Paradise lost found
- 2 years ago
- 30
- 0
Paradise On A Deckchair free porn video
Amelia lay listless, a thirty-something with an old-fashion name on a beach to die for – it was reality straight from the brochure.
Unbelievable really, she’d thought, as usually travel ‘come-ons’ are doctored in the graphics design department: sunsets being colored-enhanced to ridiculous extent, the fisherman’s catch lengthened to exceed the record for that species set in 1923, the surf running two meters higher than ever recorded in that locality – and that’s even after hurricanes!
Fiji has 322 islands amid thousands of smaller uprisings of which 106 are inhabited. Although 106 islands sound a huge number they are scattered over tends of thousands of square miles and some are so far from Nadi Airport that they put real meaning into the word ‘remote’.
Amelia had paid big bucks to secure ten days of near-isolation at a remote luxury resort. She’d arrived late yesterday on a small seaplane, the only passenger, and only one of nine tourists in residence because it was near the tail of the Hurricane Season.
‘You’ll only get damn boringly balmy days here,’ Gus the veteran pilot told her. ‘The hurricanes were few this year and have gone. What we are in now is the ‘buffer’ or safety period to ensure we don’t lose tourists to a late bloody rouge blow and we avoid the damaging publicity that scares the shit out of tourists who want everything safe and sanitized.’
Amelia had laughed and appreciated the colorful character of the pilot. Although he spoke tough and thought nothing about injecting foul words into his conversation, she knew to accept it from him because he was an Australian national and everyone knows what dinkum Aussies are like.
The 33-year-old was a seasoned traveler but for the first time was traveling alone. Her usual traveling companion and husband Al, a disaster investigator, had been killed in a mine collapse along with his group inspecting the first fatal collapse. It had taken three weeks to recover Al’s body and immediately after dealing with the legalities to initiate the winding up of his estate and selling the house, Amelia had boarded a flight for Fiji. She’d asked the travel agent for somewhere remote, and was satisfied this was almost as remote as it gets while still being on a recognized tourist track as she did like retaining some of the comforts of life.
At breakfast she sat alone, her back to the other tourists who straggled in. Looking through the dining room – a thatched roof on poles – on to lush vegetation with noisy colorful birds enjoying their paradise she knew she was almost there. Suddenly a giant was standing beside her – she’d heard the slap-slap of his sandals but thought it was a waitress bringing the coffee pot. From where she was sitting the guy looked seven feet tall and dressed in khaki straight out of eBay for safari-minded men. Huge white teeth flashed.
‘Miss Kennedy?’
Missus actually but what did it matter? ‘Yes I am.’
‘You’ve asked for this?’
And there it was, that glorious brochure again. So simple, a suntanned model – she had to be a model with a body like that – asleep on a deckchair under an umbrella out from a pristine white sandy beach in six inches of incredibly blue seawater surrounding her deckchair making it her personal paradise.
The brochure had seduced Amelia the first time she saw it and now she was looking at it for perhaps the fiftieth time. ‘I am Thomas,’ said the man whose real name Amelia deduced she had little chance of pronouncing correctly. Thomas was a great name to handle. ‘Thirty minutes more or less outside the main entrance. I’ll be there with your four-wheeler.’
‘You mean I drive the motorized thingy myself?’
The huge teeth gleamed at her again. ‘Yes, if you came for adventure. You look like such a woman, not like those fat loud-talkers from your country.’
Oh thanks, Thomas, personal praise and a national insult in the same sentence. President Bush, what do I do? I’m not going to kick him, he probably weighs half a ton.
‘You’ll teach me how to drive the thing?’
‘We call it ride, Miss Kennedy. Yes if you wish to know how to push the start button and turn the hand throttle and apply the hand brakes I will show you.’
‘You mean that’s all?’
‘Yes.’
‘That’s my instruction over, thank you Thomas. I’ll not keep you waiting.’
Child’s play thought Amelia, half an hour later as she rode the four-wheel all-terrain vehicle along a well marked almost flat track the quarter mile to Seerua Beach. There was even a locality map painted on top of the fuel tank. She increased her speed to 10 mph and felt she was flying although noting the indicator thingy went way beyond that speed as the red line marked at 25 mph, above which was no-go for the fat loud-talkers from her country, giggled Amelia, as well as the sleek sporty types like herself.
In the carry-box behind her were the chef’s surprise – her food for the day at the beach plus an ice-box with juices, water and wine and a carry-bag with snorkeling equipment. All she had to provide was a towel, sunhat, sun cream, sunglasses, paperback and a dressing gown in case the weather turned.
Magic.
Thomas had advised no-one had booked to go to the beach that day so she had the half-mile of sandy bay to herself. She stopped in the parking bay – motorized vehicles were prohibited from going on to the beach and began lugging her gear and provisions the twenty meters to the rim of the palms where their shade stopped as an overhang above the sands.
Amelia’s mouth jawed open wide. There is was EXACTLY like in the brochure – just the sole deckchair under the umbrella in one inch of water – well the tide was coming in, wasn’t it? What beach has just six inches of water 24/7? Thomas had told her the incoming tide would reach her bottom – he meant ass – three hours after her arrival. Anywhere inside the reef was safe for swimming and snorkeling but he warned being alone she should not venture beyond the reef as there could be ‘nasties’.
She’d asked Thomas to elaborate but he just grinned and said she was at the resort to relax so it was better she didn’t know what he meant by ‘nasties’. She’d agreed with that. Sharks were okay provided they kept their mouth shut but she was terrified by the thought of poisonous sea snakes and thingies with a fatal sting.
Amelia was in a white bikini, purchased because the girl in the brochure wore a white bikini and she thought the skin-tanning clinic had given her a great ‘tropical island look’. She placed into a small bag to hang from her chair the suntan cream, paperback, bottle of water, glass and bottle of wine and walked down the sandy slope and sloshed out to her chair.
Amelia still thought it was amazing that the graphic designer working on the brochure had not exaggerated the photographic imagine he/she was working on. A couple of minutes later, sipping wine although it was only 9:15 and looking around her she realized why the imaged had not been doctored – the reality was so close to perfection that any manipulation would have made the scene appear unreal.
She sipped a Shug rouge de nois sparking pinot noir from California and sighed. This indeed was paradise. Only one thing missing – company, preferable male. Such is the concept of paradise she thought: even when it’s attained you still want to tweak it a little.
The rising tide finally drove Amelia on to dry land, Thomas had said to leave the chair where it was as it was safely anchored. Amelia had lunch, read, dozed, read and dozed the afternoon away. Returning like a veteran – red-lining at 25 mph – she felt at peace with herself for the first time since learning of the tragedy. ‘I’m okay now Al – goodbye she said,’ the bike cutting through the breeze fluttering her long brunette hair behind her like the tail of a galloping horse.
She slowed at the 5 mph speed restriction wishing she could wrap the throttle a
nd prove to Thomas she was a quiet adventuress. He rolled off a hammock at the vehicle and equipment depot and didn’t bother asking if she’d had a great day – he just smiled at her grin that was a foot wide.
‘Tomorrow?’
She nodded.
‘There’s no-one else booked for the beach tomorrow. You will be isolated again – sorry.’
‘I’ll survive – you don’t have arguments when you’re alone.’
He grinned and advised her to request perhaps a well oaked chardonnay tomorrow as a pack of tuna was coming in on the seaplane on the morning flight. It would be so fresh the fillets would still be flapping.
She grinned and slipped twenty bucks into his hand.
‘There’s no need, Miss Kennedy.’
‘I know, call me Amelia.’
‘Thank you. Amelia – nice name.’
She smiled. It had taken years, but the name had grown on her after she’d left her teen years.
Amelia dressed for dinner, just a red sundress and matching mid-heel high fashion thong sandals with jeweled straps. Buried so remotely from the world, and being a resort, she’d decided to go without underwear to enjoy the feeling of being naughty.
She sat at the bar, alone of course, and immediately a man approached and invited her to join him and his wife and their two friends. They were from Ireland of all places, and here was Amelia thinking her home in Chicago was a long way away. They had a lovely evening – a great meal and all drank plentifully. She was sad they were flying out in the morning.
Yes it was tuna and the chardonnay had been packed. On this her second day Amelia had not brought a book – why waste time reading in paradise.
Thomas was waiting under the main entrance canopy with a four-wheeler, yellow this time, and whistled lightly when she appeared in just her white bikini, washed over night. He handed her a beautiful flower – ‘From my wife who works in reception,’ Thomas said. ‘She saw you talking to me yesterday and so she gives you this flower which protects her from your taking me away from her.’
The grin told a lie.
‘You wife sent me the flower.’
‘Yes.’
‘And she is concerned about me and you.’
‘No,’ he laughed. ‘That was just my humor, she thinks you are very beautiful though.’
As Amelia mounted Thomas said, ‘It’s Wednesday, you may see the German today as he doesn’t write on Wednesdays and Sundays so he walks around the island on those days. Do not be frightened – the side of his face is injured from when he was knifed in a brawl in Suva, he goes to Sydney soon for a skin surgeon to fix him up.’
‘Does he speak English?’
‘Better that you Americans,’ Thomas grinned.
Once out of the restricted speed area, Amelia rode red-line all the way to the beach, feeling happy, free and enjoying this great adventure.
She lugged all of her supplies at once, to avoid making the second trip. There was her chair, in wet sand as little ripples of water reached up to it and ebbed. Thomas had told her the tide would be just under fifty minutes later than yesterday, so she knew what to expect. She went for a swim and after a while stood to gaze at the millpond beyond the reef and out to two distant islands. The trade wind was not up yet to disturb the water beyond the reef.
‘Good morning, are you American?’
Ah, the German. Let’s see how he guessed or has he been talking to Thomas?
‘Yes, are you German?’
‘Ha, been talking to Thomas or one of his boys?’
‘Yes, I have not met Thomas’s children.’
‘Thomas is the resort’s outdoors manager – the men he supervises are loosely called boys.’
Amelia waded through the water towards him, her heart pounding. Gawd, he was good looking despite the healing scar on the side of his face. In fact physically he was a superb specimen in his late thirties. She’d been expecting a balding, pot-bellied writer.
‘How did you know I was American?’
He said she had the confidence to be in a remote area alone, she wore a bikini presumably without a thought that Fijians, especially the women, regard immodest clothing as offensive and that she stood in the sea with her legs apart like a guy.
‘I don’t believe this,’ Amelia said indignantly.
‘The bit about immodest clothing is correct that attitudes ease within resort areas. The bit about legs open was made up but for a moment there I thought you were a boy because your ass is so slender and it’s true women of many nations would never venture out here to a deserted beach alone.’
‘Very peculiar thinking. So how did you know?’
‘I was out reef fishing with Thomo last night.’
Shrieking, Amelia scoop up two handfuls of water and tossed it at the German. He stood smiling and didn’t flinch, the water falling just short of him. ‘Come closer,’ he goaded, ‘But being a woman you’ll miss.’
Well, this guy had Amelia’s pulse rate up out of parking speed where it had lain for many weeks. She fixed her green eyes on his blue ones like a huntress. ‘Be my guest for dinner tonight.’
‘Okay, or we could go up there under the palms and do it now.’
‘Do what?’
‘Fuck – it would be more economic for you, saving you the cost of a meal.’
Amelia dug her toes into the sand, adjusting her mind to cope with that outrageous comment.
‘Dinner or nothing?’
‘I often turn down the invitation to fuck but rarely turn down food. Eight o’clock would suit me.’
‘Then 7:58 it is. Please leave your foul mouth at home.’
‘My apologies,’ he said, standing to attention and bowing. ‘Max Klein at your service.’
Misinterpreting the exaggerated formality of his apology and final phrase, Amelia said she was Amelia Kennedy and if she wanted servicing she’d let Max know.
Max came close to losing it but he managed his recovery well. ‘It is a great privileged to meet you Amelia. Tonight at 7:58 in the bar then?’
She nodded.
‘Have, er, have a nice day.’
‘Auf wiedersehen!’
He flashed her a smile and walked away, Amelia taking a thoughtfully look at his slightly swaying hips. Sex with Max might very well add happiness to her holiday but he’d have to suggest it and handle her carefully as it would be the first time for her since the morning of Al’s death. He also better bring condoms.
Oh God, she sighed, disturbed by that last thought. I’ve already decided he can take me to bed.
Amazingly, paradise had lost its edge. The time dragged and all afternoon Amelia kept looking at her watch. She packed up and practically ran to the four-wheeler.
One of Thomas’s ‘boys’ took the bags off her to return them to the kitchen. She raced to her bathroom, brushed her hair and went to the hair saloon. But it was locked, a notice on the door, ‘We re-open when the tourist season resumes.’
‘May I help you ma’am?’ said a woman, diverting Amelia who was vaguely thinking about kicking down the door.
The woman towered above Amelia – she looked about 6ft 4in.
‘No, it’s okay,’ Amelia said, taking a nervous half pace backwards.
‘I am Anna, Miss Kennedy. Did you like the flower I sent you?’
‘Oh, Mrs Thomas. Yes, most beautiful – one of the delicate flowers I’ve ever seen. Unfortunately I lost in on the track traveling too fast.’
‘Oh, doing wheelies, I must report you to management,’ Anna giggled, ‘No hairdresser but I do quite a good job.’
‘Really, how wonderful.’
‘Please wait while I fetch the key and report I’m taking a break. What do you think of the German?’
‘What?’
‘I asked what…’
‘Sorry, I heard. I didn’t quite know how to answer. He seems charming and…’
‘Lovable?’
Despite the huge flush and gasp, Amelia laughed along with Anna who was almost killing herself.
Amelia arrived at the bar at 8:10 – well, she may as well test him. She was delighted he did not glance at his watch so gave him a pas
s mark. She was in full underwear and a simple white dress with plunging neckline and gathering around the waist and white low heel slings. She wondered if he might think she was over-dressed.
‘Ah, appropriately dressed because I’m a formal guy on a dinner date,’ Max said, dressed in a lightweight suit and opened neck shirt.
He looked like Mr Cool and Amelia felt like she could eat him, in theory.
They both chose a champagne cocktail and on the second one Max came close to finishing the evening when he said softly, ‘Tell me about your divorce.’
He was sorry, quite distressed, when Amelia explained her recent change in status to widow. Max then begged her not to continued, but she did and for the first time remained dry-eyed. She was both saddened and relieved at that outcome. Max then explained he was a divorcee – he’d found her in bed with her father in a most compromising situation.
Max explained about his facial wound – he was swept against the side of a coral reef in a tidal rip and foolishly attempted to save his catch of fish instead of protecting himself. The rumor was he’d been knifed in a brawl, a rumor he’d not attempted to correct, not even with Thomas.
‘Then why tell me the truth – why not continue the lie? It doesn’t matter either way to me?’
‘You…well…um?’
‘Yes?’ Amelia pressed.
‘I am unable to deceive you because it matters to me you know the truth,’ he said, gruffly and stood, red-faced and suggested they go to their table.
An hour late Max was gone.
Amelia, bewildered and virtually unkissed – he did deliver a sweet goodnight kiss – she went to bed determined not to weep but lost out on that brave intention.
Amelia’s bedside phone went at 5:30 a.m. In the whole world only her travel agent and the resort knew where Amelia Kennedy was in residence. She frowned and picked up the phone to listen to the wrong number apology but it was HIM!
‘We begin our day in a few minutes. I’m at the entrance with two four-wheelers – Thomo is taking us across the island to a reef where we can watch the sun rise out of the ocean, well, so it will appear. Wear stout shoes to walk on the coral and bring a jacket. I have packed breakfast and Thomo will supply the fishing gear and lamps, he’ll meet us there.’
‘Lamps?’
‘It will be dark – we need to be on the reef by 6:00 to see the pre-day color show, sunrise for today is 6:16.’
‘Give me no more than ten minutes, I simply adore adventures.’
At the greeting, Max kissed her thoroughly – she wanted more but he pulled away and said to ride out quietly. There were no roads on the island, just tracks for four-wheelers. Acting on the advice of Max she kept fifty yards behind his tail lights to avoid the dust ribbon behind his four-wheeler.
They parked their ATV’s.
‘Where’s Thomas?’ she asked.
‘Here,’ Thomas said, looming in front of them, switching on a lamp under his chin and sticking out his tongue grotesquely.
Amelia screamed and turned to run but Max caught her and spun around her around. He and Thomo were cackling away like a hen rising from her egg. The noise prompt birds in the lush vegetation around them to launch into an early dawn chorus. That brought the giggle out of Amelia and Thomas rumbled a belly laugh when she said he wasn’t a nice man to know.
The lighting of the predawn sky left Amelia almost breathless and she was almost disappointed when the colors faded to pale hues as the sun began to appear. But the fish began biting so she could only glance at the rising sun as she worked her hand line – Thomas only used rods in boat fishing in deference to other fishers. Here he liked to fish the traditional way, he’d even thought to bring his mother-in-law’s gardening gloves to protect Amelia’s hands.
‘Six fish – that’s enough,’ Thomas said when Max landed his first fish – Thomo having caught three and Amelia two.
‘But why, they are biting well, this is so much fun,’ Amelia protested.
‘If we only take what we need we won’t be wasteful with the stock of fish,’ Thomas said, almost apologizing. ‘It is our custom.’
‘Yes, of course, I understand.’ Amelia said hastily. ‘A very wise tradition.’
She and Max sat back to back eating yoghurt, fruit and then chicken sandwiches while Thomas stood eating his breakfast and relating some of the customs of his people.
Hortense
- 24.02.2021
- 29
- 0
