Sex And Death

It's daybreak and only the tip of the sun is visible on the horizon. Birds wheel and squawk across the grey sky as they're swept from the sea on a breeze that acts as an invisible magnet, drawing every living thing towards this shoreline in the middle of nowhere.

It's through analysing my own discomforts that the past settles into place, like fragments of a broken mirror. This isn't my native California, neither is it Calcutta, and neither, I should imagine, is it Port Blair, the capital of the Andaman Islands to where I was headed. It feels as though a steamroller has hit me, and my skin is numb from my damp clothes.

I turn my head to see miles of deserted beach, but as I close my eyes a different scene unfolds in my mind. Darkness, chaos and a horrible sinking feeling in my stomach. People are screaming, but their voices are drowned out by a whine that grows louder by the second. A sharp crash and the shattering of glass. Nothing for a few seconds, then the roar of angry water. It's already up to my neck, and I'm fumbling with the clasp of my seat belt

I can't breathe. I don't need to breathe. Slowly, the faces, places, dreams and heartbreaks of my twenty three years are fading into insignificance. Nothing really matters any more. My body is becoming weightless, and there are beautiful sparkling lights everywhere...

I sit up with a start and suddenly everything is bright again. The sand, the trees, the lilting shoreline and my own aches and pains. The sun is blazing down on the archetypal tropical paradise, but for the amount I'm able to enjoy it, it may as well be Dante's inferno.

I am coughing, retching, bringing up pints of saltwater onto the sand until my ribs hurt. The torment repeats itself for another five minutes until I'm gasping for breath and my brow is soaked with sweat. After a while the air grows quiet again, and above the hush of the waves I'm sure that I hear footsteps approaching.

I look to the distant treeline and see a pair of legs. They are long, shapely and move with the confidence of a woman who doesn't just know her mind, but pursues it to the bitter end. Midway along the thigh they disappear into a pair of what were once khaki trousers, hacked off to make impromptu shorts.

The hips are wide and curve in delicately at the waist. The stomach is smooth and bare. Above it lies to reveal a bare stomach and a white blouse, tied strategically over a pair of ripe breasts.

My eyes linger for a moment. Old habits die hard, even on death's doorstep. She isn't wearing a bra, and I revel in the sight of those breasts trembling on her chest with each step takes. Her walk is confident, and when my gaze finally moves to her face I realise why. She has long blonde hair and dark blue, almost cobalt eyes. Her bone structure is beautiful and reminiscent of the stars of old time Hollywood. Audrey Hepburn, Marlene Dietrich, Greta Garbo – she could give them all a run for their money in terms of icy natural beauty.

She stops beside me and places a casual hand on my back.

"How are you feeling?"

"Rough..." My voice has been reduced to a croak.

"I'm afraid there isn't very much I can do about that at this moment in time," she responds bluntly. She has a hint of an accent, possibly Scandinavian.

"Come, we must move away from here."

I open my mouth to protest, but I'm already being hauled from the sand. I sway a little once I'm on my feet. It's been hours since I was last in the vertical position, and my head takes a while to adjust to the change of direction. It makes no difference to the woman, however, who swings my arm roughly over her shoulders and takes hold of my waist.

"Quickly!" she says, beginning to frogmarch me across the sand.

My head is buzzing and my mouth is dry. There are a million and one questions I want to ask, but at this moment every last scrap of energy is being used to keep up with the blistering pace.

"Can we stop for a little bit?" I mumble as my feet come into contact with rough earth.

"No." Her grip tightens as she weaves us through the trees. Her expression is distant and her eyes are roving every inch of the forest.

We reach a narrow stream, which she yanks me over, paying no attention to the fact that I'm barefoot. I wince as sharp stones cut into my feet, and feel my blood beginning to boil. I curse silently.

Once we reach the other side she leads me up a small rockface. By the time we're halfway up, every joint, muscle and nerve ending in my body is beginning to scream. I struggle to hold the tears back. I'd sooner fall back into the water and crack my skull than cry in front of her. I pause to wipe the saltwater away with the back of my hand, but my inaction is met with a hard shove.

"Move!" she snaps.

I spit into the dirt and continue the climb. I have no idea where I'm being herded, but as soon as we're there, and as soon as I've caught my breath back and regained some of my strength, I swear I'm going to beat the living shit out of her. I hate her.

She slows and finally gestures towards a narrow opening in the rocks. "In there."

I stumble through and find myself in a dusky cavern, beams of sunlight breaking through a hole in the high ceiling, and tunnels leading off in several directions. Stalagmites rise from the floor in random patterns, grotesquely phallic. After the lush greenery we've come from, it seems barren and sinister.

The woman follows me inside, and draws some branches across the entrance.

My anger has been eclipsed by the need to lie down, and I collapse into the dirt face first, oblivious to the bitter dust that works its way between my lips.

"You should take your wet clothes off and put them to dry," she says.

I ignore her and continue to sprawl, waiting for my heart to stop racing and the air to return to my lungs.

"You're being stubborn." She waits a short time and then approaches me. "What's your name?"

"Alex," I mumble.

"Alex... I am Maria."

I heave myself up onto my elbows and turn to face her. A million expletives flood to the tip of my tongue, but somehow I end up just shaking my head.

"Come, I am serious. You stay in those clothes, then you'll come down with a fever. Things are difficult enough as it is without that happening."

I ease myself into a sitting position and catch hold of the bottom of my shirt. She's right. My arms are already covered in goosebumps and the fabric has moulded itself to my skin. I wince when I catch sight of the thundercloud of bruising down my left side, but the adrenaline is still pumping. I feel nothing. I am numb.

"Here," she says, reaching out to take the sodden garment, and drapes it over some rocks lying in the path of the sun.

I hesitate as I unfasten my pants. Maria is staring directly at me, her eyes wandering up and down my body and her face expressionless.

"Do you need a hand with that?" she asks after a while.

I shake my head and she shrugs.

I need to pull myself together. I visit the gym several times a week and spend hours each day on my surf board. It's not as though I have anything to be ashamed of as far as appearances go. My legs and arms are toned, my breasts are firm and a decent size, and apart from an ass that's a little on the generous side I could stand naked alongside the best of them. Today, though, I don't feel up to the challenge.

My hands tremble as I lower the zip, all the time aware that Maria's gaze is locked on a certain point between my legs. I'm wearing a pair of girlshorts made from a virginal white cotton. In the underwear stakes they rate pretty low on the seduction front, but at this moment in time they feel far too close fitting for comfort. I can tell from the way they're clinging to my skin that the outline of my pussy is clearly visible.

I raise my body slightly to slide the pants down, then kick them to the floor with a heavy thud. Maria takes a deep breath, then lifts her steely blue eyes to meet mine.

"Unless you want a rash in a very nasty place, may I suggest that you take the rest off, too?" Her words make perfect sense, and yet I'm frozen to the spot. "Alex," she continues in a softer tone, "I'm a doctor. Trust me, you won't be the first naked woman I've ever seen."

I find it impossible to look her in the eye as I unfasten my bra, and my breasts fall heavily onto my chest. I know my nipples are hard from the cold, and I also know that Maria is looking at them. Somehow, despite all the loathing I feel inside for her and the questions that burn in my mind, the crotch of my panties has become damper still from the extra attention. My face burning, I roll them down over my hips and thighs and allow them to fall down my calves. I'm sitting naked in front of her, my knees pulled up and my shoulders tense.

Without saying a word, Maria picks up my clothes and places them next to my t-shirt. Out of the corner of my eye I see her hesitating with my underwear. She's running her finger along the gusset, a quiet smile on her face. Once she's spread them out on the rock she turns round and makes her way back, her eyes locked on mine.

"You are hurt," she comments as she takes a seat beside me. She reaches out to touch my ribs and I flinch away. Another awkward silence descends.

"Do you remember what happened?" she asks, after a while.

I hesitate. My memories are stuck on the agonising fucking journey she dragged me on, the coldness of her words. I can't deny being turned on, but the urge has returned to punch her lights out.

"Do you mind telling me where the fuck we are, and what the fuck's going on?"

"You've been in a plane crash," she replies, her eyes flicking down to the small landing strip between my legs before settling on my face again. "You were lucky. You survived."

I shudder as I hear the whine of the engines playing in my mind once more.

"Do you remember that?" she asks.

I nod.

"As for where the fuck we are, I can only give an educated guess, but I can tell you for a fact that the natives aren't friendly and there are no telephones. There were others who got off the plane..."

I wait for her to carry on, but she doesn't elaborate on her last statement.

"Where are they?"

Her lips tighten and she stares at a distant spot on the wall. "Either dead or still on the run."

"Running from what?"

"The people who live here." She still hasn't given me a second glance. "They're cannibals, Alex."

I give a snort of laughter. Maria shoots an angry glance in my direction, but I just don't care anymore.

"Y'know... if the crash has sent you into some kind of personal crisis that makes you need to get laid, then why don't you just come out with it and say so?" A flush spreads across Maria's cheeks and she looks uncomfortable, but I'm on a spiteful roll. "I guess it's been a long time, huh? Too many hours in your surgery touching breasts and pussies without actually being able to enjoy them. You know what they say - after the age of thirty-five a woman's chances of sex diminish by over thirty percent."

I'm cut in my tracks by a sharp slap that burns across my face and echoes around the cave for several seconds. I look at her in utter amazement, my head still reeling from the blow. Her eyes are burning.

"I think we need some time apart right now..." Her voice is unsteady, a far cry from her earlier self-assurance.

She gets to her feet and makes her way towards the entrance of the cave. Before pulling back the branches, she pauses and turns back.

"Alex, I don't care if you think I brought you here to take advantage. You're an attractive young woman. I noticed you the second you stepped on the plane. I'd planned on giving you my number before we landed, and no, I can't deny the fact that just being around you makes me aroused..." Her words have reached an angry crescendo. "But for once in your life, woman to woman – just trust me on this. I want you to stay in the cave. It isn't safe."

She breaks back out into daylight without waiting for a reply, leaving me in a miserable twilight world. The last twelve hours have been surreal. Suddenly man-eating lost tribes don't seem quite so bizarre. Everything that could go wrong has. Why shouldn't this be any different? But soon common sense regains its grip. We're living in the twenty-first century; we're sending rockets into space and shrinking our universe by the minute. This is the stuff of folklore. If there are people living on this island, they're probably surfing the net and watching Jerry Springer right now...

I shake my head in disbelief, then jump as I hear a shout coming from the river bank. People! I scramble to my feet and tear towards the cave entrance. All sense of danger has left me. I'm alive, and I need to get back home and start celebrating that fact instead of sitting in a dark cave with a fucking stalker.

I sweep the branches across and suddenly freeze in horror. A man with a large beer-gut and a sunburnt face is being herded along the river bank by two short but powerfully-built men. They are dark-skinned and wear only loose animal furs around their waists. When he stumbles over a dip in the ground they shout angrily – strange guttural words convey as much in sound as they probably do in meaning. As the man gets to his feet, he's jabbed by a ruthless spear and cries out in pain.

My heart is racing.

I recognise him.

Inconspicuously as possible, I pull the branches back across and crouch low.

This is the Englishman a few aisles down from me on the plane. He had a pretty wife and two kids, but whined and bitched from the moment he boarded. At the time I'd wished for an ejector seat that I could shoot him out from in a shower of sparks. Now, the expression of terror on his face is enough to win forgiveness for anything.

"Please!" he blusters. "Please! I'm a family man. I've got a wife and kids to think of!" He's pushed on roughly, but seems undeterred in his quest for compassion. "Listen – I'm just a merchant banker! I wouldn't hurt a fly! And besides, I can set you up with a goldmine of inside information. Buy yourself a couple of shares, listen to my advice and you'd never have to work again, guaranteed. You could get yourself a yacht..."

The tribesmen look at each other. They don't understand a word of what he's saying, but it's clear that he's starting to annoy them.

"Or even better," pipes up the banker again. "I could get the shares for you – as a kind of goodwill present for getting us all back home. Have you... uh... seen my wife, by the way? I've been looking for her for a while now. She's about so high." He raises his arm to indicate her height, but suddenly his face glazes over with horror.

The air is suddenly dark with the heavy flapping of wings. Every living creature in the forest seems to be retreating. I see the spear embedded deeply in the man's stomach. It's being twisted inside him and slowly he starts sinking to his knees, a dark red stain spreading out across his blue shirt.

I don't wait to see anymore. I'm running blind towards the furthest tunnel, desperate to be in the cover of complete pitch darkness. Somehow, staring at the sun is the last thing I want right now.

Seconds merge into minutes and possibly hours as I sit in the velvet blackness, waiting for the ground to settle beneath my body. When I hear the scrape of the branches I freeze. Maria's quiet call comes as a surprising relief.

"Alex? Are you there?"

"Yes..." I get to my feet and make my way back out of the tunnel. Her arms are laden with exotic fruits, which roll to the floor when she catches sight of me. It's only now I remember that I'm still naked, but I don't care.

"You are white!" she exclaims, crossing over to me. "What happened?"

"You were right," I mumble.

She places a hand under my jaw and tilts my head back a little, looking deep into my eyes. "Were they in here?"

"No... outside. With one of the other passengers."

"And what did they do to him?"

I shake free from her hand and stare at the floor, shaking my head. There is silence. Then, out of the blue I feel Maria drawing me in to her body and wrapping her arms around me.

"I'm sorry, Alex," she murmurs into my ear. "I don't have what you'd call easy manners. Not in English, not even in Swedish. It doesn't mean that I'm a cold-hearted bitch, though. I feel for you and I blame myself for prolonging your agony that little bit longer."

"How do you mean?" I move a little further from her.

"I got you out of your seat," she says quietly. "You were out cold by the time we reached the surface, and I had to give you the kiss of life while we were still in the water. I did all that so that you could go through this hell. Living on borrowed time until they find us and then kill us."

I sink my head back into her chest. I don't want her to feel bad. It's as though a smoke screen has finally lifted, blowing away my paranoia and replacing it with a kind of self-loathing. Maria is a beautiful, decent individual, and I've just scorned her for being attracted to me. Maybe there was truth to her words. Maybe I'm really not worth that level of interest. She's saved my life, on several occasions by the sound of things, and I've just behaved like a spoilt brat.

"You're young..." she comments. "And idealistic. You had the world stretching out in front of you. What could I do?"

Slowly I put my arms around her back, feeling the toned contours of her back. My head slides a little lower, so that my face is resting against the top half of her breasts and I'm looking down the dark valley of her cleavage.

Her heart is pounding almost as hard as my own. I can feel her hands on my head, fingers running through my hair as I'm eased even lower.

The loose knot of her blouse springs open, and suddenly I'm greeted with the sight of her beautiful breasts, every bit as magnificent in the flesh as they were behind the secret of her blouse. I want to bury my face between them. I want to work my lips up to her nipples and suck on them slowly, feeling them growing in my mouth.

There is a scramble of small stones outside, followed by a scatter of small splashes. We both freeze. The fairytale is broken.

"Quickly!" Maria picks up all the fruit she dropped and heads off into the tunnel I came from. "Your clothes!" she hisses.

I gather together everything I own and sprint into the darkness behind her, doubling my face when I hear the familiar gruff voices. I'm running scared and almost running blind, until I collide with another body that wobbles, but stands its ground.

"It's ok, Alex. This is far enough." Maria holds me for a while, standing stock still as she listens down the tunnel.

They are already inside. I can hear their voices clearly now. Stones are being shifted, tunnels glanced into, and my chest feels almost too tight to breathe.

It takes a while for me to realise that Maria's hand has slid down to my butt. She's squeezing it gently, breathing heavily into my neck and pressing her breasts tight up against mine.

"Carpe diem," she murmurs. "I know I make you wet."

The footsteps are coming closer now, and I know that beyond that blackness there are eyes peering out at us right now. I shift my position slightly, taking care not to disturb any loose stones. It's a slow process, but Maria's hand is quick to take advantage.

Her fingers are stroking along the insides of my thighs. She's teasing me. She wants to hear the words, and she wants me to eat every one of mine.

A crunching sound suggests that someone is making their way down the tunnel. I glance nervously over my shoulder and in an instant Maria curves her hand around my pussy. Her grip is firm but gentle in a way that makes my clit throb. It's as much as I can do not to moan into her breasts as she holds me in that way.

The footsteps stop, and above my thunderous heartbeat I hear heavy male breathing. Another crunch, and the footsteps recommence. But this time they're fading. He's moving away.