Wet Encounters

INTRODUCTION TO READERS

WET ENCOUNTERS

is a novel-length story of love, lust and betrayal that takes place on a tropical Pacific island during the second half of the twentieth century.

It's seventeen chapters pivot around a single event that takes place when two people are forced to take refuge in an abandoned cabin when they are cut off by rising floodwaters.

During the three nights they spend together, they discover things about themselves and the regular occupants of the cottage that will destroy their previously stable lives.

The big question is, can anything be saved from the wreckage that remains after the floodwaters recede?

___________________________

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

"What part of no hanky-panky didn't you understand?" I asked Juanita as I was preparing our breakfast the next morning. She was making our coffee while I warmed the leftover omelette and toasted a few slices of bread.

"You use such strange words, sometimes," she said, returning to the kitchen after having placed our coffee cups on the dining room table. "What does this 'hanky-panky' mean?"

"It means exactly what you are trying to do right now," I replied, feeling her wrapping her arms around me and pulling herself into my back. I could feel her hard nipples rubbing just under my shoulder blades and her pubic hair tickling my naked buttocks.

"It means the semi-consensual sexual assault of one person by another.

"My God, woman, you could have at least waited until I was under the covers before you attacked me. As It was, I had barely crawled under the mosquito net and onto the bed before you had my soldier in your mouth and you were bringing him to attention.

"I suppose that I am partly to blame, though. I released the wild beast that had laid dormant within you and I introduced you to many of the things you now see as a normal part of a loving relationship. I didn't realise when I released those desires that you don't have an 'off' switch; or not one that I've found, anyway.

"But enough. If we don't get away from here before daylight, we'll lose the one chance we might have to take up the moral high ground when we confront James and Liz."

I served the two portions of the omelette and toast onto out plates and, breaking her hold on me, carried them to the table.

It was Saturday morning and most people would still be tucked up in their beds. We didn't have that luxury, however. If our plan was to be successful, we would have to be across the creek and up at my house long before the sun poked its head over the eastern horizon. That was why we were eating by lamplight.

Of course, an extra hour of sleep wouldn't have gone astray but that hour was lost when Juanita had attacked me as I climbed into bed last night. But I shouldn't complain. I had enjoyed being the victim of her assault.

While she eventually slept the sleep of the fully satisfied, Juanita was a bit disappointed. She was looking forward to a repeat of the previous night's experience. She accepted my explanation, though, that I needed her to be able to walk the couple of miles between the cabin and my house the next morning and she might not be able to do that if we went down the path she wanted to follow. I also explained to her it was more important that we do everything we possibly could to ensure that she was pregnant than it was for her to experience another anal orgasm.

Mollified, she insisted that, after I had brought her to a couple of non-squirting orgasms, I take her from behind so she could feel me all the way up into her belly. As was usual when we did it that way, we came together for a final climactic explosion. Once again, our shouts, roars and screams would have had anyone hearing them looking for a tall tree to climb.

Afraid that I wouldn't wake in time to put our plan into action, I slept in fits and starts until I finally decided that if I allowed myself to drift off once more, I would sleep through until midday. My watch told me it was three-thirty so I arose and went to the kitchen to stoke up the fire.

By the time he first streak of silver could be seen in the eastern sky, we had finished our breakfast and had cleaned up the little cabin that had provided us with refuge for the past three nights. We had stripped our bed and covered it with the faded mustard-coloured bedspread that had once covered Liz' and my bed when we had lived in Rabaul, some years earlier. We also threw the light canvas dust cover over it so it looked the same as it had done when we had first entered the hut.

All the sheets, towels, tea towels and napery we had used had been thrown into the bathtub to soak. We would return within the next couple of days to retrieve them and bring them up to my place to give them a thorough wash. Lord knows, they needed it. We decided that we'd do a thorough clean of the place at the same time.

The cups, saucers, plates and cutlery we'd used had all been washed and put away. I left all the perishables in the fridge to be picked up when we came down to do the rest of the house. Just as a bit of bastardry, I also left James' tobacco and scotch in the cabin. I had plenty of both up at my place - which I assumed he'd been helping himself to while he was helping himself to my wife during the past three nights.

Four-thirty saw us standing fully clothed at the edge of the creek. There was just enough light to see that it looked exactly like it did on a typical day. I shone the torch-beam up and down the watercourse to see if it lit up any red eyes. It didn't, so decided to cross. I had no idea how much of the bottom was left so we would be doing everything by feel.

"I thought you told me that we would be naked when we crossed over," Juanita said. I could hear a trace of fear in her voice.

"I did," I answered. "And I thought we would be. But this is much shallower than it was the other night. And it's not running nearly as fast, the other thing is that, unlike the other night, when the water was rising and everyone would have been huddled in their homes, there is a chance that someone will be out and about; even at this hour. And I'd prefer that

mi senora's

nakedness wasn't exposed to the gaze of the

hoi polloi

.

"Now, my love, do you still remember the lifesaving instruction I shared with you in the cab of your Toyota last Wednesday evening?"

"I think so," she said. "I think it was encapsulated in the phrase, 'Don't panic and try not to drown both of us if I come while I'm having my tits massaged'."

"Close enough," I said as I gripped her hand and led her into the creek.

The bank fell away fairly steeply once we entered the water. Where once it would have been knee-deep, at most, it was now waist-deep on me. We hadn't quite reached the halfway point when I felt Juanita's feet lose their grip on the bottom and she started to float.

"Have courage, my love," I said calmly, as I reached my right arm around her, gripping her in the lifesaving hold we'd practised. I saw her smile up at me as she felt my hand take hold of her left breast.

"Don't forget," I said with an element of confidence in my voice that I didn't really feel. "If I lose my footing, stay with me and trust that I'll get us to the other bank. You just lie back and relax. Let me do the work. I promise I won't let anything happen to you."

Within seconds of uttering those words, I felt the ground give way beneath me. Using the foot that was still on firm ground, I kicked off and we began floating down the creek. All I could think of was that I needed to get to the other side without expending energy fighting the current. We went with the flow until, about one-hundred yards downstream, the creek tool a swing to the right and we managed to escape from the grip of the current, finally making it into calmer water. I was then able to push towards the bank.

The spot where we landed had been severely eroded by the powerful force of the floodwaters and a number of my cocoa trees had fallen into the creek. These gave me the support I needed to lift Juanita up onto the bank. They also gave me a place to rest until I had recovered sufficiently to pull myself up to lie beside her.

"

Mi hombre!

" she shouted; albeit with a tremble in her voice. "If I did not love you before this, I certainly do now." She then rolled over on top of me and covered me with kisses. She finally clamped her open lips down onto mine in an imitation of the kiss of life I had demonstrated to her on Wednesday evening.

I have no idea what it was about her but, even in this stressful situation, I could feel my soldier starting to come to life.

"Enough!" I cried. "Stop it!

"We have a job to do and we've lost more time than I'd planned for. We need to get moving - and at a good pace. It's a good thing I didn't give in to your demands last night. If I had done, I'd have to carry you.

"Oh, by the way," I said in a much quieter tone, "I'm proud of you. You did everything I asked of you. And you did it without either complaining or panicking. Unlike you, I had no doubts about my love for you before this but, now, I love you even more. I am honoured that you have accepted my marriage proposal. You have displayed a degree of strength that I never expected.

"But, enough of this lazing by the banks of the creek stuff. We've got a bit of distance to cover before the sun comes up and we've got to make up for some lost time."

Within a few minutes, we were back on the road and heading westward toward my home. The track had been washed out in places but we managed to arrive at the turnoff into my homestead before sunrise. Rather than following the road, however, we cut through the plantation, following the gap between the second and third row of cocoa trees back from the track. The lightening eastern sky indicated that sunrise was not far away as we settled down to watch the front of the house.

Like many of the more modern homes built in that part of the world, mine was designed to provide flow-through ventilation to every room. It was high-set and the private quarters - the bathroom, toilet and three bedrooms - opened onto an open verandah that ran at a right-angle off the central part of the house. From our vantage point, we could see the doors to the five rooms.

The first two doors at the right-hand end of the verandah were the toilet and bathroom. The next was the guest bedroom. Next to that was the girls' bedroom and the room on the extreme left-hand end was the master bedroom; Liz' and my room. The door between the private area and the main part of the house was able to be locked so that the house staff could start working in the kitchen without being able to access the private area.

"What time does James usually wake?" I enquired of Juanita as we squatted in the shadows of the cocoa trees.

"He's usually up by about four-thirty," she answered. "On most mornings - except for Sundays, when he sleeps in - he gets himself dressed and has a cup of coffee before walking down to the compound to get the labourers organised for the day. Even on Sundays, though, he still wakes up at half-past-four. He says he can't switch off his body clock."

"I know the feeling," I said. "I'm the same. Up at four-thirty. Ablutions followed by coffee. Then over to the compound to get the lads off to work by five-thirty. I then conduct the sick parade, where I sort out the genuinely ill from the malingerers, followed by issuing the daily rations to the cooks. I'm usually back home for breakfast by about seven-thirty or eight o'clock."

I checked the time on my watch. It was just after five. It appeared that either James' body clock had missed a beat or he had found another reason for staying in bed.

'Perhaps he's sick,'

I thought, my wry sense of humour lifting its cynical head.

'Or, perhaps Liz is sick and he's taking her temperature'

.

"It looks like James might be sleeping in, this morning," I noted aloud.

"I am not concerned about him sleeping in," Juanita said. "I am more concerned about which bedroom he is sleeping in, in."

Just then, I heard the sound of the compound bell being struck to tell the labourers that it was time to form up into their work teams so they could be allocated their tasks for the day. This being Saturday, they would only be working until mid-day. I would have to go over to the compound at some point during the morning to check on any flood damage and to issue the weekly fish, meat and tobacco rations. I was pleased to see that my foreman had been maintaining the regular work routine during my absence.

The sound of the bell must have stirred James, too. Within a few minutes of its hollow chime - it was made from an old World-War-Two, 500-pound bomb casing - the door of the master bedroom opened and he slipped out. He glanced into the girls' room as he made his way to the bathroom end of the verandah where, after a minute or two in the toilet, he entered the bathroom. He must have had a shower because he was in there for about ten minutes before entering the guest bedroom.

After another few minutes, he came out wearing one of my T-shirts. I couldn't see what he was wearing below his waist as the solid half-wall that fronted the verandah blocked my view. After leaving his room, he unlocked the door between the two sections of the house and disappeared into the living area. That was the part of the building that housed the kitchen, pantry, dining and living rooms.

Juanita started to rise. I could tell from her rigid posture that she wanted to charge across to the house and confront her husband. I knew that if I allowed her to do that, she would rip his throat out. Once she had done that, she would probably start on Liz. I didn't blame her. I wanted to do the same thing.

"Remember the plan," I whispered into her ear as I pulled her back down and held her to my chest. "We now have confirmation that they are sleeping together. But we need to find out just how familiar they have become with each other and how far they have let their guards down."

Within a few minutes, James came back onto the verandah. This time, he was carrying a tray upon which was balanced two cups and a couple of loaded toast racks. There was also a small bowl of butter and a jar of Liz' favourite marmalade. He took them to Liz' and my bedroom, closing the door behind him.

The plan was for us to return to the road and then walk down the track to the house as if we'd managed to cross the creek a bit earlier than expected. But, as someone once said, 'A plan only hangs together until the first shot is fired'; or words to that effect. Just as I was about to stand, I saw our house servant, William, walking down the road to start his day. He had a key to the Kitchen door. That meant that the house would be open. My plan had pivoted on the fact that I would have to wait for that to happen before I could gain access.

What I hadn't planned for was James unlocking the door between the living and private areas of the house.

As soon as William had pulled the kitchen door behind him, I pulled Juanita to her feet and we dashed out from the shelter of the trees and across the front lawn. We quietly made our way up the back stairs, silently removing our sandshoes before entering the kitchen.

William was bending over lighting the stove as we came in through the door. Hearing it closing behind us, he looked up. His features went white. Well, perhaps not quite white. But it was the first time I had ever seen a man as dark-complexioned as he was, go as pale as he did on that occasion. I raised my index finger to my lips in the universal signal for silence.

"Not a sound," I whispered around my finger in the local language. "You go on with what you are doing. I will talk to you later. Savvy?"

"Yes, Mister Matt," he answered, also in a whisper.

"Don't worry, my friend," I continued, still speaking in his language. "You are not in any trouble. Just get that fire going. We're going to want coffee and a hot breakfast, shortly."

Holding Juanita's hand, I led her through the dining room to the inter-connecting door. I opened it and we stepped through, pulling it quietly shut behind us. On silent feet, we made our way along the verandah towards the end bedroom. I stopped at the girls' room to check on them. They were both still sleeping soundly.

Before opening the door to the master bedroom, I darted a quick look through the edge of the bank of louvred windows that opened onto the verandah. It was abundantly clear that sharing an early morning cup of tea or coffee was the furthest thing from their minds. The untouched tray was sitting on the floor. Liz and James were both naked on the bed. She was lying on her back in the missionary position she favoured and James was pumping his cock into her adulterous cunt with some vigour.

Unlike the Liz I knew, she had her head thrown back and, in a voice lowered so it wouldn't disturb the girls, was begging him to fuck her using language I had never heard come from her mouth. I had also never seen her displaying the level of intensity or enthusiasm that she was putting into this session.

"Fuck me! Fuck me! Yes, James! Yes! Yes! Fuck my hungry cunt! ...I'm coming. I'm coming. Yes! Fuck me! Oh, god! Oh, god! Yeeeeessss!"

If she'd had her eyes open, she would have seen us standing just inside the doorway. But she didn't. Her eyes were shut and she was oblivious to her surroundings. It didn't take an astrophysicist to work out that James was also approaching what, in my younger days we would call the 'vinegar stroke'. He was groaning and straining, albeit in a slightly muted way, as he started to pump his sperm into my wife.

"Now that, my dear Juanita," I said, turning to my white-faced companion, is what I meant when I told you that I thought they might be up to a bit of 'hanky-panky'."

It took Liz and James a few seconds to realise what was happening; which is understandable when you consider that they were viewing life through a post-orgasmic haze.

James was a tad quicker than Liz on the uptake and he rolled off her, feeling around for a sheet to cover himself. He didn't realise that he had left his lover uncovered on the bed with her legs widely spread and his cum dribbling out of her and down past her arsehole onto the sheet.

"See," Juanita said. "I told you he was a little below average in the dick department." A bit of colour had returned to her cheeks and she was beginning to enjoy humiliating her husband and her former friend.

I thought that her reference to him being below average - made when she'd compared me to him when I'd first fucked her down at the cabin - wasn't entirely accurate. It might be somewhat thinner than mine but it was only a couple of inches shorter. I'd have said he had a pencil-dick, rather than being below average. Whatever he had, however, it seemed to be just what Liz needed to get her going.

"Do you think she'd object if I tasted her pussy?" she asked.

"You'd have to ask her," I answered. "She might, though. She's never let me anywhere near it. Maybe James knows if she likes having her mickey munched." I looked over at James for a response but he was looking everywhere but at me; or at Juanita, for that matter. In spite of having pulled the top sheet over himself, he was protectively covering his cock with his hands. Perhaps he thought either his wife or I might be planning on separating him from his family jewels and he wanted one last feel of them before that happened.

Juanita wasn't about to be bothered by the question and answer business, however. Letting go of my hand, she climbed up between Liz' legs, lowered her head and lapped Liz' slit like a Saint Bernard dog licking an ice-cream.