Reluctant Companions- Part Four- The Conclusion

In today's final installment things heat up between Cameron and Chellie. Best suited for those over 18!

"Yes…monkeys.”

Now she really thought he’d gone mad. “Are you meaning to imply that a sound like the apocalypse approaching could have come from a cute little furry--”

“Here! Page two-ninety-seven. Howler monkeys… amongst the largest of the new world monkeys….range in size from 56 to 92 centimeters.” His fingers jumped over the print in search of the salient bits. "…prehensile tails…vocal communication forms an important part of their social behaviour. Specifically, the name comes from their distinctive loud barking…the male’s voice sounding rather like a powerful roar. They are considered the loudest land animal.” He raised his face from its suspension over the mammoth reference book and fixed eyes on Chellie.

She looked at him for a long moment, mouth agape. His brows shot up in triumph. Hers furrowed in disbelief.

“Did you not pay attention to your own random research? ‘New world monkeys’? We’re not in the new world by anyone’s definition.”.

He emitted a martyred sigh. “Yes, madam, but we do have such things as zoos. Wonderful places…lots of animals from the world round. You can visit them. It’s a lovely day out. You really ought to go sometime.”.

“Bastard.’ She slapped him on the shoulder. “I didn’t ask for an attempt at acerbic humor. What the hell made you think to look up monkeys?”

“Oh, just a progamme on the telly I saw a few months back. Sky TV…educational stuff.”

She looked past him to the book laying open on the table and stepped around him to see. “This cute furry black thing? Unbelievable.” Resting a hand on the open page, she looked up into the certainty of his eyes.

He smiled and said, “Fancy holding a primate party tonight?”

****

Splashing through the waves, he held tight to her hand. The droplets of water landed on his skin, gentle pattering of tactile delight. He looked over at her. She was smiling. A first. Was this place magic or was he the only one awakening? Did she feel it too?

“Race you to that tumble of rocks.” She looked toward the far end of the beach, dropped his hand and took off.

He paused; hesitating at her brashness, then bolted after her. Passing her half way, he turned back hooking her around the waist as she tried to pass. They spun once and landed on the fine white sand. Laughing, sputtering, he threw his arm around her waist again as they both shook with hysterics. Drawing her tight against his side, he pressed her head into the curve of his shoulder.

Chortling at an end, he posed. “Chellie…do you ever wonder what it would be like to be stranded on an island?” He felt her head tilt as though to look at him.

“Aren’t we, sort of?”

“No. I mean with no amenities. You know…really roughing it.”

“Don’t think I’d like it.”

He lowered his chin to look at her. “What became of Kate the fearsome?”

“She’s a myth. I don’t know any woman who would choose to pick sand from her thong, over a warm solar shower.” She shifted again pushing herself up onto an elbow, engaging his eyes. He did likewise.

“Would you like to be all alone on a deserted island?” she asked.

“I didn’t say it had to be absolutely deserted. I said ‘stranded’.” He looked at her, dropping the last of his masks, showing his depth for the first time.

“What is it Cameron?” She lifted a gentle hand to his cheek.

“I’ve never fancied being alone…completely stranded with anyone. Until you.”

He cupped her hand at his cheek, leaning to kiss her. Pausing an inch from her lips, he drew in a breath. Salty sweet, feral she, coconut and pineapple sunscreen enveloped his senses. Her nearness threatened to drown him. He claimed her mouth with more veracity than perhaps he had meant, but damn. The woman intoxicated.

It was as though an explosion went off in him, radiating outward through his limbs, numbing his mind to everything but her. The world surrounding became a cocoon of warmth, desire and promise.

How was it that she was the perfect fit against him, warm and sun kissed? Why did she seem the respirator to his very life? When he touched her the blood in his veins raged hot with need.

“Chellie.” He heard his voice rasp, thick with lust.

“Cameron.” She echoed.

Pulling her closer against his arousal, he eased one hand down her back, over the sweet roundness of her ass. Its curve warm in his palm sent him into testosterone overdrive. He nibbled at her shoulder, slid his tongue over her collarbone.

She rewarded him with a low moan as he brushed his hand across her right breast, curled his touch to the downy skin of the hidden underside of the swell. “Lord, you have the most lush body.” He whispered into her ear.

She stiffened and pulled away. Looking into her eyes, she drew in a ragged breath as though preparing to sob. “Too lush.” She stated with a hint of question.

“Because you’re curvaceous?” He pulled his head back a bit further, brows furrowing in perplexed disbelief. “I prefer to make love to a woman, not a scarecrow. “You…” he kissed her forehead and continued moving south “…have everything a man could want.” He murmured against her mouth. Her lips, full, inviting, lay beneath his. Her eyes closed. He sensed her desire.

She exhaled in submission. Her body relaxed and she smiled slow, subtle, seductive.

She opened dreamy eyes. He asked, “Can I give you the tour of the grand oval bed?”

****

His taste. Rich curried spice and tang, bitterness of coffee, combined with a hint almond… created a sensation so addicting she’d need the Betty Ford center to recover. One kiss would not be enough. Nor would two. What was it about this man? Even when he gave her shit, he incited her, made her wild.

“I’ll have you know I’m no pushover.” She giggled in his arms as he carried her over the threshold of the bungalow’s entrance. The heat of the day was building; the cool of shade a welcome relief.

“I can tell that, woman.” The corner of his mouth lifted into a wry smirk. He lowered her feet to the grass mat, arms around her and gazed into her eyes. “I’m afraid I never considered myself much of a pushover either. Then you threatened to pound me with that can of bug spray, and I nearly collapsed.”

She contorted her face into a mock scowl.

“Could you be any more endearing?” He chuckled.

She couldn’t maintain a reprimanding air one second longer. Shooting to her tiptoes, she gave him a kiss of invitation. More a peck, but neither of them was willing to leave it at that. He hooked the nap of her neck, cradled it in his large hand and drew her in, claiming her mouth with tenderness.

Zero to sixty. The man was magic; the emotion in his kiss incendiary. Her stomach tightening in excitement, anticipation, and pure animal attraction, she ran a hand down the column of muscle along his spine.

Ending the kiss with a gentle nibble of her lower lip, he looked into her eyes, grasped her hand and walked her around the corner of the room divider. With a gentle tug, he motioned her to sit on bed’s edge. He walked to the nightstand. Back to her, she heard him open the drawer. Turning to face her, he held a handful of condoms like an expert blackjack dealer. Each packet was a different color, making the display artist, shiny and appealing as a bouquet.

“Feeling frisky?” she chortled, dropping back on propped elbows to the soft surface of the sheets.

”We’ve got all afternoon,” he answered in midnight tone.

She scurried across the mattress, grasping a shiny raspberry coloured packet.

His brows shot up in delight and he tossed the remainder to the surface of the nightstand. Before he’d completely turned to face her, he felt the soft scratch of her French tipped nails trailing down his back. It was as though an electric current sparked along his backbone, resurgence of lust causing his swim trunks to strain even tighter.

He froze in place as he felt her arms come around him, bikini clad breasts rubbing against the heightened sensitivity her nails across sun-warmed skin awakened. The islet material of her suit slid across his shoulder blades, the warmth of her mouth suddenly present at his ear. God….she ran her tongue along the outer shell.

Beyond hard and ready for her, he turned in her arms, snagging the spaghetti string dangling from her neck. “Let’s see what glorious creation lies under the pretty islet,” he rumbled. The elastic of the string stretched between his fingers as he yanked. Peeling her like a luscious grape he lowered one cup, then the other. The top dropped to her waist, hanging about her like a mini sarong.”

“Beautiful,” he said, eyes appreciating the curve of each mound. Raising his gaze to meet hers, he reached for her shoulder, leaning to bite her neck.

“Not so bad yourself,” She said freeing him of his swimtrunks as his kiss-swollen lips nibbled down her windpipe.

She dropped her head back allowing him complete access to her, palms flat, elbows locked behind her. A moan escaped her as he worked his magic, caressing, biting just hard enough to engender a pleasant pull, the sting of teeth against flesh.

He straddled her, powerful thighs one each side of her hips as he lowered her to the bed. A tug at her hand reminded her of the condom packet still wedged between her thumb and index finger. She closed her eyes as he lowered her. By the time she opened them again, he was rolling the magenta pink of the ribbed condom down the length of him. Lord, but the man was talented…endowed with equipment to compliment his six foot two frame. He raised his eyes to hers.

“Do I pass?” he smirked.

She sat up forty-five degrees, hooking him around the neck, pulling him on top of her. Soft giggle in his ear she whispered. “A plus”

The hardness of him now pressed against her stomach. Gentle teeth on his neck, she entwined her arms around him. The tension in his body was palpable, muscles stiffening as she bit along his collarbone.

He suddenly lifted as she felt his hands depress the mattress on either side of her; he pushed up. His eyes…Lord his eyes consumed her gaze like a starving man. Running his hands from her inner knees nearly to her sweet spot, she shuttered with pleasure, anticipation. Wadding the sheet in her hands, he lowered into her.

The sharpness of her nails dug into her palms through the fabric as she squirmed beneath the exquisite pleasure building inside her. Back arched further and further off the mattress as the tightness of her climax built into a wave rushing with the explosiveness of a tsunami. She thought she’d stop breathing as spasm after spasm cascaded through her. She tightened her legs around him in a vise of ecstasy.

As her body melted into the comfort of the mattress, she gulped at the air trying to recover. Opening her eyes to him straddling atop her once more, she met his gaze, now hotter than any man had the right.

“More where that came from love,” he growled.

“More,” she breathed out in seductive fodder.

His strong arms propped at each side of her shook as he pumped into her the last few strokes, quivering at his own mounting pleasure. One last push and he exploded; the low roar of ecstasy that rumbled from him deep and untamed.

Dropping to her side, they lye next to each other, panting. She felt his arm come around her, hooking at her waist.

“Chellie,” he breathed out.

Cuddling into his embrace she murmured, “Better than chocolate.”

****

The howler monkey hooed and hawed from the trees fifty feet above. Peering through the forest canopy, they found themselves playing peek-a-boo with a little round face partially obscured by a palm frond. Cameron pulled a harmonica from the back pocket of his cargo shorts. G to A to E minor, while keeping one eye focused on Chellie’s reaction. The monkey let loose with a halfhearted growl, revving his vocal chords as if testing Cameron’s resolve for two to play at this game.

He tried a few chords softly, then a bit louder, eventually landing on the first five notes of Erik Clapton’s “I Shot The Sheriff”. Face craned up to.

the canopy, he initiated a simple game repeating the same five notes only when the furry face showed itself and pausing the moment it hid behind a branch.

Muffled chuckling drew his attention to Chellie next to him. Hugging herself around the ribs, her lips were drawn taught in failing attempt at subdued mirth. An explosion of air finally escaped her startling the monkey above sending it swinging through the branches in mini Tarzan impersonation.

“Oh fine,” Cameron scolded. “Now you’ve done it.”

“She snorted out loud, shoulders shaking. “He’ll come back,” she reassured, still snickering.

“Maybe next week,” he scrolled eyes from the monkey’s retreat to her.

“Next week?” She questioned.

“The bloody zoo can wait,” He slung an arm around her. “The whole world can wait.” He drew her to him. “No need to rush.” Smiling down into her eyes, they walked together toward the sea.

Part Three of Reluctant Companions - Monster in the Forest

Reluctant Companions- Part Three The Monster In The Forest....

....

“Bleedin’ fook,” came his startled curse, as she was vaguely aware of him rolling around next to her. A large hand at her upper arm nearly sent her through the roof. She screamed. Another hand clamped across her mouth. “Shut up. You don’t want it to know we’re here.”....

Struggling to right herself, she peered directly into his eyes and whispered. “It’s not gonna hear anything but its own growling.” Her breath now came in shredded gasps. “What the f*ck is it?”....

“Something bigger than I fancy meetin’.” Cameron’s voice was raspy, winded, as though he’d been given the fright of his life as well. “Lie still. We don’t want to attract its attention,” he said into her ear. “Are you okay?”....

She looked at him in disapproval. “Like you care.”....

“I’m here protecting you, am I not?”....

She squirmed trying to rid herself of the grasp that now held her firmly planted against his chest. “Protecting? You’d be half way to Honolulu if you hadn’t run into me.”....

He returned his hand to her mouth. “Honolulu would be out the front door, darlin’. I was headed out the back to see what had become of ---.” As abruptly as it had started the chorus of blood curdling howls and auditory assaults ceased. The wall of sound hadn't lasted long, maybe two minutes, ending on a de-crescendo “cooooo” that seemed to alert the fractured jungle to zipper itself into one piece again.....

They both held their breath a further long moment; simultaneously exhaling as it became apparent the aural attack had ended. Neither wanted to move, slowly thawing as the relative silence of the night resumed. Cameron once again, drew his hand from her mouth.....

“Do you think it’s gone?” She whispered.....

“ ‘Gone’ is a relative term in this instance, I should think. Where does the boogie man ‘go’ when living in the forest?”....

“If it were a man I wouldn’t be so--”....

“Scared shitless?’ He scanned the entryway and out into the forest. “No, neither would I.”....

She lifted her head and pushed a hand against his chest. “Ahhh…so you admit to having some human characteristics. Could you please continue in this vein of civility and let me go?”....

He loosened his hold and they both rose slowly to their feet, attention now hyper focused on the shimmering shadows of the forest two steps away. Walking in tandem, they slowly emerged from under the cover of the bungalow’s thatched awning. Faces craned up to the canopy, they stood silently for what seemed an eternity.....

Chellie finally broke the still standoff. “I think he went home.”....

“As we should do.”....

“We are home,” She turned her face to him, brows squeezed together in capitulation. She’d be damned if she’d let him leave now with the wild beast of Sansabar on the loose, at least until they could figure a way out of their human dessert-on-a-platter situation. “I don’t want him to come and eat either of us.”....

“How touching. You do care,” he said, voice dripping sarcasm.....

“Come on. At least we can be civil to each other. After all…we do have one thing in common.”....

“And what might that be?” He asked.....

“Marvin Gray.” She turned into the bungalow, craning her neck to see if he was following. “Coming?”....

“Right behind you.”....

***....

Something heavy at her waist was the first inkling of sensation she felt as she woke. Sweat. God she was hot. What…who was curled behind her? She opened her eyes. Straining to focus, she saw the pots hanging from above the crude kitchen, the rice paper room dividers to the right.....

As awareness seeped through her body, she bolted upright, his arm still hooked around the small of her back. She gasped.....

“Good morning, Chellie.” The sleep-laden rumble of his voice sounded more a growl than human communication.....

She looked over her shoulder to the surface of the futon. There, in back of her was Cameron. Still clothed in Kaki trousers, he’d somehow managed to get out of the linen shirt he’d worn the evening before and lay in a “c” formation, bare chested, heavy lidded, sexy as hell.....

“What are you doing?” shot out of her mouth before she had the time to think. Oh yeah…she’d stayed with him, too afraid to crawl off into the isolation of the bedroom. Hadn’t they just been talking?....

“Guess we finally fell asleep,” he said, pushing himself up on straightened arm. Cupping his jaw in his hand, he made a few chewing motions, then sat full upright next to her. “You all right?” He asked in the same voice of concern he’d used last night after they’d plowed into each other.....

“Yes. Thank you…I think.” She looked at him, skepticism sneaking into her thoughts and no doubt across her face.....

Swinging his legs, feet touching the floor he continued. “Don’t worry. I’ve seen a hundred women in their underwear before.”....

The shock of realization shot through her. She looked down at her body. Sure enough, she was still in the black pushup bra and lace panties she’d stripped down to out in the bathroom enclosure last night.....

“Shit!” She crossed her hands in front of her cleavage in a mummy-just- discovered gesture and looked back up into his face.....

“Little late for modesty now, m’dear.” He chuckled. “I’m afraid I know the landscape of you as well as your sainted mother.”....

She bolted to stand and ran the perimeter of the room dividers, snatching the edge of the white sheet that still lay accordianed at the foot of the bed. Wrapping herself in it, she walked slowly back around the divider. “A gentlemen would have gotten this for me without asking.”....

He blew out an amused chortle. “And I guess you begging me to stay with you last night so the creature of…what did you call it, ‘Sansabar’? ..wherever that is…wouldn’t eat you. That wasn’t gentlemanly enough for you?”....

She felt her shoulders slump as she shed the hot sheet from around her. “You’re right. I’m being a bitch.” Before she knew it, she felt tears streaming down her cheeks. “I shouldn’t have….I nearly thought I’d…” with those fragments of thought she dissolved into a puddle of emotion. Folding her legs under her, she lowered to the floor cross-legged and dropped her head into her hands. “I’m sorry…” Before she had the chance to cobble that into a complete thought, he was next to her, arm around her shoulder, drawing her into the security of that same broad chest she’d rested against all night.....

“It’s okay, Chellie. I think we’re out of harm's way now.” She felt herself quake against him. Embarassed? No. She was too far-gone for that. ....

Feeling his strong hands at her shoulders, she lifted her head. The heat from her face felt like it was sucked into the room as the breeze wafting through the bungalow swept against her cheeks, cooling them.....

“It’s not you. It’s me,” she said.....

He dropped his arm from around her and sat up ramrod straight. “God, if you’re gonna use that sorry old line.”....

She laughed through her tears. “No, no…it really is me. I just lost my Dad and it seems to have finally struck home.”....

The expression on his face went from one of jovial platitude to astounded concern in the blink of an eye. “Oh, God, Chel. I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.” He reached for her again, this time running the back of his hand along her tear streaked cheek. “Is that why you’re here?”....

She dropped her eyes to her lap. “Yeah.”....

“Jesus,” he said under his breath, as though he felt the instant cad.....

Raising her eyes back to meet his, she looked at him, really looked at him for the first time. He wasn’t some over puffed, over coiffed, spit and polish movie star. He was a man looking at her, eyes full of compassion and regret.....

Her heart went out to him. She’d hurt him, made him feel worthless, as though he were the one that had drug her heart through the dirt and stomped on it. ....

“Cameron.” She grasped his hand at her cheek. “I’m sorry. I’ve behaved badly. No excuses.”....

“You came here to grieve in peace and instead find some strange man with nothing better to do than to rant at you--”....

“You didn’t know,” She squeezed his hand and lowered it, snagging his other hand. “And I’ve the feeling Marvin doesn’t know either,” she said in softly apologetic tone.....

He lifted his brows in question. “What?”....

My friend Rachel sent me here. She and Marvin were…uhhh”....

“Yes.” He said in full comprehension.....

“Well Marvin told her she could use the place anytime she really needed a bit of solitude and--”....

“And she thought of you.” He dropped his head and shook it slowly twice. “It is the perfect place for--”....

“Being alone? …Yeah. But I can see now that I didn’t truly need solitude. I needed someone to care for me, protect me, if for only one night. Like Daddy used to.”....

He gathered her to his chest and rested his cheek on the crown of her head. “You’re never alone in the world. All you have to do is reach out.”....

His words detonated a feeling of warmth in her like a long draw of brandy. Why did the phrase sound so familiar? It was something her Dad would never have said. He was the go-to man for her, yes, but he always taught her to rely on no one but herself…and him. ....

Tears spilled down her cheeks again. Cameron lifted her chin with two fingers and leaned into her, kissing each tear as it trailed down her face. The warmth of his breath spread across her cheek as he lowered his mouth to meet hers. So soft was the kiss, it tickled her like the feather of a pen’s plume. He drew in a ragged breath and pressed his lips to hers again in a less tentative plea. His mouth so soft, so warm, forgiving one moment, pleading forgiveness the next. “Will you have me?” it asked.....

She slid her arms up his chest, placing her hands at the crest of his shoulders and pushed him away. Eyes deep purple, dark in the morning light, he looked once questioning, quizzical, aroused and hurt. “This isn’t fair,” she whispered. Clearing her throat, she shook her head. “You don’t need to take on a head case.”....

“I’m not. It’s you who are the strong one. If I’d just lost my father, I’d probably be catatonic.”....

“That’s why I railed on you like some lunatic…and after you nearly killed yourself running for shelter during the storm.”....

“I looked a fright. I’m surprised you could discern that I was even human, much less allow me to occupy the veranda with you.”....

She flashed him a grin edged with mischief. “I’ve never shared a lanai with a mud streaked naked man before. I thought it would be something I could add to my travel journal…let the girls back home have a good read when I post it on My Space blog.”....

“You wouldn’t dare,” he said, a moment of panic flashing across his face.....

“Got cha,” she teased.....

“Damn it woman. Why do you Americans always feel the need to toy with anyone who hasn’t had the benefit of growing up in your obsessively sarcastic, irrationally sardonic society?”....

“Oh fine…now you’re gonna insult my nationality as well. Just like a self- possessed ex-imperialist pundit--”....

Well, if you’re goin’ to start name callin’, then perhaps I will just get the Jeep revved up and take you back to civilization.”....

Thunderstruck, she shot a hand to his forearm. “Please don’t.”....

His expression morphed instantly to regret and he took her face in his hands. “I’m joking, darlin’. I know you need your time. It’s I who should be heading back to Honolulu.”....

She squeezed his arm harder. “No,” she spouted before she could think. “No,” she repeated in resignation. She’d been discovered. “I can’t stay here with the monster loose in the jungle. Not alone.”....

The corner of his mouth quirked, “Of course not.”....

***....

Trailing behind him through the thick underbrush, she wiped her brow. “Could you slow it to just below world mile record pace?”....

“I’m anxious to find the beast,” his voice floated back to her on the warm breeze.....

“This isn’t an episode of LOST, and I’m no Kate.”....

He stopped and waited. Grinning, he answered as she traipsed up in front of him. “I’d like to tell her that. She thinks she’s ‘all that’ on the programme.”....

“You’ve got to be kidding. Did you see her in that episode where she accompanied them to the plane wreckage and that monster in the forest…it…” She stopped and reached for his arm, scanning the surroundings. “Shit, but there are eerie similarities.”....

Placing a warm hand on top of hers he reassured, “See there. If you had been Kate, you’d ‘ov jumped into my arms with that revelation.”....

She pulled away from him. “Would not. I’d have found some perfect sized bit of flotsam in the forest, fashioned a spear and had the creature roasting on a spit in front of the bungalow by noon.”....

A chuckle rumbled through him. “We must have looked a rare pair of fools last night, standing outside the doorway, looking up into the trees.” His dark brows lifted in puzzled inquiry. “We did both sense that the noise emanated from the shelter of the trees above, did we not?”....

“Yeah…I guess so.”....

He leaned into her face. “Of course we did. Otherwise we’d have been looking to the jungle floor for the beast to pounce on us. No, this creature is either a brilliant ventriloquist, or it has the ability to climb.”....

“How could anything sounding like that weigh little enough to hoist its mass into a tree?”....

A sudden occurrence flooding his face, Cameron strode off in the direction of the bungalow. ....

“What are you doing?…Wait!” Chellie trotted to catch him. ....

***....

By the time she reached the front entrance, he was already inside. She took the steps by twos and was in the living area in no time. Lungs struggling to catch up, Chellie stood shoulders rising and lowering in effort. “What the hell--- made you--- come back here? I thought-- we were going on--- a monster hunt.”....

Fingering through the collection of books Marvin had covering the entire wall next to the futon, Cameron looked the perfect picture of a man on a mission.....

“If I’m correct, my dear…” he ran an acquisitive finger up and down spines in quick evaluation. “We shant have to worry.” He turned a flash of blue eyes back to her before resuming his plunder of the Gray library.....

“Ahhh!” He pulled out a particularly hefty specimen from the confines of the shelf. “Forest Biodiversity in North, Central and South America, and the Caribbean: Research and Monitoring By Francisco Dallmeier and James A. Comiskey”....

“Fascinating. Are we planning a trip to the Americas?”....

He looked back at her once more, derision on his face. Breaking his visual assault, he took two long strides to the table on the lanai. Opening the book to the back, he pressed flattened fingers along the lines of print. “Yes… here it is.”

To Be Continued... Next Friday ---the conclusion

Reluctant Companions- Part Two

Part Two of Reluctant Companions. Continued from last Friday:

Undergrowth rustling, banana tree quaking, the ground cover had swallowed whoever it was that had survived the fall. A part of her didn’t want to stick around to see what emerged from the forest floor, but her sense of philanthropy held in check her initial urge to turn tail and run. The banana tree shook violently, large elliptical leaves bending and disappearing into the undergrowth as though some great herbivore were consuming them.

It took Chellie another indeterminate amount of time to realize her jaw was slack, she gaping at the commotion in dread and morbid anticipation. Like a newborn colt standing for the first time, a specter of a man emerged from the plants, body slick and smeared with russet earth, hair drenched spaghetti-like in wild abandon. His frame struggled to attain upright stature in a curious combination of strength, embarrassment and anger. Whites of his eyes glowing in the dusk, he continued his colourful diatribe.

“Bleedin’ vines…snarlin’ round the f*ckin’--” His eyes snagged on her, expression escalating from irritation to rage. “And who the bloody hell are you?” He evaluated her face, his expression morphing in realization.

Her eyes had dropped to inspect him…the whole of him…filthy, wet and… “Shite,” he rasped again, yanking the banana leaves he held at his sides to cover his salient bits. The image of him was of a Michelangelo statue run through the mud particially covered by a mutant fig leaf.

She clung to reason just long enough to see the humor in it. She also couldn’t help but notice that the man was spectacular. In the light of the ascending moon, his skin looked like polished marble slick with sweat and dirt, but undeniably sculpted. The muddied effigy of his face was worth the price of admission alone. He was the most extraordinary surreal mixture of anger, self-reprimand and pure animal magnetism.

She finally answered his query. “The owner of this private estate. So take your damn banana leaves and get out.” Struggling to maintain an expression worthy of being taken seriously, she feigned a sudden need to wipe something at the corner of her mouth.

“So you’re a squatter as well as a liar.” He looked up at her in irritation. “I’ve the keys to prove you a liar.”

“What keys? There’s not a door within twenty miles.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I’ve the true owner’s jeep parked just the other side of the stream.” He nodded toward the far end of the bungalow.

She leaned further over the railing in growing indignation. “And that’s supposed to convince me of your authenticity. ‘Man with a four wheel drive must be bad ass dude… the only possible owner of such an isolated retreat.’” She mocked him with a condescending lilt.

He moved forward, making his way to the stairs. “I’ve me bleedin’ gear in the bedroom too--.” He stopped speaking and paused half way up the steps, rotating one of the banana leaves to cover his rear. “Why the hell do I owe you any explanation? I’ve been here three days now and have no intention of sharin’ the surroundin’s with some…some…woman.” The final word he emphasized in disgust.

She instinctually backed away. He presented a very large, threatening countenance. Reaching for a cylindrical shape on the lanai table, she kept her eyes on him. Grasping it by Braille, she raised it over her head like a nightstick.

His expression changed from angst to humor. “What ya goin’ ta do, spray me to death, woman?” He snorted, tension draining from his body like sand through a sieve.

She shot a glance to the object in her hand. Bug spray?…shit! Raising it higher over her head, she shrieked, “Back off, buddy.”

His abdomen contracted in mirth. “Unless you’ve been trained in the modern martial art of fumigation, I think I’m safe.”

“Fine, smart ass, but you’re gonna have to…” She slid her eyes to his groin and back in one lightning glance, “…drop your leaves to get away from me.”

He folded over in a spasm of laughter. She moved toward him. In a blink, he recovered full stature.

She froze.

“It appears we’re at a stand off.” He pulled the leaves tighter against his body. “Let’s compromise. You put the insect repellant back in its place and I shall relieve you of the substantial burden of havin’ a naked man on the doorstep.”

She lowered the can. “Now you’re talking. Five minutes to get your stuff and hit the road.” Moving to the side she raised her arm in reluctant invitation. “Well?” She motioned with her eyes for him to pass.

“I think you’ve misunderstood. It’s I who need time in the solar shower. You need to remain here on the lanai until I’m properly attired.”

“And why the hell do I have to wait for you to have on clothes?” She sneered.

“You’ll have to wait and see.” He strode past her and into the bedroom.

Placing the can back on the table, she stood a moment collecting her thoughts. Solar shower? She took a few steps toward the rice paper room dividers then stopped. Turning heel, she paced back to the lanai. What was some strange man doing inhabiting Rachel’s ex-boyfriend’s secret hideaway?

“Nobody ever comes here but Marvin and his latest.” She thought out loud. “Nobody knows it exists. Even the locals.” Rachel’s face of absolute certainty as she’d relayed details of the bungalow had been undisputable.

Yeah, no one but her and now the cab driver who’d somehow managed to get her here using Rachel’s map scrawled on the back of a paper placemat from Pann’s Coffee Shop in West L.A. She started to feel like a real chump. Evidently all those hours in law school hadn’t sharpened her powers of deduction. Rachel had wanted her gone, pure and simple. And here she’d thought her a pillar of virtue, offering her ace in the hole…a week in the illusive love nest alone. Nobody ever got to go to Marvin Gray’s legendary love shack, certainly not someone who hadn’t slept with him--multiple times.

Chellie lowered to sit on the top step of the lanai, absently twisting a strand of soggy hair into its natural corkscrew. “Why would Marvin send a man?”…a gloriously built man. This was the abode of seduction, conceived, designed and executed for one purpose: romancing women. Rachel had told her that despite its isolated local and lack of access to modern utilities, it had all the luxuries of home ingeniously incorporate in a completely ‘green’ way. So the fact that a solar shower existed made sense.

What didn’t make sense was this man. Nobody was supposed to be here. It was in the strictest confidence that she’d been allowed access. Only Rachel could have convinced Marvin to allow her to—“Damn,” she exclaimed. Maybe Rachel hadn’t told him. Maybe she was here unrealized. Rachel was sneaky that way, conveniently employing selective memory when it came to getting what she wanted. She rose to her feet and began to pace the floorboards of the lanai.

Maybe he was some tourist that happened upon the bungalow out exploring private beach access. A surfer…yeah. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t killed himself in that fall she’d just witnessed. No one but an athlete could have managed such a tumble without so much as a scratch. He moved with confidence, the compact grace of a competitor and lord knows he’d the body of one. No amount of mud and sweat could hide the fact that the man was an Adonis.

She glanced at her wrist to check the time. “Ten minutes?” How long did it take someone to wash off a little muck?

An image flashed across her internal screen. She - pushed into tight quarters with him, behind a freestanding wood partition. Rain showerhead suspended above, running her hands down the smooth straight groove of his backbone. Up and over solid graceful shoulder, flat and square in breadth. He slowly turning to face her, the muscles of his face held in repose only broken to open dark blue eyes. With a questioning lift of the brow, he invites her to partake in so much more.

“Snap out of it!” she blurted, pushing herself to stand. What the hell was wrong with her? Just because she’d not had a man in-- "Geez, if you have to count months.” It had been way too long.

“I don’t even know who this guy is, besides the fact he’s obviously a Brit.” She struggled to focus on something real. (But, God, he was so real) Peering to the right, she saw the curve of a hammock strung from one palm to its neighbor in clear silhouette against the sky. Rain clouds blown inland, the remnant glow of the sun bounced off their underbellies illuminating the forest in an eerie bath of reddish gray. It and the rising moon provided a blanket, as a shimmering floodlight on the sea, beach and forest. ....

What was that hanging from the hammock? She strolled down the steps, approaching the intricately macraméd swag some twenty feet from the lanai. Shorts?…no a man’s swim trunks. He had been here before deciding to go it au natural.

“I’ll take those.” His voice of command stunned her. She snapped around to look at him.

He stood at the top of the steps, clean and clothed in kaki trousers and a thin white linen shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, front placard open to mid chest. The soft silver light illuminated his features clearly. No longer smeared with mud, his identity was now clear.

“Cameron McClain.” His name shot out before she’d the chance to consider the wisdom of playing this card of recognition.

“Aye. You say it with such certainty, I’m sure it’s now I at the disadvantage.”

She reconstructed a posture of authority. “It doesn’t matter who I am. Just that I have the right to be here.”

He leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms across his chest. “Funny, you don’t look a thing like Marvin.”

She tried to maintain an unruffled exterior. “I’m family.”

Cameron chortled. “The only family Marvin has are his law books, a well stocked bar and those horses of his in Malibu.”

Shit, this guy obviously had equal or greater knowledge. Out of her league. Better try something else. “He chooses his family carefully. Best way to do it…no blood ties.”

“So you’re his latest, eh?” He scrolled his eyes up and down her in suggestive evaluation.

“Stop that!”

“Stop what? miss, uh…miss flavour of the month.”

She stormed up the steps toward him. “I’ve never so much as--”

“Accepted expensive gifts without substantial payback, I expect.”

Eyes on fire, she broke into his personal space, fists clenched at her sides. “Look, bub. I’m not impressed or intimidated by celebrity. It certainly doesn’t give you license to be insulting. Now, do what you promised and get out.”

Unruffled, he gazed at her. “I believe you’ve misinterpreted again. I said I’d rid you of the naked man on your lanai, not vacate the premises.”

“Now you’re going to play semantics with me?”

Cameron pulled a mobile from his pocket. “Perhaps you’d rather I ring him.”

“Who?”

“Marvin. The real owner of this flat.”

Lunging for the phone, she intercepted his wrist. Clamping on, she reached to wedge the cell from his hand. He twisted, contorting her into a pretzel around him. She refused to let go.

****

Her body twisted over the top of his shoulder, her breasts slid across his back as he held onto his mobile for dear life. He hadn’t bargained on having the disruption of spectacular curves diminish his resolve to rid himself of this bothersome, if beautiful invader. The fact that the thin cotton of her dress clung to her like a second skin had already distracted, but physical contact was a little more than he had bargained. He released the tension in his grasp, lowering her back to the floor. A quick twist of the wrist and he’d broken her grip.

“Bully.” The epitaph shot from her like a rifle volley.

“Thief.” He countered, widening his eyes, raising brows in challenge.

“Why am I even trying to talk to you?” She stood in front of him, arms folding over succulent breasts. Visual stare down complete, she flapped her arms like some flustered foul and turned around in a circle. “Arrgh…men!”

A rumble of mirth exploded from him. Shit, now he’d blown it. She’d never take him seriously if he allowed her to get to him. He looked at the spidering melt of mascara that made the blue of her eyes mimic the colour of the sea. Wild cascade of dripping curls erupted from a knot haphazardly tied at her crown, the sleek slender curve of her shoulders made her look vulnerable and bird-like, the next moment strong and graceful as she puffed herself up in anger.

Folding arms across chest, he smothered the smirk he was sure leaked through his forced fury. Damn. He was losing it.

”Look,” he dropped his arms, leaning his weight on one leg. “It’s late, and you’re tired.”

“How the hell do you know that?” She ran index fingers under her eyes, further smearing the smudge of mascara. “Do I look that bad?’ She glanced around the room looking for something. A mirror?

“No. Quite enchanting, actually.” A smirk was definitely quirking the corner of his mouth now. “Look…I’ll even sleep on the bleedin’ futon for the night and drive you into town tomorrow. You can find a hotel room or book a flight back to---” He paused, watching her as she became suddenly self conscious. The water made her dress semitransparent, gossamer in effect; the small floral print pattern the only thing that saved it from being a complete expose of every line and curve. She jumped as though an electric current had shocked her. Grabbing the fabric at her chest, she waded it in tight fists, looking up into his eyes in mortification.

“Sorry…uh, let me get a towel for you.” He turned skirting the corner of the room divider. Yanking an edge of terrycloth from the open shelves, he hurried back to the lanai. Her back now to him, she was bent over, wringing the water from the ample material that comprising the skirt of her dress. “Sorry,” he said again, turning away before realizing he was not walking in on a naked woman.

She looked at him, hands returning to grasp the material at her chest. Lifting one arm tentatively toward him, her eyes beckoned. He tossed the towel to her.

“Thank you,” she said as a hotel guest might to a clerk. The expression on her face, reflected gratitude mixed with a dash of humor.

“I can offer you a shower, as well, if you like. Marvin’s seen to having quite a large solar storage unit out back--”

“How perceptive of you to notice that I need one.”

He dropped his shoulders. “Not what I meant. I’m just trying to be--”

“Hospitable? In my bungalow?”

He sighed in exasperation. “Can we leave that until tomorrow. I’ve been up since before dawn, running, swimming, doing work out back. I’m knackered.” He pointed toward the bedroom. “The facilities are five steps out the rear access. There are more towels along the wall on the shelf and there’s a bowl of fruit on the nightstand, if you’re hungry. I’m going to bed.” With that, he strode to the futon, unhitched it to flat and flopped down. Back to her, he stared at the bamboo wall. He closed his eyes, trying to make the feeling of her presence less vexing. She was indeed bothersome.

He heard her steps across the room, the rustling of something. Was that the bag she’d dropped to the floor? Lord, she must be peeling that soaked piece of cotton from her body. He punched the pillow under his head and ordered himself to stop thinking about it…about her. She was the damn intruder. So why did an image of her in scanty underwear appear before his closed eyes? He pressed his lids tighter. Nope, still there. Now she was running down the stretch of beach in front of the bungalow, long legs striding in graceful slow motion, skin bronzed and slick with water, breasts bouncing inside the flimsy constraints of that bra.

Stop! ....

He opened his eyes. Yup, bamboo still there. At least the image of her was extinguished. Beads of sweat popped to his upper lip and hairline. The woman was definitely inspiring. His cock was hard as well. Go to sleep, you flippin’ div.

****

“Shit,” she hissed, reaching to grab her toe. She had not negotiated the edge of the ample oval platform bed as she strode around it headed for the exit.

“God damn man,” she held the throbbing digit in hand, hopping. Promptly losing her balance, she dropped in a heap on the bed.

Fine…now she was getting the sheets wet. I hate sleeping in a soggy bed. She pushed to her feet, toe still screaming. Limping for the doorway, her mind roiled. Chaotic thoughts ruled; anger at being bested by some egomaniacal actor, anger at stubbing her toe again, (Why couldn’t she ever learn to go around the corner of a piece of furniture unscathed?), anger at being isolated without being alone. Theme in common? Anger. Why was she so angry?

Stepping down the slippery wooden stairway, her bare foot touched the soft damp underbrush. The smell of rain-drenched foliage, floral bouquet, rich earthen loam intoxicated. The shadows were deep, every leaf gilded in the moonlight. Had she just stepped into the tropical equivalent of OZ?

A smile tugged at her mouth anger melting away. Now the intrepid explorer, she tiptoed her way toward the frond-covered structure that could only be the bathroom.

Stripping the sodden cotton from her body, she threw it over the top of one of the four screens assembled in a square? Hmmm…she wondered why one would need modesty screens, but then we were talking about Marvin Gray. He had to know that even the bimbos he brought here were, at the end of the day, women. And women need to have at least the illusion that they are partitioned from the prying, oft lecherous eyes of men.

Damn, she’d forgotten a towel. Too hard to get back into that dress. And he was asleep on the futon out in the living room. She’d be safe sneaking back in the way she came.

The night air was thick with humidity. She stepped over the soft cushion of plants, this time appreciating the feel of their coolness between her toes. Looking up into the canopy, silver light shining through the branches, she marveled at the disco mirror ball effect the breeze and the movement of leaves made as shadows shifted sprinkling tiny pools of light across the forest floor.

The whisper of leaves still muted by the heaviness of water, hummed in subtle accompaniment to the distant rumble of waves. She paused, drawing in the rich complexity of aromas carried on the scrubbed air.

“Grrrrrrr…—” split the serenity. Her breath caught, a sliver of ice sliding down her spine. “What the hell?” she whispered. The low rumble continued. It sounded like a dog the size of a four by four. No, it had to be bigger than that. A bear? Some wild animal, for sure. Her flesh went cold.

"chchchchchcoooo chchchcaaaaa" in throaty, Hebraic consonants, and at a volume so outrageous her ears seemed to crack into shards. ....
She bolted toward the doorway like a sprinter starting an Olympic event. Her impact against a large body just inside the shadow of the bungalow knocked her to the floor.

Part Three...Next Friday

Virtual Hawaiian Vacation- Reluctant Companions- Serial BLOG

As the rain patters softly on my roof and I think about the winter yet to come, perhaps a virtual vacation from the cold and damp is in order. I wrote this awhile back thinking to publish it as a short story. Seems most publishers think it too visceral...too descriptive. If you like to be carried away in a dance of words meant to caress your longing for a quiet place, a warm, sultry escape, perhaps you will enjoy---Reluctant Companions.

******

Cameron shrugged the duffel bag from his shoulder onto the blonde wood of a table on the lanai. The deep shade of the palms hugging the bungalow made the contrast all the sharper between the cool of the deck and the sparkling aqua of the sea beyond. A wisp of hair tugged across his face and he thumbed it quickly behind his ear.

“Bloody warm breeze,” he muttered narrowing his eyes to focus on the islet set half mile off shore, its jagged crags jutting from the water in echo of a violent volcanic past. The soft foliage clinging to its vertical cliffs rested against each set of waves as they moved tirelessly toward shore. He paused a moment to consider the shallow approach of each perfect white curl, mist blowing off their backs as they moved steadily forward. How different from the stark crags of the Scottish shore, the gray sea pounding against the rocks, recipients of the temperamental North Sea. Scotland was about as far away from Oahu’s north shore as Earth from moon.

He cringed at the memory of the pins and needles rain stinging his face. That’s what he needed now, though…a little dose of freezing Scottish reality to numb his senses. Anything was better than—thump, percussive impact and vibration resonating upwards from his feet.

“What the…” He twisted around, scanning the jungle thicket to his right. Nothing. He dropped his eyes to the wood of the deck. The hairy brown orb of a coconut wobbled under the rattan foot of a lounge chair. “Shite… another twelve inches over and it’ov been my brains, not some tropical piece of…” A shudder quaked between his shoulders. He shook his arms to rid himself of it.
“Get a fookin’ grip, Cameron,” he said. Why the hell was he so damned jumpy?

Jeep keys still in hand, he closed his fist around them and pivoted to have a better look at the bungalow. Rustic..yeah, Marvin had been dead right about that. His manager’s ruddy-complexted simper flooded his internal screen.

Eyes fixed on him from under sandy lashes; he’d scowled at Cameron’s protests.

“It’s half way back to L.A., you’ll be finished with the Japan press junket with no further commitments until last of July in Queensland.” Marvin raised a bulbous glass of sherry in toast to his orders for Cameron to ‘relax’. He gazed into the glass, gently swirling the amber liquid, its perfume filling the space between them.

“And if I told you I’d rather spend my hiatus with me mum in Aberdeen?”

“I’d say you need your head examined even more than I’d thought.” The watery reflection of the room shivered through the sherry, refulgent in the fading light of the Tokyo sunset slicing through the wall of glass at the fortieth floor office window. “Besides, mate,” Marvin winked, “You’d be doin’ me a huge favour. I need someone to wipe the cobwebs from the hammock on the lanai, and you need to lose the starch from those knotted shoulders of yours.

Cameron slouched in reaction to Marvin’s aspersions. “I can decompress just as easily in L.A.”

Marvin lowered his chin, flashing an incredulous frown.

“Okay.” Cameron threw his arms up in surrender. “One week.”

“Two”

“Ten days?”

“A fortnight, man…or I swear--”

“Okay, okay,” Cameron pressed palms toward him.

“Right. You leave tonight. Arrive with the sun at Oahu International. My Jeep awaits you in long-term parking.” He dug into the front pocket of his suit trousers. “Here’s the keys,” and flung the shiny cluster at Cameron.

Snatching them from mid air, Cameron held them suspended from open palm.

“They aren’t to a prison, you know. My bungalow is sought after by many a---"

“Woman fancying a piece of Marvin Gray’s famous ‘action’.”

Marvin’s face split into a roughish grin. “Weel if you’ve got it, lad--”

Cameron closed his hand around the keys, raising his fist toward his manager. “I’m only doin’ this so you’ll stop your incessant pestering.”

“Such a sentence. Only a criminal guilty of overwork is deservin’”

“See you in L.A., then… fourteen July.”

"Cheers.” He raised his sherry, one eye cocked in humorous approval.

***

“Look, Chellie. Marvin told me I could pop in anytime.” Rachel’s fire-engine pout glistened like a ruby against the porcelain of her fair skin. “It’s just a stinking barmaid job. You need to regroup a lot more than you need a few lousy tips from the letches that come in here every night.” The harsh theatrical light emanating from the bulbs surrounding the mirror in front of them made Rachel look older than her thirty-five years. “Sides,” she took Chellie’s fingers and squeezed. “You’ll have your dad’s trust money, so no worries.”

A vise of grief clamped around Chellie’s heart again, each reminder a resurgence of the hollow void the loss of him left inside her.

“Sorry.” Rachel looked into the mirror at Chellie’s reflection as she stood beside her,then over her shoulder to engage her friend’s eyes. “Do it for me then, hun. Robert and I really need some time alone.”

Chellie gazed into the transparent plead of Rachel’s expression. Her boyfriend, Robert, had his own place on the other side of Santa Monica. Yeah, they could just as easily shack up there as at the apartment she and Rachel had rented on the beach for the summer.

Biting her lower lip in submission, Chellie cobbled a smile. “Okay, Rach, but you’ll call me if you need anything.”

“I need you out ‘a my hair, girl, “ Rachel smiled up at her. “Enjoy the tradewinds.”

Chellie turned toward the exit, stopping just short of the door and looked back. “Thanks.” She smiled in bittersweet appreciation.

***


Two days of solitude, and Cameron had just now come to take Marvin’s advise, leaving his swim trunks hanging from the taut hemp rope supporting the hammock stretched palm trunk to trunk out back of the bungalow.

He’d slathered extra sunscreen on the bits where the sun never shone, hoping to ease into an all over tan. His next role as the father of a precocious eleven-year-old girl stranded on an island off Australia’s Gold Coasts could well benefit from some real melanin to protect him from the ravages of the tropical sun.

Not a living soul within twenty miles had been Marvin’s assurance. No official road, not even on the map, the thatched roof, open-air bungalow could just as easily have been made by the skilled adventurer Cameron was about to portray in his next film down under.

Smarting from a recent lawsuit he’d had to bring against one of the national rags, he was more wound up than usual.

As a matter of fact, unless one knew what one was looking for, the lines of the bungalow melted brilliantly into the camouflage of the jungle that surrounded it. Lush pippin green plants grew parallel to the beach, screening its existence from sea or air approach.

Cameron had spent the better part of his first afternoon at “Gray’s Getaway” exploring the variety of vegetation stretching the curve of beach in front of his new home. The leaves of what he assumed to be a pothos, were ten times the size of any he’d ever seen. Waxy variegated shrubs mottled red, yellow and orange swayed as part of the underbrush. Canopy-like trees, umbrella spread branches dotted with tufts of pinkish white flowers, interlaced with the fragrant white bouquet offerings of plumeria. They grew in symbiotic relationship throughout the forest. And then there were the banana trees interspersed at irregular intervals---each of the feathered leaves sprang from a central core, a flag to the tropical moisture that kept them abundant.

Every colour was vibrant, each lungful of air pure, sky bright against the dancing puffs of cotton floss clouds, and the sea a symphony of blues so intense even his sunglasses couldn’t diminish the brilliance.

He’d sat on the sand, watching the mushrooming of the clouds high into the sky. As the afternoon progressed, the moisture pushed against the perpendicular shoulders of the mountains, misting the peaks in soft oblivion. Just before the heat became oppressive, the rumble of thunder heralded relief. As a curtains of rain swept in, a warm womb of showers so soft one might think it liquid air enveloped him, a return to the primal warmth and comfort of amniotic embrace.

Rain had never been friendly, not central to survival as this soothing temperance felt against his skin. Rain had always been a cold nuisance, a reminder of the biting striations of gray that painted the Celtic skies more oft than not.

He loved the moodiness of the Scottish landscape. The mist flirting with juts of towering granite, wafting over oceans of heather, moisture in undulating waves as it approached off the North Sea.

He thought of many a night he’d lie awake to the thunderous outbursts on the slate roof over his head. The snug gentle abrasion of his mum’s hand stitched comforter wrapped about him, he in an envelope of warmth whilst all of nature’s fury raged outside.

Even those early childhood memories couldn’t compare to the allure of the gentle fingers of fluid that ran down his back and chest as he stood here on the Oahu shore, arms outstretched to the sky.

Maybe, just maybe he’d be able to relax after all.

***

She held the unfurled map over her head in one hand, carpetbag satchel in the other. “Fifty’ll have to do,” she shouted to the cab driver over the symphony of drops against leaves as the evening storm pelted. Thin cotton shift quickly succumbing to the weather, she dashed toward the cover of a wrap around porch set on the stilts of the dripping bungalow before her.

Swiss Family Robinson, the first words that came to mind, accompanied by images of a sprawling tree house perched in the arms of a goliath Banyan tree. What she ran toward was nothing near as grand, but at least it would provide much needed shelter from the downpour.

Scurrying up slick steps, she ignored the assistance of the bamboo railing in favor of speed. Dashing through the open door, she lowered the sodden map from her head and dropped it and her satchel to the floor. She swiped the front of her dress with her hands. No use, it was drenched and clung to her like plastic wrap.

She raised her eyes to appraise her surrounding. Why had the door been left full open? She looked over her shoulder. Ahhh…no door at all. Well this was a bit of isolation now, wasn’t it?

Scrolling her gaze around the room, if that’s what one might call something half open at the rear to the elements, she watched the water as it streamed in ribbons off the canopy over the porch. The walls were made of tightly packed bamboo, providing the open living area with windbreak, ventilation and view of the sea. The roar of water on foliage drowned any sound of surf.

A corner of cushioned rattan, one couch, two chairs, lined the panel of walls to the left. Half the rear open to the lanai, the other half a kitchen of sorts, with pots dangling over an island of cabinets placed toward the center of the grass mat covered floor. At the front or landside, were two freestanding rice paper partitions cordoning off the entire north quarter. She walked in slowly across the room, craning her neck around the corner.

Graceful gauze festooned from a central point at the ceiling over a bamboo frame and down in a waterfall of diaphanous elegance around a large oval bed. A single kerosene mariner’s lamp glowed yellow on the nightstand, illuminating the fabric of the graceful canopy in ethereal luminescence. A crescent of pillows lined the head of the bed, a crisp white sheet casually accordioned at its foot. Seashell beads hung in a curtain from the window’s opening, a screen between room and the fragrance of the jungle.

In the fading light, she could just make out the sweep of branches hanging heavy with red plumes of flowers springing along each branch like tongues of flame. The pungent loam of rich soil mixed with the heady sweetness of tropical blooms enveloped her in olfactory ambrosia.

Turning to have a look at the sea, she wandered to the lanai overlooking the beach. The moon was rising above the water, sun having dipped beneath the waves. There was still a touch of colour at the horizon, that curious otherworldly effect the last of the day emanates as the earth makes its final turn into night. Through the trees and across the curve of beach she could see the first of a silver trail of moonlight reflecting off the water. The bay was calm, each row of waves a blip in the otherwise marbled surface. Still, there was enough of a swell to catch the changing light and reflect it back as a gilding of each gentle crest. Chellie sighed, exhaling the stress of her day into the approaching night.

Alone at last, she could begin to gather the chards of her thoughts left shattered by the passing of her father. It had only been two months, but it seemed that defined the meaning of eternity. It was as though a wad of cotton had been placed between her ears, smothering her usual mental acuity into a pale caricature of its former self. She’d always know where she was headed, what she wanted and pretty well how to get there. It was never so apparent as now that the symbiosis between father and daughter was an integral component of her drive to succeed. He had been, after all, the founder and head partner of the firm of Stanley Melbourne and associates, the most respected and sought after entertainment law representatives in Los Angeles. Not much past boyhood when he’d fathered her, he’d been forced young to pull himself up by the bootstraps and make his way in the world. Her mother was but a fuzzy memory, having run off when Chellie was barely a preschooler. Her dad, ever the intrepid survivor forged ahead, working two jobs while putting himself through law school and making a worry free childhood for his only daughter. It had to have been a Herculean challenge, but she’d never seen him buckle, complain, or be anything other than “Daddy”.

Looking back through the paradigm of adulthood, she now realized the ultimate toll. The number one killer of Americans had claimed him too. His heart gave out as he'd jogged along Playa del Rey the morning of May 5th.

Damn, there they were again...the f**king tears. She dragged a remonstrative hand along her cheek, drawing in an uneven breath.

A movement, a shadow disturbed her peripheral vision just enough to jolt her from her anguish. Forcing her senses to sharpen, she sniffed back the need for a tissue and tip toed to the edge of the lanai.
Wrong part of the world for Sasquatch, she thought, briefly wondering if the Hawaiians had similar legend. Too laid back…Polynesian paralysis would prohibit such disturbing musings. They were the invention of overworked, stressed people trying to escape the insistent demands of the modern world. No such burden here in the land of Mahalo and hang loose.

She was about as far away from relaxed as an over processed perm.

The rain had ceased, but the liquid chorus continued from every leaf and petal as they shed the weight of the passing storm. Straining to differentiate foreign sounds from the thrum of droplets splashing along their journey from foliage to earth, she held her normal breathing in check, mouth open as means of silencing her own noise. Scrolling the immediate horizon like a cat burglar avoiding detection, she reached for the bamboo railing to steady her.

Bounding through the slick underbrush flashed the silhouette of a man in forward trajectory, a parabola of doom the likes of which she’d not seen since her friend Jill had taken a spill off her snowboard on the slopes of Lake Tahoe’s Diamond Peak. That had cost Jill six weeks in traction and her gift for belly dancing.

“Shite.” The booming male explicative sounded like the fated call of a condemned man.

...to be continued