My hand seeks the comfort of your thigh, so strong and solid as the rumble of the engine fills my senses. You smile, but your eyes show concern as you tuck me beneath your chin, your warm breath filtering through my hair.
"We don't have to go, you know. I don't want to put you through this..."
"I know," I whisper, my voice a trembling hush against your throat, "...but I want to. I'm just being silly. It's just a plane ride...nothing to it!"
I smile, my hand tightening imperceptibly as the small seaplane, a Twin Lakes amphibian, leaves its mooring place along the dock in Papeete. I shouldn't be frightened...I know that...and the thought of a whole weekend alone with you on an uninhabited island paradise more than compensates for a few moments of preflight jitters.
But still my nervousness refuses to abate. Silently you enfold me in your arms as the small plane taxis out into the harbor, my heart beating rapidly against your chest, my body pressed tightly to yours as though to draw from you the strength that I need. The engine growls louder and louder as we skim the calm waters of the lagoon...and then we break free from the surface...the blue Pacific falling below us...our trajectory pointed somewhere into the blazing tropical sun.
I breathe a sigh of relief...airborne at last. My grip on your thigh lessens...my smile warms. This weekend is going to be perfect, something we've wanted forever, just you and I...the world and its concerns far behind...forgotten. Life is good...and life with you is more than anyone has any right to ask.
My fears fading into the cloudless sky, I glance out of the small window to my left and watch the palms below us grow smaller and smaller, the flurry of Tahiti dwindling into the background. The calm blue of the lagoon gives way to the deeper turquoise of the sea...crystal clear...unspoiled...its currents swirling through our minds, washing away the remnants of the complicated world we've left behind.
I turn my head, glancing over at you sitting beside me, your rugged jaw line adorned by the rough fur of the beard that I love so much. The thought of it...against my soft flesh, causes a flush to rise along my cheeks. How well I know that feel...how totally it consumes me.
As though controlled by a mind of their own, my fingers trace the gentle contours of your cheek, my nipples hardening. This will be a time to remember...a time to fall back upon and recall in the hustle and bustle of the everyday world...a time for us alone.
My eyes search the shoals and eddies of the sea below, watching the small, unnamed atolls come and go beneath our wings. Will our island be the same, I wonder...a tiny uninhabited dot that man overlooked in the great swirl of the Pacific? Somehow, with the pristine certainty that carries my unquestioning love for you...I know the answer.
It doesn't matter.
As long as you're there...I'll love it.
We continue southward for another hour, the drone of the engine a low counterpoint to the excitement that rises in my breast. Somewhere down there is our destination...small and green...a tiny volcanic dot, created and then forgotten in the warm, shifting sea. But this weekend it will play host to two lovers...escapees from the real world far away. This weekend it will be all ours, and ours alone...to do as we will.
Our small aircraft begins to lose altitude, it's wings dipping minutely as we take aim on a tiny bit of green to the west. I watch, my heart once more taking up its frantic rhythm as the atoll looms larger and larger in the starboard window. Our target, the small, sheltered lagoon below, seems too small for such a landing...too inadequate to sustain such a violent intrusion of men and machinery. I turn to you...the panic evident in my posture, the set of my mouth, but see only the calm placidity of your blue and untroubled eyes.
Calmly, your finger dips beneath my chin, turning me towards you, blocking the view below as you press your lips to mine. My response is hesitant at first...tentative...but as I feel your tongue slide past my lips to claim the warm, dark depths beyond, I relax. My blood begins to stir once again, but for an entirely different reason this time. Your hand, so civilized...so controlled until now, slides beneath my blouse, seeking the turgid nipple of my left breast. I lean back against my seat...your touch all that I feel...all that I want to feel.
"Ummm...Folks...we're here," the pilot says, averting his eyes from the intimate scene in the back seat. "If you'll just make yourselves at home, my copilot and I will unload all of your supplies and be on our way...and you'll have the place all to yourselves."
I flush. We've landed...the flight is over...so quickly, but still my pulse races uncontrollably. "All to ourselves," the pilot said. Does he know how good that sounds...could he?
My nipple, still hard and hungry, brushes against the thin cotton of my blouse as you drop into the knee-deep water below, then reach upward to lift me down from the tiny seaplane. My body slides intimately against yours...a promise?
I glance at our surroundings...so much better than the brochure offered. Before me lies the white, sugary sand of a perfect beach...smooth and undisturbed by the passing of man...caressed by the gentle palm fronds that surround it like a flowered lei on the untried breast of a virgin.
The flurry of the sea beyond does not intrude here...not here within the protection of the white coral reef that encircles our lagoon. Here, all is at peace, in sync with the island that claims it, enfolds it like a lover within a timeless embrace.
I feel your arm circle my waist...my reef...my protection? We'll be happy here...of this I'm certain. This place was a good choice...it calls to me even now with an appeal that cannot be denied.
Your arm tightens, and I lean my head back against your chest...your body so warm, so inviting. Soon all of this will be ours alone...our only link with the outside world gone. I feel a momentary panic. We have no means of contact, of communication with "civilization". Even your cell phone has been left behind. What if...?
Again I feel your arm around me, your strength seeping through the thin cotton of my blouse, and I know that I have nothing to fear. Nothing can harm us here...not here. For the next 48 hours we will be as carefree as children, as abandoned as the wind and tide of our island getaway. No cares...no problems...no worries.
Once more, for the last time, our pilot intrudes into the moment.
"Ah, folks? I just wanted to let you know that we're leaving now. Everything you'll need is waiting up in the cottage. The provisions are all cooked, and the dry ice should keep everything cold until Sunday. The only thing that you'll need to light a fire under are the t-bones if you want 'em...and they're all seasoned and ready for the grill. Also...see that stream over there? The water's good...very good...and if you want something to do... ( he suppresses a smile), you can follow it up the mountainside to the source. I hear there's a hot spring up there, with a spectacular view."
Our eyes travel in the direction of the aged and sleeping volcano that has formed this place. Maybe we'll give it a try...maybe not.
"Y'all have a great time, now," our pilot adds as he edges toward his conveyance. "I'll be back on Sunday afternoon, two days from now. "I'll see ya then."
Then, with a nod, he boards his waiting plane, revs the engine, and taxis across the lagoon. We watch as he vanishes into the northern sky, growing smaller and smaller with each second, until finally he vanishes from view entirely, and we are truly alone at last.
Evening is fast approaching our tiny hideaway, and the palms begin to throw long shadows across the beach. Quickly, we climb the dune toward the cottage in the trees to acquaint ourselves with our surroundings and prepare for the darkness to come.
Everything is just as we were told. The bedroom is airy and fragrant with the smell of frangipani...open, with a light net surrounding the large king sized bed resting on a bamboo dais in the center of the room like some sacrificial altar upon which our virginity will be tested. The floor is covered with mats of woven grass, and all about we find scented oil lamps casting a warm and comforting glow throughout the room.
"Are you hungry?" I whisper, my hand stroking your hip. "Shall I see what out 'picnic baskets' have to offer?"
You smile as you strip down to your bronzed skin...your clothing left in a heap in the middle of the room. "I want to take a dip before it gets dark first. Why don't we have supper on the beach? I'll get a bonfire going. How does that sound?"
I nod...it sounds wonderful. Curiously I make my way toward the "kitchen" to see what's been left for us to sup upon. My eyes widen. No bologna sandwiches here! A gourmet feast fills the shelves and pantries...enough food to keep the Royal Family happy for a month, and all of it fully prepared and waiting for our approval.
Quickly I gather the provisions that are to make up our repast, then slip into my new bikini and head for the beach. Already I see the bonfire glowing in the distance...leading me onward...leading me to you.
A fiery sunset engulfs our new home...filling the lagoon with the flames of a day gone by...and then darkness. Already, in the clear, unpolluted sky, the first stars of night have begun to welcome us to this place. Quietly you take my burdens from my arms, and begin to spread a blanket atop the shifting sand. Then, wet and salty from the sea, you drop to your side and allow your eyes to caress my willing form.
Conscious of your gaze, I cross the sand and place a fondue pot of clarified butter to warm among the rocks. "That should be ready in a few minutes," I smile. "You should see all the goodies they've left for us!"
I return to your side, the pot warming as I spread the "table". Chilled lobster tails; Greek salad redolent with fresh feta, Kalamata olives and extra virgin olive oil; ripe papaya; warm brie and fresh crusty bread begin to fill the bare expanse before you. Large, salt-rimmed glasses appear, ready to be filled by the generous pitcher of Margaritas that lies between my thighs. We'll eat well tonight...very well indeed.
Slowly, we munch our repast...savoring each morsel until we've had our fill, until another hunger begins to grow in your eyes. I know that look. It's one of my favorites. I quiver. This place...this scene has eroded my reserve... my conservatism. I feel a sense of abandonment that I've never felt before.
I feel the warm press of your flesh against me...the crude silkiness of your body hair as you slide your skin over mine, your hands stroking the blue wisps of my bikini beneath your palms, your knee insinuating itself between my own.
Your tongue thrusts deeply between my lips, eliciting a soft moan that penetrates the stillness.
"No," I whisper. "Lay back...I want to..."
Your eyes widen...puzzled...amused. This isn't like me, not at all. Curious, you fondle my breast one last time, watching with satisfaction as my nipples rise like hardened pebbles against the fabric, then lay back against the blanket.
I hesitate...is this what I want? Is it what you want? Am I opening a door that should remain closed?
I tilt my head, feeling the soft swirl of my hair against my naked back, then gather my courage. Yes. This is what I want...and from the look in your eyes, you want it too.
Softly, I kneel between your thighs, gazing at the play of the bonfire against your hair-roughened skin. I notice the thrust of your sex within your swimsuit...already hard and hungry between your thighs. You're ready for this...ready for me.
Slowly, I dip my fingers beneath the waistband of your trunks, and begin to peel them down the length of your thighs...down to your calves...and off into the sand at your feet.
