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Category:
Relationships
Publisher: Mark Plimsoll, LLC
ISBN-10: 0976779560
Type: Fiction
Pages: 277
Copyright: Nov 25, 2009
ISBN-13: 9780976779568
You know it's a bad relationship that develop secrets, shame, guilt, and fear, but what fun while it lasts!
In midlife crisis, off Prozac and on vacation, Lance meets a young lady who shares his hopes and dreams of love and marriage. Suddenly he's nude with two Wiccan college girls in a whirlwind erotic tour of bridled hedonism. They share beds and breakfast, luxury hotels, an abandoned jungle treehouse, black sand beaches, lovers, and a weight-lifting minstrel Christian preaching to whores in Texas, and some would say, a murder.
Excerpt
Inside a Hotel room in Pahoa, on the Big Island of Hawaii called Hawaii, two women and a man, three young travelers, tourists perhaps, try to sleep face down on a large bed. In the middle, the man, in his early forties, might pass for someone in their mid thirties, the prime of life, the peak of a man's confidence and attractiveness to the opposite sex. This near-naked man, under the covers in his underpants, already knows one of the girls in the biblical sense, and on his other side, the extreme Nordic whiteness and massive mammaries fascinate him
Like two automobile headlights, they almost glow in the dark, and like a deer on the highway caught in their light, he imagines himself between them, blind and paralyzed, blind to danger, mesmerized in a fatal fascination, awed by the miraculous, and immobilized by the extraterritoriality of the supernatural.
On each side of him lies a woman, one brunette with wild waves of coppery hair, and the other, a toe-headed blond with alabaster skin and large pendulous breasts adorned with generous wide-eye nipples. He now knows the blond less than fifteen hours, and the brunette for only a couple of days.
The girls laugh and plan tomorrow's events toward the practice of their religion.
They give him a preview, as Goddesses of uninhibited femininity. They dance naked in front of him, ignore him, except for smiles which lead to paroxysms of giggles, and an open, mild flirtatiousness intended for each other's enjoyment. Naked, with thigh muscles flexed, knees bent, and nude breasts that jiggle or flop, quiver or swing, point or hang with pendulous rotundity and orbulous softness, naked.
He wonders now, as they stretch nude beside him naked, if their frilly, pastel colored, transparent panties express their innocent trust of him, or worse than naked, this almost nude tease exaggerates their exposure, and leads all to fantasize the removal those articles with his teeth and excruciating tenderness, .
The sexual tension makes the hairs on his neck stand on end, and his beard grows with an audible crackle, while his toenails try to melt into the sheets to keep them from curling.
"So, here we are." The mirthifull edge to Lora's voice, the sarcastic practical joker, the Brat on the hunt for a potential victim. "Ho hum. Two girls and a guy in a Hotel room in Hawaii."
Giggle giggle.
"I've been wet all day" Amy joins into the game, "and not really very sleepy."
"You've been asleep most of your life! Ha ah ha."
Amy flops her arm across his back. He gulps for effect, they laugh. Amy strokes his back, and alternates between a affectionate rub and a sensual light titillation, the way children jiggle the surface of mud, to liquefy the surface like wet cement. "Ooh. Lotsa hair!"
She pulls one out.
He arches his back, "Ow!" and clenches his teeth.
They all laugh.
Lora slides her arm across his back to stroke him with her fingertips, the edge of her tapered fingernails. Then her hand grazes across his back to Amy's side of the bed and strokes her long, white flank.
Amy giggles, which makes Lora laugh, and because Lora laughs loud most of the time, her desperate attempts to quiet her own mirth become infectious. Lora splutters "Ssshhh, shush!" at the other two.
Then she does something inhuman in it's treachery. She shows Amy the exact location, along which rib, where this forty-something man's ticklish spots lay. From then on his torture begins, and he relives little boy paroxysms of spasmodic pleasure that frighten him because he cannot control them.
How can he protect his most sensitive spots against two much younger, topless, and determined young women?
Why should he?
Exhausted by laughter, he wants revenge, to grab either and exhaust her with sexual pleasure, but without an erection, without a plan, with no idea of what to do with the other at the same time, he waited for a clue. He half-remembers Lora admitted the two girls shared friends, or sexual relation, but he never considered it meant at the same time.
To complicate things, he wonders how this all fits in to Lora's lie, that his friendship with Lora stretches back over seven years.
He worries about that now.
He probably made a mistake, to share sex with her at her instigation, to forget all the self-imposed rules h promised himself he must follow. He took this vacation to remove himself from a problematic relationship with a woman exactly his age and cultural background. In fact, they went to the same high school and dated for some weeks. Lora, as a decade younger woman, seemed all the younger with her bratness, her peripatetic lifestyle, dressed with obvious nakedness under thin cotton dresses. After all, Hawaii and the South Sea islands attract tourist because there the mythic archetypal fantasy of an idyllic tropical romance still exists, and he would feel a fool and resent it forever if he refused to fall under its spell. Better repentance than resentments. He and Lora slept together, chance acquaintances, after only three brief encounters in as many days.
Now he could see it in the cards, literally.
Her fortune telling functioned as a proposal, or a tool for seduction.
Maybe Lora feels embarrassed in front of her friend Amy, her best friend, and doesn't want her friend to know that she bedded this man after knowing him only a couple of hours.
Amy's leg insinuates between his, and she giggles.
Lora's arm falls across him to play with Amy's hair, and they giggle.
He lies there, playing games with his breathing, wondering if, at some point, they will expect to perform.
Maybe they planned it all along.
Not long ago, Lora described a friend who had died of AIDS, and she admitted many of her friends worried for months after they found out. Was this all a promiscuous subculture of ex-hippie chicks, who form dance groups to honor the Goddess Diana, the moon, the huntress? A group of drug-addled people who deny their exposure to a lethal contagion, and perhaps deny concern for others in the pursuit of their own pleasure, might use such tactics.
Reality talks back, and sometimes with a scornful tone of voice, to remind him that none of them drank alcohol that day, which probably guaranteed no sex for this night. Maybe this serves them as a playful Mardi Gras, as a prelude for the next few days of blissful meditation, cleansing, swimming and touring.
Sleep refuses to end his desperation.
He ventures an affectionate touch to Lora, and she squeezes his hand in acknowledgment, and pushes it back to him. After all, they plan to live together in a tree-house in the Hawaiian rain forest for a week, the three of them.
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