Wednesday, June 2, 2010


On Tahiti’s Raiatea, there is a legend. Atop its volcanic rim a tiny flower, Tiare Apetahi, opens its hand-like petals as dawn breaks. The sweet-scented, white bloom is the promise of an island prince who proclaimed, as he died in his lover 's arms, "Every morning when you come to the mountain, I will give you my hand to caress." Elizabeth was determined to walk the mountain path and caress the Tiare Apetahi for herself.

Michael loves Elizabeth. Deeply and unconditionally but had failed to please her in the way that she deserved. They’d never come together. He’d satisfied her needs, always. Her satiation brought him joy, but he had never brought her to the peak of pleasure whilst inside her. This he strove to do. Her fulfilment meant that much to him.

Their tiny Bure rested upon a wooden wharf, atop an azure sea. A glass panel in the floor revealed the colour of the coral reef below, so clear its depth was imperceptible. They sat through sunsets sipping mango daiquiris, lay on sun-drenched beaches of shimmering black sand. They argued over the direction an outrigger canoe could take, resolving their conflict with sweet kisses and make-up sex. They made love, long and often. They lay exhausted and slept through lunch - but still did not come ‘together’.

Michael chose not to join Elizabeth on her lone dawn sojourn along the Temehani path. Until after an hour or so, when a pang of guilt washed over him. He should be with her when dawn breaks. He should share her romantic inclination to watch the sacred flower bloom. He hurriedly threw on yesterday’s clothes, attempted to straighten his sleep dishevelled hair, slipped his well-worn loafers and headed for the trail.

She walked alone in the warm pre-dawn, surrounded by the fragrance of vanilla and frangipani. She knew she was being followed. There was no sound to speak of, just a ‘presence’ and a slight waft of coconut oil. This place assaulted the senses with its exotic scent and unknown sounds. She, smiled a knowing smile and paid the follower no mind as she continued her ascent.

Surrounded by rousing birds and a rose-tinted sky, she reached the summit. A now long-dead volcanic rim, its crater filled with lushness and birdsong as the morning stirred. She found her vantage point overlooking the waking world below and waited for the first vestiges of golden light to pierce the horizon. She lay on the warm damp ground, belly down, leaning on her elbows, her hands cupping her chin, her eyes closed lightly and her face towards the pending rays.

“La no ra nah!’ he whispered. She giggled at Michael’s Tahitian and its authenticity. She was pleased that he’d caught up with her before the dawn had broken. She didn’t glance back but heard him drop to his knees behind her. She held her prone position and slid her legs apart to tease, whilst maintaining her seaward pose, her chin still resting in her hands. The shadow of a smile, graced her at the same time the glow on the horizon began to intensify.

He leaned forward on all fours and caressed her smooth, bare calves. Firmly placing one hand on each, gliding upwards along the back of her legs. Such pleasure made her close her eyes and moan in anticipation of his next advance. His hands seemed larger, stronger, his fingers more dextrous and probing. The fragrance of coconut and frangipani combined in an intoxicating and exotic blend, relaxing and erotic. His hands slid higher along her inner thighs and thumbs pressed firm and gentle in a perfect and synchronous semi-circular motion across the crease at the base of her buttocks. She was wearing nothing more than a pareu, there seemed little need for conventional clothes in paradise.

The glow from the horizon began to warm her face, its light increasing in intensity, painting the clouds in crimson and gold as he gently painted his own sensual colours on her body and slid his fingers inside her.

Her eyes remained lightly shut against the impending dawn as she raised herself upon her knees in total acceptance of his caress. He maintained momentum with one hand and with the other, gently untied the knot of her pareu and slid the light, hand-printed fabric along her back from shoulder blade to buttock, as if removing a silk handkerchief to reveal a mysterious treasure and let it fall unwanted to the ground. His strong arm bent around her in its luscious lover’s vice pulling her into the rhythm of his sex.

There she was, atop a volcano, tanned, glistening, aroused, bathed in rose light, surrounded by flowers as he made love to her, still kneeling behind her, she moving slowly with him inside her. Abject bliss, total ecstasy, pure light, pure love.

She never opened her eyes against the intensifying dawn although its light penetrated her lids. She tilted her head forward in complete submission until the nape of her neck was exposed. He kissed it passionately, and mouthed the warm flesh. A sweet and teasing nip that barely broke the skin. The bite she barely felt due to the intensity of the moment. Their bodies reaching their crescendo, both coming together. The sun exploding in light across the shining sea below and tiny petals unfolding among the lover’s as they fell together, naked as the dawn, unashamed, entwined, exhausted within their private Eden.

All too soon the sun was high in its heaven. She felt hungry and it was time for breakfast. Elizabeth couldn’t remember how long she’d slept and hurriedly grabbed the fallen pareu. Suddenly aware of her nakedness she tied it loosely. Michael was nowhere to be seen. Why had he gone? She hadn’t had the chance to tell him how much she loved him, how wonderful the experience had been. She thought it odd he’d wondered off rather than stayed to share a soporific recovery.

Michael had watched it all from his leafy tropical vantage point. Stunned, mesmerised yet immobilised with intrigue. He’d seen the silent, tattooed Maohi with his Polynesian mastery. He’d watched his gentle face revealed by pulled back hair. He’d studied his deft caress as this silent stranger lifted his lover to her sexual summit. He’d seen her joy as her hips moved in Tamure rhythm with his. He could see that she was oblivious to the stranger’s identity thinking all along that it was Michael making her senses ebb and flow. He convinced himself that this was not infidelity. This was Ora teaching him a lesson, providing a tutorial. He would take it in his stride, never speak of it again and learn from her ecstasy. He would leave her none the wiser about his voyeurism but would pay attention to the lesson taught by his Maohi tutor.

She lay there, once again, on her belly. Tanned arms above her head and beneath her pillow. Her head turned sideways facing his. Asleep, exhausted, satisfied. Tousled curls obscured her face after a night of languid love making. Slowed and prolonged by the intoxication of alcohol and Michael's new expertise, they had come together in every possible way.

Michael brushed away the curls from her sleeping face “Te here nei au . .” he whispered before leaning forward to kiss the tiny bloom, her perfect scar. Evidence of that Raiatean dawn, still visible on the nape of her neck.

Created for both, Tenth Daughter of Memory: "Reaching the Summit" and Theme Thursday 3 June 2010 - "White" 
March 2011 Magpie Tales 57


  1. Oh, snap.

    The gamut of emotion here is great, including the almost laugh-out-loud hilarious "WTF" moment. Sexy, sensual, and just skirts the summit (take that!) of going over-the-top.

    Fucking awesome.

  2. there were some great lines in there baino...sensual...engaging...

  3. Oh my God! That killed me :)!!!! I couldn't buy the part that they had NEVER "come" together. Huh? Then I saw where you were going with it. HILARIOUS and sensual. A nice mix. LOVED it.

  4. Nice piece! No topping this! I'm guessing that it was a "god" and not a random stranger? Thank goodness Michael was aware! wink! wink!

  5. at least they both learned a thing or two... good'un, baino :)

  6. I'll have what they're having! Well done, Baino!

  7. Wow Baino! What a pleasure it was to read this!

  8. hot damn! where can i find me a volcano!? Good show, and damned good writing

  9. Ah, coconut oil. This white winter skin is craving it. Thanks for adding this piece to Magpie Tales, Baino!