering under the airline sleep mask. Taking a deep breath, she pushed the mask up onto her forehead. The airplane cabin was dark, with two lines of small LEDs on each side of the center aisle and sporadic overhead reading lights from other passengers providing the only illumination. Standing over her was the flight attendant in her tropical print uniform.

"Madam, we are landing in Papeete shortly," the attendant said. "Please return your seat to the fully upright and locked position, and please close your tray table."

Jennifer, twenty-nine, nodded and reached for the button to raise her seat back. The attendants had already taken away the nearly-empty cup holding the remnants of her Crown Royal and ice. She picked up the paperback novel she had purchased at the airport, raised her tray table, and tucked the book into the purse between her feet.

It had been a nine hour flight from Los Angeles to Tahiti, so Jennifer dressed comfortably for the long flight: a short-sleeved light blue blouse and light khaki shorts. Her long black hair was pulled up and clipped into a pile on top of her head. The recycled cabin air had dehydrated her. She blinked and massaged her chestnut eyes in order to refresh her contact lenses.

Jennifer had lucked out and reserved an aisle seat on the left side of the plane. She looked across the laps of the couple seated next to her at the shimmering lights of the island. At night, from this altitude, the capital of French Polynesia consisted of a small cluster of pinpricks of light surrounded by the inky blackness of the Pacific Ocean. Mindy, the young woman in the middle seat (wearing a t-shirt with the word "BRIDE" stamped boldly on the front) was also staring out the window, then turned and caught Jennifer's eye.

"Beautiful, isn't it," she said.

"Yeah, it's something else," Jennifer answered, squinting out the small window pane. "Can't wait to see it in the daylight."

"I know, right?"

The plane banked toward the airport and the attendants took their places in the jump seats between first class and business class. Jennifer continued looking out the window as the plane lined up on the landing strip then descended until, with a slight bump, it touched down on the runway. Mindy let out a breath she had apparently been holding for some time.

"I always get so nervous during take-off and landing," she said.

"That's what Gramps always used to say," Jennifer mused, her attention turning now to the front of the plane.

"Again, I am so sorry to hear about your grandfather."

"Thank you," Jennifer said, turning back to Mindy. "He's in a better place -- I know it."

"After you spread his ashes, will you be in the islands long?"

"Unfortunately, no," Jennifer answered. "I need to fly back to Buffalo for the reading of the will."

"That's too bad," Mindy said.

"The rest of the family is just hoping he didn't leave it all to that gold-digging stripper he married in Reno."

Mindy's mouth puckered and she squeaked out an "oh."

It only took a few minutes for the plane to taxi to the airport. Once the "fasten seatbelt" light went out, all of the other passengers jumped to their feet, eager to pull carry-on items from overhead bins and race each other out of the plane. Jennifer, by contrast, remained seated, to the slight consternation of the bride and groom she had trapped by the window.

After ten minutes, the aisle across from her finally emptied and Jennifer stood up to remove her own carry-on bag. She was tall and fit, so she had no trouble reaching into the overhead compartment. Taking down her backpack, she slung it over her shoulders, then picked up her purse and headed for the exit.

Once off the plane, she moved leisurely through the concourse, following signs in French, English, Chinese, Japanese, and a handful of other languages, all of which pointed to baggage claim and taxi stands. She passed through customs without incident, handing her declaration form to the uniformed attendant with a closed-lip smile. Fortuitously, thanks in part to her delay exiting the plane and arriving at baggage claim, her two bags appeared on the carousel just as she walked up. Mindy and her new husband, Trevor, anxiously waited next to a four-piece luggage set, straining to find an errant bag among the stream of Samsonite parading in circles before the weary passengers.

Once outside the airport terminal, the tropical humidity hit Jennifer like a wave. Despite her light clothing, she could still feel the back of her neck perspiring and she attempted to quickly assess the shortest route to an air conditioned taxi. The taxi stands were an example of lightly organized chaos, as decades-old mini-vans jockeyed around each other to pull up next to packs of tourists. Thankfully for Jennifer, a tall attractive fair-skinned brunette was a welcome sight for an eager cab driver and she had no sooner pulled her bags to the curb than she was met by a young dark-skinned young man in a t-shirt and shorts.

"Where to?" he asked eagerly, taking a suitcase in each hand and lugging them to the open trunk of his cab.

"Grand Tahiti Nui," she responded, opening the passenger side rear door and climbing inside.

The cabbie slammed the trunk shut and ran back to the driver's seat, throwing the car into drive as he sat down. The car jerked out of the way of a suddenly accelerating airport shuttle, then jumped in line behind it, pulling away from the brightly lit airport terminal and onto the nearly empty streets of Papeete, dimly lit by yellow sodium streetlights.

"On vacation?" the cabbie asked, looking back at Jennifer in the rearview mirror.

"No...well, not really," she answered, assuming a Valley Girl accent. "I'm meeting my husband.....or fiancee I guess."

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"Ah, you gettin' married on the island?" he responded in broken English, smiling widely. "So beautiful. We have many weddins. Papeete - very popular place to be gettin' married an' have honeymoon."

"Yeah, well, my fiancee is a big-shot Kenyan prince who got forced out of his country," she continued, staring out the window at the passing city lights. "He's rich as hell, but all of his money was tied up by the U.N. - some political bullshit. We met online and wrote back and forth for a little while. Now I think I'm going to be a princess or something."

The cabbie looked back at her in the rearview mirror, not sure what to make of his passenger.

"How late are the malls open out here?" she asked, still staring out the window.

"It after midnight -- all stores closed," the cabbie answered. "You need go to store?"

The cabbie reached across the dashboard and plucked a business card from a plastic clip attached to the weathered vinyl, holding it over the seat back for Jennifer to take.

"You call dat number in da mornin'," he said. "I take you."

"That's so sweet," she gushed. "I knew this was a great place to get married -- everybody's so friendly."

"Yes, Papeete very friendly."

The cab pulled up off of the main road and into the round-about in front of the hotel entrance. The driver threw the car into park, then hopped out to unload Jennifer's bags from the trunk. She paid the fare and tipped the driver modestly, promising to call him in the morning for her shopping trip. The cabbie thanked her profusely, his smile never flickering as he hopped back behind the wheel and tore out of the parking lot.

Jennifer checked in at the front desk, taking a moment to explain to the clerk that the reservation had changed and that she was now traveling alone. She politely refused the offer of the bellhop to help her with her bags and instead proceeded to wheel them up to her room. As hotels go, it was modern, very European, and probably more luxurious than she needed for the brief overnight layover. She unpacked her toiletry kit, but left the rest of her bags packed. After brushing her teeth, washing her face, and removing her contacts, she stripped down naked, taking a moment to admire herself in the mirror.

For a woman in her early 30's, Jennifer had succeeded in holding onto the tight athletic body that had supported her through high school and college volleyball. One slight difference from her high school days was the late development of tantalizing 34B breasts with slightly upturned pink nipples that perked into firm points under the room's arctic air conditioning. Jennifer ran her hands down along her sides then back up, cupping her tits and giving her nipples a gentle squeeze. Letting her hands drift back down her sides, she caressed her smooth tight ass. This was also a late development, as Jennifer grew from the tall bean-pole athlete of her youth to the curvaceous woman who dabbled in modeling to pay her way through college. For years, she had been fastidious about daily exercise and watching her diet, more for the sake of her own discipline and self-respect than vanity. Turning her attention to her hips, she ran her fingertips over her pubis, feeling the light stubble that had developed over the last few days. She previously kept it shaved at Matt's request, but toyed with the idea of growing it back out or shaving it into a variety of shapes - maybe a simple landing strip or a more elaborate heart. Maybe a downward-pointing arrow, she mused with a smile.

Throwing on an oversized nightshirt, Jennifer left the bathroom and set herself down on the bed, crawling between the stiff, chilly sheets. The air-conditioning was definitely working overtime, making the room slightly frigid, but after climbing in the bed, she was reluctant to get up and search for the thermostat. Instead, she curled up under the blanket and let the extended stresses of her travel-day slip away.

-------------

Ordinarily, Jennifer was an early riser, stopping off to the gym before beginning the rest of her day. As a consequence, she found herself wide awake after only five hours of sleep, her body still thinking it was in the Pacific timezone. After trying in vain to fall back asleep, she finally crawled out of bed in time to see the sky shift from gray to red as the sun rose on the horizon. Standing at the window of her hotel room, Jennifer couldn't remember the last time she'd actually watched the sun rise.

Unlike the arid Los Angeles climate she had left behind, Tahiti was lush, tropical, and exquisitely green, just as the brochures and travel websites had promised. Her hotel room was positioned over a finely manicured lawn which looked as if it had been cut and pasted from a professional golf course. Below, a maintenance cart was being driven around the periphery of the lawn by a uniformed groundskeeper. At least she wasn't the only one up at such an early hour, she mused.

Jennifer indulged in a lengthy shower, washing away the grime from the day before, then dressed in a short floral-print sundress and sandals. To minimize the number of bags she would need to carry, she emptied the contents of her backpack into her suitcases, then folded the backpack and zipped it inside. She made one last circuit around the hotel room, making sure that she had not inadvertently left anything behind. Satisfied, she wheeled her bags down the hall to the elevator and then to the front desk, where she asked the clerk to hold them for the 8:30 a.m. shuttle.

Off of the hotel lobby, she saw a restaurant was already open and serving breakfast. Most of the tables were empty and the hostess accommodated her request to be seated looking out over the pool deck. Breakfast was a buffet, but Jennifer avoided the pancakes, French toast, and scrambled eggs, contenting herself with a container of European yogurt, bowl of cereal, and a bowl of sliced melons, with grapefruit juice and coffee. She still had a suitcase full of bikinis to fit into and had no interest in bloating herself at the outset of her trip. However, to the impartial observer, her concerns were without merit, as her thin, athletic frame betrayed no excess weight. Nevertheless, Jennifer self-consciously picked at her breakfast while staring out across the still waters of the hotel pool.

The 8:30 a.m. shuttle was ten minutes late. Jennifer chalked it up to "island time" and crowded aboard the shuttle with two honeymooning couples, neither of whom spoke English as she discovered on the brief drive back to the airport. Once there, Jennifer wheeled her bags from the taxi stand to the curbside airline desk, then to the shelter where she would board her flight to Bora Bora. With time to spare, Jennifer perched herself on a bench next to her bags.

A Polynesian mother, grandmother, and two daughters joined her in the shelter, waiting patiently for the small prop plane to arrive. They were soon joined by three young couples. The presence of so many honeymooning couples was beginning to grate on her nerves, so Jennifer attempted to pass the time by immersing herself in the paperback she had purchased at the airport in Los Angeles. Less than a hundred pages into the novel, she could already predict that the young defense attorney would fall in love with his clearly-guilty client, who would manipulate him into committing multiple ethical violations in order to secure her acquittal, then ultimately she would attempt to murder him post-coitus.

"So what do you think so far?" a voice lisped over her shoulder.

Jennifer looking up into the face of a tanned man in his late-forties standing behind her and leaning casually on the handle of his large suitcase. He was short and thin, with a blond crew-cut and bright blue eyes. After crossing paths with so many Europeans, his white linen shirt tucked into his khaki capri pants was not a definite sign of his sexual preferences, but his mannerisms quickly resolved the question in her mind.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he apologized, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I read that turd-sandwich on my flight out here a week ago. I swear -- days of my life I'll never get back."

Jennifer smiled up at him.

"It's okay," she replied. "I'm having a hard time getting into it."

"Do you like celebrity gossip mags?" her new-found friend asked. "I've been saving up a couple for my trip and just finished them. Want 'em?"

"That would be fantastic," Jennifer answered. "Thanks."

"Name's Ben, by the way," he said, extending his hand, palm down. She took it and gave it a light squeeze.

"Samantha," she replied. "But you can call me Sam."

"So are you on your honeymoon too?" Ben asked dryly, digging through his carry-on bag and removing a handful of magazines, which he handed to her.

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Jennifer smiled and shook her head.

"Thank gaaawwd," Ben moaned. "I swear, I thought we were the only ones."

"There you are!" came a shout from across the shelter. Jennifer followed the sound of the call to a balding, slightly overweight man with wispy gray hair dressed in a lime green Tommy Bahama shirt and khaki capris similar to Ben's, but wider in the waist. "You would not believe how far I had to walk to find a bathroom."

"Sam, this is my better half -- Steve," Ben said as the other man walked up to them. "Steve, meet Sam, the only other non-honeymooner on this whole godforsaken island."

The Polynesian mother seated on the next bench looked up at him.

"No offense," he quickly added.

"Don't mind him," Steve said, rolling his eyes.

"How long have you been on the island?" Jennifer interjected before Ben could retort.

"We booked a week in Pateete and a week in Bora Bora," Steve answered.

"It's not our first time," Ben explained. "We've seen it all before, so this trip is about relaxation, not sightseeing."

"Are you with a travel group?" Steve asked.

"No," she said. "Just, you know....finding my own way."

"So where are you from originally?"

"Chicago," Jennifer answered. "I'm a grad student at Northwestern."

"Good for you," Ben said. "What are you studying?"

"Epidemiology. I'm working with the Department of Defense on counter-terror biological contaminant detection systems."

"Uh huh....what's that?" Ben asked.

"I work on systems to screen for biological agents," Jennifer said, matter-of-factly. "You know, like if somebody tries to bring airborne anthrax on a plane."

"Oh my gawd. Are you serious?" Ben gasped. "Isn't that kind of scary, working with all those super-bugs and things?"

"Not really," Jennifer said with a smile and small shrug. "Actually, it got me this trip. There was a mechanical failure in the clean room pumps at the lab and I was quote-unquote 'potentially exposed to a classified airborne neurotoxin'," she said, raising her hands to make air quotations. "Anyway, long-story short, I spent a week in quarantine getting blood samples drawn hourly. After they concluded I wasn't infectious, the university settled my legal claims by reimbursing me two years of tuition and paying for my trip out here."

Jennifer gave a long loud cough, then rubbed her throat. The blood drained from Ben's face, but Steve managed a weak smile.

"That sounds....great," Steve answered.

"Kind of sucks for my boyfriend, though," Jennifer continued. "His blood tests were inconclusive, so they wanted to hold him for another couple weeks to be sure. So I thought: we weren't all that serious anyway, and I didn't want to travel in monsoon season, so I booked the trip and came out here by myself. But after seeing all the couples out here, maybe I should have waited."

Ben was still speechless, but Steve managed a nod.

"That's too bad," he consoled. "I hope he feels better soon."

Jennifer feigned a sneeze and both men took a half-step back.

"Oh yeah, I'll send him an e-mail from the resort in Bora Bora," Jennifer added nonchalantly.

The loudspeaker announced the imminent arrival of the prop plane to Bora Bora, which interruption Steve and Ben used to excuse themselves to the other side of the shelter. Jennifer was one of the last passengers to board, taking a seat in the rear of the plane next to the lavatory door that failed to latch when she tried to pull it closed. Breathing through her mouth, Jennifer flipped through Ben's People magazines during the brief one-hour flight from Papeete to Bora Bora. The plane engines were loud, making conversation difficult, but Jennifer tried to convey by body language that she had no interest in talking at the moment. Occasionally, she peered out the plane windows at the deep blue water below and the tiny islands scattered across its lightly rippled surface.

As they approached Bora Bora, Jennifer could identify the two mountain peaks, Mount Pahia and Mount Otem, remnants of the extinct volcano at the center of the island. The island itself was ringed by a barrier reef and shallow lagoon. Inside the perimeter of the barrier reef, the water was a light turquoise, perfectly framing the lush tropical foliage of the center island. The plane banked sharply and aligned itself with the Motu Mute Airport, an short airstrip running across an islet, or motu, at the northern end of the barrier reef surrounding the main island. Bora Bora was every bit the tropical paradise the Internet had promised.

Once on the ground, the prop plane taxied to the terminal, at which point the cabin door was opened and the steps lowered. While the other passengers deplaned, Jennifer dug through her bag until she found the cell phone she had turned off before leaving Los Angeles. She turned it back on and tucked it back into her purse as she deplaned, giving the phone an opportunity to locate local service and download any messages waiting for her. Once on the ground, bags in hand, she wheeled her luggage to the dock adjacent to the airport where she could catch the water taxi to her hotel. The Motu Mute Airport had no bridges connecting it to the main island of Bora Bora, so most resorts used water taxis to pick up newly arrived guests. Jennifer located the sign for the Grand Tahitian Bora Bora, only to find three couples already waiting at the sign. To avoid conversation, Jennifer decided the time had finally come to check her voicemail.

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