Paradise


Papeete, Tahiti

My hand seeks the comfort of your thigh, so strong and solid as the
rumble of the engine fills my senses. You smile, but your eyes show
concern as you tuck me beneath your chin, your warm breath filtering
through my hair.

"We don't have to go, you know. I don't want to put you through
this..."

"I know," I whisper, my voice a trembling hush against your throat,
"...but I want to. I'm just being silly. It's just a plane
ride...nothing to it!"

I smile, my hand tightening imperceptibly as the small seaplane, a
Twin Lakes amphibian, leaves its mooring along the dock in Papeete,
our tanned and smiling pilot at the stick. I shouldn't be anxious...I
know that...and the thought of a whole weekend alone with you on an
uninhabited island paradise more than compensates for a few moments of
preflight jitters.

But still my nervousness refuses to abate. Silently you enfold me in
your arms as the small plane taxis out into the harbor, my heart
beating rapidly against your chest, my body pressed tightly to yours
as though to draw from you the strength that I need. The engine growls
louder and louder as we skim the calm waters of the lagoon...and then
we break free from the surface...the blue Pacific falling below
us...our trajectory pointed somewhere into the blazing tropical sun.

I breathe a sigh of relief...airborne at last. My grip on your thigh
lessens...my smile warms. This weekend is going to be perfect,
something we've wanted forever, just you and I...the world and its
concerns far behind...forgotten. Life is good...and life with you is
more than anyone has any right to ask.

My fears fading into the cloudless sky, I glance out of the small
window to my left and watch the palms below us grow smaller and
smaller as the flurry of Tahiti dwindles into the background. The calm
blue of the lagoon gives way to the deeper turquoise of the
sea...crystal clear...unspoiled...its currents swirling through our
minds, washing away the remnants of the complicated world we've left
behind.

I turn my head, glancing over at you sitting beside me, your rugged
jaw line adorned by the rough fur of the beard that I love so much.
The thought of it...against my soft flesh causes a flush to rise along
my cheeks. How well I know that feel...how totally it consumes me.

As though controlled by a mind of their own, my fingers trace the
gentle contours of your cheek, my nipples hardening. This will be a
time to remember...a time to fall back upon and recall in the hustle
and bustle of the everyday world...a time for us alone.

My eyes search the shoals and eddies of the sea below, watching the
small, unnamed atolls come and go beneath our wings. Will our island
be the same, I wonder...a tiny uninhabited dot that man overlooked in
the great swirl of the Pacific? Somehow, with the pristine certainty
that carries my unquestioning love for you...I know the answer.

It doesn't matter.

As long as you're there...I'll love it.

We continue southward for another hour, the drone of the engine a low
counterpoint to the excitement that rises in my breast. Somewhere down
there is our destination...small and green...a tiny volcanic dot,
created and then forgotten in the warm, shifting sea. But this weekend
it will play host to two lovers...escapees from the real world far
away. This weekend it will be all ours, and ours alone...to do as we
will.

Our small aircraft begins to lose altitude; it's wings dipping
minutely as we take aim on a tiny bit of green to the west. I watch,
my heart once more taking up its frantic rhythm as the atoll looms
larger and larger in the starboard window. Our target, the small,
sheltered lagoon below, seems too small for such a landing...too
inadequate to sustain such a violent intrusion of men and machinery. I
turn to you...the panic evident in my posture, the set of my mouth,
but see only the calm placidity of your blue and untroubled eyes.

Calmly, your finger dips beneath my chin, turning me towards you,
blocking the view below as you press your lips to mine. My response is
hesitant at first...tentative...but as I feel your tongue slide past
my lips to claim the warm, dark depths beyond, I relax. My blood
begins to stir once again, but for an entirely different reason this
time. Your hand, so civilized...so controlled until now, slides
beneath my blouse, seeking the turgid nipple of my left breast. I lean
back against my seat...your touch all that I feel...all that I want to
feel.

"Ummm...Folks...we're here," the pilot says, averting his eyes from
the intimate scene in the back seat. "If you'll just make yourselves
at home, my copilot and I will unload all of your supplies and be on
our way...and you'll have the place all to yourselves."

I flush. We've landed...the flight is over...so quickly, but still my
pulse races uncontrollably. "All to ourselves," the pilot said. Does
he know how good that sounds...could he?

My nipple, still hard and hungry, brushes against the thin cotton of
my blouse as you drop into the knee-deep water below, then reach
upward to lift me down from the tiny seaplane. My body slides
intimately against yours...a promise?

I glance at our surroundings...so much better than the brochure
offered. Before me lies the white, sugary sand of a perfect
beach...smooth and undisturbed by the passing of man...caressed by the
gentle palm fronds that surround it like a flowered lei on the untried
breast of a virgin.

The flurry of the sea beyond does not intrude here...not here within
the protection of the white coral reef that encircles our lagoon.
Here, all is at peace, in sync with the island that claims it, enfolds
it like a lover within a timeless embrace.

I feel your arm circle my waist...my reef...my protection? We'll be
happy here...of this I'm certain. This place was a good choice...it
calls to me even now with an appeal that cannot be denied.

Your arm tightens, and I lean my head back against your chest...your
body so warm, so inviting. Soon all of this will be ours alone...our
only link with the outside world gone. I feel a momentary panic. We
have no means of contact, of communication with "civilization". Even
your cell phone has been left behind. What if...?

Again I feel your arm around me, your strength seeping through the
thin cotton of my blouse, and I know that I have nothing to fear.
Nothing can harm us here...not here. For the next 48 hours we will be
as carefree as children, as abandoned as the wind and tide of our
island getaway. No cares...no problems...no worries.

Once more, for the last time, our pilot intrudes into the moment.

"Ah, folks? I just wanted to let you know that we're leaving now.
Everything you'll need is waiting up in the cottage. The provisions
are all cooked, and the dry ice should keep everything cold until
Sunday. The only thing that you'll need to light a fire under are the
t-bones if you want 'em...and they're all marinated and ready for the
grill. Also...see that stream over there? The water's good...very
good...and if you want something to do... (He suppresses a smile), you
can follow it up the mountainside to the source. I hear there's a hot
spring up there, with a spectacular view."

Our eyes travel in the direction of the aged and sleeping volcano that
has formed this place. Maybe we'll give it a try...maybe not.

"Y'all have a great time, now," our pilot adds as he edges toward his
conveyance. "I'll be back on Sunday afternoon, two days from now.
"I'll see ya then."

Then, with a nod, he boards his waiting plane, revs the engine, and
taxis across the lagoon. We watch as he vanishes into the northern
sky, growing smaller and smaller with each second, until finally he
vanishes from view entirely, and we are truly alone at last.

Evening is fast approaching our tiny hideaway, and the palms begin to
throw long shadows across the beach. Quickly, we climb the dune toward
the cottage in the trees to acquaint ourselves with our surroundings
and prepare for the darkness to come.

Everything is just as we were told. The bedroom is airy and fragrant
with the smell of frangipani...a light net surrounding the large king
sized bed resting on a bamboo dais in the center of the room, like
some sacrificial altar upon which our virginity will be tested. The
floor is covered with mats of woven grass, and all about we find
scented oil lamps casting a warm and comforting glow throughout the
room.

"Are you hungry?" I whisper, my hand stroking your hip. "Shall I see
what out 'picnic baskets' have to offer?"

You smile as you strip down to your bronzed skin...your clothing left
in a heap in the middle of the room. "I want to take a dip before it
gets dark first. Why don't we have supper on the beach? I'll get a
bonfire going. How does that sound?"

I nod...it sounds wonderful. Curiously I make my way toward the
"kitchen" to see what's been left for us to sup upon. My eyes widen.
No bologna sandwiches here! A gourmet feast fills the shelves and
pantries...enough food to keep the Royal Family happy for a month, and
all of it fully prepared and waiting for our approval.

Quickly I gather the provisions that are to make up our repast, then
slip into my new bikini and head for the beach. Already I see the
bonfire glowing in the distance...leading me onward...leading me to
you.

A fiery sunset engulfs our new home...filling the lagoon with the
flames of a day gone by...and then darkness. Already, in the clear,
unpolluted sky, the first stars of night have begun to welcome us to
this place. Quietly you take my burdens from my arms, and begin to
spread a blanket atop the shifting sand. Then, wet and salty from the
sea, you drop to your side and allow your eyes to caress my willing
form.

Conscious of your gaze, I cross the sand and place a fondue pot of
clarified butter to warm among the rocks. "That should be ready in a
few minutes," I smile. "You should see all the goodies they've left
for us!"

I return to your side, the pot warming as I spread the "table".
Chilled lobster tails; Greek salad redolent with fresh feta, Kalamata
olives and extra virgin olive oil; ripe papaya; warm brie and fresh
crusty bread begin to fill the bare expanse before you. Large,
salt-rimmed glasses appear, ready to be filled by the generous pitcher
of Margaritas that lies between my thighs. We'll eat well
tonight...very well indeed.

Slowly, we munch our repast...savoring each morsel until we've had our
fill, until another hunger begins to grow in your eyes. I know that
look. It's one of my favorites. I quiver. This place...this scene has
eroded my reticence... my conservatism. I feel a sense of abandonment
that I've never felt before.

I feel the warm press of your flesh against me...the crude silkiness
of your body hair as you slide your skin over mine, your hands
stroking the blue wisps of my bikini beneath your palms, your knee
insinuating itself between my own.

Your tongue thrusts deeply between my lips, eliciting a soft moan that
penetrates the stillness.

"No," I whisper. "Lay back...I want to..."

Your eyes widen...puzzled...amused. This isn't like me, not at all.
Curious, you fondle my breast one last time, watching with
satisfaction as my nipple rises like a hardened pebble against the
fabric. Then, with a sigh, you lay back against the blanket.

I hesitate...is this what I want? Is it what you want? Am I opening a
door that should remain closed?

I tilt my head back, feeling the soft swirl of my hair against my
naked back, and then gather my courage. Yes. This is what I want...and
from the look in your eyes, you want it too.

Softly, I kneel between your thighs, gazing at the play of the bonfire
against your hair-roughened skin. I smile at the tumescence...already
hard and burgeoning between your thighs. You're ready for this...ready
for me.

Slowly, I dip my fingers beneath the waistband of your trunks, and
begin to peel them down the length of your thighs...down to your
calves...and off into the sand at your feet.

You shiver. Anticipation?

Then, straddling your hips, I ask: "Have you ever tried 'body
slamming'?"

Your look...puzzled...says that you haven't, that this is something
alien and unusual to you. I stroke your chest with my fingertips.
Good. This will be a learning experience for both of us.

"There are three parts to this ritual," I continue. "Lick...slam...and
suck."

The words...so crude coming from my lips, surprise you.

"Sarah, are you sure about this?" you murmur through a passionate
haze. "This doesn't sound like you at all."

"Jim, Amante" I reply, using my pet name for you, "Tonight I'm not me.
I'm someone else...a part of this place...something wild and
abandoned. Lay back...lay back...let me..."

Once more you acquiesce to my whim and recline on the blanket.

"First...I lick"

You watch as I raise my margarita glass and skim a thin layer of salt
from the rim, your gaze dark and uncertain I lower my finger to your
right nipple, and you feel the rough grains abrade your tender flesh.
You harden beneath my caress, your hand lowering to cup my own.

"No...Don't touch." I smile. "I may have to do something about that."

Slowly, watching your eyes grow heavy-lidded, I reach behind my back
and undo the thin straps that bind my bikini bra to me, my breasts
blossoming forward in grateful release.

Again you reach out, your hands seeking the welcoming touch of my
flesh...but it is not to be. Gently, I wrap my discarded garment
around your wrists...a passionate restraint...and raise your arms
above your head.

"Leave them there." I command, my voice a bond in itself, my nipples
grazing your parted lips. I close my eyes...my plan fleeing as you
suck first one and then the other into the warm, erotic depths of your
mouth. But no...I have a mission...something special. I am not to be
deterred.

I lower myself once more, and apply a second coating of salt to your
left nipple, my finger lingering to tease...to tantalize. Then, my
body positioned above yours, I rise and slide the remaining thong from
my quivering flesh, stripping away the last vestige of civilization.

You're hard now...so hard...but release is yet a long way off. Once
more I straddle your hips, my wetness replacing your damp swimsuit,
which now lies at our feet. But I'm not ready yet...not quite.

Slowly I remove a linen napkin from the picnic basket, and tie it
gently around your questing eyes. A blindfold. The last
preparation...and now I begin.

Your rigid shaft prods persistently against my belly, and I reach
between our bodies to run my fingers along its length. "Not yet," I
whisper, feeling you strain against my touch. "Not yet."

In a moment of weakness, I stroke the tip between my wet
folds...pressing its silken firmness against my yearning
core...between my trembling lips...but then I stop. "Not yet," I
repeat...and so we wait...we wait.

Once more I lay my smooth, warm body against you, my tongue trailing
downward from the hollows of your throat to the salt-encrusted tip of
your nipple.

My mouth opens...my tongue extends. "Lick," I murmur against your skin
as you feel the warm, moist stroke gently sliding across your waiting
flesh. I feel you harden... "Pebble" beneath me, and I smile. I have
you now. Just try and think of something else tonight...I dare you.

Now I turn my attentions toward your other nipple.

Gently I begin to suck, laving the salt from your body...feeling it
dissolve on my tongue as I tease your tiny male "bud" to a perfect
erection. I purse my lips and blow softly against your glistening
skin...listening to you murmur the sounds I long to hear.

I lean to the side and grasp my margarita glass by the stem, passing
it beneath your nose. A hint of tequila fills your senses just before
you feel the chill; wet drops fill the depression of your navel. You
suck in your breath as the cold liquid drizzles down your quivering
sides.

"Don't move," I whisper, "or I'll have to add more."

You freeze...your skin rippling, your tongue tracing the outline of
your lips.

"Thirsty?" I murmur, dipping my finger into the quivering pool, then
running my wet nail along your lower lip. "Well, that's all you
get...for the moment anyway."

Teasingly, I circle the aromatic puddle with my tongue, then, in one
fell swoop I inhale its contents, swallowing lustily.

"Slam," I whisper. The second of your torments slick against my lips.

You lower your hands...straining to reach me...to touch my warm and
waiting body, but I pin them once more to the sand above your head.

"Stay." I command...and you obey. What else can you do? This is my
game...your time will come... but not now.

Slowly, I reach once more toward the tray that lies unheeded to your
right. You feel me wriggle...shift against you...sliding this time
between your thighs. The smell of fresh-cut lime assails your
nostrils, and the next "act" becomes clear.

Smiling once more, a secret smile that remains hidden from your
shuttered gaze, I raise my fist above your straining erection and
squeeze the small green morsel until a thin stream of aromatic liquid
begins to drizzle down the length of your silken hardness.

You feel the warmth of my breath on your delicate flesh. "Suck." I
whisper huskily as my lips begin to caress your shivering tumescence.
Your hips thrust against me...your hands struggling against their
bonds. This is too much...too much!

I hear a tear...muted against the sound of your growing
orchestrations...a tiny rasp, and my bikini top has become fodder for
the ragbag. I feel your fingers twine franticly in my hair...drawing
me closer...holding me as I feast upon your rigid offering.

You whip off your blindfold, the sight of me toiling between your
outstretched limbs orgasmic in itself as you slide deeper and deeper
into the warm, wet vacuum of my lips.

I open my throat, encompassing you completely, taking you far down
into the murmuring reaches of my body. My tongue begins to work
against your writhing member... taking you to the edge...to the
very...

"Stop."

Your command freezes me in my "tracks", and I must obey. I raise my
head...my lips glistening already with the minute drops that have
escaped the impending flood...vanguards sacrificed to the cause.

You reach below, your hands encircling my hips as you draw my naked
body forward...poised just above your engorged sex...your body nudging
the wet, open petals of my sensuous core. I lower my hands, tucking
you gently where we both want you to be. You arch your back, thrusting
your prominence eagerly into my waiting depths.

I shiver as I feel you move within me, filling me with your
heat...your full, swollen member. I close my eyes, isolating the
sensation, my focus on you and the mystery that fills my soul...my
body responding to your rhythm...your pulse. I feel you stiffen; your
respiration quickening, becoming ragged as your control fades and your
thrusts become more frantic.

My soft moans change in the stillness that surrounds us, my flesh
quivering as my cry of completion rends the pristine night sky. So
much...so much!

A strangled exclamation...not mine...and your essence floods my body,
cascading like molten lava from my heated core down my quivering
thighs. I collapse against you...undone, my reserve lost and
forgotten. My cheek softly brushes the warm planes of your chest. This
place has taken my heart...my soul, and given them to you...and for
that, I'll be eternally grateful.

Silently, you rise, lifting my sated remains in your arms and carrying
me to our warm and welcome bed in the green embrace of our cottage
refuge. The night is young...and the possibilities are endless.

Morning dawns, creeping silently into our window on tiptoe, as we lay
warm and secure in each other's arms. My eyelids flutter, and the
realization of where we are, fills my mind.

The thought of sunrise over the calm and peaceful waters of the South
Pacific draws me to the window, helpless to resist. The vision of
clear, salty water sliding over my body...refreshing me, awakening me
fills my mind. I hesitate. I should wake you...shouldn't I...shouldn't
I? And the then memory of our night together kisses the backs of my
eyelids. I blush. No...You need rest...lots of rest. Today is another
day in Paradise...you may need it.

Quickly I gather my bikini bottoms from the floor, rescued at the last
moment from the tide that swept away the remains of our bonfire. I
step outside, feeling the brief scrap of fabric attempt to appease my
modesty. The bra will have to be forgone, a victim of last night's
dessert...but I'll adjust, and easily.

Grabbing a tube of sun block I head for the beach, the warm waters of
our lagoon whispering seductively in my ear. It's so beautiful
here...so peaceful.

I watch as the minnows scatter before my glistening thighs, fleeing in
panic from my massive invasion. I look up, scanning the surface of the
water for a suitable destination...and then I see it. A large, flat
slab of pink granite...something that has no earthly place here, in a
lagoon in the South Pacific...but there it is, sitting in the center
of our sheltered pool, dropped here by the hand of God, smoothed by
the hand of the sea.

Tucking my tube of sun block into my swimsuit, I dive into the warm,
welcome arms of the lagoon and thrust my body through the still depths
with long, hard strokes of my limbs. In no time I've reached my goal,
the sun-warmed epicenter of out new
world...glistening...inviting...serene.

I pause, scanning the beach for any sign that you have awakened... but
no. Your sleep, when you finally allowed yourself the repose you had
so completely earned, was deep and sonorous. I should let you rest. We
have plans today...you'll need your strength.

I smile as I pull myself atop my granite dais, recalling the
passion-filled night that has just passed. You were ardent,
insatiable, your body giving and receiving pleasure until long after
this island Paradise of ours had lost its hold on wakefulness. I
flush...my body tingles yet. Your touch will remain with me for as
long as the sea caresses the shore and beyond. We've reached new
depths, you and I...grown closer...more intimate...more inextricably
entwined. It feels good.

Gratefully, I lean back and feel the warmth of my stony bed warm my
wet and chilled flesh, my toes dabbling childlike in the water below.
I close my eyes against the glare of the tropical sun, and slip the
tube of sun block out of my bikini bottoms. Deftly, I unscrew the cap
and fill my palm with the fragrant ointment, smoothing it sensuously
over my breasts and abdomen, feeling the slippery comfort seep into my
pores, teasing my flesh.

I gasp!

Something's grabbed my feet, dangling so vulnerably in the shallow
water below! I start, rising on my elbows, shading my eyes from the
sun.

"Hold still," you direct, "lay back."

I feel a tingle rise from my toes; my nipples cresting at the very
sound of your voice...and I obey.

You stand, hip deep in the morning tide, your hands possessively
grasping my ankles, your voice silent, yet holding me fast. A quick
jerk, and I feel myself sliding forward, your body invading the space
between my legs, my hair streaming out behind me across the wet,
granite expanse I've left behind. I feel your hands sliding upward,
circling my knees. Another jerk, and my buttocks teeter on the very
edge, your wet thighs pressed against my intimate core.

You slip your fingers beneath the strings, tied so securely across my
hips, and I feel a brief tug...a snap...and my bikini joins the
anemone fish.

Silently, you lean forward, your naked and burgeoning sex grazing my
own, your hands sliding hungrily over my oily breasts. Again I try to
rise...to press my lips to yours, but once more you deny me the access
that I so desire.

Your hand presses me downward, prone against my stony platform, your
body retreats...lips trailing until your moist breath fills the space
between my quivering thighs. A kiss...a lick, and then I feel you
reposition my feet until my heels are tucked beneath my buttocks, my
knees pointed skyward. Your hands caress the pale lining of my inner
thighs. Then, parting them like the wings of a butterfly, you
concentrate your attention on my dewy curls, inserting your thumbs to
open my most intimate core to your gaze.

Softly, I moan, a slow flush suffusing my pale skin. I feel so
exposed, so sensually invaded...so liquid beneath your intimate
inspection.

You pin my thighs both to the right and to the left beneath your
forearms, your head dipping, tongue extending until I begin to feel
the first maddening assault of your lips within my intimate sanctuary.
I shiver as your tongue teases the hardening nub of my
sex...flicking...caressing...calling forth the wet expression of my
rising desire.

I whimper.

Maddeningly, I twine my fingers into your curling locks, my fingers
trembling. I feel the tortuous rasp of your lips as they abrade my
tender flesh... pushing me to the very limits of my endurance. My
pulse quickens...a primal cry rises in my throat, rending the calm
tranquility of our surroundings.

Quickly you plunge your hardened member within me, pushing me over the
edge...driving me to the brink of insanity. Your hands pinion my hips,
holding me fast, your breath coming now in ragged gasps. I feel you
shudder deep inside of me, your body thrusting beyond control...beyond
the civilized veneer that you maintain so carefully. The hot gush of
your seed fills me, inundates me, and I feel myself once more crying
out your name amid the eternal tide.

You thrust again, your strong arms gathering me against you, your
teeth pressed against the hollows of my throat as you moan something
primal, guttural against my flesh...and then we collapse, side by side
atop the granite stage of our passionate play...sated in each other's
arms.

The warm water of the lagoon swirls about us...time passes. Once again
we are earthbound, the shifting sand beneath our feet. Finally,
knowing that time is fleeting we gather a basket of goodies and make
our way up the mountainside toward the hot spring that was so
alluringly promised on our arrival.

The stream, so wide at its delta, now narrows, grows warm, then
steaming as we ascend the foothills. A velvet green moss begins to
form on the surface of the rocks below, undisturbed in the pristine
fullness of the Eden that surrounds them. The foliage begins to
change, the landscape deepening to disguise the volcanic upheaval that
was creation.... peace amid the aftermath of violence.

Finally, we break free of the dense kauri and red cedar, the orchids
and frangipani, into a clearing filled with the mists of a thousand
years. We've arrived.

Donned only in my delicate native pareau, tied securely about my waist
in floral abandon, I spread our blanket and settle beside the picnic
basket to catch my breath. It's beautiful here...unspoiled...mystical.
Wild parrots squawk furiously at our unwelcome intrusion, and giant
ferns bend low to the ground as though listening to our every word. We
can only visit here...it isn't ours...just a loan from Pele, the god
of the volcano, but we accept gratefully.

A waterfall cascades carelessly from the cliffs high above, filling
the pool before us with the fragrant heat of the island's glowing
heart. It calls to us...lures us with its warm seduction until we can
resist no longer. Finally, giving in to its siren song, I unknot the
pareau from my hips, dropping it to the mossy ground at my feet, and
dive headlong into its warm and soothing depths.

You pause...watching...preserving the vision behind half-closed lids,
then slip from your clothing as well, joining me in this misty
tapestry. The sound of the falls whispers in my ears, rumbling deep
inside of me as I watch you cleave the water with strong, powerful
strokes, your body parting the ripples in its passing. The warm,
bubbling water swirls against my heated flesh...between my thighs...
pantomiming a lover's caress.

I stand, the water cascading over my shoulders, my breasts...flowing
gently over the places that cry out for your touch. And then you're
there...your body against mine...your hands seeking...finding...

Softly, I moan, but the sound is lost in the muted din of the swirling
confluence that envelops us. I feel your arms about me, lifting me,
carrying me through the flowing, liquid curtain to the echoing chamber
beyond...a place apart, warm and womb-like in its seductive embrace.

We've reversed the progress of time, you and I. We've escaped to a
world that existed before we were told what was right or wrong...what
was expected...accepted. The only law, the one that binds us...the
only truth, that which we find in each other.

In the dim resonance that surrounds us, I drift against the hard, lean
strength of you, making of you a willing prisoner...captured in my
embrace between my unrelenting thighs...burying you deep inside of me.
You gasp at the depth of my hunger...my need...as my legs twine around
your hips, undulating in a graceful ballet for our eyes alone.

I release my grip on your neck, my upper body floating free, my hair
drifting around me like something angelic. I feel your hands on my
hips, drawing me against you like a rhythmic wave, keeping me from
drifting into oblivion. Your hand...your fingers explore the delicate
hub of my being, and the world begins to spin out of control.

Once more you draw me upright, close against your hard, thrusting body
as you press me against the mossy wall of our chamber...all civilized
pretense lost in the primitive rumble that fills us. My cries echo
repeatedly amid the vibration...so invasive...so intimate. This is how
it was meant to be I think as I feel the last of my reserve
shatter...this is how my mind will preserve it for all eternity.

I feel your lips against my throat, your low moans rife with abandon
as you plunge your body into mine one last time, your liquid essence
filling me in a way that no fantasy ever could. Your lips cover mine,
stealing my very breath...your eyes repeating the vows your body
began.

I melt against you...around you...my senses adrift in the swirling
mist that engulfs us. Being here is all that matters, I think as I
feel you carry me to the shore once again. No, not being here, being
with you...anywhere.

We spend the rest of the afternoon filling our hours with lunch, love
and the fullness of life. Dark Beck's beer, roast beef and baby Swiss
on Kaiser rolls, red skin potato salad, fresh mango and a Black Forest
Torte vanish in short order. We talk...we laugh...we love, but all too
soon it's time to go.

Slowly, we retrace our steps along the stream until the beach is once
more in sight. Is it possible that we'll be in Papeete once again at
this time tomorrow? It can't be...it can't...

Dim, unspoken thoughts haunt our last night beneath the clear,
twinkling lights of heaven. We've found so much here...so much. So
many promises, lost in the shuffle of the world we live in have been
found in this place, preserved, awaiting our presence. Will they all
be left behind when we go...abandoned...beyond our reach when we need
them the most?

We watch in silence as the universe revolves around us...the hushed
whisper of the island lulling us once more into its passionate
embrace. We won't think of these things again this night...not this
one. These haunts are for other times...other people. We won't waste
the last of our precious moments pondering the plight of the world
beyond. For us there is only here... and now.

Again and again we fill the night with our song until the stars have
long since flown, giving way to another brilliant sunrise far across
the shifting sea. Curled beneath the coverlet I feel you close behind
me, your body warming the stillness between us, your arms wrapped
protectively about my waist. I bask in the solid comfort of your voice
whispering in my ear.

"How do I love thee..." you begin, Elizabeth Barrett Browning's
immortal "Songs of the Portuguese" filling the silence...so familiar
and yet so precious.

I close my eyes as the words drift gently through my mind...warm
memories of our first Christmas together. My lips part, willing the
response I find so hard to give...the words I long to say...but once
more I feel them die unborn, a victim of the silence that overshadows
my being. I struggle...the need to "touch" you filling my very
essence, and yet the mute isolation persists.

Someday...someday...

I turn to you, your gentle hands telling me that once again you
understand; yet the tortured stillness continues. Why did God give me
these feelings...this overwhelming love...then strike me dumb? The
irony cries out in me once more. "How do I love thee...how do I love
thee..."?

I fill the void with an act of tenderness...love...my sighs a pale
substitute for the words that refuse to meet the light of day. We
join, intimate and inseparable, two halves forming a perfect whole...a
union both unique and timeless. The message is there...so near...so
near...

We fill our last morning in Paradise giving...taking... sharing the
beauty that lies between us, feeling the seconds tick away. Finally,
passions quieted, we collect our physical baggage for the reluctant
trip home. Our small seaplane will be arriving soon...Eden lost once
again.

We stand on the lanai, watching the tiny dot on the horizon grow
larger as the moments pass. The amphibian nears. Our respite here is
almost over...our time of carefree innocence fading with the light of
day.

"Do you know how much I love you?" you murmur softly, your voice a
swirling caress deep inside of me, embracing places that no physical
contact could ever reach.

I feel your arms enfold me, your body warm against my back, and the
longing rises in me once more to whisper the words that seem to elude
me, the confessions of love and truth that fill me each time I feel
your hand in mine.

And then, like a miracle the heavens align, the words forming upon my
lips as though they'd always been there waiting for this moment.

In a gentle torrent they begin to flow. "Did you know that sometimes I
lay there at night just watching you sleep?" I ask, my voice soft with
the rightness of what I'm finally able to say. "I reach out my hand,
touch your shoulder and think...if I could compose the last minute of
my life...I wouldn't change a thing."

I feel your lips graze my neck, trembling in a way that I've never
felt before...but I can't stop now...not now...I must continue while
the gods are smiling. "You're my first thought in the morning...my
last thought at night. You're the answer to every prayer I've ever
said...every wish I've ever had. Whenever I feel lost, all I have to
do is look into your eyes, and I'm home again. My life began the day I
met you."

It's your voice now that lies dormant within, lost in a maze of
emotions that no words could express. I turn in your arms, my body
cradled in your tender embrace, the gentle beat of your heart telling
me all that I need to hear.

Silently, we stand on the lanai, watching the plane approach until the
last minute fades away and out time to leave can be delayed no longer.
With quiet efficiency, the pilot loads our baggage for the return
home, smiling silently at the way you hold my hand...my heart.

The engines roar, and once again we find ourselves airborne. "Hard to
leave Paradise, isn't it?" he comments as we break free of the calm
waters of the lagoon and head northward toward Tahiti once more.

But he doesn't know...he couldn't. Paradise isn't a stretch of
sand...not a place you visit. It's something you carry inside
...something pure and sheltered from the world beyond.

...and, if you're one of the very fortunate... something that you
share.

I reach out and touch your hand, knowing that I'm not leaving Paradise
behind. It's right here at my fingertips.