Dark Getaway

Turning Tables

The remainder of the flight was spent pressed firmly against Corin's chest, after he insisted and pulled me onto his lap, once I had finished eating. We all knew it wasn't protocol onboard a descending aircraft but after giving the flight attendant one of his best smiles and a promise to keep me safe, she left us, after completing her checks. True to her word we hadn't seen her at all.

A short car journey later, after disembarking the plane, we arrived at the docks on the northern coast of Tortola, where a small motor boat was waiting for us. The gentle Caribbean breeze blew, causing the waves to slap the side of the boat as we climbed on board. At 6 o'clock the temperature was still around 30°C, which for January felt like an oven, compared to dismal weather I had left behind in the UK. Looking up, to an almost cloudless sky, it was hard to believe where I was and who exactly I was with, until I felt his presence behind me. Breathing in the smell of the salty air, I let my head fall back onto his shoulder, as he brought his arms around to my mid section. The boat rumbled to life as we started the last leg of our journey.  

30 minutes later we were being waved towards the beach, from here we would be taken to our accommodation, which Corin insisted on keeping a surprise. Climbing out of the swaying boat would have been disastrous if it hadn't been for Corin's strong grip on my hand and an unnecessary but delightful and welcome touch to my bottom. A hand that stayed longer than was needed as it eased me out of the boat and on to the dock.

The sound of our footsteps seemed to echo on the red painted wooden slats, it suddenly occurred to me just how quiet it was here, as we continued on our path away from the water towards a short, plump man, who stood poker straight, hands behind his back. A golf cart buggy directly behind him.  "Good evening to you both, I am Thomas, the resort manager, we are very pleased to have you both with us.  Mr Albrecht, everything is in order, as per your requirements." I didn't want to spoil the fact that I had heard every word Thomas had spoken, so I continued to admire this section of the island, hearing only the gentle chirp of crickets and the far off cry of the lemurs, who inhabited this spectacular space, occasionally stealing glances at the two men as they continued to talk. A warm hand curled around my neck, "Are you ready to go?" He questioned, gazing down at me. Twisting my head back to face him, swallowing the bubble that caught in my throat from his heated gaze. "Ready as I'll ever be."

Despite my sleep on the plane, I was more than ready to settle down and just relax from all the travelling we'd undertaken, to stop in one place long enough to take in our surroundings, and look about, this place was definitely where that was going to happen. Ushering me onto the back seats of the golf buggy that had been waiting for us, Corin slipped in next to me.  Every bump and pothole along the dusty track that took us away from the beach, had him sliding ever closer to me, our thighs pressed deliciously close to one another. Noticing my eyes on our joined appendages, a strong arm appeared around my shoulders pulling me close. I didn't care if I appeared needy at that precise minute, as I bought one hand up to rest on his pectoral, feeling the steady thrum of his heart.

The Bali house that had been rented to us was absolutely breathtaking. Set on one level we had everything we needed for our private getaway. Upon entering Corin had made sure to stay close to me, not touching but to gauge my reaction. My every move, every sound that threatened to spill from my lips was squashed when I spotted something new. The villa itself was situated on top of a hill overlooking the south westerly Caribbean Sea. If seclusion was what Corin was going for, that is definitely what we got. The large four poster bed dominated the main living space, pristine white voile draped seductively from post to post. The crisp white Egyptian cotton sheets, the neatness of it all, they were crying out to be messed up, ruined in a heated passionate state as we lost all control.