Lesbos 1

(NOTE: This is one of many stories I wrote and released at the same time to stop procrastinating. All of them involve alcohol to some degree, and all involve corruption in some way, shape or form. They are rushed and frantic, the sort of thing I had to write basically all at once, lest I forget or lose the feeling that made the premise feel so interesting. So they may feel unpolished.)

PRIMER: Standalone story. Women only. Story's named after the island, if you can believe it.

CHAPTER 1

To my surprise, I woke up.

For the first few moments, I was only confused, which transitioned to panicked, as I pushed myself up from the damp sand, entangled in my own clothing as the tide threatened to submerge me enough to not only drown me, but pull me into its buoyancy and so back out to sea. Which wouldn't do -- I just arrived.

Scrambling up the beach, my arms and legs lead weights, I organized my thoughts. I fell overboard. Of all the things to happen.

A cruise. I was on a cruise, with my husband. It was our second honeymoon, and we had barely departed... Inagua Island?

I crawled up the beach, tired and absolutely depleted, while I tried to gather my thoughts. Looking around, it wasn't a large island. Like a mile wide? - I was in no condition to judge. No other visible land on the horizon.

We arrived and were barely docked when the ship departed because of stormy weather. It got bad rather quickly... they came to send us all to our cabins, and before the line could make its way back inside, the ships rocking grew too abrupt. My flip-flops happened to have low traction when wet -- only paid $5 -- and I slid into, and over the guard rail...

This couldn't be Inagua. That place was huge, compared to this. But, how far could we have gotten? Let's see, we waited on line to head indoors for about an hour, ship goes about... 30 knots, which is like... what was I doing? It didn't matter. I was in an emergency situation.

I was wearing... my bathing suit, and a hoodie. Shades are gone. Flip-flops are gone (Good riddance). Hoodie was a bit crusty, from being wet then drying out. I was lucky, though, to be alive at all... I thought that waking up on the beach was for tropes and stories.

The weather was nothing like what it was when I fell into the water. My memories from falling overboard were a blank, as well... I remember struggling amidst choppy water, horrified about the leviathan boat beside me, but next thing I knew, I was here. Missing memory. Unless I instantly passed out, while treading water.

Looking around, there wasn't much about. Tropical foliage, no rock outcroppings, relatively flat land... assessing my situation, I wrung and shook out my hoodie (It wasn't much, but it was protection against the sun), I set out to explore the island, after etching a large X into a tree with a nearby rock, with some difficulty. I'll need to know if and when I've returned here.

And so I began to circle the island. Sticking to the beach, though the trees decorating the middle of the island didn't look particularly inhospitable. The island seemed... oval, vaguely. My estimate of its width was made from one of its extremities, so it may've been a bit longer than I thought, but not to an extreme degree.

The sun was high in the sky so it wasn't obvious, but I made sure to pay particular attention to its orientation, so I knew I was just about halfway around it when I saw what I thought was another person. Impossible. What are the odds? I was already subconsciously resigning myself to solitude. Relieved and yet incredulous, I started to jog, if not run, and the figure turned to see me approach. It was a woman, late 20's or so, with a lithe figure. Her hair was black, and up in a bun. She was shorter, but then I was always tall. She wore an expensive-looking blouse and cut-off shorts. She was pretty.

"Hello... hello! I'm... SO relieved to see you! My name is Amber," I said, extending a hand in greeting. She didn't take it. Instead, she hugged into my waist. And started to cry. An ugly, frustrated cry, but with a relief in it.

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

Her name is Indra. She said it's okay to call her Indy.

Indra was actually on the same cruise that I was on. I don't recall seeing her, but then there were a lot of people, after all. Apparently, she got here on a rescue raft. I didn't see any raft, and asked her where it was.

"How am I supposed to know?! I barely got here even with it, because of that weather, it's probably halfway to fucking France, by now... more like, how the hell did YOU get here? Just waking up on the beach doesn't make any sense!"

...Indra is a bit temperamental. She and I explored the island together. There wasn't much of anything on it, and so it didn't take long. The day was winding down anyway, so we took shelter under a few palm trees that happened to grow at a strong angle, at the edge of the beach.

Despite the tropical weather, it grew surprisingly cold at night, and so I started to try to build a fire. Collecting driftwood, the hardest part was finding smaller, but still sturdy branches to rub together, given all the wood about was completely palm.

Indra was apparently quite impressed. Which was to say she apparently and clearly resigned herself to stick with me, despite her hospitality (or lack thereof).

"NNnnoooo way, I can't BELIEVE it..!" she said. "Right up until the fire appeared I was, kinda, COMPLETELY sure you would NEEEVER get it!"

"Thanks. I was in the girl scouts."

"Ahaha, WHAT? And you actually learned anything besides selling cookies?!"

"Well, I'm the bookish type I guess?" I replied.

"AND the hands-on type, for that to actually work!"

"Uh... not so much..." I said, with my butt in the air as I still fostered a teeny, tiny fire to life with the modest amount of tinder in the area.

Once the fire was going, we were quiet once again. It was Indra that spoke up, without warning.

"...It was our honeymoon. The first half of it. The next half is in Switzerland," she said, looking... distraught.

"--Me too," I said, chiming in rather quickly. "Well, sort of. Second honeymoon. You know, to keep things fresh after five years...Though this is a bit too fresh..." I said, trying to make a joke. I was never good with jokes.

"--You know," I continued, "Statistically, most people that survive falling overboard to be stuck on a deserted island are rescued within a week!"

Indra started to cry.

CHAPTER 2

A week came and went with no rescue. Not even close, actually -- no planes, boats or anything seen or even heard a single time. We actually adapted to our situation somewhat well, given the circumstances, after about two weeks.

I took to fishing, for food. After fashioning a spear of sorts out of palm wood, it wasn't too hard to teach myself how to spear fish. They're rather defenseless, not used to fishing, and so it seemed sustainable for the time being.

Indra and I talk, of course, but usually about important things. She and I seem to be pretty opposite each other. Maybe it's just that the differences become more apparent, cause more friction when we're basically obligated to work together.

She was surprised to learn that I have a degree in Architectural Engineering. I told her that actually, 40% or so architects graduating with me were female. She straight up didn't believe me. It's true the working percentage was lower, but...

She is an art student, in contrast. She wants to be a sculptor or 3D animator, but so far has yet to apply her degree.

I had taken to staying busy, as a sort of coping mechanism. Not that I decided so, more that it kind of fell into place. I was simply less stressed about our circumstances the more I focused upon more immediate goals.

While Indra was... less productive. She focused primarily on designing our living arrangements; the first few days I built a sort of lean-to, to protect us from the rather consistent breeze gusting across the beach, but she has transformed it into more of a wigwam. Which is nice, however I would say it was as designed and engineered as it's going to get without any expertise, and yet she continues to tailor it semantically.

But I prioritize peace. And eventually, that evolved naturally into prioritizing work. Day after day. I managed a mental queue of tasks, and kept a monocular focus on that list.

While patrolling the island, I've collected any trash that happened to wash ashore. Theoretically we're not too far from civilization, so it isn't too much to hope that I come across useful supplies.

One day amongst the many I returned 'home' with a glass jar that appeared to be Pyrex. Borosilicate didn't exactly float, so I felt incredibly lucky. I had been purifying water for us to drink in plastic and beer bottles, but glass wouldn't melt as easily, making the task much more simplistic.

Another day, processed wood, like from a crate or pallet. Indra wanted to use it for the house, but wood is scarce, after all.

Another day, I began to collect seaweed. Most to all of it is edible, as I understand.

"Ew! YUCK!", Indra said, when I brought it to her.

"But it's available in abundance," I replied, "And we need a balanced diet."

"I don't CARE! Look at it -- ew, EW! I don't even want to LOOK at it!"

"It needs to be dried and boiled, I think. Maybe you'll like it more when--"

"If you're gonna dry that shit out around here, do it FAAAR away! I bet it STINKS!"

So I started to dry the seaweed a bit away from camp. It's actually little challenges like that, here and there, that made up most of life during that time.

Every now and again, Indra got apprehensive. And I would have to reiterate to her how, because we were both with our respective husbands, it is inevitable that the world is aware of our disappearances, and must certainly be looking for us.

Occasionally, I came across a coconut floating across the water. Those are nutritious, and generally a nice bonus. Thankfully, Indra has no problem with those.

One day, Indra asked me about washing our clothes. "I just feel grody and grimy and gross, and always so sandy... don't you have a way to wash our clothes?" She was right, to a degree. Bathing suits and the like weren't designed for long-term, consecutive wear.

"Mmmm... not... really, no... Ocean water isn't very effective... wood is a precious resource, and we would waste a LOT of water, and... Probably need a barrel of some sorts," I said, nibbling on my thumbnail. But by the time I looked up, Indra was already shooting her bra off one finger, like a giant rubber band.

"MINIMALISTIC IT IS!" she said, laughing, as it shot off. I made a note to fetch it and stow it later. Elastic might be useful. But it was true that she didn't need to wear it, from the looks of it...

Indra caught me observing her figure, but she wasn't very shy as she put her blouse back on.

"What? You don't HAPPEN to be thinking how I didn't need my top anyway, now WERE you?" she said. I shook my head, but she didn't seem convinced.

"I USED to be jealous of girls like you," she began, while I removed my hoodie and hung it up, in a show of camaraderie. "Curvy, tall... huge boobs," she helped herself to describe me as she pleased, "--Even with your long, curly hair. But I'm QUITE proud of my body, and know VERY well that it's just as good. Now when I see girls like you, I just think..." she went on, with a sultry and shameless look on her face.

"--'Girls like me'... I've ACTUALLY spent a lot of my career trying to AVOID that phrase and anything that goes along with it," I interrupted. I really didn't feel like retreading old, tired ground, but now I was already in the weeds about it. "I'm happy you're confident in yourself, but I'll be even happier if you give no credit at all to my 'stature', as I dare say I've proven my merits elsewhere," I admittedly snapped.

"--Now now, let's just celebrate that we're free of all oppressive, patriarchal garments!" she said, indeed looking refreshed. I think it was her way of admitting she understands I have my own baggage and moving on from it. "But, aren't YOU lucky..." she said, looking at my bikini. "I bet that's comfortable..."

I nodded. Looking at my legs, which have gone exposed thus far, yet only maintain a modest, caramel hue, (thanks to me moderating my sun exposure given our lack of sunscreen) it appeared as though I could get away with not wearing my hoodie, which would make fishing easier. "Yes, I guess I'm lucky I happened to be wearing this, when..."

"I don't just mean your outfit..." she said, with this sassy look on her face. "--I've been with a lot of women, trust me, your figure is pretty good. Your husband is lucky.." she said. Her way of speaking seemed like she was forcing the topic a bit, considering the conversation had wound back to this a second time, now. I DID interrupt her, so maybe she was making sure her interests were made known.

"You're right. He is," I affirmed with a stern voice. "--YOUR husband is, too."

Indra laughed. "...Ahaha! Relax! I'm just kidding....Though for the record, I AM bisexual. And I'm sure my husband wouldn't m-"

"I'M just kidding as well! And you're VERY pretty, Indra. But ALSO for the record, I am completely heterosexual," I said. It was easy enough to say, as I towered over her, enough to not feel any sort of intimidation or peer pressure.

"Oh.. NOBODY is COMPLETELY--"

"Indra? Don't. I know. Just, please. You understand."

"I know, I know! I'm just TEASING! C'MON! We've got NOTHING ELSE TO DO around here! Do you NEED to be in a sprint for the point of the conversation all the time??"

Sighing, I turned in to go to sleep. Despite everything I said, sleeping in the same hut felt... uncomfortable, now. It was a feeling I wished I had seen the last of. A feeling my husband saved me from. I put my hoodie back on, before going to sleep, feeling vulnerable. And I mentally recited my list of future jobs and tasks.

CHAPTER 3

A month had passed, now. And still nothing. With that amount of time, the possibility that we might be there for a while -- indeed, we already had been -- had come up. There was no more avoiding it. And the first stages of coping with the ramifications of that have come and gone. Anger, high tensions, frustrations, crying, etc. Of course, they still loom in my mind and surely in Indra's as well.

Not that we're happy with this circumstance, but we're adapting, whether we want to or not. Both of us are pretty tanned, now; we've reached a level of equilibrium, between behavior, conditioning and comfort.

I would even go so far as to say we've carved a little homestead into the island. 'Our' island. I've grown pretty adept at fishing, if I do say so myself. Indra, well, she stacks rocks... meditation, she calls it. But she does also build up our 'house', of sorts, with loose and errant debris that washes up. To her credit, every day for some time I thought she was certainly out of ways to design, but she keeps finding new ideas. None of them helpful, but it's something for her to do.

"...I miss my husband..." she said, randomly, one day. We were silent for almost an hour before that statement, so it was rather sudden.

"..I miss mine, as well," I replied. After her previous behavior I was slightly surprised, but then, she was just on her honeymoon, as I recalled.

"We barely had any time as husband and wife," she lamented.

"Did you two live together beforehand?" I asked. After all, it's not like life becomes so fundamentally different after marriage. And she was the dramatic type, after all, so she may have been emphasizing the poetic irony, torturing herself in doing so.

"Yeah..." she said, seemingly unfazed by the observation. "--I always knew I was going to marry him. And when he proposed, it was perfect, and the wedding, it was perfect..! And then THIS happened!"

I pondered how to console her best. "...And one day, you two are going to look back on this and laugh," I eventually replied. "--There's no reason to think anything else."

Indra was quietly crying. Though she didn't sob, tears were rolling down her cheeks. But she smiled. "...Yeah. --Yeah, I think so too. Thanks, Amber..." she said, weakly.

Admittedly, I was anxious as well. But I had dedicated my time towards more productive ends. I noticed that while the island doesn't have a lot of edible vegetation, there ARE coconut trees. While a few trees certainly don't grow coconuts fast enough for us to rely upon, they didn't appear spontaneously. There seem to be migrant coconuts, by the far side of the island. I'm not proud of how long it took me to notice, but once noticing the trees themselves favored one side, I kept an eye out and sure enough, there is a rare but regular floating coconut every once in a while.

And so, I began to dive in that area. I fish by diving, and so I have grown somewhat adept at it. And I am fortunate enough to have clothing tailored for swimming over modesty, so I may as well leverage that fact.

Indra noticed my regular visits to that far beach. And naturally, she told me to collect the coconuts. But as I surveyed the area, I had a better idea.

I was hesitant to tell her of my plan, since she seems the skeptical type. But she taunted me for coming back several days in a row with no coconuts to speak of. I told her to do it herself if she's so keen, but she said she's not a good swimmer.

After several days of this, between fishing and my coconut project, my clothing is... drying out... it's a bikini, and yet between the repeated wet and drying and salt exposure, it seems to be bleaching or weathering...

I didn't have much choice about it. It felt like wearing a bikini of wicker, more every day. Tolerable, but if I kept dousing it, not much longer. So, I began to leave my suit on the beach. Only while fishing. There is not much difference, ultimately, and there is nobody here. Indra is an adult, and can at least be mature about it.

"Oh MY, AMBER, AM I BEING -SEDUCED-?" I heard, as I emerged from the water one random day.

Of course Indra will not be mature about it.

"If you wanted a reason to show off, you didn't need to come out here every day," she said, as I returned to the beach and put my suit back on. My skin was flushed from exertion, and covered in superficial scrapes and bruises. It was obvious I wasn't just playing around. So I admittedly was a little terse in reply.

"Indra, we are trying to survive. -I- am trying to survive. I don't care about your wants and preferences, and I'm offended you might even consider that I am so frivolous and impulsive that I would consider infidelity. I am NOT interested, I am NOT impressed, and you will only learn the hard way if you test me," I said, stand-offish and looming.

It was meaner than I wanted to be. But there was certainly an edge to it. I don't want to admit it, but there was a small part in my mind that considered seriously that she could attempt to assault me. Being nude, even if it was a minor and conceptual difference from my usual attire, made me feel more psychologically vulnerable, and I might've let that destabilize my emotions. And that anxiety may have come through as desperation in my tone.

"It was... it was just a joke..." she said. It didn't sound like a joke. It sounded like she was that testing sort of serious where you use a humorous spin to have plausible deniability if it goes awry.

"--Then I apologize. But at least now you know not to waste your time," I said, skeptically.

The entire rest of the day was awkward. Maybe I was exaggerating, when I said the tension had all blown over.

CHAPTER 4

Another month has gone by. Without so much as a sighting of any manmade vehicle, in the ocean or the sky. How could I not at least witness contrails in the stratosphere? Was this actually another dimension or some such like that TV show? It's quite anomalous, but it is only here and now that I even allow myself to observe such a thing.