Darkest Love (14 page)

“Argh!” She screamed as he started to grind harder. Annie had never felt so alive, so open to anything the universe had to offer. She was on all fours, head raised to the sky. Her mouth was open, howling with an abandon she didn't know she owned, as sweat poured down her body and her big breasts jiggled like in a wet dream, so heartily they smacked into each other. The moon was casting its eerie pagan light through the window, and the man behind her was Dionysus himself.

Rain was losing control, pounding harder and harder, making guttural animal sounds she would not have thought any human was capable of. Her cheeks were parted, her heart was thumping, and his chest sounded like it was opening, letting out new barely-human sounds and perhaps a Pandora's Box of sex demons that would howl into the night.

Annie was an animal. She was beyond sexual, beyond free. Every space between her buttocks that was not drenched with sweat was filling with the most delicious pleasure.

She felt Rain explode behind her. He let out one final, epic grunt and collapsed on her.

His heart beat against her back. His hot breath washed over her ear. He held her breasts, one finger playing with a nipple, so that even in his exhaustion, he brought a happy stirring to Annie's loins.

“Oh!” Annie ignored the first bang against the wall, it sounded light enough to be a bird.

The sex had wound down to a delicious effort from Rain's tongue. After he stopped panting he had massaged her. Annie had surrendered, smiling sleepily, letting him cover her body with oils until she was wet and fruity-scented all over. Rain was an expert with his hands–he worked her body the way a sculptor works his moist, squishy clay.

Annie lay spread-eagled on her back, soothed by the aroma from the fruity oil. The candle released its own soft scent, sending her into a deep state of relaxation.

The light from the lantern flickered and wobbled on the ceiling panels. Swirls of light merged with each other, fading and brightening as clouds moved over the moon outside. Annie felt like she was staring at the ceiling of a cathedral. Flames danced like miniature belly-dancers and fruity scents reached into her nostrils like invisible fingers, planting their subtle joys.

As if that wasn't enough, Rain was licking her clitoris. She was enjoying her last, shimmering orgasms. They unfurled lazily along the length of her body.

Her clit was quivering from all the excitement. It stood high and healthy and rose-red, eager for more attention. Annie herself was drifting in and out of sleep, lulled by all the sweet sensations. Who would have thought her humble hut could transition into a chocolate box of pleasures, with something for each of the senses? It was so quiet she could hear Rain's steady breathing. Under that she could hear the trills of rock parrots outside and the steady lapping of the river—a reminder that a great, ink-dark body of water loomed outside, spreading as far as the eye could see.

Annie drifted off a few times, entering the first movement of a sweet, symphonic dream. Everything was slow and lilting and adagio: Rain's tongue, the waves, her heartbeat, the dance of the flame. She woke with a smile sometimes, eyes crinkling at the sight of Rain working her with his tongue, relaxed and close to her as a kitten cleaning his kin.

The flame danced. The parrots sang. The man's eyes closed. Dreams merged into each other. Annie's own heart formed a lazy beat for the dreamy evening, ticking along like a metronome as she drifted between dreams and sighs and orgasms.

“Oh, Rain.” His shoulders were spread out before her, streaked with gold by her shimmering, dancing candle. His hands played up and down her hips. His palms were wet from drinking up the moisture on her body. His eyes were sleepy and happy.

Thump.
Annie moaned as the tongue worked. Her favorite move of his was a consistent pressure he applied, using his tongue like a pad. She liked that from both his fingers and his tongue. Annie moaned with joy as he transitioned from flicks to that firm press. For full seconds he rested the whole pad of his tongue on her clitoris and pressed. No flicks, just pressure.

A flat tongue. Pressure. Then pulses: one, two, three.

“That's
good
.” Her next orgasm brought a tingle to her arms she didn't usually feel. Warm orgasms came in waves, one rushing in before the previous one had finished. Annie was a queen—her body stretched out like a cat's, her clitoris maxed out but begging for more. She was no longer able to distinguish the waves of erotic pleasure from one another, or dreaming from waking, or her own steady breath from his.

The flicker of her candle merged with the light of the pagan moon. She had entered Nirvana.

Thump.

“Rain,” She awoke at that second thump and called to the head between her legs, taking a second to admire the buttocks behind it. Rain's leg pulsed with each move of that heavenly tongue. Giving pleasure to Annie engaged all of Rain's body too–with each lick the muscles in his legs rearranged, showing themselves. “Rain, it's…”

Annie never finished the thought. She gasped. Looking around the room for the first time since Rain started the oral, she was shocked by the shapes she made out. The room was full of shadows: dark and light alternated in patterns created by the moon. Panels of starlight shot through a hole under the bamboo roof and under the door. The shapes of her crude pieces of furniture were positively sinister. It looked like a dozen perverts were leering at her from the shadows.

So many weird shapes.

That was probably why she hadn't noticed the person standing by the door.

“Sola!” The princess stepped forward, To Annie's shock the princess was smiling easily, warmly, as if she saw this sort of thing every day.

Annie knew for a fact that she didn't—the Kaamo hauled Sola off before every erotic ceremony. Everything she knew about sex—oral, penetration, everything—she had picked up from eavesdropping. There were a few loose, forthcoming and gossipy tribeswomen who Sola loved to sit with.

“Miss Annie. I arrive on this day of ritual, and find you extending our pro-cee-dings.”

Annie did not appreciate the crack. “We are doing nothing of the sort, Sola,” she snapped. Rain had straightened up, his abs pretty and naked, twisted so Annie could see how tight and fleshless they were. He was all muscle, her man.
My man, thank you–to be enjoyed privately.
Rain's head was twisted, looking at Sola, and Annie could not see his expression.

The princess was still grinning. Her pretty Beyonce-esque eyes flashed with both naughtiness and sex-solidarity. Her tiny, pearly teeth caught the candlelight as she smiled, and her face only fell a little when Annie scolded her, then bounced back up. She had real princess confidence, and a royal sense of entitlement.

“It is fitting that you enjoy each other so beautifully, on our day of bonding and celebration–the day we call Tiltu.”

She did not know when to shut up. “That may be so,” Annie's replied coldly. “But we would like to be alone.”

The princess did not move. Rain twisted around so Annie could see his face for the first time. She was annoyed to see a raised eyebrow and a horny smirk on his face.

“Please leave us alone, Sola.” Annie repeated.

For now, the princess did just that.

For the next three weeks Rain's journal was his constant companion, fixed to his hip as he darted around the island, hiking over heathlands and lingering in the sparkling blue water. He bodysurfed after lunch, letting the froth-fringed waves of the Pacific throw his body onto the sand again and again. But mostly he journaled; he didn't want to miss any details. After watching the diligent way Annie recorded her thoughts, right down to the color of the boar-skin loincloths and ornamentation on Sola's throne at Tiltu—

he was inspired to follow.

He often went to the seashore because he'd noticed groups of Kaamo men and women heading there. Rain didn't tell Annie about these trips because he knew she'd formalize everything–she always wanted to give the Kaamo so much warning before she showed up, lest the tribesmen become startled and shower her with spears. She was always talking about clearing their visits with Sola, emphasizing how advantageous Sola's attitude was: because the princess believed the Westerners were sacred, she was willing to give them viewing rights to all sorts of rituals, as long as they didn't interfere.

“Well…how do we know they aren't changing the ceremonies, or their behavior, because they know we are watching?” he had asked.

Annie had tapped her pencil, considering this. “You think our presence will skew the results?”

“Absolutely. Definitely. For God's sake Ann, this is anthropology. There is debate about whether the emotions of the
observer
can skew results. It determines what you consider important, what you choose to record, blah, blah, blah.”

Annie stared at him. “I suppose you're right.”

“I am always being accused of skewing this and that,” Rain reminded her, cross at the memory. “Everything is skewed by my sexist Western-male eyes. Never mind I don't feel a connection to Western society, or to any society.” Rain sighed in frustration. “Can we record, or know, anything objectively? Or are we merely recording ourselves?”

“I see what you mean.”

“Those journals…“ He gestured to the books on the table, where they lay overlapping as if they were enjoying an affectionate cuddle. “Are they a record of Kaamo life? Or just our personal diaries?”

“Okay, Rain.”

“You talk about Sola's embrace of us as if it is a boon. But really it is the ultimate taint. The Kaamo will not be acting naturally. On some level they must be aware that we are watching.”

“They are a pretty unself-conscious people, Rain. Robust, aggressive.”

“I know. But I think we should write a big passage about it in our ‘Sources of Error' section. Probably a few pages.”

Annie disagreed with that, saying it would cause people to take the whole study less seriously. She didn't think they should even mention Sola's dream, or her embrace of the
Rain man
.

“I couldn't disagree more. But we'll see,” Rain had said, before sweeping up his journal from the book-huddle and heading for the beach.

Now as he listened to the waves and raised his face like a solar panel to drink up the rays of the sun, his thoughts spiraled out.

How stunning the South Pacific was. How massive, dangerous, lush and full of color. He hadn't explained it to Annie, but something had shifted in him yesterday. Between the extra-hot sex, the near-death experience, and the Kaamo orgy… he felt like his life was speeding up and spiraling out. His perspective was getting bigger and bigger.

Rain sat on the shore, letting the foam bubbles float over the toes Annie had licked last night. Water settled in his squeaky-clean nails as if they were pearl-colored rock pools. In fact, the foam did not look unlike the foam of the body wash she used. Tiny bubble-clusters clung to his skin, sticking to his foot hair, then falling away as the next wave rushed in. It struck Rain that although an ocean is mind-bogglingly vast, especially the
massive
Pacific, only at its edge are such bubbles formed. This froth was like a lace trim on the hem of an enormous blue dress.

His foot sat in such a special space. His skin was tickled by foam formed where the Pacific crashed to its death.

Crash… Crash… Crash
. Rain closed his eyes, listening to the waves. Coming here, coming to Sivu, you saw through the veil. Rain gulped the salty ocean air, truly aware at this moment of how vast the world is, of how mysteriously cosmic forces seep into our lives, making themselves known.

It takes a trip to the other side of the world—or some really great sex with the likes of Annie Childs—to make a man conscious of that all over again.

Such experiences did not unsettle Rain, and as he got older he felt more and more eager to merge, like his embattled father, into something universal, something cosmic.
Hopefully with better results, in my case.

After spending time with the Kaamo, he did not feel like he wanted to rush back to New York, to that security blanket, the way Annie often said he did. He felt like he wanted to dissolve and become larger by doing so. He wanted to float up and away, beyond everything familiar, including journalling and supermarket shopping, Annie's teary scolding and Mandy's self-conscious sex-poses. To connect with something greater…

With what? God?

Rain grinned.
A spiritual awakening, just like my old man
. He opened his eyes again, watching a big wave crash and deposit a new collection of bubble-islands on his foot. Clusters of them covered his skin: big and small, connected and isolated. Not to just islands, to all sorts of geological bubble-formations—isthmuses and mainlands and archipelagos and peninsulas.

They washed away.
Better watch the old brain
.
A spiritual awakening can easily go AWOL.

As he walked away from the shore, back towards the lush tropical forest behind the dunes, it occurred to him his sex life with Annie might have more to do with this sudden spiritual awakening than he dared acknowledge. Rain grabbed a pine tree trunk and swung around it, entering the dark forest, eager now to inhale those smells and feel the crunch of native grasses and slop of sludgy mud under his feet.

At least life was always interesting.

* * * *

Rain was breathing in the sap of the banksia, wondering about their Gondwanan character, when she appeared.

Sola.

There was no mistaking that ass. It appeared through the tree-trunks. First it was hidden, like Eve's hips under foliage, by a low-hanging vine. The lush green rope crossed her body, covering the womanly parts. Then Rain stepped forward. The vine gave way, as if intimidated by his charge. It climbed to the small of her back, then to her shoulders.