Chapter Seven
It was a perfect day in the South China Sea. The day was bright without being hot, a breeze was filling the sails of the Chinese junk and keeping the passengers and crew comfortably cool, but not so cool that it was uncomfortable to jump in for a swim or lie on the deck to dry in the sun.
Ronda wore only a sarong, her breasts bare and tan. She lay on the deck, her arms raised overhead, basking in the sun with her bathing suit top down, resting inside out on her sarong.
Barefoot and wearing bathing trunks, Jeff walked silently across the teak deck to sit beside her and gently untie her sarong.
“The crew…”
“The crew is always here. Let them be invisible. We’re invisible to them.” He unwrapped the sarong to expose her firm, long, tan thighs and legs to the sunlight. She reached down and pulled the top of her black one-piece bathing suit over her breasts. The hair of her armpits was silky and long. The hair of her head was long now, coming down to the middle of her back after months of not cutting it.
Now they were both swimming all the time, their bodies were trim and toned. They jumped off the junk and swam whenever the weather was good-which was all the time. Or whenever they felt like it-which was most of the time when they weren’t fucking or otherwise making love. The exercise of fucking and swimming kept both of them slim and he was even more muscular than when he’d been working out in fitness clubs in downtown in Chicago. Her breasts and hips were smaller but firmer than when they’d lived in the Frank Lloyd Wright house. His pecs were surely firmer and his thighs and butt tight.
Ronda shivered as Jeff ran his fingertip along the underside of her arm, stopped to twirl the long silky hairs of her armpit in his fingers, and outlined the underside of her breast through the swimsuit. “You are a beautiful woman. Thanks for letting your hair grow out. All of it.”
He’s finally figuring out how to make love with me. Sometimes I still fantasize about Angela when he goes down on me or when he strokes my clitoris with his finger, but I enjoy his attentions more and more now that he has some time for me and isn’t putting all of it into his corporation.
“Why don’t you take me below and make love with me?”
“Not right now. Much as I’d like to.”
She pouted. “You don’t have any meetings to get to, do you?”
“No, but we have to make a landing soon. I don’t want to be interrupted while we’re making love.”
“Since when do we have to do anything?”
“Well, this is a surprise, humor me. Let’s just say we have to pick up some supplies.”
“What could we need? We still have several months’ supply of fine wines. This junk has to have the best wine cellar in all of Asia. Not to mention fresh fruits and fish.”
“My love, we couldn’t replenish the fruit without stopping all the time.”
“You’re right. But why would it interrupt us. It doesn’t usually.”
“I thought you might want to go ashore.”
“Why, where are we?”
“Coming up on the Parcel Islands. Sand Island to be specific.”
“Who lives here?”
“Nobody at all.”
“What country do they belong to?”
“Everyone claims them. Taiwan. Vietnam. China. Maybe others. But nobody rules them because nobody lives here. There’s no farmland, just beaches. No tourists, nothing at all. If one country decides to try to take the island from some other, they may send an army for a while. ‘Til they figure out it’s not worth the effort and leave. Now the islands are empty. I thought it might be fun to walk in the sand and enjoy the water from the land.”
“You’re right.”
She eyed his bronzed body, his muscles more well defined than they had been when he was twenty.
The skipper made the familiar call for dropping anchor as the junk approached the island.
Holding hands the couple jumped off the junk and into the water for the swim ashore. They walked through the breakers onto the sandy beach hand in hand and walked down the seashore, the wet sand firm under their feet.
“I thought you said nobody lived here.”
“I did.”
“Well, who is that?” Ronda indicated a woman sunbathing naked on her back, her feet just covered by the gentle swell of the water when it came ashore.
“Take another look.”
The woman stood and dusted the sand off her butt and back. She turned to face them. Ronda could see that she was naked, her breasts jiggling a bit as she walked, a thick patch of pubic hair below her navel emphasized her shapely thighs. Her long legs strode purposefully and powerfully toward them.
“Angela? Angela! Jeff, how did Angela get here? And how did you know?”
Jeff looked at Ronda with an expression halfway between imploring and salacious.
“I love you. That means giving you what you really want whenever I can.”
Angela and Ronda ran toward each other and embraced. Angela reached up to Ronda’s bathing suit straps and pulled them down over her shoulders, pulled the suit over her flat muscular stomach, down her thighs to expose the thick patch of pubic hair, and down to her ankles. Ronda stepped willingly out of the suit to embrace Angela.
“How’s business?” Jeff and Angela spoke at the same time.
All three of them laughed as they returned to the anchorage hand in hand.
About the Author
A guy’s foot was coming at my head at ninety miles an hour. In a well-rehearsed move from the choreographed karate forms called katas, I instinctively raised my arm to block the kick. The guy was on the floor. “It WORKS,” I thought, amazed at what I’d done. Each kata has a story about how you’re dispatching bad guys right and left. Here comes another one! Kick!
Sensei pairs us up, one person with a padded shield, the other with bare hands. “Hammer blow,” he says. I whang the shield with my fist. “HARD” Sensei shouts. I try again. “SCREAM” he says. I try with a scream. “Relax,” he says. I tense up. “I SAID RELAX.” It doesn’t help. I try again. “Give it everything you have.” I try again with a scream to curdle blood and focus all the power of my body behind my fist to move the target holder. “That’s more like it.” “Wow,” I thought, “You really can use this karate to kick bad guy ass.”
Karate is so different from the slowly moving forms of T’ai Chi I’d been practicing ‘til then. Mostly gentle, T’ai chi is also method of combat-not being there when someone wants to hurt you-the subtle art of getting out of the way and using the attacker’s own force to your advantage. Karate, the hard form; T’ai Chi, the soft form.
Another union of hard and soft is yoga-even slower and not at all combative. When my teacher coached me in Tantra, the meditations and forms that tap the cosmic energy from the union of the male and female elements and become aware of the sexual energy all around us, everything came together.
My Secret Sex Life features a woman who keeps her vivid and experimental sexuality hidden from the world. Menage á Spies is about how a Latin American sociologist, his sister, three FBI agents who are watching them (the spies), a college student, and the two women at the center of everything come together with karate, yoga, and t’ai chi, love and lots of sex. Other stories will be coming from EC.
Fletchina welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
