New York, Summer, 1921 . Your new neighbor across the lake is the mysterious bachelor , Dutch. His reputation for excess and extravagant parties precede him in the prohibition era. But after an invitation to one of his soirees, you discover your...
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After his discharge from the war, Tom traveled to French Polynesia, searching for treasure. Some bunk mate in his regiment filled his head with dreams of an easy fortune. It turned out to be anything but. After months at sea and no treasure to be found, their vessel was boarded by Chinese pirates and they were taken prisoner. Tom's mate immediately surrendered, claiming he could show the pirates to an island of gold. He gestured to their map, trying to make them understand. None of them spoke English. His mate pointed to the Captain's gold necklace, then back at the map and the message appeared to sink in.
Tom questioned him later that night. His mate said there was no such island but he had a plan and it would only work with Tom's help. Tom was wary. His mate assured him it would work. He'd come to know him as somewhat a trickster. The other soldiers always complained he cheated at cards. He grew up a street urchin, performing tricks for tuppence. He was clever but somewhat reckless. Tom had little faith that his scheme would work.
The next night his mate feigned a fit. Tom screamed for help, but the pirates seemed nonplussed. His mate thrashed on the floor of the brig, even foaming at the mouth. Tom panicked at the aloof glances the pirates took. This wasn't working. They hadn't thought this through. Their captors didn't understand a word he was saying. Surely the desperation in his tone was enough, but they only continued to watch him with bored looks on their faces.
Then an idea sprung. He started shouting at them in French, ordering them to help his friend. Their faces changed suddenly and they seemed to acknowledge him.
He told them,
"If he dies, you'll never get to your golden island!"
They understood that perfectly and swooped into the cell to inspect his mate further.
That's when things became frantic. Tom and his mate tackled the pirates and escaped the cell, but not before guns went off, alarming the rest of the boat of the fracas. They ran to the deck where they were outnumbered and unarmed. Smoke and shouting filled the air.
Then the Captain appeared through the confusion, his gun drawn.
He declared something in his foreign tongue. Tom and his mate glanced at each other then the Captain spoke in French,
"There is no golden island," he said and shot Tom's mate.
The Captain aimed to shoot Tom too. The pistol went off but Tom snatched his mate by the arm and they both tumbled off the side of the boat into the night waters. The shouts and gunshots continued. Tom swam as fast and hard as he could, dragging his mate with him.
When sunrise came, Tom came upon some land. His mate was in bad shape. The bullet pierced his side. Tom faired a little better; the bullet grazed his arm but he was bleeding badly.
"It's alright, mate. There's a village up ahead. We'll get some help," Tom told him.
His mate just gave a husky laugh. Tom looked at him questioningly. The laugh turned into a painful smile as his mate reached inside his pocket and retrieved a small satchel. He handed it to Tom.
"There's no golden island," he said with a rattled cough, "but there is treasure."
Tom opened the satchel with surprise. It was filled with gems and golden coins, a value beyond anything he could have dreamed. His mate pick pocketed it off one of the pirates in the skirmish. His clever cheater eyes spotted it from the start.
Tom laughed and held the gems up so they could catch the light. They sparkled with hope for a future, one fit for his beloved Violet. It was more than enough for a fresh start. He finally had the means to marry her, start a family. He could make something of himself. Something worthy of his fiery flower.
"Peter, you've outdone yourself, mate," Tom said, but the smile faded from his lips as Peter's eyes darkened.
They both were taken to a hospital in Tahiti. Peter didn't make the journey.
When they arrived, many questions were asked and Tom did his best to answer them. He told him his name was Peter Benjamin Parker. The dead gentleman next to him, Thomas Stanley Holland.
You watched Tom as he finished his tale. His face was lost in the memory. You could almost see him reliving all of it behind those soft brown eyes. It was all so incredible to hear.
"So, you see, my love, it's so very important you keep my secret," Tom said to you. He sat on the edge of the bed in just his trousers. His hands wrung themselves with worry.
"It was only years later that I heard my own tale from someone else's lips. I was in San Francisco and overheard a gentleman speak of his uncle's trade vessel getting hijacked by two Englishmen. They stole goods from him and one of them was killed. Then I heard him say Shih, and I knew Tom Holland had to stay dead. Shih's family is ruthless if the tales me true. I left for New York that very day." He looked up at you and the paranoia that lingered there was unsettling.
You walked over to him and stood between his knees. You traced a finger down his jawline, looking at him adoringly.
"I loved you as a pauper and I'll love you as Parker," you whispered. He wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head against your stomach with a long sigh. The relief in telling his secret was evident.
You ran your fingers through his hair and sighed too. Now what are you going to do, you asked yourself. Your love was undeniable, still burning after all these years. No amount of time or number of tears dampened it. You convinced yourself over the years that your heart was frozen, inert from any semblance of love. You were overjoyed to be proven wrong.
"What do we do now, Tom?" you asked.
Tom pulled his head back and kissed your stomach. You smiled at his ticklish lips. His hands came around and loosened your robe. The air hit your skin with a thrilling rush. Your nipples poked through the satin fabric, desperate to be sucked. Your thighs prickled with goosebumps and were noticeably slick.
Tom's kisses traveled down, leaving a trail of moist skin. A finger skipped over your wet flesh, in a tease. You moaned softly and gathered his curls in a your fists. You felt his lips spread into a grin at that.
"I have some thoughts on the matter," Tom murmured seductively. His lips moved to you wetness and he began to lick you ravenously. His fingers pushed inside of you, sliding in and out with the wonderful rhythm of his tongue.
