Authors: Jade Allen
****
Rayne massaged her
temples and smacked her lips together, desperate for a steward to provide her
with a glass of water. She had been hauled out of bed at 4 am and taken by
private car to a private airport where she had boarded...a private plane.
There were two other
guests on the plane, though none had yet to say hello. The first she met was a
man with stiff, swept back blonde hair, a gingham shirt and beige slacks.
Despite the ungodly hour, he seemed preened and ready for a midday outing. The
Tommy Hilfiger wannabee deemed Rayne worthy of just a small nod before staring
pointedly out his window.
Okay, not to
worry--he’s just one prick.
The second guest had
arrived as Rayne was just tipping back the final contents of a fresh mimosa: a
stunning woman with a magenta pixie-cut. The woman was swimming in furs,
constantly peering over her sunglasses.
It was at this point
that Rayne had to admit she felt underdressed. Her ensemble of dark-washed
jeans, leather boots and layers of cotton jersey stood in another world. The
magenta vixen had chosen to associate with the blonde bastard behind her.
The conversation
between the two guests seemed to bubble along pleasantly enough, though they
seemed to be discussing designer brands as though they were people. Then it
dawned on Rayne that they actually
did
know the designers and they were
talking about them.
The magazine, the
fashionable woman; the ease she had walking in stilettos,
who was that woman
who was supposed to have this card? I’ve made a grave mistake…
Before Rayne could
think of a surprise illness that would send her back home, there was an
insistent tap on her shoulder. Turning, Rayne came face-to-face with the
magenta pixie, a fixed smile emblazoned on her professionally made-up face.
“Hi there, I don’t
think we’ve met. My name’s Billie Toms,” she held out her hand.
“Oh--hi, Billie. I’m
Rayne Baker.”
“You’re not of the
Baker House Fashion family, are you?” Billie’s eyes widened.
“No, I’m afraid not.
I’m of the…” Rayne thought
screw it
“I belong to a prominent financial
institute; unfortunately, my terms of agreement don’t allow me to mention the
company’s name.”
Where was this coming from?
Billie nodded in
understanding; Rayne had obviously passed some internal test.
“So you’re here to
review as well?”
“You could say that.
I’m sure there are some other members of my team who would like to come along
with their wives and girlfriends--or both.” Rayne smiled conspiratorially.
Billie smiled and sat
back into her chair; the plane was readied for landing.
****
Rayne exited the plane
into a blast of warm humid air and a vague scent of coconut oil drifting across
the tarmac. The plane sat on a heavy-duty runway that ended with a cluster of
huge hangars.
Makes sense, they would have had to maintain commutes for
their construction and staff teams.
The trio descended
from the plane to be greeted by a slew of resort staff in freshly pressed linen
uniforms and a tray of tropical cocktails. One by one, the guests were led to a
brand new chauffeur-driven golf cart emblazoned with “Eden Resort” before they
were whisked into the tropical forest that surrounded the landing strip.
“You work in finance?”
Rayne’s driver chirped. Obviously her suitcase and attire didn’t hint at any
other reason why she would be invited to the resort. The driver wore a
luxurious cream-colored linen shirt cut in a Chinese style over slightly darker
slacks.
“Yes, actually; how
did you know?” She hoped he might reveal something of the other guests she
would meet.
“Pardon my frankness,”
it seemed that English wasn’t this driver’s first language and he hesitated
before continuing, “You seem very different from the other guests I have met.
Is it, how they say,
professional
?”
Rayne laughed and
nodded, “I guess that’s the best excuse for it. I will take it as a
compliment.”
Her driver smiled and
started pointing out various sites along their trip to the resort. “You may
have noticed that the other guests have disappeared; they are living in a
slightly different area from you. You are in the best area. Guests in cheaper
accommodations are not given quite the same view.” On cue, they drove past a
thundering waterfall that tipped river water from a height of several stories
into a brimming lagoon. “They are also slightly further away from the luxury
services.”
They wound gently
through the forest until the tree line parted to reveal a stunning vaulted
cabin. The driver parked and hauled the suitcase off the golf cart, motioning
to the doorway.
Stepping over the
threshold, Rayne was assaulted by the most magnificent views she had ever seen
in her life. The entire far end of the cabin consisted of single-panel windows
that reached from the hardwood floors to the vaulted ceiling two stories up.
Beyond the balcony that sat outside the windows was a plummeting view of the
tropical rainforest. To the left, misty mountains; straight ahead, a leafy
rainforest canopy that cut sharply into the white gold sandy beach and
aquamarine tropical waters; to the right, a gentle curve of similar style
cabins and buildings--the continuation of the resort.
“Wow,” Rayne stood
stunned. The driver chuckled and made an attempt to explain where her amenities
were before disappearing out the back door and to his golf cart.
Everything about the
cabin was supersized: the bed was a king, the bathroom had a shower you could
cartwheel into, the spa was gigantic and the kitchen was better equipped than
her apartment’s. Flipping idly through the amenities brochure,
glossy
magazine stock, how la-di-da,
Rayne gathered that the cabin functioned as a
complete separate entity to the resort. Guests were encouraged to hire the
on-site chefs and staff rather than mingle with the ‘common people’ down in the
restaurant and pool area. The room also came with a private-use golf cart, but
as this was yet to be delivered (according to the booklet,) Lotus Suite guests
were entitled to a courtesy driver.
Just as Rayne began
unpacking her clothes, there was a ring from her door. Rayne let in a petite,
prim woman in Eden uniform. This attendant gave Rayne a quick once over before
plastering what could only be a professional smile on her face.
Am I going
to be kicked off the island?
This attendant’s glossy black ponytail and
barely-there makeup made Rayne feel uneasy; she felt like, at any time, a
photographer would pop out to take some in-situ shots for the staff training
manual:
staff evicts chubby sham guest
.
“Welcome to Eden
Resort, Ms. Baker! We are so thrilled you could join us. I hope you are finding
this room to your liking; is there anything you need?”
Rayne had a quick,
cursory look, “No, I don’t think so.”
“I am so pleased to
hear that, but remember, you can call housekeeping any time if you would like
to make a request.”
“Okay. I’ll keep that
in mind then.”
The attendant stood
expectantly for just a moment too long—long enough for Rayne to rummage out a
crumpled bill for the attendant’s tip.
“Oh, no thank you, Ms.
Baker; we don’t accept tips here. Thank you for your generosity, though. What I
was going to ask, I mean, say, is that you have been invited to our beauty room
for a free private session. It’s perfect timing as tonight we are hosting
drinks with a pre-set dinner to welcome our newest guests.”
“The three of us who
arrived?”
“Well, yes and no; we
are also welcoming guests who arrived yesterday and the day before.”
Rayne stood and nodded
slowly, “Sorry, what time is the dinner?”
“Seven pm.”
“And what time is the
beauty session?”
“It’s happening right
now. You would need to leave soon to be ready for dinner.”
Rayne looked at the
clock in the kitchen; it was just after lunchtime. “I’m going to be gone for
hours
?”
The attendant had the
conscience to look at least sheepish while she nodded, “It’s free, Ms. Baker.”
Resigned to fate,
Rayne gave a bewildered nod and followed the woman.
Rayne had been
plucked, massaged, trimmed, washed and blow-dried to a rosy pinkness before the
beauticians had called it quits and trolleyed out a makeup stand worthy of a
department store display. Two women had then worked on Rayne’s face, critiquing
and refining their work until they both stood back and clapped. Rayne had never
felt so humiliated;
they’re relieved the Herculean task is over.
Rayne was escorted
back to her cabin where she had just the briefest moments to marvel at the work
the beauticians had done. Losing two inches from her auburn hair and having a
professional eyebrow threader at her face gave prominence to her cheekbones and
illuminated her honey-colored eyes. Slipping into her favorite sapphire dress,
Rayne couldn’t help but twirl before the mirror;
I look like a million
bucks.
Stepping into a pair of mid-heeled pumps, Rayne clattered back to
the doorway where her driver stood patiently; her beauticians refused to let
her walk down to the party after their laborious work. The driver, the same
from that morning, was taken aback by Rayne’s new appearance and ducked his
head in embarrassment.
“Good to see you
again. Sorry, I didn’t get your name?” Rayne smiled as she slipped into the
leather seat.
‘”Oh, it’s Adam, Miss.
You look very lovely tonight.” Rayne failed to still her grin as the cart took
off into the forest.
****
The cocktail party was
in full swing by the time Rayne arrived. Adam had said there were about twenty
eight other guests on the island and that every night she could be sat with a
different group of guests unless she asked otherwise.
Men and women strolled
and chatted amongst themselves at the party, which was hosted in the resort’s
main atrium. The atrium was a vaulted common area of glass that ascended six or
so stories into the forest canopy. The interior of the atrium was done in a
minimalist earthy style to perhaps maximize the amazing views from above. A
pond wove through areas of the atrium in a rather unique touch.
A brimming
piña
colada was thrust into Rayne’s hand the moment she stepped into the atrium.
Taking a sip to prevent accidental spillage, she was delighted by the
deliciousness and gulped down a bit more.
Occasionally, men and
women would turn their heads to scope out their newest arrival, but it was the
reappearance of Rayne’s magenta-headed co-traveler who swept her up.
“Oh my
gawd
,
you look amazing!” Rayne was prickled by Billie’s thick helmet of magenta as
the maven went in for the double-cheek kiss. “I have to say I was convinced by
your attempt to slum it into the resort; you had me, you know!”
Rayne pursed her lips
together just slightly, but decided that if she was going to play the role of a
financial mogul, she might as well play along. Rayne was pulled through the
crowd, careful not to spill her drink, and was led to a slightly quieter area
where her other co-traveler stood nursing a rum and Coke.
Blondie’s eyebrows
shot up when Billie reintroduced Rayne, “This is the chick from the plane;
who’d have guessed?”
Blondie thrust his
hand forward for a shake; Rayne gave what she would describe as an overly firm
squeeze in response. “Nelson Patrick. Nice to formally meet you, Rayne.”
Oh fuck off, you
ass!
“Likewise,” she smiled her HR
this-is-a-formal-warning-you-idiot smile.
The conversation
drifted between Billie and Nelson with Rayne adding the special effects of “ah”
and “really?” at the appropriate times. What had kept her going was the
delicious cocktail in her hand. Within just a few minutes, there was a
delightful buzz in her head and her muscle tension from an overly long day
seemed to have melted away. Finishing her tall glass, and seeing her first
legitimate reason to abandon these thieves of air, Rayne motioned that she was
going back to the bar and tottered through the crowd.
“Dear God…I think my
brain has given up,” Rayne muttered to herself as she leaned against the bar.
“Strong drink?”
Rayne looked up to
find the voice and took an involuntary intake of breath. A man of equal parts
Wolverine and Patrick Dempsey was smiling back at her with genuine interest.
“No, though it’s a
good one. I picked the two worst people to meet on my first day,” she nodded
her head back toward the crowd, “They were debating jacket cuts and now they
are both insisting they got the exclusive first looks at so-and-so’s next
season wardrobe and are comparing very different notes.”
The stranger laughed,
giving Rayne the chance to drink in the cleft chin, gentle stubble and firm
jawline. “Would you believe it hasn’t been easy for me to make friends here
either?”
Rayne raised a
perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.
“It’s true--swear on
my heart,” he leaned back from the bar and crossed his heart to reveal a rugged
athletic build. “Seems that no one wants to befriend an advertiser,” he
shrugged comically.
A bartender dropped
another
piña
colada in front of Rayne and waved away her purse. “Must
be free tonight,” Rayne said as she took a large sip of her cocktail, thrilled
at the creamy chill.
“I’m Ben, by the way,”
the handsome stranger extended a large, warm hand; this time, Rayne returned a
gentle squeeze.
It was a couple of
seconds before Ben motioned to her, “And you are?”
Rayne instantly
reddened, and spluttered out a laugh;
this cocktail is amazing!
“I’m so sorry,” she
coughed between gasps. “I’m Rayne, Raynebow Baker. Gee-whiz, this drink is
definitely getting to my head!”
“
Raynebow
?” Ben
looked at her like she wasn’t telling the whole truth.
“Yes, Raynebow. My
parents had a spiritual awakening and joined some strange commune before I was
conceived. Fortunately, they saw the error of their ways and we moved out, but
not before they named me Raynebow. I was yet to learn the horrors of that name
until I was finally let out of home schooling. You can call me Rayne.”
Rayne was about to
launch into twenty questions when the lounge music playing on the AV was muted
and a voice cut across: “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for being here
tonight. Please make your way to your assigned seats in the dining room and
dinner will be served.”
Rayne was certain she
could see a definite fall in Ben’s shoulders, “Looks like I’ll have to catch
you a bit later, Rayne; it has been lovely meeting you.” He gave a sad little
nod and made his way into the crowd. Rayne gathered her drink and followed the
procession into the dining area before a gentle little hand settled on her
elbow, “This way, Miss.” A staff member herded her towards a table in the
center of the room lit overhead by a modern chandelier.
Finding her name card,
Rayne sat heavily in her chair and looked at the other guests. They were all a
different shade of fake tan from the natural looking bronze to the sickly orange
hue of poor formulations. Rayne was the only representative of a genuine
indoor-colored specimen.
Each table was equally
shared between men and women. There was a near perfect split, except for one
table where they seemed to be missing a man, and two women were sat together
instead.
Now that she was
seated--and didn’t have to focus on standing up--Rayne took stock of her fellow
guests. They were all unattached looking men and women ranging from early 20s
to mid 50s, which was strange; she had expected there to be couples. The men
occupied the highest echelon of the age bracket, but there seemed to be plenty
of amorous flirting across the age groups--more than Rayne had ever seen
before.
Maybe this is how rich people date?
For someone who
worships at the temple of food, Rayne was shockingly not hungry during the
meals, and neither were her compatriots. The food looked divine and had lots of
delicious flavors, but she could barely stomach more than a few mouthfuls,
Rayne was starting to think she may have drank a little too much. She chatted
idly with her table guests and watched as they all pushed their food around,
taking bites only every so often. Her thirst, however, had grown and despite
feeling tipsy, she downed her cocktail; another was presented in its spot
within moments.
After dinner, the
guests were guided to the open deck area. Now unsteady on her feet, Rayne took
her time navigating the tables and made a beeline for some bench seats. She was
quickly joined by others who also seemed a little unsteady, and ended up with
two slightly older men sitting on either side of her. Guests were dividing into
pockets and dispersing along the deck or wandering into other outdoor areas.
Rayne looked for Ben, but couldn’t see him.
A deep bass had
started thumping through the floors, and a low melody was being played through
the inbuilt AVs.
Must be a DJ playing,
she thought. Driven by the
addictive beat, Rayne started swaying to the rhythm and tapping her feet. The
men sitting on either side of her had also begun to sway and move their bodies
to the sound, their hands tapping rhythmically against their thighs. The sounds
seemed to intensify to a point where Rayne felt her grip slip on her glass and
she dropped her cocktail, but no one looked; they were too absorbed in the
music. For the first time in months, Rayne was feeling sexy, and she couldn’t
resist the strange sensations that her hands were giving as she caressed her
body. Almost as if by invitation, the strangers on either side of Rayne started
to stroke her curves. A hand travelled up her waist and gave her left breast a
sensual squeeze before slipping up to her face and gently turning it for a full
mouth kiss. A thick tongue slipped into Rayne’s mouth and she sucked on it
hungrily, not caring about the face on the other end. Her other neighbor was
gently stroking her knee and waited until Rayne opened her thighs before
slipping his hand up her soft alabaster skin.
A hot, throbbing
desire awoke inside Rayne’s center; it was like she was eighteen again and her
libido had skyrocketed. The intensity inside her ached for release, and without
any thought other than to satisfy her craving, she sat up and guided her
neighbor’s inquisitive hand up into her panties. She let the two men guide her
hands to their own crotches where she massaged their thickening lengths through
their pressed pants, but her concentration was elsewhere. The hand inside her
crotch had slipped past the panty line and was slickening her with a sudden
rush of her wetness. Her clit ached as the stranger’s fingers fluttered and
circled past.
You’re in public,
Rayne.
As though a bucket of
ice water had been dumped on her head, Rayne whipped her head back and
untangled the hand fiddling with her panties. Looking around in shock, Rayne
saw that the entire party was a tangle of bodies in various states of sex. A
girl was bent over a railing, her skirt hiked up around her waist as an older
man with a toupee rutted feverishly. A man and woman were dry humping on a
picnic table, though it looked like the woman was only a few moments from
removing her partner’s underpants. Rayne got up off the bench and was going to
apologize to the strangers sitting next to her when she noticed that they had
turned to fuck guests on the other side of them. All the while, that deep bass
thrummed through the floors, encouraging the guests to fuck to the same rhythm.
Rayne staggered away
and found herself at a staircase that led down into what looked like a dimly
lit pool and spa area. For no other reason than the throb between her legs
urging her to, she took a few dainty steps down. She had hardly made it a third
of the way down the staircase when she saw slithering bronze bodies gyrating
against each other in the water. Rayne’s jaw dropped as she counted no fewer
than nine people fucking in the shallow waters of the spa. Men with tight beer
bellies swapped partners with men with six-pack abs, women turned and climbed
their interchanging partners with the hunger and desire of the sex starved.
Among this carnage was the flaming magenta head of Billie, who had her legs
wrapped around the thickened torso of pale and blotchy stranger. Rayne was
about to take another step down, her aching desire urging her down there, when
a firm hold gripped her upper arm.
“That looks like a
mistake, don’t you think?”
Rayne let the hand
guide her back up the stairs and through the throng of fucking guests to a
track that led back up the hill, presumably to her cabin.
Rayne looked up at her
rescuer; her heart flipped when she saw that it was Ben. “Did you…” her words
were slurred, “Did you see that?”
Ben gave a slow nod
and continued to steer her up the track at a brisk panting pace. Once they got
to a clearing, Rayne was able to realize where they were. The waterfall she had
passed on her way to her cabin was just ahead. Ben released her arm and took a
few pointed steps away from Rayne. They stared at each other for just a few
moments, both panting, the rhythm of the bass echoing up the track.
Ben shook his head and
rubbed his face with his hand. “You are so beautiful, I...I have to do this,”
he said as he dropped his hand and rushed forward, locking his arms around
Rayne, bringing his bristly face down to plant his soft lips upon hers. His
kiss intensified as she threw her arms around him and pressed her curves into
his.
Ben pulled at Rayne’s
dress and scooped her up so she could lock her legs around his waist; she was
at the perfect height to feel his rock hard length through his pressed
trousers. Ben carried Rayne through the track like she weighed nothing, halting
as they came to the waterfall lagoon. Gently lowering her back to the ground,
Ben motioned to the lagoon and started to strip. Rayne stood dumbfounded as the
moonlight revealed his chiseled abs and broad set of shoulders. Fiddling with
his pants, Rayne was even more excited to see firm, muscular legs poking out of
his boxer briefs. Peeling off his underwear, Rayne gasped with delight to see
his rigid, thick cock spring free and point at her. Ben took a running jump and
dove into the lagoon, surfacing far from his splash and calling out for Rayne
to join him.
Torn between her
desire and self-consciousness, Rayne turned her back and unzipped her favorite
dress, letting it fall gently to the ground. She then unhooked her bra and
stepped gingerly out of her panties, giving a final over-the-shoulder look to
see what Ben was up to. Ben had walked toward the shore and was standing
waist-high in the lagoon, the water casting gentle shadows over his ripped
body. Rayne slowly turned, and watched as Ben let his eyes venture greedily
over her ample bottom and hips, nipped-in waist and pillowy breasts. The water
was only a little cooler than the air around them, but it still took her by
surprise as she walked in, and made her nipples pucker deliciously. Making it
just to knee-height water, Rayne was taken off-guard as Ben waded purposefully
toward her and scooped her up so she again wrapped her legs around him; this
time, he angled her body so his thick length slid straight into her tight, hot
wetness. Rayne gasped at his thick girth and Ben gave a groan as she slid
slowly down his rigidness. He pressed his mouth to Rayne’s and they returned to
kissing hungrily. Her throbbing center squeezed and pulled at him, causing him
to buckle as his hips moved involuntarily in thrusting motions.