Sister of the Sun (32 page)

"Try some other animal," she suggested. "One that we do not have here."

In response, he traced out the shape of something that looked like a dog, except that the ears were wrong. No dogs lived on her atoll now, but she had seen many in Tahiti.
 

"The ears should point up, not hang down. Young dogs have floppy ears, but later they stand up."

Kiore explained that in his country the people had many kinds of dogs, some with ears that stood up and some with ears that hung down throughout their lives.
 

"What odd beasts your country has! Pigs with curly tails and dogs with ears that hang down."

"No stranger than the two-legged beasts of your island," Kiore countered.

"Yes. The foreign sailors are certainly strange!" Tepua caught his hand. Looking at his pictures, she had not noticed the growing heat of the day. "And now one of those sailors is going to get wet."
 

Together they raced to the water's edge, then splashed across the sandy bottom. She untied the wrap from around her waist, tossed it higher up on the beach, and plunged in. She felt a pleasant chill as she dove under. Out here the water came directly from the sea and was cooler man that of the inner lagoon. She flung back her hair, enjoying the wetness against her skin.
 

When she came up, she found Kiore floating on his back, his arms and legs stretched out in the water, his eyes closed in bliss. In the sun, the curls of hair on his chest gleamed ruddy gold against the deep bronze of his skin. Tepua crept up on him in the waist-deep water. With a mischievous smile, she decided to find out if the soles of his feet were ticklish.
 

With a splash and a flurry Kiore pulled away from her teasing. "So you think this a game that only islanders know?" he asked in mock ferocity. "Well, I will show you." She squirmed in agonized delight as he found her own vulnerable places and attacked unmercifully. She wriggled free, flinging water at him. This started a splashing war mat soon turned the water into froth. At last, when he seemed to be retreating, he suddenly lunged at her, heaved her high into the air, and flung her farther out.
 

She bellyflopped, came up with a mouthful of water from laughing. Ducking beneath, she swam underwater, seized the cord that held his loincloth, and nearly tugged it loose before he picked her up again, lifted her high over his head, and sent her flying. "You want my eel to be bait for the fishes?" he roared, chasing after her.
 

At last, when the sun was descending, they waded happily ashore. They stopped to wash the salt from their bodies at a small rainwater cistern that had been chipped into the coral. Tepua went to the supplies piled neatly inside the hut and found a coconut bottle that held fragrant oil. Heka had done a thorough job of stocking the canoe.
 

Kiore lay on the mat. He had rolled on his stomach, cradling his head on his folded arms. In the fading daylight Tepua gazed down at the twin mounds of his buttocks, separated by the narrow band of the
maro
.
 

Chanting quietly, she drew the plug from the bottle and poured a portion of its contents into her hands. What a firm rump he had! Some men were too skinny, or sagged at the bottom, but Kiore was perfectly shaped. She knelt beside him, gently rubbing in the oil.
 

He woke with a start at her touch. Tepua straddled his thighs, pressed her palms against his buttocks and let them slide up to the hollow of his back, enjoying the feel of his muscles beneath the heel of her hand.
 

"Ah, that is good," he sighed. "I did not want to fall asleep."

"And why not?" she asked playfully. "The day is over. There is nothing to stay awake for." She kept massaging, listening to his groans of pleasure. He began to rock from side to side, squirming every so often. "What is wrong?" she asked. "Is a piece of the mat poking you?"
 

"It is not the mat poking me. It is me poking the mat." He turned over and she could clearly see the source of his discomfort.

"Kiore's eel is getting bigger," she teased.

"You are the one who makes it grow."

She began to unwind the cord from around his waist, stopping once to brush the inside of his thighs with oiled fingertips. He writhed and arched his head back while the cloth of his
maro
strained over the growing fullness beneath.
 

"Would your eel like to be massaged?" she asked, leaning forward to press her face to his.

He shifted, straining up beneath her. She felt an answering tingle and a warmth growing between her own legs.

The
maro
came free and his hardness arched up against his belly. The curls about it were a slightly darker ruddy gold than the ones on his chest. She slid her oiled hand along the underside, feeling him pulsate beneath her.
 

"Oh gods, both yours and mine," he breathed, shivering.

When she had stroked him for a while, she oiled her breasts. Straddling his thighs, she began to rub herself against him, dragging one breast and then the other over the tops of his thighs. She worked her way upward, gently sliding back and forth until she had the "eel" rolling between her breasts. Her nipples were hardening. The wetness and heat between her legs were becoming a demanding ache.
 

"No more," he said hoarsely. "I can hardly bear it."

Gently he pushed her off, rolled her onto her back. His hard roundness pressed against her thighs, then her belly. His kiss was warm and exciting on her mouth. With a tenderness that reached deep within her, his hands caressed her face then slid down over her neck to brush the tips of her breasts.
 

She gasped as the sensation from her nipples intensified the glow between her legs. She felt herself opening, deep, ready, hungry for him.
 

But he did not plunge right in, as he had when they first reached the little island. Instead he teased her, putting his tip to her moistness and drawing it away again. He brought her to the edge of release, but backed off, letting the fire dampen a bit before stoking it once again.
 

It drove her wild with desire and she struggled to impale herself upon him, but he moved away, leaving her to pant and throb and swell, both inside and out. Once more, he came to her, this time plunging deeper.
 

Slowly he slid up inside, as if he knew how exquisitely sensitive his teasing had made her. She took great breaths as ripples of pleasure cascaded within her. And then he lay down atop her, cupping her face in his hands, pressing his mouth to hers in a kiss of sweetness while he buried the final length of himself within her body.
 

With a groan, he backed out and thrust in again. Tension grew within her, for her desire had only been whetted by the first little ripples. Again he thrust and again, until the fiery place at her center was white-hot and her muscles were straining as tightly as she could bear. It built and built until she thought she would explode.
 

Release burst on her in great spasms, sending flashes of black and purple across her vision. She felt him holding her tightly as the waves washed through her, making her twitch and tremble helplessly.
 

He gave a long moan, raised himself on his hands, and threw his head from side to side as climax swept over him. A deep languor filled Tepua. Dimly she felt him lie down beside her, his body pressed close, his warmth reassuring, as she drifted into sleep.
 

 

At dawn Tepua woke to the booming of the breakers on the outer reef. It was a sound she had known all her life, but on this morning she sensed a discordant note in the sea's music. She could tell that today would not be like the idyllic day before. The waves sounded rough, the wind fitful.
 

She glanced once at Kiore, who lay peacefully beside her. Patches of crusted sand still clung to his naked back and his broad shoulders, now rounded in sleep. Gently she brushed him off before crawling outside to look at the sky.
 

A mass of clouds banked the horizon, filtering the sun's light, turning the dawn an ominous color. The sky nearest the rising sun was the hue of an ember, broken open to reveal its fiery heart.
 

The color bled into the sea, the lagoon, even tinted the exposed shelves of coral until everything was red with flaming light. A flock of seabirds wheeled high overhead, the white of their bellies dyed pink, their screams plaintive. She heard a strange hissing in the wind, as if some spirit were trying to whisper a message.

Tepua needed no advice from spirits to read the sky. Quickly she crawled back into the hut and shook Kiore awake.

"Storm coming," she said, trying to ignore the catch in her throat when he opened his blue-green eyes. She could swim in those eyes, or sail, as an outrigger skimmed the waters of the lagoon.... She shook herself. This was no time for such thoughts.
 

She crawled out, Kiore scrambling after. He brushed sand from his limbs and stared to sea, muttering in his own tongue. Then his gaze turned toward the canoe, drawn up on the beach. "If we hurry ..."
 

"Not enough time." They could not hope to outrun the storm. When it caught them in the light canoe, it would smash them on the reef or drag them far out to sea.
 

Tepua suddenly saw the little islet for what it was—a sand-covered bump barely rising from the sea. A bad storm could strip such a
motu
down to bare coral or even obliterate it entirely.
 

She remembered a typhoon that had struck when she was young. To escape the waves that swept inland, Ehi had tied her into the fork of a
tamanu
tree. Sometimes in nightmares she still saw the lashing sea and heard the deafening shriek of the wind.
 

Afterward, the shorelines of the atoll had been changed. Some islets had been altered in shape and others had entirely disappeared. Now, as she stood next to Kiore, remembering, the first gust hit, making her stagger backward.
 

"The
vaka
!" she cried, and rushed to save the canoe. In a moment Kiore was running beside her. The lagoon was alive with whitecaps as they half carried, half dragged the canoe toward the
tamanu
that stood near the hut. Tepua took a quick look at the tree, so huge that it must have survived many storms in its lifetime. She tethered the prow to its massive trunk with a sennit line, then turned to the hut to see what supplies might be saved.
 

Wind gusted again, making the shelter sway. The hanging mats that served as walls flapped loudly against the framework. Tepua had just picked up a roll of sennit cord when Kiore grabbed her hand and yanked her outside. Then a horrendous crash came behind her. As she raced after him she looked back to see coconuts, fronds, and branches cascade onto the thatched roof, bringing the whole structure down.
 

"We have to get back to the
tamanu
," she shouted, but she did not think he heard her over the shriek of the wind. Then the first wave broke across the islet, knocking her off balance, sending her sprawling in the chilly brine. Somehow she held on to the cord that she was carrying.
 

The water subsided, but the fierce wind tore at her hair and face. Clasping Kiore's hand with her free one, she fought her way around the wreckage of the shelter. Another wave hit and she had to let go of him, digging into the wet sand to keep from being washed away.
 

Then they stood up and rushed for the protection of the tree. "Climb!" she shouted, putting her hands on the rough bark. "It is strong enough to hold us both." But Kiore insisted that she go first. He boosted her up until she could reach the sturdiest limb. Glossy leaves fluttered all about her as she wound cord around herself and tied a few strong knots. She cut the cord's end with a jagged stub of a branch, then handed the rest of the coil down to Kiore.
 

She heard the thunder of a huge wave striking the reef. "Hold on!" she shouted. A column of foam hit him, and for a moment she thought he was gone. She screamed a prayer to her guardian spirit.... Then the sea subsided and she saw him still clutching the trunk of the tree. He spat out a mouthful of water, looked up and grinned in triumph, then pulled himself after her.
 

Quickly he secured himself on the adjacent limb, so close that they could almost reach across and touch. Above her, she heard the lashing of smaller branches. In the force of the wind the
tamanu
groaned.
 

"Sometimes these storms are short," she shouted.

"Do you mink I am frightened?" he replied. "In worse weather, I often climbed to the top of the mast!"

Suddenly the crown of a coconut palm broke loose and went pinwheeling into the lagoon, shedding nuts and fronds. A smaller
tamanu
was torn up by the roots and tumbled into frothing water that surged across the island. Tepua looked down and saw no land at all, just coconut trees bent almost horizontal, crowns tossing and swaying above the whitecaps.
 

As the storm grew wilder she could do nothing but pray once more to her guardian spirit. Rain sheeted down, adding its sting. She looked at Kiore; wishing for the comfort of his arms about her.
 

Her skirt was torn and she had nothing around her shoulders for warmth. She shivered as she hung there listening to the wind's fury. The spirits were telling her something. Why could she not understand them?
 

At last, the rain stopped for a time and the air grew still. "The storm is not done," she warned Kiore. Below her the surf was boiling, driven by waves rolling over the reef. Huge tangles of debris floated by. The water level climbed higher.
 

Then the wind started again, its shriek fiercer than before. Kiore looked a sorry sight, his sodden hair matted to his face, his
maro
in tatters. The branches began to sway and she wondered if one might break. "Tapahi-roro-ariki," she cried. "We are both depending on you now." Her only answer was the steady fall of rain.