7 Days on Reckless Island Pt 1, a short story by KiwiDreamer. Date added: 2012-06-27. Times viewed: 5113.
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- Intro: Betrayed by his woman, Jackson flees to a remote island to sulk and accept he’ll never touch another woman again er carnally. Alas that doesn’t happen. Women activate him.
Jennifer
Emotionally destabilized businessman Jackson Roper unclenched his fists as the small commercial jet, looking beyond its use-by date, landed on the bumpy runway of Reckless Island in the South Pacific and headed for the small terminal building. The successful landing was eyed by fire and ambulance crews with bored indifference, perhaps tinged with disappointment, before they returned to base to resume playing cards.
Minutes earlier, when the aircraft had turned to land, Jackson had stiffened in alarm, thinking the landing strip looked suited for nothing larger than a single-prop 4-seater. After the copybook landing he noted other relieved and still pale faces of passengers and felt justified in having wondered if he had been facing his final landing.
Most of the passengers were preparing to board two tourist buses, leaving the others to race for the thin line of cabs. Joining the new arrivals like jackals around a trapped meal, Jackson took his bag from where it had been unloaded and dumped in the pile beside the aircraft. He strode fast to pass a trotting woman towing two large bags on wheels and reached the last cab ahead of her. He gloated and then yielded gallantry with a smile after hearing her gasp almost under her breath, “Oh fuck.”
He eyed the 40-year old and offered, “Share?”
“Oh yes please,” she said with the fervour of someone receiving the privilege of private shopping after closing hours at a dress boutique. “God I’m still shaking after our jet landed on that totally inadequate strip.”
Jackson said inventively designed to impress, “Oh these island pilots are like bush and search and rescue pilots… they break every rule learned at Flying School except Rule One which is to land to fly another day.”
She eyed him speculatively.
That ego-boost added another half inch to his height and he said, “You climb into the rear with your make-up case and I’ll check that the driver lashes our bags on to the roof carrier securely.”
“Have I ever been in such a small cab?”
Jackson decided he was not meant to try to answer that question.
The tiny French vehicle, apparently manufactured in a toy factory, sank a little farther toward the ground as the cabbie loaded each bag on to the roof. When they arrived at the so-called luxury three-star hotel, Jackson was first out of the cab. He watched fascinated as the vehicle regained its ground clearance height, no longer looking like an overfed duck, as the bags were unloaded and the woman crawled out.
Jackson felt almost sorry for the Peugeot for having been denied a more comfortable existence in Toy Town somewhere in France.
During the short journey from the airport to the hotel (short because the banana-shaped island was only 22 square miles in area) the woman was totally ignored by the pigeon English -speaking driver. The cabbie heard her tell Jackson she was Jennifer Cooper from Baltimore and he’d replied he was Jackson Roper from Melbourne, Australia.
The driver said in a sing-song voice, “You’ll know Kylie Minogue?”
“No.”
Apparently disappointed by that the driver said, “You Aussie bastards are all the same, out to exploit Islanders.”
“You Islanders are lazy bastards.”
The driver bristled, “I ought to toss you from my taxi.”
“Why don’t you try Mate and I’ll wrap this heap of shit around your ears.”
They continued to the hotel in silence.
Jennifer, eyes shining, said, “Omigod you two men were talking like primitive savages.”
“Yeah well we just got down to basics. Um our driver is probably a lay preacher.”
“Omigod, how exciting. In my country preachers live off the congregation instead of earning their independent income.”
Jackson said inventively, “Oh Jacko here probably supplements his income by sending his wife and two daughters out to work on their backs.”
“On their backs? Um do you mean…?”
She paused without finishing, boggling, and he said yes.
Jennifer speedily diverted and said, “I shouldn’t have packed so many things I’m unlikely to need.”
Before Jackson could respond diplomatically she bent into the cab and reached to the far side to retrieve her makeup kit. His thoughts about the excessiveness of luggage of affluent travelling women dissolved when he found himself eyeing the backs of Jennifer’s legs, now exposed well above her knees.
She stretched in even farther to treat Jackson, presumably unintentionally, to a flash of cream-coloured skin between stocking tops and panties.
Wow, Jennifer was sexy. She’d unexpectedly lit his desire when at the height of his depression he’d thought had been distinguished forever. He caught himself licking his top lip and was aware of suddenly increased pressure of flesh against his green, blue and white spotted y-fronts.
But he wasn’t ready for this. Hey he’d come to Reckless Island for 7-days of lazy tropical replenishment of the soul to recover from the hurt of his fiancée, the chosen mother of his children, that fell apart that tragic Sunday when his mother had discovered her husband, his father, banging his prospective daughter-in-law Julia.
Jackson’ reaction had been swift and brutal. He’d dragged the nude and sweaty Julia from the garden shed to the accompaniment of his mum’s enraged yelling and dumped the two-timing young slut on to the compost heap. But such heroic action in his mum’s mind was more than nullified when his father, now wearing underpants, began belting Jackson painfully on the back with a closed fist.
The deceived son had turned and caught his dad with a swinging fist on the left side of his chin and Bruce had dropped, his lights were out temporarily. Part of his fractured upper denture hung from his mouth.
Jackson’ mother turned on him and yelled at him to leave and to never return, and so he’d taken her at her word and decided never to return. Meanwhile Julia had climbed out of the compost without bothering to plead to Jackson for forgiveness, presumably accepting it was a terminal relationship for her and Jackson. Although Julia was very intelligent, she was not always smart as she’d shown when caught in the temptation n of inappropriate adulterous lust.
Julia was now living in Jackson’ old room and according to an aunt, his parents were struggling to handle their situation that continued to stress their relationship. This was not the first time that Cliff had been unable to understand his parents.
Jennifer said, “You are rude.”
“Yes,” Jackson confessed, being brought back to the present. “It runs in my family. What’s my crime?”
“I twice asked what that disgusting smell is and you failed to reply.”
Jackson didn’t have to sniff to be confident of his reply.
“We are in the tropics. What you smell is rotting vegetation, rotting refuse and possibly dead wildlife and domesticated animals. Decay accelerates in the tropics.”
“Oh, of course; you must think I’m stupid.”
Jackson believed he had nothing to lose and decided to let it rip.
“The jury’s out on that but you should welcome my compliment from the glimpse I secured when you bent into the taxi that I concluded that you have lovely upper thighs.”
There was silence until Jennifer said in measured restraint, “I must say you were clever prefacing that intimate comment with the words I should welcome your comment. I feel obliged to smile lightly and say thank you.”
“Do you have a nice body?”
“Jackson, please. I’m married.”
“Is he coming here?”
“Yes Douglas arrives tomorrow from Sydney where he’s been on business. We couldn’t get our arrival dates to coincide,” she said, as they watched the porter amble toward them with a luggage trolley.
“So we have only a few hours?”
Jennifer eyed him steadily and replied, “I’m not promiscuous.”
“I’m not surprised to hear that. But tell me, have you ever committed adultery?”
They watched the porter load the bags and they followed him into the hotel lobby.
“You have no right to ask them that.”
“Correct.”
Completing a few more paces into the lobby Jennifer asked, “Are you propositioning me?”
Now keen to bang Jennifer, Jackson was upfront: “I’m taking it very gently.”
“Thank you.”
He said thoughtfully, “I’m younger than you I believe, but not by much. We could let this chance go or we could seize it.”
Jennifer considered that and said as if wishing to open the door, “My husband’s airplane is due tomorrow around 3:00.”
Jackson pounced lightly.
“Well we have twenty-two hours to live like lovers and then to virtually ignore each other beyond noon tomorrow.”
Jennifer nodded and looked uncertain.
Jackson decided she could be swinging. If he was correct about that, his next comment could provide the little push she required.
“After checking in I’ll unpack and then head to the pool. If you’d like to associate with me, then please come out and join me. I’ll be the guy in yellow swim-shorts.”
Jennifer frowned and said, “Why aren’t you really pressuring me?”
“It’s best that you decide your behaviour.”
She smiled and went and checked in and then waited for him to check in. They compared notes and found they were in different wings.
“I’ll see you poolside is twenty minutes,” Jennifer said, beckoning to a porter. “I’d appreciate you not touching me in public.”
He nodded, grinning warmly. Good lord, he was as good as in. He turned triumphantly and tripped over his bag, getting his hands out in time to arrest a complete fall but his sunglasses resting on his hair went flying and were retrieved by a smiling green-suited woman from hotel management.
“Overly eager to enjoy the lures of our hotel resort are you sir?”
He read the name-tag over her powerful breast and said, “Well that’s an alternative to being called clumsy er Glory.”
“Enjoy,” said the 26-year old or thereabouts walking off while Jackson wondered what he’d meant by thinking powerful breast. Well it was trussed up high and appeared to be quite a lot of it. He didn’t turn to study Glory’s ass expecting Jennifer to be watching the brief encounter closely.
He was right about that. She said without expression, “So that’s your pick-up technique?”
Caught without an answer Jackson stood helplessly and blushed. Jennifer chuckled and walked off after her porter.
* * *
The Australian who’d been swimming regularly for most of his thirty-seven years swam hard to impress anyone who bothered to assess his speed and style and he hauled himself from the pool and lay on a deckchair waiting for the woman who’d indicated she was prepared to let him bang her, although Jennifer may have expressed any such intention more delicately.
Jennifer found him thirty minutes later and smiled as she folded her spare room key into the towel beside his deckchair. She left the towel in such a way that if Jackson picked it up by the leading edge the key would fall out and he’d read the tab and think C14… that her room was in C wing.
Almost an hour later, dressed and freshly shaven and wearing after-shave, Jackson stood a little uncertainly outside room C14 until he looked at the cream painted door at eye level and smiled, reading the name ‘Jennifer’ written in black eyebrow pencil. He thought how inventive and unlocking the door entered the room hoped he’d not be facing her husband.
Actually he expected to find her asleep. But not so. Jennifer called from the bathroom, “Strip off and join me in the bath.”
Jackson, wearing only underpants, entered the bathroom and dumped his outer garments and Yukon slides (casual summer footwear) on to the floor.
“Come on, don’t be shy,” Jennifer said. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Well she was showing a lot of drooping breasts, a rounded stomach and clipped ginger pubic hair and so he dropped his underpants and faced her proudly.
“Omigod,” Jennifer wheezed and wiped drool leaking from her mouth. “Bring that mother-fucker to mommy.”
She opened wide and Jackson slipped between those welcoming legs and she floated on the support of her neck and elbows and he slid all the way under her, his cock racing to full erection.
Jennifer sank down on to him and his dick slid over her small pucker and along her larger crease with two drooping outer lips, but the angles were all wrong.
“Christ I’ve been denied,” she wailed.
He told her to resume floating. He worked from under her to position on to his knees and pulled her on to his primed erection. She was large and his dick disappeared like a rat up a drainpipe.
They messed around till Jennifer turned red-faced and squawked she was coming and then dressed and went to early dinner and then jogged back to the room to begin battering themselves near senseless on the sofa, floor, bed and in the morning on the sofa again when Jackson was about to leave for lunch. On that finale, Jennifer grabbed him for a farewell fuck and generously gave him an alternative route to plunder.
Later when Jennifer went to lunch, the house maid would find nine used condoms scattered around the room and may have wondered how that could be when Mr Cooper was not due till 3:30.
When Douglas Archer came out to the pool around 4:00, his beer belly hanging over the top of his swimsuit, he awoke his wife asleep on a deckchair in the shade and, from a short distance away, also in the shade, Jackson heard a banal conversation.
“Hi darling,” the husband said, grabbing one of her tits.
“Oh hi,” Jennifer yawned.
“I’m fucked.”
“Me too.”
“Eh?”
Jennifer recovered well and lied she’d stupidly walked for an hour in the heat.
“You stupid bitch. The tropics are the tropics.”
“Yes I suppose so. Do you wish to go to the room for a fuck?”
“Nah that can wait. Let’s get a drink in air-conditioned comfort. I’m still in a sweat after surviving an impossible landing. Gawd that landing strip is short.”
“Like most guys’ dicks.”
“Bitch.”
They walked off, Jennifer turning to wink at Jackson as they passed him.
(More Coming)
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