NOTE: This is my first posted story. It's part of a longer series, describing a young woman's adventures in Tahiti, where she explores herself, her sexuality, and her perspectives on living a balanced life. If you like and would like to read more, please vote and comment. Thanks!
CHAPTER FIVE
Jennifer checked her phone incessantly as the remainder of the afternoon dragged on. She attempted reading the celebrity gossip magazines from the flight, but her mind kept vacillating between memories of the morning's dive and daydreams about her evening plans. When the heat on the beach became too much for her, she splashed out into the warm gentle water of the lagoon. But as she floated out away from the beach, her thoughts were miles away at the dive boat. After three hours of mental self-flagellation, Jennifer finally decided to head back to her bungalow. As she gathered her things and prepared to march back up the sandy embankment to her room, she peered once again down the beach at the empty dock in front of the dive shack.
Back at her room, Jennifer shut the curtains, stripped off her bikini, and pulled open her suitcases. When she had packed the bag the night before her flight, she was in such a rush to get away from her frustrations that she hadn't thought to bring anything dressy, much less anything she could wear on a date. The closest thing she had was an airy cotton dress with a pale green maile leaf print. She had originally packed it as a coverup in the event she burned on the beach. She pulled the dress from her suitcase and hung it from a hanger to ease out the wrinkles. Although she had showered only a few hours ago, she climbed back in the shower to prepare for the evening. Thankfully, she had packed her makeup, but left her curling iron at home - Jennifer decided to wear her hair down tonight.
Almost two hours later, Jennifer was dressed, made up, and ready to meet Rob. Unfortunately, it was only seven thirty, so she had time to kill before heading over to the Bonne Temps. At any other time, she would have appreciated the irony of being half an hour early for a date when Matt repeatedly criticized her for being late, but at the moment her thoughts were focused solely on the evening ahead. She pulled open the curtains, letting the last rays of the setting tropical sun flood her room. Pacing in anticipation, she went to the bathroom, retrieved a glass from the counter, and filled it with a slug of whiskey from the open bottle. Jennifer coughed as the bourbon scorched its way down her throat and spread out across her chest. Almost immediately, she felt her nervousness decrease, replaced by a libidinous craving.
Unable to wait any longer, Jennifer slid a credit card and cash into her small clutch and headed out the door to the Bonne Temps. The afternoon's heat had abated to a comfortable tropical evening. A calm breeze off the water prevented the moisture in the air from condensing on her skin. The dinner service was well under way in the Island Pearl and she passed several couples on the path, walking hand-in-hand. Taking deep breaths, Jennifer proceeded down the pebble and concrete path to the Bonne Temps. She took a seat at the bar, but waved off another drink while she waited, still feeling the tingling relaxation of the bourbon shot on an empty stomach.
Rob was half an hour late, jogging up the resort path in a button-down white linen guayabera shirt, a pair of beige linen pants, and brown leather loafers. He slowed as he reached the bar, clearly relieved that she hadn't left.
"I am so sorry," he said when he was a few feet away. "The afternoon dive was late, then I had to go home to get cleaned up ..."
"Not an ideal first impression," Jennifer noted, arching an eyebrow. The full afternoon's wait had left her on edge and she intended to make him grovel just a little to make up for it.
Taking a chance, he bent over and kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful," he whispered in her ear. Rob took the seat next to her at the bar as Ricki sidled up to take their order.
"What would you like?" Rob asked. "Did you already order?"
Ricki looked at her questioningly.
"It's kind of cliché, but I think I'm in the mood for a Mai Tai."
Ricki grinned and promptly poured up the legendary tropical rum drink.
"I have a confession," Rob said, as Jennifer took a sip.
"Hmmm...what's that?"
"It's good you dove with us this morning. I was distracted all afternoon. Started my first afternoon dive without turning my air on."
Jennifer laughed, putting her hand over her mouth as a precaution to hold in her drink.
"I have a confession too," she admitted. "I briefly considered hailing a taxi to take me into town to buy a dress because this is unfortunately the most alluring evening attire I thought to pack."
"Alluring?" Jennifer mentally chastised herself. As soon as the words escaped her lips, she realized how that sounded and blushed a tint of pink. Rob smiled and took a sip of his drink.
"Oh jeez... that wasn't what I meant," she stammered. "You know...what I meant..."
"You look incredible. Relax."
"What are you drinking?" Jennifer asked, changing the subject.
"Laphroiag 10 year, neat," Ricki answered for him, pushing a glass of the straw-colored scotch in front of Rob.
Rob tipped his glass to Ricki and took a sip.
"A whiskey man?" Jennifer mused. "I just thought a life in the tropics would make your tastes more ... islandy?"
"Man cannot live on rum alone," Rob replied. "Care for a taste?"
Jennifer accepted the glass and held it up to her nose, inhaling the toasted oak and briney aromas. She took a small sip and let it linger on her tongue. Her first thoughts were of a campfire doused in sea water, but in a good way. She handed the glass back to Rob.
"Smooth," she said. "Nice choice."
Suddenly, from the main dining room came the sound of beating drums. Rob and Jennifer looked up to see the Polynesian dancers begin their seductive march to the outer deck, Bianca leading the way. Rob touched Jennifer's arm to get her attention over the loud percussions.
"Are you hungry?" he asked.
"Starving."
"Follow me."
He took her hand and quickly led her out of the bar, down the concrete and pebble path, to the entrance to the Sacree Amee. The entrance was decorated by a single bamboo arch, that led into an open-air space walled by short wooden partitions. At the entrance, they were met by a short pale-skinned man in a black silk shirt and black trousers, with a thin mustache and jet black hair combed back from a widow's peak.
"Good evening, my name is Gerard," he said with a thick French accent. "Do you have a reservation?"
"Gerry, good to see you, man" Rob said, with a small wave.
Gerard squinted in the dim torchlight, then looked around nervously.
"Yo bro - the Sacree amee is for guests only," the host said, dropping the accent.
