Ch 85 ~ Island Fever

“This is the catamaran we’re spending our vacation on?” Rachel chuckled, propping her fists on her hips and turning to face Jon on the marina dock. 

“Sure is,” he agreed, shaggy head nodding unrepentantly as he grinned like the Cheshire Cat.  “How d’ya like it?”

Jon had intentionally misled Rachel into believing they’d be scaling back on accommodation quality during their Hawaiian Islands cruise.  When Rachel had teased him for his love of luxury yachts, he’d carefully avoided telling her their vessel was the largest catamaran yacht on any ocean in the world.  At 142 feet, it was hardly ‘roughing’ it. 

“Considering I was expecting something along the lines of the S.S. Minnow and the whole ‘three hour tour’ bit, I’m pleasantly relieved,” she snorted and tried to pass Jon on the gangway.

He, however, had other ideas and cuffed her wrist before she could get past.  Locking his fingers firmly, for emphasis, Jon pulled her close enough that his lips grazed the shell of her ear when provoking, “You’d love to be stranded on Gilligan’s Island with me.  You could fuck me senseless without a soul to hear you scream.”

“Thanks for playing, baby.”

With a tap to her backside as she moved on, Jon laughed at the obvious coloring of her cheeks.  “Well, hell.  If I’d known playing along was all it took to pacify you, I’d have done that months ago.  Now that I know, I’ll play.”

“Oh, please.”  She smirked at him over her shoulder.  “You’ve always been a player.” 

Jon grinned at her with pleasure.  It didn’t matter how many hours, weeks or months they spent together.  He found himself delighted by her in some way, each and every day and it made him look forward to not only the rest of this trip, but the rest of their lives.

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By day four of their trip, Rachel and Jon had snorkeled off the coast of Maui, toured the volcanoes of the Big Island during the day and watched their lava flow at night from the privacy of their vessel.  Day five was spent deep sea fishing for marlin and, by day six, they’d finally made it to Kauai where they hiked the lush jungle and took in the breathtaking views along the way.

Day seven was a blessing.  One of the crew aboard their chartered yacht told them of a secluded beach on Kauai, suggesting that it may be the perfect place to recoup from the first active days of their ‘vacation’.

Rachel agreed.  While the beach wasn’t technically private, it was in a small cove surrounded by dark, craggy mountains and accessible only by water.  That made the hundred foot stretch of paradise the perfect hideaway in which to recharge by simply enjoying the sun, sand and sound of the surf.  

“Whoever said money can’t buy you happiness has never had the privilege of hired crew to set up the perfect day on the beach,” Jon murmured when he retrieved an icy bottle of water from the cooler that also housed an array of exotic fruit kabobs, cold shrimp and a stash of cookies big enough to sate an entire kindergarten class. 

“Mmm,” she agreed with a contented purr from her side of the gargantuan towel they shared.  “It’s a good thing you had somebody to do it, because there’s no way I could have.  My arms are still sore from all that fishing.”

“Bullshit.  Your arms are sore from being on your hands and knees half the night last night,” he corrected, screwing the cap back on the bottle and setting it aside so that he could resume his sun basking position.

Rachel responded with a giggle that Betty Rubble would have envied.  “Yeah.  That probably didn’t help matters.”

“Lucky for you I plan on being too drunk to get it up tonight, and you’re off duty.”

“Excuse me?”  Rachel rolled from her back to her side, one hip burrowing into the plush terrycloth while her elbow dug in the sand so that she could prop her head up on one hand and squint at him from behind her sunglasses. “You’re planning to be too drunk to do me tonight?”

“Yep,” Jon grunted and flipped toward her in a mirror image pose before dropping a hand to the indentation at her waist. “I heard about this little place on the other side of the island, right on the beach.  Great food and music – and rumor has it they make a Mai Tai that’ll leave you with a limp dick.”

“And you’re choosing to go there for this toxic Mai Tai, thereby leaving yourself incapable of performing your manly duties?” she questioned dryly, wondering how she continued to be amazed at what men considered to be badges of honor.  In her book, a limp dick wasn’t something you actively sought, it was an unfortunate and unplanned embarrassment. 

“Mm-hmm,” he hummed without a care.  Apparently, he felt he’d been thorough enough in his manly duties so far that he could justify a night off.  “All this sea air and healthy island living is wreaking havoc on me.  It’s been far too long since I’ve had a decent hangover.  Too much fresh fruit and shit ain’t good for a man.”

“And the impotency?  How does that factor in?”  Oddly enough, she wasn’t annoyed, but merely curious as to the ways of man logic.

Jon leaned in to kiss her while giving her backside a playful squeeze.  “I’m doing you a favor, baby.  You must need a break, because you can’t seem to keep up with this ol’ man.  Complaining about your arms being sore today after bitchin’ about a crick in your neck day before yesterday.  You’re fallin’ apart on me, Rach.”

She couldn’t resist giving his nipple a little twist and laughed when he pulled away in such a way that she’d swear he was mortally wounded. 

“I had a crick in my neck because you were doing me on the floor, and I was pinned between said floor and the bathroom cabinet.  I was twisted up like a pretzel!”

“And yet,” he raised his finger to prove his point.  “When I wanted to move to the bed you refused because it felt too good to change positions.  Am I right???”

She wasn’t sure if it was the sun making her face feel suddenly hot or if she was still capable of blushing when verbally reliving the memories of their sexual exploits.  One thing was for sure – the whole-body orgasm she’d had on the floor of the catamaran had been well worth the nasty crick in her neck. 

She’d repeat that exercise today, tomorrow and every day next week if given half a chance.

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The sunset from the sandy, beachfront bar Jon had chosen for their evening meal was spectacular.  It reminded Rachel a bit of the joint they’d gone to in Turks and Caicos – casual, local and as low key as they came.  The food was fabulous and the Mai Tais every bit as lethal as they had been billed.  Complementing her rum-induced buzz was the colorful cover band giving rocking performances of everything from Rick Springfield to .38 Special to Van Halen. 

She was having a blast and, by her third Mai Tai, Rachel took notice that her cricked neck had loosened up considerably, leaving her quite free to sway her head to the music.  Then, when the bluesy guitar intro to Eric Clapton’s ‘Layla’ started, Rachel’s whole body followed suit and she found herself as relaxed as anyone could possibly be.  She lifted the glass and sipped the final drops of her cocktail, looking over the rim as Jon’s knowing eyes met hers.

‘Layla’ was a song that had good memories attached to it, and hearing it always transported her back to the summer evening at Jon’s river house in New Jersey – the evening those memories had been made.

He’d valiantly attempted to make her a meal that would charm her out of her panties, but when the lasagna came she hadn’t and was, in fact, still fully dressed.  Fortunately for both of them, his playlist had coughed up Clapton’s ‘Layla’, triggering some inexplicable force that stuffed her common sense into a locked cellar and flipped her libido switch to turbo. 

“That was some night, huh, Rach?”

Jon hadn’t interrupted her thoughts so much as he read them. 

“It sure was, baby.  As long as I live, I’ll never figure out what possessed me to be such a little trollop that night.  You put your hands on me and all reason just disappeared.”  She smiled dotingly at him.  “That sure hasn’t changed.  You get near me and I’m a mindless hussy who can’t think of anything other than your body on, in and around mine.”

“Whaddaya complainin’ about?” he asked with an intoxicated – and intoxicating – wink.  “I like you as a mindless hussy.”

The ringing of Rachel’s phone mixed with her laughter.  She wasn’t interested in talking to anyone, but she flipped the phone over from where it lay face-down on the table anyway. 

Upon reading the name and number on the screen, her smile melted away.

No, no, no.  Not now.  Don’t ruin my vacation. 

Because there was no doubt in her mind that, when Jon realized the caller’s identity…

He’s going to be beyond pissed.