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Subject: {ASSM} "Tropic of Eros" Chapter 14 M/F, F/F
Date: Tue, 25 Nov 2003 15:10:03 -0500
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<1st attachment, "tropic14.txt" begin>
(Tropic14.TXT)
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"Tropic of Eros" - Chapter 14 of ??
|| (M/F, F/F and just about everything else) (\_=_/)
(:\Oo/:)
Written by: HighlanderJM - (c) 1998-2004 < _ ->
E-mail: HighlanderJM@hotmail.com ^ ^
Chat: http://messenger.msn.com - HighlanderJM@hotmail.com
Archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/HighlanderJM/
==---- -- -- -- - --- -- -- - - --- -- -- --- -- - - - - --- -- ----==
"Here baby... let me get that for you," Trish said to
Lindsay, motioning for the young and docile 18-year-old to
stay seated at the breakfast bar counter within the kitchen.
I stood at the entranceway of the kitchen and watched as
Trish scurried over to the utensil drawer and fetched a
spoon. Then, she returned to Lindsay and gave it to her.
"I really hope you like it," Trish commented, as Lindsay
used the spoon to take a sample taste of a banana split ice
cream sundae. Trish seemed so worried that Lindsay was
satisfied with the dessert she had prepared for her that she
clasped both hands together and held them near her chin.
Intrigued, I took a step further into the kitchen, although
neither woman was aware of my presence yet.
After several seconds of indecision, Lindsay finally
nodded her head and smiled up at Trish. "Hmmmmm... yummy.
It tastes delicious, Trish. Thank you!"
Trish clapped her hands together and even squealed with
delight because Lindsay had given her a positive reaction.
Perhaps I was reading too deep into this, but it appeared
to me that Trish was only happy when Lindsay had a smile
upon her face. That was a good mindset to have - I was only
happy when Pamela had a smile on her face as well - but
Trish, it seemed, had taken things to a much higher extreme.
Just the worried expression Trish displayed before Lindsay
tried the ice cream sundae, to the look of sudden, absolute
joy just seconds later after being given a good answer was
the barometer that I was using. In my eyes, at least, it
was not healthy for Trish - or anyone else, for that matter -
to be THAT dependant on making another person happy over
something so trivial and simple as an ice cream sundae.
As Lindsay continued to enjoy the afternoon dessert,
Trish wrapped both arms around the 18-year-old from behind
and squeezed lovingly. She even burrowed the side of her
face between Lindsay's shoulder blades and softly cooed,
"You are so beautiful, baby. Hmmmmm... so precious."
Lindsay's reaction was, very simply, no reaction. She
simply continued to eat her banana split ice cream sundae
as Trish poured all sorts of love and affection upon her.
Suddenly, I remembered something Amy had said to me just
this past Monday when I brought the subject of these two
ladies up during our discussion. "Trish is in love with
Lindsay. Not the other way around."
I was starting to think that, perhaps, Amy's remark had
some merit. For the past couple of days, at least, Lindsay
seemed mostly indifferent around Trish unless the voluptuous
Canadian was kissing her, or having sex with her. If this
truly was the case, what did Amy base her comment on? Was
it something about their relationship that she inferred
herself? Or did Lindsay tell Amy that?
Trish was looking for love, and a bona-fide commitment.
Lindsay, it seemed, just wanted to have sex.
"Oh, hi Jeremy!" Trish exclaimed, full of her usual zest
and energy, as she spotted me standing near the entranceway
of the kitchen. As Lindsay flashed me a charming smile of
her own, Trish motioned for me to come closer and join them.
"Would you like an ice cream?" she asked. "Ice creams are
my specialty. I can fix any type of ice cream you want."
"No, I'm fine, thank you," I responded, the thoughts of
these two women and the true status of their relationship
still dominating my mind. Unfortunately, it appeared as if
Trish may have been headed toward a major fall. She LOVED
Lindsay and was obviously entertaining thoughts of spending
the absolute rest of her life with her. But Lindsay had a
different agenda, and very different ideas.
"Are you sure you don't want some ice cream?"
"Yes, I'm sure," I told Trish. "Thank you anyway."
Trish smiled and hugged Lindsay from behind once again,
then pecked her on the cheek with a kiss. "After you finish
your sundae, baby, how about you and me go back to the
recreation room? We can play some more video games. I
know how much you enjoy that car racing game."
Lindsay placed her spoon down and turned to look back at
Trish. "I already have plans with Amy for today." Trish
was crestfallen as Lindsay added, "I am going to meet her at
two o'clock and we are going to go horseback riding."
Trish's eyes narrowed. "Can I go with you?"
Lindsay glanced over at me. "There are only two horses
on the island... right? Smokin' Satin Bars and Blakken?"
"Yes," I nodded.
Lindsay turned her attention back toward Trish. "Jeremy
and Kristanna said that me and Amy could borrow their horses
and go riding throughout the forest. Only two horses..."
Trish was defeated. "Oh... okay."
Needless to say, I felt sorry for Trish. Her little baby
had made plans for the day which did not involve her. I
frowned as Trish took a step back, her expression empty and
emotionless. I wanted to give her a hug, but held back.
"I don't see why two of you could not ride one of the
horses at once," I offered. "That way, all three of you
could go out riding together."
Trish closed her eyes and sighed. "No... it's okay."
After putting on a happy face which was not sincere, Trish
kissed Lindsay on the cheek and murmured, "I really hope you
and Amy have a good time together, baby." Trish's pretty
mouth twitched as she added, "Maybe you and me can hook up
after dinner. Want to play some video games then? I know
how much you love playing X-Box and Playstation 2."
"We can hook up after dinner, sure," Lindsay answered.
Now, Trish appeared genuinely happy again. "But I rather
not play video games," Lindsay added. "I want to play with
Mr. Happy instead... if you know what I mean."
As the 28-year-old nodded her head and giggled in total
agreement, I had a sudden flashback to their first evening
on the island when I eavesdropped on Trish and _Mr. Happy_ -
a white vibrator, or magic wand. Clearly, Lindsay had been
properly introduced to Trish's joy-toy otherwise known as
Mr. Happy. She wanted Trish to use it on her tonight!
"Hey kiddo," Amy said to Lindsay, walking right past me
and into the kitchen. Amy did give me a little wave of the
hand, though, but her focus here was obviously Lindsay. "I
thought we would get an early start on our horseback ride."
Amy glanced at her wristwatch. "'Tis one-thirty. Kristanna
has both of the horses ready for us."
"Sounds great!" Lindsay gushed, already rising from the
stool seat at the breakfast bar. "Let's go."
"Hey!" Trish exclaimed, causing Lindsay to hesitate and
turn back toward her. "You didn't finish your ice cream..."
"Oh, I'm not really that hungry anyway," Lindsay mused,
stepping toward Trish and kissing her on the cheek. "Thank
you for the thought, though. It was nice."
Amy grasped Lindsay's hand and gently tugged her away
from Trish. As Amy then guided Lindsay out of the kitchen,
she looked back and waved her hand about in a friendly
manner. "Bye Trish. Bye Jeremy. Later..."
Once Lindsay was clearly gone from our view, Trish took a
deep, ragged breath, and then hung her head low. She turned
her back to me and picked up the spoon Lindsay had just been
using. After inspecting it with her eyes for five seconds,
Trish angrily threw the spoon into the nearby kitchen sink.
The loud _clanking_ noise it made as a result startled me.
"Hey... are you okay?" I asked, stepping toward her.
When Trish turned to face me, there were tears in her eyes.
I quickly closed the distance between us and placed both
hands upon her shoulders. "Hey... what's wrong?"
Trying her best not to cry, Trish flailed her right hand
up-and-down several times in succession. "L-Lindsay... I-I
can't believe that she... she d-discarded me like that."
"She did not DISCARD you," I countered. "Lindsay just
wanted to go out horseback riding with Amy. Both of them
asked me before breakfast this morning if they could borrow
our horses for a couple of hours. They had it planned. One
thing that Lindsay absolutely loves is horseback riding."
"Oh, I know..." Trish sulked, hanging her head low again.
She sniffed her nose and added, "I just think... that... me
and Lindsay should be together. I want to be with h-her."
"I want to be with Pamela, dear. Pamela wants to be with
me. But we don't try to monopolize each other's time."
Trish glared at me with an angry look in her eyes as I went
on, "I know that you are head-over-heels in love with
Lindsay." Trish's expression changed to one of curiosity.
"That... it's... it's so obvious. You love her. Everyone
on the island knows it. Everyone talks about it."
"Lindsay is everything that I have ever wanted in a girl,"
Trish confided in me. "I... I can't explain it. I know I
have only known her for two weeks. Less than two weeks,
even. But I dreamed about it. I never thought I would find
it. The absolute, PERFECT girl. Her hair, her eyes, her
body, her voice... her attitude, personality, demeanor. I
never thought I would find the girl I had dreamed about for
so long. Then... then I met Lindsay in Miami."
"Before you flew to Peru." I gulped.
"If you find the ultimate, perfect girl, Jeremy, you have
to latch onto her," Trish quaked. "I feel that way about
Lindsay. You probably feel that way about Pamela."
"Sweetheart, you are a LOT older than Lindsay is." I
could not believe I had just said that. I was older than
Trish herself, yet I did not like to think there was that
much of an age difference between Lindsay and me. Yet,
those words had come out of my mouth anyway. Unbelievable...
"I don't care how young Lindsay is!" Trish exclaimed. "I
love her! And I want to be with her!" Trish shook her head.
"Stephanie was feeding me that same line of garbage just the
other day. I'm ten years older than Lindsay. 28 to 18.
Big deal! When I am 68, Lindsay will be 58. Do you think
that's a big age difference? No, you don't. But because we
are younger, everyone wants to jump on me about our ages.
First Stephanie and now you, Jeremy." Glaring at me, Trish
folded both arms in front of her and took a step back. She
was boiling with anger for me.
"I am not trying to tell you how to live your life," I
implored, still gripping her shoulders. "I think it is
wonderful that you love and care so deeply for Lindsay. I
don't want to see you get hurt, Trish. That's all. Lindsay
is a lot younger than you are. She just lost her virginity
what... ten days ago. Point is, I don't think Lindsay wants
the same things out of life right now that you do."
"What do you mean?"
"I don't think Lindsay wants to settle down and enter into
any sort of commitment," I answered. "In fact, I know that
she doesn't, Lindsay told me that herself, Trish. I know
for a fact that she also told you the same thing."
Trish closed her eyes and sighed once again. "I heard
her talk about that before. But I'm hoping that if I treat
her well... if I... if I show her how much I love her, and
how happy I could make her... she will change her mind." A
tear even streaked from Trish's right eye as she told me,
"You can constantly reach for the stars, Jeremy, but maybe
just once in your life do you actually have a chance to
grab one. I got my star now. It's Lindsay."
I gulped my throat. "I don't want to see you get hurt.
You're hurt now, Trish. You're crying."
She stepped away from me and whined, "I'm only hurt now
because I went to all that trouble with the ice cream, but
Lindsay treated it like it was nothing, and went with Amy."
"Lindsay and Amy are friends," I stressed. "They live
just miles apart in the Cincinnati area. They have a lot in
common. Lindsay is young. She wants to explore." Trish
was pouting at me now. She did not particularly care for
what I was saying to her. "May I give you some advice?"
"Sure."
"If you want Lindsay to feel the same for you that you do
for her, then... then don't suffocate her. I want to spend
all of my time with Pamela, Trish. I really do. I... I want
to suffocate her. But I won't. I can't. If you take every
minute of someone's life and try to make it your own, it will
only lead to you getting hurt, and a broken heart."
"I spend time away from Lindsay," Trish insisted. "I go
to the central room and spar with Kristanna every morning."
"That only lasts for a short time," I told her. "The rest
of the day, you are Lindsay's shadow. Give her some space.
Give her room to breathe. Maybe she will... maybe one day,
Lindsay will feel the same for you as you do her."
"No one could make that girl happier than me. No one."
"Trish!..." I pleaded with her.
* * *
Worries about Trish were swirling throughout my mind as I
sat upon the sun-drenched beach on this Sunday afternoon.
Several hours after my discussion in the kitchen with Trish
ended, the incoming tide was not as high today as it usually
was. Still, the tranquil sound of the incoming waves as they
rolled onto the beach was most relaxing. There was not a
single cloud in the sky; it was blue for as far as the eye
could see. The air was soft and pure, and had that tropical
smell to it which I found so very intoxicating.
If I were to turn and listen carefully, I could hear the
island's biggest waterfall - which was a majestic sight to
behold - in the distance. The scene was so very peaceful
and languid here that it could easily put me to sleep.
The island really had a lot to offer. In addition to the
sprawling beaches and various waterfalls, there was the sheer
beauty of the forest, the grandeur of a dormant volcano and
the picturesque views atop high-steeped peaks and cliffs.
But not many things could compare to the beaches, which
were a wonderful place to heal jaggled nerves. I could sit
here for hours and simply meditate, and feel much better
because of it. If I were to stay here all day long, I would
later witness the sun sinking into the Pacific Ocean amidst
a blaze of glorious tropical colors. That was, without a
doubt, the most stunning sight of all on the island.
"Vat are yew doing?"
I had been relaxing and was so much at ease with myself
that I did not even realize that I had company until those
words were spoken. The sound startled me, but I smiled
after turning my head and noticing that the beautiful and
charming Kristanna had decided to grace me with her presence.
Dressed in a multi-colored bikini top and a grass skirt,
Kristanna looked like a true islander. She even had a ring
of pretty flowers in her hair, giving her that impression
even more. I just had to give her a second smile, based on
her physical appearance and the way she was dressed.
"I'm just enjoying the day, sweetheart," I quietly said,
answering her question. Kristanna took a seat beside me on
the beach as I added, "Is there anything not to enjoy here?"
"It sure be beautiful," Kristanna told me, gazing out into
the open ocean. "I can see vy yew never vant to leave dis
place, ya." She linked her left arm with my right, and then
spoke in that sultry accent of hers, "Pamela has been asking
a lot of questions about yew. Da udder night, today, all of
last veek. Dat girl is trying to pick me brain about yew."
"What have you been telling her about me?"
Kristanna smiled. "Da trood. So all good dings. Pamela
is in love vid yew, crazy Jeremy."
"Crazy Jeremy?" I shrugged my shoulders. Kristanna was
a comedian and liked to throw little digs in like that every
now and then. I absolutely loved her personality.
"Is Pamela da girl dat yew see yewrself marrying?"
I smiled because of her question. "Yes, I think so. I
am not proposing to her yet by any means. But I can see
myself marrying Pamela in the future. She is special."
"Vat about Devvy?" Kristanna wondered. "She is vild and
crazy over yew too, Jeremy. I dink Devvy is a little hurt
because yew have been paying attention to Pamela recently."
"Devon is a sweetheart," I nodded. "I had an incredible
evening with her. You and I had a memorable time with her
on the beach that one day. I know that Devon likes me. I
also know that Amy likes me."
"Amy is older version of Lindsay," Kristanna observed.
"Lindsay may be all sveet and innocent today, but ten years
from now, she vill be rough around da edges yust like Amy.
I am glad yew are not dinking of Lindsay or Amy as yewr
possible choice anymore, Mister Jeremy. I am not sure yew
vant slut puppy like dem as yewr vife. Amy is slut puppy.
Lindsay is da slut puppy in training."
"But I like Amy, and her look," I countered. "She is my
bad girl fantasy come to life. Lindsay is my good girl
fantasy come to life. And the likes of Devon, Pamela and
Trish are my absolute dream girl fantasies come to life.
One of them, though, stands out from the rest."
Kristanna hesitated before asking, "Vare do I fit in?"
I smiled at her. "You're my best friend come to life."
Kristanna made a face and shook her head in response.
"Istedenfor å bekymre deg over alle disse jentene, burde du
forstå at jeg elsker deg og at jeg ville bli den beste konen
du noengang ville få. Du har bare ikke forstått det ennå."
I laughed and waved a playful fist at her. "WHY DO YOU
DO THAT TO ME?" Still laughing, I shook my head. "I cannot
understand a word you say when you start talking Norwegian."
I did, however, catch those three magic words once again -
_jeg elsker deg_ (or, _I love you_ in her language). Perhaps
it was taken out of context during that long quote, but the
question definitely begged an answer. Did Kristanna love me?
Was she in love with me? We had been best friends for years.
If Kristanna loved me, why hadn't she come forward about
it? Why did she help me bring all these other women to the
island in the first place? That confused me most of all.
"If yew vant to know vat I say about yew, Jeremy, ven I
talk me language, den learn me language!" she suggested.
"Norvegian is language of love. It best language in vorld!"
I laughed at her broken English. "Since when is Norwegian
the language of love, dear? I thought that was French."
"Not anymore," she advised me, grinning. "Yew have dought
of every girl as possible vife for yew with lone exception of
Stephanie. Yew do not like her, or someding?"
"I like Stephanie a lot, but I have the same problem with
her as I did the last time you and I talked about her," were
my words. "I have hardly had any time with Stephanie yet.
We went diving, I guess, but that was nothing since we were
underwater. I haven't had any time alone with Stephanie.
It is hard to have feelings for someone you hardly know."
"Yew and I know each udder VERY well," Kristanna mused.
"But it okay, Jeremy. Me dinks dat Stephanie is much more
into girls dan she is into guys. Dat me opinion."
"You don't think Stephanie likes men?"
"No, I did not say dat," Kristanna countered, shaking her
head. "I said I dink she is more into girls dan guys. She
may like guys but she like girls a vull lot more, ya."
I shrugged my shoulders. "I can't blame her for that. I
find women totally irresistible. I love all of them."
"Me too," the quirky blonde giggled. "Me too."
"Who is your favorite of the girls, Krissy? You have
been here more than a week now. Should have a good idea."
"I like Devvy da most," Kristanna answered. "Dat sexy
ding. She be so pretty, so sveet, so friendly."
"Does she know how you feel about her?"
"Not yet," Kristanna said. "I dink dat she still has her
eyes set on yew, Jeremy. I know she does. Pamela or not,
Devvy is not looking at anyone udder dan yew for romance
right now. I certainly understand vare she is coming from."
"What do you mean?"
"Dat girl is really crazy over yew," Kristanna reiterated.
"Devvy also vanted to know of vays to get on yewr good side
ven I vas talking to her. She told me dat she does not like
da idea of Pamela manipulating yewr time."
"Manipulating my time?" I exclaimed.
"Manipulate vas a bad vord for me to use," Kristanna said.
"Devvy does not like Pamela taking yewr time. Yew have spent
more time vid Pamela and Amy dan any udder voman here duss
far. Devvy vants to be vid yew, Jeremy. She vants to talk
to yew and get to know yew yust like Pamela does." Kristanna
smiled and added, "Dat sexy ding. Devvy is SOOOOO hot."
"Have you thought about hooking up with Devon?"
Kristanna smiled again. "I like Devvy a vull lot and I
dink she likes me too. But da vay dat Devvy likes yew,
Jeremy, is beyond anyding. Dat girl is crazy for yew."
"If Devon likes me so much, Kristanna, why doesn't she
let me know? I mean, she opened up a little bit that time
we were together in my room. But I haven't heard much of
anything from her since. If Devon is so interested in me...
why doesn't she let me know? Why isn't she going after me
hard and heavy like Pamela is?"
"Dare are a couple of reasons," the Norwegian responded.
"One, she dinks dat yew are far more interested in Pamela
dan yew are her. Devvy also dinks yew like Amy more. Two,
she is under constant verbal barrage from Stephanie. Devvy
says dat Stephanie is alvays telling her to take it slow.
Stephanie dinks dat Devvy vill scare yew off if she lets yew
know how crazy she is over yew. She tells her to go slow."
"Devon told all of this to you?"
"Devvy come to me for advice," Kristanna said, her accent
forcing a chuckle out of me.
"What did you tell her?"
"I told her to be honest and straightforvard vid yew. I
said dat yew vant someone voo is going to speak dare mind.
Dare is no reason for Devvy to be apprehensive around yew."
Kristanna took a deep breath, then sighed. "Devvy is such a
sveet, nice girl, Jeremy. I know dat Pamela has kind of
blown yewr socks off. Amy, vell... she..."
"Amy has blown other things off," I interjected, grinning.
"Dat is true," Kristanna laughed. "But Devvy is such a
sveet girl. She really, really likes yew, Jeremy. I know
dat Pamela and Amy have caught yewr eyes da most duss far.
All I ask is dat yew do not forget about Devvy. She may not
give you a lap dance like Pamela, or vant to have sex all
night like Amy. Devvy yust vants to love yew, Jeremy."
"Amy is an incredible woman, Kristanna, but I am not
looking at her as a potential soul-mate right now," was my
admission. "Amy is like a pornstar come to life for me.
She is a _predator_. I would put Trish and Lindsay ahead of
Amy right now. Devon too, of course. I had a wonderful
time with Devon her first week here. There was candlelight,
we danced, we made love. Besides that, and the three-some
we had on the beach with you days later, Devon has not
approached me at all. Pamela has. Amy has. Even Lindsay."
"Devvy is listening too much to Stephanie," Kristanna
quipped. "I also dink dat Devvy is afraid dat she vill fall
deeper in love vid yew, but den yew decide yew like Pamela
or Amy more dan her. Devvy does not vant to get hurt."
"Is she jealous of Pamela and Amy?" I wondered. "They
had a mighty three-way the other night at the outdoor spa.
Devon seemed to get along fine with Pamela and Amy. And
during the gang-bang, there was no problems then, either."
"I do not dink she is one bit jealous, or angry at dem,"
Kristanna answered. "She yust vants yew to notice her."
Kristanna paused, then grinned at me. "I yust vant yew to
be happy, Jeremy. Yew have many beautiful, sveet, smart
girls here now. Yew are like kid in candy store. I vant
yew to make right decision on voo yewr dream voman is. I am
not saying dat Devvy is da girl for yew. But I do dink dat
out of all the girls yew and me brought here, Jeremy, Devvy
vould care and love yew more dan any of da udders could."
"More than Pamela?"
"More dan Pamela," Kristanna confirmed. "Call me crazy,
but I dink dat Devvy and yew make really awesome couple."
"You must really like her to go to bat for her like this."
"Devvy is, by far, da sexiest voman I have ever been vid,"
the 24-year-old offered. "Out of all da vomen I have had in
me life, Devvy puts dem to shame. ALL of dem. She even more
hot and sexy dan Helga, voo vas my favorite girlfriend."
"I really appreciate your help, Kristanna," I told her.
"It is so good for me to be able to talk about everything
that is going on in my life right now. I need your advice,
your input. Keep telling me what you think and see when it
comes to the other girls. I need your help."
Kristanna patted me on the shoulder with her left hand.
"I am more dan happy to help yew, Jeremy. Yew know dat."
I looked into her eyes and mused, "You know what else?"
"Vat?"
"Amy told me that she thinks YOU are in love with me,
too." Kristanna smirked as I asked, "Is that true?"
"Din galning. Jeg har alltid elsket deg."
I stared at Kristanna for a moment, confused, but then
sighed and shook my head. "What did you say?"
"Din galning. Jeg har alltid elsket deg."
I glared at her intently. "What does that mean?"
Kristanna rolled her eyes and offered me a playful grin.
"It means... _din galning_. _Jeg har alltid elsket deg_."
Now, I felt exasperated. "English please?"
"OHHHHH!" Kristanna exclaimed, laughing. "Yew vant it in
English? Vell, it vill cost yew 300 kroner."
"300 kroner?"
Kristanna giggled again, simply being her comical self.
"Yew know dat translation is a big money business, Jeremy.
I vill translate for yew if you pay me 300 kroner."
I folded my arms and tilted my head at her. "I don't
have any of your crazy Norwegian money."
Kristanna shrugged her shoulders and grinned. "Oh vell.
Looks like yew are out of luck, den." Kristanna curled her
left arm around my right elbow and placed the side of her
face upon my shoulder. She gazed out at the ocean and cooed,
"Stay vid me here for avile, Jeremy. Please? It be so
peaceful and relaxing here. Stay vid me."
Smiling, I planted a kiss upon the crown of Kristanna's
head. "Of course, sweetheart. As long as you want me to."
"For evig..."
I laughed again. Kristanna and her Norwegian language!
Wait a minute! That sounded like _forever_... didn't it?
* * *
"Oh my..." I said much later that evening, as when I was
in the middle of finishing up the dishes here in the kitchen,
I turned and was graced with the vision of pure loveliness
otherwise known as Pamela. My Heaven-sent angel was decked
out in a long-sleeved button-up blouse, its color white, and
a pair of blue jeans. Her simple, yet very attractive outfit
was topped off with black sandals (and no socks). No amount
of words could ever emphasize just how insanely gorgeous and
beautiful this woman truly was. Pamela was a _goddess_.
"Hi honey... I'm home," Pamela greeted me, her head tilted
to the side. She sashayed over to me and grasped both of my
hands with her own. The 28-year-old even brought one of them
to her mouth and kissed it gently. "Did I thank Louisa for
dinner? I just love spaghetti."
"You thanked her four or five times."
Pamela pointed toward the remaining dishes that were in
the kitchen sink. "I can't believe you enjoy doing dishes,
Jeremy. I never thought anyone who had two billion dollars
to their name would like washing dishes. People with two
dollars to their name hate them. Two cents..."
"I told you, sweetheart, that when I lived in New Jersey,
I used to work at _Kentucky Fried Chicken_. It was back in
the day - when I was still in high school. But each night I
worked, I did all the dishes. For whatever reason, I loved
it. People I worked with, they got out of my way each night
and let me do them. They all hated doing the dishes. It
was either do the dishes or mop the dining room floor." I
paused, then again took in the sight of Pamela in the white
blouse and blue jeans. "Do you know that you're beautiful?"
Pamela smiled and glanced downward for a moment.
"I think you look better in simple, regular clothes than
you do in one of your minidresses or lingerie outfits."
"Now NO ONE has ever said that to me before!"
I laughed at her and shrugged my shoulders in response.
"What can I say? I'm a unique guy."
"Can I tell you something, Jeremy?"
"You can tell me anything."
Pamela smiled. "I cannot believe that I am about to say
this, because we never wound up having sex. But last night
was... it was the most incredible night of my life."
"How so?"
"We sat in the movie theater and talked for _six hours_,"
Pamela explained. "Never before in my life has anyone been
THAT interested in me and what I think, what I have to say.
You... you even refused to have sex with me, Jeremy. You
wanted to TALK, and get to know me better." Pamela lowered
her head. "I've been a stripper for nine years. Everyone
who has seen me, I'm just a... just a th-thing to th-them."
"What?" I countered, disagreeing, placing both hands upon
Pamela's shoulders and glaring into her eyes.
Pamela shook her head. "You made me feel so special last
night, Jeremy. So special. To be able to sit and just talk,
just be myself. Not have to worry about putting on a show
and impressing a customer, coaxing a lap dance out of them.
We talked for six hours." When tears formed in Pamela's
eyes, she quickly hid her face from me. "You h-held my
ha-hand, k-kissed it. Told me that you l-l-love me..."
I latched onto Pamela's hands and brought each of them to
my lips, then kissed them. "I do love you, Pamela. I think
you are so special." I placed two fingers upon her chin and
gently nudged it upward. "Look at me."
When she did, I realized that Pamela's pretty brown eyes
were saturated with tears. She was close to breaking down
completely. "N-No one, J-Jeremy, has ever s-said the things
to me that you do. No one has ever wanted to ta-talk like
you d-do. No one has ever made me feel so very sp-special
and... and alive." Pamela's inner defense lost its battle as
she began to cry. Her voice was weak as she pined, "Do you
know how l-long I've been searching for a m-man like y-you?"
Instead of replying verbally, I simply brought Pamela into
my arms and allowed her to cry upon my shoulder.
It was fairly obvious that due to her job, Pamela looked
at herself as nothing more than an object. An object of
great desire, indeed, but an object, nevertheless. This
might sound strange, but Pamela - an exquisite, breathtaking
woman - seemed to be lacking self-confidence. I will even
speculate that Pamela did not have a high opinion of herself.
Because of how others had looked at her for so long - or
how she THOUGHT they looked at her - Pamela found it very
difficult to believe that someone (namely me) could have
such sincere feelings for her. That someone could look into
those amazing eyes of hers and say, in all honesty, that she
was a special person. An angel. A dream come true.
It took 28 years, but it seemed as if Pamela had finally
found what she had been searching for - a person who thought
that she was more beautiful on the inside than the outside.
Perhaps it was a fantasy of hers that she felt would never
come true. But now that it had, the realization was too
much for her to handle. Pamela, who seemed so strong-willed,
was crying tears of joy upon my shoulder right now.
"Shhhhh," I consoled her, kissing the crown of her head.
"You're not a stripper anymore. You'll never have to expose
and degrade yourself again in front of strangers who have no
business being around an intelligent, classy woman like you.
I don't want you to think of yourself as a stripper anymore,
Pamela. Not as long as you are in my life, at least."
Still sobbing, Pamela squealed as I placed my hands upon
her waist and lifted her upward, then set her down upon the
kitchen countertop. Pamela's thighs parted once I stepped in
and kissed her flush on the mouth as she sat on the counter.
With my left hand on her knee and my right clutching one
of her own, I broke the kiss with Pamela and offered her a
heartwarming and genuine smile. "I have a nickname for you.
It just came to me. This will be your nickname from now on."
Pamela dabbed her eyes with a paper towel. "What is it?"
I smiled at her. "Princess. You're my princess."
Although she seemed to appreciate the new pet name I had
given her, Pamela was silent for several seconds. She then
forged a smile and said, "Princess, huh? Well, you are my
snookie wookum weetie bunny bear!"
"What?" I exclaimed, my eyes wide.
Pamela giggled at my animated reaction. "Yes! You are
my one and only SNOOKIE WOOKUM WEETIE BUNNY BEAR! Snookie!"
I grasped Pamela's waist with my hands once again and then
pulled her down from the countertop. I found her lips with
my own for yet another kiss and smiled warmly at her. "I'll
be your snookers wooky... whatever you said, Pamela. I will
be anything that you want me to be." I placed my hands upon
her chin and tenderly stroked her lips with my thumbs before
finding her mouth for one more loving, compassionate kiss.
"Will you be something for me, princess?"
"What do you want me to be?"
"My girl," I whispered. "I want you to be _my girl_."
Pamela glanced downward for an instant and giggled, then
looked up and made eye contact with me. "I already am your
girl. I already am..." There was a momentary stretch of
silence between us, but Pamela soon grinned as she reached
around my body and pulled the plug in the sink full of water.
"Listen up, dish-pan hands," Pamela announced. "The rest of
the dishes can wait until tomorrow. You belong to ME for the
remainder of the evening. No more dishes for you tonight."
I smiled at her. "Do you want to have another one of our
world-famous discussions?"
Pamela shook her head in response. "No, not tonight. I
want to have sex with you, Jeremy." My eyes went wide at
the prospects as Pamela added, "You are not going to deny me
like you did last night in the movie theater. Although I
loved talking with you like we did, I'm feeling frisky now.
I want to have sex with you tonight for HOURS!"
"Sweetheart, we don't HAVE to have sex..."
"But I want to have sex with you!" Pamela insisted. "Do
you have something against having sex with me, Jeremy? You
did not want it last night. Now, you're telling me that we
do not HAVE to have it. If any of the other girls said they
wanted to have sex with you like I just did, you'd already
be half-undressed. Kristanna, Devon, especially Lindsay..."
Pamela folded her arms and offered me a disapproving glare.
"Is there something wrong with me?"
"There is NOTHING wrong with you, Pamela," I implored.
"My God... you are so beautiful! Nothing wrong at all!"
"Then why don't you want to have sex with me?"
"I never said that."
"Well... you sure are acting like it!"
I took a deep breath and sighed, then shook my head. "I
look at you differently than I do the other girls, Pamela.
You're a princess to me. I just... I don't know."
"What?" she demanded.
"I know what you have been through over the past nine
years," I frowned, referring to her profession. "I saw a
bunch of customer comments about you on the website for the
strip club that you work for. One of them was from someone
who apologized because another person at a party you danced
at apparently made rude and classless remarks toward you."
Pamela shrugged her shoulders. "That sort of thing is
nothing new. It happens all of the time to me."
"It doesn't happen to you!" I told her, my voice firm and
strong. "Not you. It shouldn't happen to you. You are TOO
GOOD, Pamela. Too good of a person to be treated with
anything other than total respect and dignity."
"Jeremy, I've been a stripper for nine years," she said.
"It kind of goes with the territory."
"I don't care if you've been a stripper for 90 years," I
countered. "No one treats you with disrespect. No one!"
Pamela shrugged her shoulders and offered me a quizzical
expression. "What does this have to do with you not wanting
to have sex with me? Or at least balking at the idea?"
I took a few seconds before answering, "I don't want you
to have even a FLEETING THOUGHT of me as one of those jerks
and perverts you have put up with for so long." I paused,
contemplating what I should tell her next. "I don't know,
Pamela. I could lose myself in you and your body. I really
could. I just... I don't want you to think that I look at
you as an object. I don't want you to think that sex is all
that matters to me. But you're so... you're so beautiful.
I'm afraid I could get lost in you. Addicted to you. I
would not be able to control myself. Then you might start
to think that I'm after you because of your body."
I could not believe the things that I saying to Pamela
right now. Remarkably, I was not finished yet, either.
"For as beautiful as you are on the outside, Pamela, I
think you are a million times more beautiful on the inside."
The 28-year-old brought both hands to her mouth and covered
it in momentary shock as I continued, "I could do nothing
but sit and talk with you for a whole year, sweetheart, and
be happy. Hold your hand and make you smile, make you laugh.
Just talk. That would make _ME_ happy. I would not need to
have sex with you. All I really need is to be with you."
"Do you WANT to have sex with me, Jeremy?"
"Of course I do!" I told her. "I want to worship your
body from head to toe. It's a work of total perfection."
Pamela nodded her head as if she was slowly but surely
putting the pieces of the puzzle together. "But you are
worried that if you have sex with me, I will eventually
start to think it is all that you want?"
I felt small. Inferior. "Yes..."
Pamela laughed. "You're one-of-a-kind, Jeremy."
"Just... you were a stripper for so long," I added. "You
exposed and degraded yourself to hundreds of thousands of
men over the past decade. You hated the job, but you loved
the money. I have this little quirk about you, Pamela. I
like you with your clothes on. I really do. I don't like
you taking your clothes off because I know, no matter what,
it makes you think about your job. And you hate your job.
I want you to have happy thoughts when you're with me."
Pamela tilted her head to the side and spoke in a gentle
tone, "Can I tell you something, Jeremy?"
"Anything..."
"My body is 50 percent of who I am," she commented. "My
inside - my heart, my soul, my demeanor - it is the other 50
percent of who I am. IF you want to love me, Jeremy, and me
to love you, you HAVE to love and want _100 percent_ of me."
"I do love and want 100 percent of you."
"Not only do you need to want it," she said, "but you also
need to have it. You need to TAKE it." Pamela smiled and
kissed me on the bridge of my nose. "You are so sweet, dear
Jeremy. So incredibly sweet. I have never met a man like
you. Ever." She smiled again. "I know the type of person
that you are. I know you are interested in me as an actual
human being. No one has ever treated me the way you do. No
one has ever said the things to me that you do. No one has
ever made me feel more special than you do."
Pamela planted a kiss on my cheek this time. "But it's
okay to want me, to desire me... to take me. It is okay to
have sex with me." She shrugged her shoulders. "I want to
have sex with you, Jeremy. More important than that, though,
I want YOU to _WANT_ to have sex with ME. I want you to be
absolutely, 100 percent comfortable around me. There is no
need for you to have any _quirks_ about me. No need for you
to be scared or insecure about how I may perceive you if you,
all of a sudden, become a sex maniac." Pamela smiled and
offered me a warm embrace. "If that happens, I will know
that no matter what, you're still Jeremy. You're still this
great and wonderful man who cares about me and what I have to
say, to think. Above all else, you are still the man of my
dreams. The man I want to spend the rest of my life with."
I was speechless! No one had ever said anything so
poignant and touching about me to my face before. No one!
Pamela released me from her arms and offered a soothing
smile. "I want you to think about what I said to you. It
is 8:30 right now, Jeremy. At ten o'clock, I would like to
meet you in your room. That gives you 90 minutes. I want
YOU to want ME tonight. I want you to TAKE me. I want to
have sex with you for HOURS and then, afterward, fall asleep
in your arms and dream about you." Her smile turned playful
as she asked, "Does that sound interesting at all to you?
Like something that would make you happy?"
Needless to say, I had an erection now. "Yes, it d-does."
Pamela reached down and massaged that hard, aching lump in
my shorts with her right hand, then planted a deep-rooted,
needful kiss upon my lips. When our mouths parted ways, she
took a few steps back and winked an eye at me. "I'm going to
be your plaything tonight, Jeremy. And you will be mine..."
* * *
Perhaps I did not even realize it until that discussion
took place, but a part of me did not enjoy looking at Pamela
in any kind of a sexual manner. I believe it was because
she had been an exotic dancer for such a long time. I know
for a fact that Pamela absolutely despised exposing herself
to others for all those years. That little part of me - the
_quirk_ - was afraid that Pamela would start to think that
she was exposing (and degrading) herself to me during sex.
I thought Pamela was such an interesting and wonderful
person. The part of me that was apprehensive about having
sex with her did not want to jeopardize our relationship as
a whole. Pamela was, in all honesty, fascinating to me.
Here was a woman who, for nearly a decade, had been looked
at by the vast majority of others as not much more than a
sexual object. The consequences of that were that her
senses had been dulled beyond all reason, and she could not
trust even those people who tried to be nice to her.
But beneath the defensive barrier that Pamela had put up
around herself, there was a remarkable woman who yearned for
the very same things that I did in life - love and happiness.
A woman who, much like I like have for the past 11 years, was
silently crying out and pleading for that _special someone_.
I found it interesting that someone so impeccably smart
and intelligent like Pamela - she had an IQ of 154 and was a
member of _Mensa_ - had worked in such a demeaning, low-class
job for so long. Of course, the $2,000 or so that she took
home in cash each week was her ONLY reason for working there.
Still, she was SO MUCH BETTER than that.
I wanted to hold Pamela in my arms and never let her go.
I wanted to chase away all of her fears and anxieties, and
for there to be nothing more than a happy smile on her face
at all times (and happy thoughts in her mind). She was a
fascinating woman to me. A unique and special woman.
But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that
Pamela was correct when she explained her body was 50% of who
she was a whole person. The other 50%, of course, being her
inner half. I wanted to cherish both Pamela's body and soul.
Sex certainly was not a bad thing, you know. I had to get
past whatever fears or _quirks_ I had about being intimate
with Pamela. Obviously, she knew I felt much stronger about
her (and my thoughts were totally and honestly sincere) than
the droves of nameless and faceless men who had paid her $35
over the years for a lap dance. I was not one of those men.
Pamela knew it. But somehow, I had to convince myself, too.
* * *
My anxiety attack was interrupted when the clock beside
me here in my personal suite read 9:55pm. A gentle knock
upon the front entrance of my suite caused me to climb out
of bed and then walk over to the door. When I opened it, my
heart nearly skipped a beat and I literally began to foam at
the mouth. "PAMELA!" was all I could say in response, as
the 28-year-old stood before me now, wearing nothing but a
sheer nightie and a smile upon her enchanting face.
I tried to say something else, but was unable to as my
eyes took in the amazing beauty that was Pamela. In terms
of physical appearance, I considered Pamela to be a work of
art. Aside from that cover-girl face, Pamela had eyes which
could truly mesmerize, along with a loving, heartfelt smile,
and an absolutely perfect complexion. Long-flowing blonde
hair cascaded across her slender neck and shoulders, going
down to the mid-point of her back in stylish, exotic waves.
I quickly realized that the sheer nightie Pamela had on,
which was a virginal white color, was very similar to the
same piece of lingerie that Amy had showed up at my door
twice in. In fact, it may have been the same. Did Pamela
borrow it from Amy? Whatever the case, the hot and alluring
come-hither expression that Pamela now glared at me with was
sending a series of erotic chills right down my spine.
Pamela's breasts were so large and beautiful (a 38d cup),
yet at the same time, hers were amazingly firm and toned.
They looked most enticing, too, snugly nestled underneath
the lacey, see-through fabric of her little nightie.
As evidenced by her lean, perfectly-proportioned legs,
the countless number of hours that Pamela had spent outside
since her arrival on the island had given her a spectacular
tan. The white nightie she wore was so small and short that
it (literally) did not even have a hemline. Thus, I could
tell that Pamela was not wearing any panties underneath it.
The blonde, downy bush of curls at the joining of her thighs
was clearly visible underneath the thin fabric.
As this woman stood before me now - looking as sinful and
erotic as ever before - I did my best to suppress the immense
feelings of desire and lust that were building up within me.
I wanted to pounce on Pamela and rip her to shreds!
Though my sensitive and more _caring_ side won out (as it
almost always did), Pamela was too much temptation for me to
handle. My heart was thumping about wildly (and my cock hard
as steel) as I gawked at this creature of total perfection.
"Hi lover," Pamela cooed, her smile gentle and warm. She
cupped her breasts with both hands and squeezed them, then
offered me a sexy pout to boot. "Are you going to give me
what I want tonight? Or... do I need to TAKE it from you?"
"Oh God..." I growled in response, even stepping back from
her. This woman was about to give me a heart attack without
even touching me! I needed an outlet for this aggression...
"Oh, I DO need to take it, then," Pamela pouted again, her
voice low and whiny. She was playing with me. "I can do
that." Pamela stepped forward and sought the humongous lump
in my trousers with her right hand. The goddess began to
knead and pump my erection with her hand as she cooed, "Don't
you know, Jeremy? I'm the type of girl who, if I really want
something, WILL NOT STOP until it is mine." Pamela smiled
and grazed my cheek with a kiss. "Now... I want your cock."
My heart-rate multiplied in several quantities as Pamela
dropped down to her knees and began to tug at the belt upon
my trousers. When it was undone, she whisked it away and
then went for my trousers themselves. In instant later, the
gray fabric was in a circle around my ankles, and my briefs
soon joined them. Her brown eyes twinkling with hot desire,
Pamela took my shaft into her right hand and began stroking.
"Now I'm going to give you a few lessons tonight, Jeremy."
I cleared my throat as tremors of passion and lust rocked
every single muscle and nerve within my body. "Lessons?"
"Yes sir, some lessons," she confirmed, nodding her head
for emphasis. "I'm going to show you some of the wonderful
things that this cock of yours can do to my body." I growled
in response as she swooned, "Lesson number one... a blowjob!"
Even before I could say anything, the pulsing head of my
shaft had been gobbled far and deep into Pamela's luscious
mouth. Her eyes flashing and locked squarely upon mine, the
voluptuous vixen started to bob her head back-and-forth upon
my erection as she offered me a hands-free blowjob.
Pamela giggled at me. "Is the lesson going well so far?"
"Oh yes..." I moaned while returning her stare with one
of my own. "I want to learn a lot from you tonight..."
Pamela's expression did not change as she very slowly and
tenderly worshipped my throbbing cock. Her brown eyes stayed
focus upon mine, nearly blazing a hole right through my body
because of the unadulterated look of both arousal and total
devotion they conveyed to me.
I gulped my throat at the mere sight while reaching down
and running my hands throughout her long-flowing blonde hair.
Pamela never took her eyes away from my face as she soon
gripped the base of my cock with her hand. Then, the bobbing
motion she so expertly displayed became a bit more intense.
Quickening both the pace and speed of her head-strokes,
Pamela took more and more of my erection into her mouth.
When she released its base from the clutches of her hand,
the bombshell then swallowed my entire shaft whole.
I could do nothing but squint my eyes and growl in pure
passion as the head of my cock was now lodged somewhere
deep within the reaches of Pamela's hungry throat. Her
piercing gaze still focused upon my face and eyes, I looked
down at her and shook my head in erotic amazement.
Pamela's expression broke - but just for a moment - as she
offered me a faint smile. Then, she took my cock out of her
mouth and gripped its base. Next, the blonde took half of it
back inside and began with an eager and hungry sucking.
Rolling my head in arousal, I looked up at the ceiling
and thanked the Heavens for helping me meet up with Pamela.
At the same time, an absolute wave of pure pleasure coursed
throughout my entire body - solely thanks to Pamela and her
exquisite oral skills. I was so totally in love with her!
"What are you doing?" I asked as Pamela suddenly withdrew
my cock from her mouth. "Please put it back in!" I did not
want the exquisite blowjob she had been giving to me to end!
Pamela offered a sweet smile and even batted her eyelashes
at me in an exaggerated fashion. "I'm sorry, baby, but it's
time for your second lesson of the evening." She nodded her
head and cooed, "Lesson number one was a blowjob. Now... it
is time for lesson number two." Pamela cupped the outer
sides of each of her large breasts through the little nightie
she had on, then extended a finger and trailed it through the
exposed portion of her cleavage. "Right here, Jeremy. Put
your cock between my breasts, and fuck them."
My whole body trembled with unspeakable desire as Pamela
easily whisked the white nightie up, and over, her head.
Now totally nude, the (former) exotic dancer flashed me a
winning smile as she retreated to the bed and sat down upon
its edge. Pamela again cupped her breasts with both hands
and looked at me with puppy-dog eyes.
"Come on, Jeremy," she encouraged me. "My wonderful man!
Come on, and put your cock between my breasts. Fuck them!"
Pamela reclined all the way back on the bed until she was
laying down. She grabbed a nearby pillow and placed it
behind her head, thus raising it. Then, those eyes locked
onto my face as I slowly made my way over to the bed.
"Yes!" Pamela squealed in total delight as I climbed onto
the bed and swung one knee over her torso. Now on my knees
directly above her as she lay on the bed, I grasped my cock
and smacked it across one of her massive breasts. "Yes!"
she again exclaimed, giggling and laughing up at me. "See,
lover? Sex with me is not a bad thing. It's a good thing!"
"I never said it was bad," I countered, my voice ragged
and breathless. "I just didn't want for you to..."
"Shhhhh," she hushed me, placing a finger to her nose.
Pamela used her opposite hand to place my erection between
her breasts. An instant later, she squished her breasts
together with both hands, trapping my hard shaft inside of
her deepened cleavage. "Oh yeah, Jeremy. That feels good!"
I growled in a mixture of pure lust and erotic agony as I
started to slide my cock, all slick and moist from Pamela's
oral workings, between and through the sunken valley of her
cleavage. Due to the amount of friction created from my
shaft trapped between her heaving breasts, I nearly blew my
spermy load right there. Somehow, I managed to hold it in.
"Fuck my breasts," Pamela said in a firm, strict tone.
Now, I had to listen to her talk nasty to me - which only
added fuel to an already out-of-control fire within myself.
"Fuck them, Jeremy. Fuck them real nice and fast!"
"Oh yeah..." she continued as I now used my hips to pump
and grind my erection between her cleavage. With Pamela
squishing her breasts together, the erotic feeling within me
was multiplied ten-fold. It felt as if my shaft was having
the absolute life squeezed out of it. "Oh yeah, Jeremy!
Fuck my breasts! Fuck them! FUCK THEM!"
I growled, trying my best to hold back what promised to
be not only an incredible orgasm, but also a very messy one.
It was all I could to contain myself.
"Oh yeah," Pamela purred, her eyes fixated upon my face
as I continued thrusting away. Of course, her words were
fanning my inner fire. She was quite the talker during sex.
"You like fucking my breasts - don't you, Jeremy? Don't
you?" She let out a content sigh and added, "Oh, your cock
feels so big and strong between my breasts! Come on, fuck
me harder. Fuck my breasts harder!"
I roared out in a mad rage of lust as I did my best to
comply with her request. My hips began to churn faster than
before, the speed of my thrusting cock increasing. I was
about set to explode. Despite that, my efforts still did
not meet Pamela's expectations.
"HARDER!"
I growled once again and nearly lost control of myself.
My eyes locked with hers, Pamela gave me a sneering look as
her voluptuous body rocked about on the bed with each of my
forward strokes. I was giving her everything I had...
"Do you want to cum on me?" she asked, using her patented,
teasing voice, as I hammered away. "All over my face? Come
on, Jeremy." She extended her tongue and said, "Come on...
cum all over my face. I want it. I want it, really bad..."
"OHHHHH!" I screamed as she had simply pushed me toward
the boiling point - and then past it.
On my next forward up-stroke, I gripped my cock and then
it erupted like a volcano. The end result, after three huge
explosions, was that Pamela's lovely, picture-perfect face
was totally saturated with my sticky, gooey sperm.
The first laser shot landed directly upon her forehead,
catching a good portion of her silky hair in the process.
The next caught her eyes and nose, followed by the finale
landing squarely on her cheek and extended tongue. Simply
put, Pamela was a complete and sticky mess.
What a beautiful sight...
When the powerful sensations within my body crested and
eventually faded away, I felt like collapsing onto the bed.
However, Pamela took my half-hard cock into her mouth and
gave it a gentle sucking... offering me a renewed sense of
vigor. All the while, she flashed me a friendly grin as her
pretty eyes never lost contact with mine.
"Oh yeah," she purred seconds later, now rubbing the tip
of my cock across her sperm-covered face. "I liked that."
I sighed and shook my head in erotic amazement at her.
"You're something else, Pamela." What an incredible woman!
"You see?" she purred. "Just what I said. Sex with me
is not a bad thing. It's a good thing!" Pamela giggled and
added before I could respond, "It's okay, Jeremy. You do
not need to explain yourself. I understand why you were a
bit apprehensive about becoming intimate with me. You are
unlike any other guy - any PERSON - I've ever met before."
"I just want to be with you, Pamela," was my confession.
"I do not want for you to ever leave me. I just want you to
know that I think the absolute world of you as a person. I
know not many people have said that to you before, but I..."
"No one has ever said it," she interjected, frowning.
"Have you ever been in love before?" I wondered, curious.
Pamela hesitated for a moment, then offered me a radiant
smile. "Not until I came to this island and met you."
My heart fluttering because of her kind words, I settled
down upon my side next to Pamela on the bed and gazed into
those beautiful eyes. "I cannot believe that no one ever
scooped you up and married you, Pamela. You're... perfect."
"Oh, I'm far from perfect!" she squealed. "Stop that!"
The 28-year-old tilted her head to the side and took a deep
breath. "I already know that you were engaged earlier in
your life, Jeremy." I frowned as Pamela continued, "But you
never told me much about your fiancee, and what happened."
I moaned and lamented, "Victoria..."
"Is it true that you never had sex with her?" Pamela
asked. "I heard that from Trish and Lindsay the other day.
Trish says you told her that you never had sex with your own
fiancee, even though you made it to your wedding day. Trish
says that you did not lose your virginity until Kristanna
came along when you were 25." Pamela paused, allowing those
words to sink in. "Is that true, Jeremy?"
"Yeah..."
"Was it for the same reason that you were apprehensive
about having sex with me?" Pamela wondered. "You did not
want Victoria to think you were after her for her body?"
"It was very different with my ex-fiancee," I answered.
"At that time, I was 19 years of age. It was 11 years ago.
That point in my life, I just wanted to wait to have sex
until my wedding night." Pamela sighed as I added, "I have
no idea why, but it just seemed to be the right thing to do.
I wanted to stay a virgin until I was married."
"Why didn't you marry Victoria? What happened? You made
it to your wedding day, but were never married."
I growled to myself and began to involuntarily tremble
with a mixture of pain and remorse. Whereas I had dodged
this question with the likes of Devon and Trish in the past,
I could not justify doing the same with Pamela. Pamela was
_my girl_. Although I knew it would hurt me to revisit my
past, I owed Pamela - if anyone - a straightforward answer.
A begrudging smile upon my face, I was silent for at
least ten seconds as Pamela looked at me intently. I was
trying to find the right words within my mind to say to her.
Eventually, the silence between us became quite eerie.
"Jeremy?"
"Victoria left me standing at the altar," I replied, my
voice low and weak. "The minister asked her if she took me
to be her lawfully wedded husband. She said no."
Pamela grasped my right hand with both of hers. "Why?"
Clearly, Pamela could see that this was a struggle for me.
"How could she of said _no_ to you?"
I laughed, but it certainly was not a happy laugh. "I
had all of my family there, Pamela. It was when I lived in
California. The majority of my family lived in Ohio. My
aunts, uncles, cousins, my grandmother, great-grandmother,
brothers, my sister, niece, nephew. Everyone else, too. I
even had a couple of friends there from New Jersey. I went
to high school in New Jersey, remember. They came all the
way from New Jersey to be part of my great day." I shook my
head and let out an exaggerated, hurtful moan.
"Why did Victoria refuse to marry you?"
I sighed. "That's why... that's why I bring up my... my
family, and my f-friends. All of them were there. Victoria
said no. She... she gave her reason in front of the whole
church... in front of everyone. Victoria... couldn't marry
me because... because she was in love... with someone else."
"Oh my God..." Pamela fretted, squeezing my hand tighter.
"She said that in front of everyone? Who was it?"
"Her..." A tear even streaked from my eye as I found it
difficult to continue. "Her... her best friend - M-M-Mindy."
Pamela glared at me in total disbelief.
"Vicky... she stood in front of everyone and sa-said... _I
cannot marry you, because I'm in love with... with M-Mindy_."
I hung my head low and continued, "She and Mindy, they...
they ran out of the church together. Everyone in attendance
was stunned and shocked. They looked at Vi-Vicky and Mindy
until they... until they vanished." I paused and gulped my
throat. "Then... then everyone in the church looked at me."
I was losing an inner battle to hold back my tears. "They
all knew that my fiancee had left me... for an-another woman.
All those eyes, all those faces... staring at me." Finally,
I could no longer control my emotions. I totally broke down
in front of Pamela and began to cry like a man should never
cry while in the presence of a woman. "It was... it was...
the most... hu-hu-humiliating experience... of my li-life."
"Jeremy!" Pamela exclaimed, about to cry herself, as she
encircled my shoulders with both arms and squeezed tightly.
I did my best to hide my face - and my tears - from Pamela
even as she tried to make eye contact with me.
"I loved Victoria so much!" I whined out, my face buried
upon Pamela's bare shoulder. My pride would not allow me to
show myself to Pamela even as she now used both hands to
attempt to pry my face and head away from her shoulder.
"Look at me, Jeremy..."
My eyes closed and full of watery tears, I was steadfast
in refusing to expose myself to her. "No... I can't!"
"Look at me!" Pamela demanded. "Jeremy, look at me!"
I could not stop myself as I slowly but surely pulled my
face away from Pamela's shoulder, then looked at her. I was
somewhat surprised to find her own eyes flooded with tears.
She studied my face for several seconds and then tossed both
arms around me once again. "God, Jeremy... I'm so sorry..."
I was able to corral my emotions somewhat, and stem the
crying. Still, I shook my head and my voice cracked several
times as I told Pamela, "My great-grandmother... she was 96
years old. Th-thought the world of me... always had. She
came out for the wedding too. She... she died just one week
later. But her... her final memory of me is... is... is...
my fiancee leaving me... for... for... another woman." I
began to cry again. "I was so... so humiliated! All of my
family, my friends... my 4-year-old nephew, too! _4_!"
Pamela was sobbing now, too. "I don't know what to say,
Jeremy. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO SAY!" Pamela was really upset
as she shed her own tears. Apparently, the right words came
to her mind as she started talking, her voice more low and
under control, "Jeremy, I cannot change the past for you.
This... this obviously hurt you, destroyed you."
"I TRIED TO COMMIT SUICIDE THAT NIGHT!"
Pamela ended our embrace and glanced downward for a brief
moment, then locked eyes with me and implored, "If I could,
I would go back in time and change things for you, Jeremy.
I can't, but I wish I could! I wish I could take away all
of your pain! God... I would never do a thing to hurt you!"
I hid my eyes from Pamela and stammered, "All you girls
want to know WHY... WHY have I been on this island for the
past eight years. WHY have I lived here for so long. It's
because I... I was afraid of... of being... hurt again. No
one can hur-hurt me as long as... as long as... I AM ALONE!
I... I shielded myself from the rest of civilization, even
my own family, and have lived in complete isolation since!
I wasted ages 22 through 30 on this _FUCKING ISLAND_!"
"Oh God..." Pamela screeched, obviously unaware that I
had that type of venom and anger within me. I was not the
type to use _foul language_ in front of anyone, let alone a
woman who had a vested interest in getting to know me.
"I'm sor-sorry..." I whined, now regretting my words. "I
didn't... I didn't mean to lose my t-temper like that."
Pamela appeared to be frantic; unsure of what to say or
do. Could anyone blame her? Years ago, I received a very
similar reaction from Kristanna when I told her this story
as well. It nearly tore Kristanna's heart out to listen to
me pine and moan about that fateful day some 11 years ago.
"I cannot change the past, Jeremy," Pamela reiterated, a
certain sense of resolve in her voice. "I cannot take away
all of the pain you felt at one time in your life. What I
can do, though, is make sure that from this point forward,
you... you're well aware of the fact that _I_ love you, and
want to be with you. I can do everything within my power to
be certain that you are always happy from now on and have a
smile on your face. You have told me repeatedly ever since
I stepped foot on this island of yours just how wonderful
and how special of a person I am." Pamela shook her head
and surmised, "I'm not the special one, Jeremy. You are."
"Pamela, I'm not special. I'm just a..."
"Yes you are," she cut me off. "Yes you are. You are
very, very special. I do not see how any woman - let alone
one who was engaged to you - could let you get away. In all
my life, Jeremy, I have never met a man who is more honest,
decent, more caring, loving, understanding, compassionate
than you are. You can throw any other descriptive word onto
that last sentence, too. Kind, honest, warm-hearted... even
respectful. You have shown me more class and respect in two
weeks than I have received from all the people that I've met
and known in my WHOLE, ENTIRE LIFE... COMBINED."
"You are an incredible man, Jeremy. An incredible man!"
Although there were still plenty of remnants of the tears I
cried moments ago upon my face, I had settled down and was
focused upon Pamela as she continued speaking to me. "Have
you seen Victoria at all since your wedding day?"
"No... not at all."
"I bet you anything that she looks back on things now and
regrets not marrying you," Pamela nodded. "I know I would.
Letting a man like you slip away... I'm not that stupid."
"Last I heard, Victoria was married and had a few kids."
Pamela made a face. "Who cares, Jeremy? She was not
worth your time or effort. Victoria did not deserve you."
"How can you say that?"
Pamela shrugged her shoulders and responded, "You need
someone in your life, Jeremy, who is going to show you all
the love and affection that you could ever possibly handle.
You need someone who thinks the absolute world of you. You
need someone who will never ask for anything in return from
you except for your love." Pamela smiled before continuing,
"You need someone in your life who thinks of you as her one
and only _snookie wookum weetie bunny bear_." Pamela paused
for a moment, allowing those words to sink in and register.
"You need me, Jeremy. And I need YOU."
<<<- End of Chapter 14 ->>>
==---- -- -- -- - --- -- -- - - --- -- -- --- -- - - - - --- -- ----==
"Tropic of Eros"
Author e-mail: HighlanderJM@hotmail.com
Author chat: http://messenger.msn.com - HighlanderJM@hotmail.com
Story archive: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/HighlanderJM/
Please let me know what you think of the story! Your comments
are the only reward authors like me receive for our hard work!
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