French Échangisme
Oh, what an experience! Unfortunately, I can never tell our friends what happened. My wife and I have agreed we should remain discreet, however I'm compelled to record our tale, if not for posterity, at least for us to recall in our golden years. Consequently it's necessary that we remain anonymous, hence the adoption of a non-déplume. I just hope you'll not judge me too harshly about flouting convention. My only justification is that our exploits weren't only exhilarating, but they also enhanced our mutual understanding and strengthened our love. This is how it began.
On the long flight to Tahiti, Ashley slept with her head on my shoulder. It was only once we were airborne on this second flight that she finally allowed herself to relax. These last few days had been hectic with us both rushing to complete work and preparing our two girls for a week with her parents. This was the vacation I had been promising for several years. We both felt a little bit of luxury had well and truly been earned.
With the cabin lights dimmed and the constant hum of the engines, I was also lulled into closing my eyes. Before I fell asleep, I recalled how lucky I was. A loving wife, a happy family and a successful business. Ashley was the perfect partner. Not only was she passionate, tender and considerate, she'd opened my thinking to new ideas.
Being with Ash had made me cognizant that I had grown up blindly following the proscribed beliefs of my quite traditional parents. She was a free thinker who readily and kindly challenged any of my residual antiquated notions. We often were able to share a joke about my 'antediluvian predilection'. While I was now more open to reassessing habitual opinions or conventions, Ash couldn't resist being amused whenever she pointed out my obvious preconceptions. At least now it was becoming rare that I stumbled.
I woke from a deep sleep when the cabin lights were turned back on. My left arm remained numb from holding Ashley. Fortunately she also stirred and asked: "Are we almost there?"
In answer to her question, the public address system announced: "We will now be serving breakfast. We anticipate arrival at Tahiti-Faa'a International Airport in approximately one hour."
"Fletch, how long will we be in transit before our next flight?"
"It's meant to be a four hour layover," I replied.
"I hope it's not a puddle jumper."
"No, I think Air Tahiti uses 787 jets."
While we ate a simple breakfast it was evident that the sunrise was rapidly catching us from behind. It was fully light by the time we made our approach. As we looked out the left of the aircraft, we could see an emerald island dominated by steep mountains.
Once the plane had stopped at the terminal, the change in the air was obvious as soon as the cabin doors opened. Even though it was still early morning as we descended the stairs onto the black tarmac, we were instantly enveloped by soothing warm air. It finally sank in; our seven day vacation had commenced.
Through immigration and then check-in for our next flight, we proceeded to our boarding lounge. Most of our fellow passengers from the States must have been going elsewhere or remaining in Tahiti as we seemed to be the only ones heading for Raiatea. I just hoped I had made the right decision with my resort selection.
In the waiting area there were about twenty people, but they were mostly Polynesians. As we headed for some vacant seats, we approached another couple that had to be Europeans. They were unlike the typical American tourist in crushed t-shirts, cargo shorts, flip-flops and baseball caps. They could have graced the cover of my wife's Elle magazines. Their clothes were well fitted and stylish yet looked comfortable. My eyes naturally took in the woman although I tried not to be caught staring. Her clothing was simple and elegant, with only her white Lois Vuitton handbag and red lipstick as accessories. I deliberately looked away but knew I'd be checking her out again as soon as I could.
Once we were seated, I asked Ashley: "Can I get you anything?"
"I should be right ... I could kill for a good coffee."
I was also weighing up the benefits of strong coffee in improving my alertness when the European woman said: "There is a small bistro around that corner that serves coffee." She was smiling broadly at us with just that touch of empathy for fellow travelers. Her English was precise with just that hint of the breathiness of a French accent.
"Thank you," I said as I tried to capture her every feature. Then as her eyes sparkled back at me, I realized my gazing had become obvious.
She broke the stilted situation by explaining: "I was surprised that the coffee was quite good. Much better than some of the gritty sludge I have experienced on this trip."
My wife joined in the conversation by asking: "Have you been travelling very long."
Her partner who had initially been reading also joined the conversation: "This will be our fourth week of a nine week round the world vacation. We arrived from Nouméa last night and had to stay in a hotel in Papeete before continuing this morning." Although not as pronounced, he also spoke with that distinctive French inflexion. Soon we were all talking about where we'd come from and our families.
I wanted to hear everything about this couple, particularly the woman. The intonation of her voice was mesmerizing. It was many minutes later that I caught the stare from Ash to remind me of her need for coffee. As I stood up, I joked: "Well I should grab those coffees before my wife expires. Can I get something for you also?" I offered to the other couple.
"No thank you. We have had several already this morning," he replied.
When I returned with the coffee, my wife and the other woman were deep in conversation about some celebrities in the headlines. I didn't participate in the discussion; however I pretended to listen so that I could politely watch this French woman's expressive face.
She had dark brown hair braided neatly and brown eyes that seemed more prominent due to the pure white surrounds. I pondered whether it was the flex of her eyebrows or the widening of her eyes for emphasis that made them so expressive.
