With my head resting on the tiled rim of the pool, I was just drifting off to sleep when I heard the sounds of lovemaking.
Suzanne and Simon were in the adjacent villa, and apparently that was their idea of “freshening up” before dinner. I laughed into my hand and listened for a bit, noting the particular sounds of Suzanne's triumphant cries so I could tease her later.
She sounded like she was really getting it good, and my ni**les got hard, the skin on my br**sts tight. I reached down and found my pu**y hot to the touch, beneath the cool water of the pool.
The sounds of lovemaking drifted around me pleasantly and I thought about sexy Luthor Thorne, with his hungry green-brown eyes and those hands. He had working man's hands, even though he did business and spent more time on a computer keyboard than with any tools.
He was a man who knew what he wanted and took it. Being desired by him, being in Indonesia, felt so natural and right and good.
I rubbed up and down my clit, keeping my hand close to keep the chill of the pool away. I stretched out my body, enjoying the weightlessness, enjoying being utterly na**d and outdoors.
As I cl**axed, I opened my eyes and stared out at the gorgeous blue ocean. Porpoises jumped and splashed in the ocean. I was a part of nature, a part of beauty.
Dinner was fun, and I was actually glad Luthor wouldn't be there until the following afternoon. Relaxed in the tropical environment, I found myself enjoying the company of Suzanne and Simon. They kept giving each other googly eyes and flirting across the table like a couple of kids, but when they weren't trying to eye-fuck each other, they were a ton of laughs.
As the whole trip was on Mr. Thorne's tab, we didn't even look at the prices, but sampled everything interesting from the menu.
Thanks to some pamphlet-reading on the chartered plane and the extra pages within the menus, I learned that Indonesia is comprised of literally thousands of populated islands. The people love to cook with serious flavor. There's good reason the islands were famed as “the Spice Islands” back in the days before airplanes and the internet.
We sampled many vegetarian, seafood, and meat dishes, including gado-gado and nasi goreng. Everything was pungent and spicy, but the staff assured us the heat levels were designed to give flavor without burning our North American systems.
Simon fanned his mouth and washed everything down with a lot of beer, saying, “If you think it burns now, wait 'til it comes out.”
Suzanne whispered something in his ear and he blushed.
I said, “What?”
She gave me a devilish look. “I said I'd kiss it better.”
“Suze, let's not discuss analingus at the dinner table.”
This set us all off laughing hysterically. There were other couples and families in the dining room, but we were definitely the rowdy table.
That first night in Indonesia, I slept for about a million years, woke up for a pee and a glass of water, and slept for another hour.
Finally, when I could sleep no more due to being hungry, I rolled out of bed. The bed itself was King-sized, and covered in modest, almost nubby sheets. The walls of the villa that weren't glass were painted bright white, and the ceiling was thick wood beams covered by a natural, woven material. A mosquito net hung from the ceiling above the bed, all tucked away, but I hadn't seen a need for it.
The interior doors were louvered for air flow, and the villa was indeed warm, but comfortable. I had a shower in the bathroom, which was a wet-style bathroom, with no wall around the shower, just milky-blue glass tiles on every surface.
After I got dressed in a lightweight wrap dress over my bikini, I put on some makeup and tidied all of my personal effects so Mr. Thorne wouldn't think I was messy. As a professional organizer by trade, you might assume I had travel-sized supplies of everything and a neat compartment-style makeup kit. You'd be right. I sure did. But I'm as prone as anyone else to spreading my junk everywhere and messing up a nice hotel room within minutes. There's just something about a pristine environment that makes our suitcases explode with exuberance, isn't there?
I straightened out the bed and thought about what might happen there that night. The idea of seeing Luthor Thorne made me tingle with excitement. He was so cute and funny that day he'd been up on his ladder outside his mansion, trying to pass himself off as a gardener. Then, at the dark restaurant, he'd been sweet, asking me about my mother, of all things, and listening as I talked about my day sorting collectibles, as though he was genuinely interested. Maybe he was interested, or maybe this was just about sex.
Perhaps, to him, I was like Mrs. Chong's precious limited edition porcelain figures. A possession. A thing of comfort.
I wondered if he'd left the restaurant so abruptly because it had evolved into something more than just sex. I really didn't know much about the guy, except that he had an amazing body, a gorgeous cock, and I enjoyed him ordering me around.
One day at a time. One night at a time.
I joined Simon and Suzanne for breakfast, and we made our way down to the dock and onto the boat for our welcome dive. The coral reef, called the home reef, was all around us, and we didn't need to take the boat anywhere for a dive, but the guides wanted to take us to a specific spot someone had requested.
Up until then, I'd figured the coral reef was homogenous, and you'd have pretty much the same critters everywhere, but someone on the boat requested a specific fish, and the guides wanted to take us to where we'd have a stronger chance of seeing one. The gentleman who'd made the request showed me a picture on his phone. The fish had really buggy eyes and a funny face. The guy's wife, on the other hand, only cared about “the fish from Finding Nemo,” and went on and on, calling it that instead of by its proper name, clown fish. Pretty soon, everyone on the boat was talking about “the Finding Nemo fish,” much to the annoyance of the diving guides.
I'd been diving before, but it had been a couple of years. Simon and Suzanne dove on their honeymoon, so they weren't nervous at all. As we put on the equipment, my heart started to thrum nervously. Everyone else on the boat that day was an old pro compared to me. A few of the guys had elaborate underwater camera equipment. They were as calm as people taking a bus to the mall.
Once I was in the water, though, my fears slipped away. Down we went, under the sea.
We swam past frilly things that looked like brains and other things that look like lettuce. We saw bobtail squid, pygmy seahorses, starfish, damselfish, yellow tang, and more. Then Nemo himself popped out from some coral—a whole bunch of Nemos, as in clown fish—and the group collectively lost their minds, with everyone waving and pointing.