Jac Comes to Visit

We were sitting around the living room one evening. There were footsteps on the gravel outside. "Go and have a look," Inana told me. I slipped on a pair of thongs and grabbed a torch and went outside.

"It's me, Mr. Robert," I heard. "I've brought you mangoes."

It was Jack all done up in his Melanesian gear.

I went back inside and told Inana that it was one of the guys I had met through the market gardener next door. She was not very interested in the locals. Her family never had much regard for black people. I couldn't convince her to meet any of them. But now when I came back to tell her that some guy brought us fresh mangoes, she told me to invite him in.

"Come in, Jack."

He came in and stood in the doorway. He was well-built with strong thighs and he tensed them as he rested on one foot. His skin was very black and so were his eyes.

"This is my wife, Inana," I told him.

"Good evening, Mrs. Inana," he said.

"The mangoes you brought last time were very tasty."

"Thank you, Mrs. Inana."

I went to the fridge and brought back three Tuskers. I poured Inana's into a glass, and handed Jack a can. He took it, opened the top and then crouched down on the ground to drink as was the island custom.

"I am just on my way back from the Chief's Nakamal," he said. "I thought I would stop by and give you some mangoes."

He went on to say he had just taken part in a big custom dance organized by his uncle. Jack spoke very nice English. He was muscular, not particularly great looking, and he looked as if he was straight out of a 1930's book on anthropology. He wore shorts, a floral garland around his forehead, some yellow lines of paint on his cheeks, twisted twine bracelets around his wrists and ankles, and a tattered green singlet with some writing that had faded long ago. I noticed Inana watching him as he crouched there, she seemed to be under some kind of strain but made an effort to be social.

"What things do you wear in your village?" asked Inana.

"I'm a Lenakel."

"What's a Lenakel?"

"It's a custom village."

"You mean you people wear those grass skirts?" my wife asked.

"We don't wear skirts. We don't wear any clothes at all over our cocks. We are naked." He actually said 'long cock belong yumi' which was the acceptable Melanesian way of saying 'penis.'

"What about the women?"

"They also wear nothing."

"Do you have a wife?"

"Not in Vila, only in Lenakel."

"Does she go around bare too?"

"Outside yes."

"What about at home?"

"I don't know. In Lenakel men and women sleep in different house."

Jack downed his Tusker and placed the empty can on the ground beside the first one. I gave him another beer. He kept drinking his beer, there were soon a few in a row beside the doorway. I felt sure I was looking at one of those anthropology text books. His shorts were far too tight for him and now then he tugged at the string holding them up. He was the kind National Geographic loved.

As we chatted, Inana crossed her legs.

"Oh," said Jack, "you have Tanna legs."

"Yes," she told him.

"I've noticed it too," I said.

"You should come and stay in Lenakel," he said.

Neither of us knew what to answer.

"Or you don't have to stay in my village," said Jack. "It's all right. I'll build you a grass hut on the mountain. I'll stay and look after you."

He told us about life on his island. It had something to do with a tribal land dispute and a bunch of young women promised to people from another village. Jack's wife who was the daughter of his uncle's wife drove him and the other men crazy about it but now it was all settled.

"Sometimes I get very angry with my wife," he said," but then I smack her hard and forgive her. You just don't know what those women from the villages on the other side of Tanna are like! They don't want to make love immediately and they don't think about their husbands who want to do it."

"Women in Vila are the most confused, missionarised, people I've met in the whole of the Pacific. Next in line to be converted are the young school girls. Then they will start on the young babies."

Inana uncrossed her legs and her frock slipped up further.

"You have nice legs, Mrs Inana. And you knows how to speak to a black man. You reminds me of the women in my mother's village. That's where women are still women."

"You don't know anything about me, Jack."

"You know what I mean. It's especially true. One night, not long ago, I was walking down to the lagoon after dropping off the truck, and when I passed a house, do you know why I thought I was back in my mother's village?"

"Well, no..."

"It was a white lady I saw through a window. She had a dress so short I could see her bottom. And when she bent over, I'm sorry Mrs. Inana but this is true, I saw everything between her legs. That's when I thought I was back in my village."

"Where were you? In Tassiriki?"

"Tassiriki? No. It was this house here."

"Do you like to make up stories?"

"No, it's true, It was the same dress your wife is wearing now, Mr. Robert."

Jack finished his beer and after placing the can gently on the ground beside him, tugged once again at his shorts. Suddenly his penis tumbled out and dangled jet black out of his shorts, nearly touching the ground.

"Be careful, Mrs Inana will get very angry."

"Are YOU angry?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I've read enough and talked to enough people to know that you people have a different attitude to life and women."

"Anyway," said Inana, "I've got to get up early tomorrow, I'll go to bed now."

Neither of us said anything. She stood up and poured the rest of her beer into my glass. She then said good night and went past Jack on the way to the bedroom. As she did, she bent over to demonstrate how he'd been wrong about the dress. It looked funny. When she made her point she went to straighten up again, but Jack had already grabbed her from behind. He pulled her dress all the way up and uncovered her panties, pink. I heard Inana take in a breath. Then there was a wait. They were probably waiting for me to see what I'd say. But what could I say? It was classic: She was just a cow stalked by a buck in the herd. I tried to keep her apart, I tried to save her from his influence. But she wouldn't stop giving him the come on, she has been asking for it from the dark bull in the herd all summer. Now she was nothing more than a cow with a coquettish rump and a swollen vagina.

I picked up my beer and downed it. I could see the two through the bottom of the glass. He was bending her forward and pushing himself against her. Was I supposed to keep them apart, was I meant to save her from his influence? His left arm went around her waist, it was as black against her white skin as if he were a shadow. He forced her forwards a few steps, pushed her on the ground and made her kneel. He got those panties off and got his own shorts off. Jack was already hard. He spread her open with his hands, moved up and slid it in. Her backside was pushed right back as he fucked her. I saw those cunt lips turn inside out, red lips moving like clams. My wife was in for an old-fashioned herd fuck. Civilized behavior was for guitar players, Catholics and chess freaks. I watched that strangely transformed face in the single bulb that lit the room. It was like a transfiguration. He had her. There was nothing human left in either of them. He ripped and roared, slapped her across the buttocks and nearly climbed atop of her like a mare. Finally her let go, gave her the last few strokes, came and sank on top of her. I wasn't sure whether she had gotten off or not. I had.

I was surprised to see that she was able to walk away from him with a measured and almost nonchalant gait. She looked like another person. The back of her dress still sat atop of her buttocks. Jack's cock was no longer hard. He picked up the can of beer and finished drinking it. I felt incredibly aroused. Then he slipped the nambas over his penis. When Inana went to the bedroom, he and I sat on the porch and had another couple of beers, chatting into the night.