Kelly Exposed

by Viktor Redreich

  I sat opposite her and tucked my legs up under my chair.

  As promised, a waiter noticed us and came over. He was rather handsome-looking, which didn’t go unnoticed by Alora. He noticed her attention and gave it right back, eyeing her up. “Welcome to Rainforest Delights,” he said. His accent was the same as Alora’s, though thicker. He handed menus to each of us, deliberately touching Alora’s hand in the process.

  Alora took the menu out of my hands and handed it back to him. “No need,” she said, grinning cheekily.

  The waiter grinned at her. “The lady knows what she likes. What will it be, hot stuff?”

  Alora barely glanced at me. “I will order for both of us, if you don’t mind, Kelly. I know the island’s food best.”

  “O—okay.”

  “We will have the tostones,” Alora said. “She will have the mofongo with roast pork, and I will have the curried chicken, extra spicy.”

  “You like it hot, I see,” the waiter said.

  Alora dragged her lower teeth sensually over her bottom lip. “Oh, don’t you know it.”

  “And to drink? Or would you like something else to take your mind off the heat?”

  “I will have a cappuccino. Kelly, do you drink coffee?”

  The thought of drinking anything hot in this weather made me cringe.

  Alora again seemed to read my mind. “She will have the tamarind juice.”

  The waiter put his hand on her shoulder and caressed her skin. “Let me go get that started.”

  She stroked his hand with hers. “Thank you, my dear.”

  The bulge at the front of his shorts was clear as he walked away.

  I looked at Alora. “I have no idea what you’ve ordered for us.”

  She laughed. “Tostones are plantains. The green unripe plantain is much like a potato. Consider it like a kettle chip, thicker and crunchier. They are served with a variety of sauces. Garlic dip, here. Mofongo is plantain again, and you will find it tastes much like stuffing, served with the most tender roasted pork you will ever taste. The curried chicken is exactly what it seems, served with yellow rice and beans.”

  “And tamarind?”

  “It is a tangy, sweet, refreshing juice. Quite unlike anything you will have tasted before.” Alora tapped her fingers on the table and looked over her shoulder, clearly searching for her waiter crush. “Caribbean cuisine has several influences. Cajun, African, American, Chinese . . . It is a fusion. Many peoples have come to the Caribbean and brought their traditions with them. Kelly, you could eat out every day while your living here on this island and never taste all there is to offer.”

  Why do I have a feeling that the last part wasn’t just referring to the food?

  The waiter returned with a plate of crispy yellow circles, similar to banana chips. Alora picked up one of the chips and held it to his mouth. He took it between his teeth and licked her fingers. She shuddered and stroked his cheek. He set down our drinks in a hurry, almost spilling them in the process.

  “Thank you,” Alora purred.

  “My pleasure.”

  “Oh, it will be later. I assure you of that . . .”

  He winked at her. “I will hold you to that. And our friend here?”

  I ducked my head, knowing he referred to me.

  “She’s new,” Alora explained.

  He licked his lips. “You’re lucky.”

  Alora laughed and shooed him away with her hands. She turned back to me and gestured for me to try some of the chips. “Go on.”

  As promised, the tostones were just like chips. There was definitely something banana-like about the taste, but without the sweetness. I tried to pace myself but by the time our main course arrived, I’d mostly emptied the plate.

  Rather than eat, Alora focused on making moony eyes at the flirty waiter. I tucked into my food and again, the taste was exactly as Alora described. The pile of cooked plantain performed exactly like stuffing and the roasted pork was succulent. I ate every last bit. The only thing I decided I wouldn’t have again was the juice; it was okay but too sour for my liking. It seemed more of a treat, an occasional thing, rather than one I would want every meal.

  Alora paid. As we were getting ready to leave, she branched off from me and rerouted to the waiter. She grabbed the front of his pants and tucked money into his waistband—his tip, I imagined. He grabbed her by the rump and pulled her in, and their lips crashed together.

  I looked away. At least the hotel was right there. If she took too long, I could just go.

  The two parted, luckily for me. Alora came back over, putting her hand on my shoulder in a manner almost disturbingly possessive. “I will walk you back to your room.”

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  “You can do anything to me you like,” she quipped.

  I blushed. “Why did you get me a room with two beds?”

  I hoped she wouldn’t say she meant to spend the night.

  Alora laughed and patted my shoulder. We entered the hotel and headed down the hall in the direction of my room. “All the rooms in all the guest houses and hotels come with two beds. It’s expected that both will be needed.”

  “Why?”

  “Just because you partner with someone doesn’t mean you wish to share a bed with them,” she explained. “But it’s not always safe to go out at night.”

  “Why?” I was breathless.

  “Bats,” she said sagely. “And flamingos. They wander the streets at night. They can be very aggressive when defending their nesting sites. There are boars in the forests and wild monkeys. Jaguars hunt by night, and there are any number of snakes and insects you would rather not stumble into in the dark. And that is merely the animal threat. You could get lost in the jungle or take a fall. The two beds, they are tradition.”

  Finally, something on this island made sense. I shivered to think of coming across any of the animals she described. I probably weighed less than a jaguar. If one snuck up on me, I wouldn’t stand a chance. I might not even know I was a goner until I was gone.

  Unfortunately, that meant I shouldn’t try to make my escape at night, either. I was stuck.

  “Get some rest,” Alora implored. “We will be doing a lot of walking tomorrow.”

  I nodded. Something inspired me to reach to her and take her hand. I’d been so unpleasant to her sometimes but she had done nothing wrong. “Thank you for giving me a good first day after I was late to even show up. The food was excellent.”

  She beamed and clasped my hand, brought it to her lips, and kissed the back of it. “I hope there are even more enjoyable times ahead of us.”

  “M—me, too.”

  She kept my hand for far too long. My skin burned where she had kissed. She smiled and stepped away. I went into my room and locked it, and only then did I hear her start to walk away.

  I shook my head and went to get my bags. I pulled out a notebook and a pen and lounged on the bed. I started to write down everything that had happened thus far, in as great of detail as I could manage, down to each word spoken in conversation. This would be the most important aspect of my time here, my ability to catalog all that I had experienced and what it meant. I’d refer back to all of it for my paper.

  And if things went well, I might look back on this account for fun. Anwak seemed like a great place, even with its one glaring flaw.

  Chapter 7

  On your knees, now

  Stepping out of the bathroom on my second day in Anwak, I discovered Alora waiting for me. I wrapped my arms around myself, thanking my instincts that I had gotten dressed before I left. She did have a key to the room, after all. I couldn’t keep her out without jamming something under the doorknob.

  “It’s a beautiful morning,” Alora announced. “The sunshine will not be overbearing until noon. I think we should use this to divide up our day. We will explore the city until the weather takes us inside. We will grab lunch and then I will take you to the beach. There is a cove, very shallow, where you may pet m
anta rays and dolphins.”

  “I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

  Alora looked at me like I was crazy. “No one does.”

  This whole nudity thing was getting out of hand. I supposed that if these people had sex all the time, everywhere, the only reason they ever wore clothes was for protection from bugs and sunlight.

  “What’s it like in the city?” I asked. “I didn’t pay much attention.”

  “Oh, it is beautiful. There are many small shops filled with goods and wares made by the people who own them.” Alora reached for my hand. “Let me show you.”

  “What about breakfast?”

  She smiled mysteriously. “You will see. Come, now.”

  I let her have my hand and she led me out of the hotel, past the café, back in the direction I had come from. Alora chattered happily the whole way. “There is an abundance of nature trails if you keep going past the hotel, ranging from very flat and beginner-friendly to treacherous cliffs meant for only the best hikers. There are many homes back that way, as well, and farms. There is even a fish hatchery at the base of a waterfall.”

  “Wow,” I said, to prompt her to continue.

  “As with the food, you could visit a new place every day and never run out of things to do. Anwak may be a small island, but the population grows each year as more people discover the joys of living here.” Alora suddenly pointed to a spot on the side of the road. I looked past all the copulating couples to a rustic food truck. “That is where we will have breakfast. I know college students prefer to eat on the go.”

  The seller ogled Alora’s breasts while serving us our food. I trusted Alora again to get me something good and she delivered. Breakfast was a thin flatbread, almost a tortilla, wrapped around rice and vinegary onions and crab, all in a rich sauce. The flavors played on my tongue. I felt almost content, walking the sunny street, eating my delicious breakfast, with a light salt-tinged breeze blowing in from the ocean.

  When we had finished eating, Alora started to show me the shops. Boutiques and craft stores and little bakeries made up the majority. I didn’t so much care for the boutiques—I would never be caught dead in such skimpy clothing—but the arts and crafts on display took my breath away. Pottery was most common, clay spun into beautiful bowls and pots then painted with an assortment of vibrant colors. There were paintings as well, depictions of the beach and the jungle alike, and hand-made purses and scarves and head-dresses.

  I could almost ignore all the people having sex in the shops.

  Alora kept a careful eye on me. I hoped to keep me safe, though the intensity of her gaze told me there was more to it than that. She seemed to be waiting for some sort of opening. I wasn’t ignoring her, per se, but I was so busy looking around I didn’t much care what she wanted to say.

  The architecture of the island was as varied as the people, the food, the art forms. Buildings were painted bright colors and often had multiple layers and overhanging parts, decorative columns, and arched rooves.

  I stopped in front of a bright yellow bakery; its roof so dramatic the edge swooped almost all the way down to the sidewalk. I touched the painted slats, felt the roughness of damage around the edges, caused by damp and sea salt.

  “You like the designs,” Alora commented. “I have noticed you paying particular attention to our way of crafting.”

  I nodded and looked over at her. She had applied some sort of oil to her body. She smelled of bananas and gleamed in the sun.

  Alora spread her arms. “There is much in the way of history in this area of the world. The colonization of the Americas brought strife and war. In the seventeenth century and onward, pirates flourished. There are wrecks of their ships on the other side of the island, covered now in salt so they seem made of crystal. Things have changed much since then. Time has moved us on to an era of peace. We take joy in every action around us. We want to be happy no matter where we go.”

  I moved on from the bakery, though the sweet scents filtering from the open windows implored me to stay. “I’m impressed. You know a lot about history.”

  “I have not spent my whole life here, in contrast to what you might believe.” Alora put her hands behind her back as she strolled along, making her breasts push forward and up. A man nearby dropped his cigar at the sight of her and had to smack out the little flames that formed on his shirt. The scent of the cigar smoke was sweet and pleasant, not at all like cigarettes.

  “Really?”

  “I went to the USA for college. I wanted to see more of the world. Curiosity, is all.” She chuckled. “I wanted to know if everything I had heard was true. I was not to be disappointed in that regard.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I got into one of your universities. I graduated with a degree in Communications, a minor in History of the Americas.” She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t regret it. It was a valuable experience, but I was homesick for all those years. Your culture is rather reserved. I wanted to know what it was like, so I restrained myself and acted like everyone else. I missed the frequent sex. I was born to be a slut.”

  I started in surprise at that callous word. “You don’t mean that.”

  “Oh, I’m not ashamed of it! You’re sweet to worry, but I was not insulting myself.” She gave me one of her fantastic smiles. “Here, we act on all our impulses. That’s how I was raised, what part of me was nurtured. That makes me a slut. I needed to return to Anwak to be able to embrace my sexuality once more, without censorship. Now I am a tour guide. I relish more than anything being able to show others how freeing their lives can be if only they stopped worrying all the time about how they will be perceived by society.”

  She almost had me convinced. What she spoke of, it was utopic.

  How often in my life had I stressed over what I did and said? I would never dare to dream of calling someone a slut and have it taken as a compliment but that was exactly what it was to Alora.

  I wonder what came first. Did sexual freedom lead to other freedoms, or was it the other way around? The honesty, the bluntness, it’s kind of refreshing.

  I pointed to another shop, this one brimming with animal sculptures. “Can we go in?”

  Alora looked up at the sun, which had grown larger and more intense since we first started out. “Yes, and then I suggest we begin searching for somewhere to have lunch.”

  We ducked into the shop. I went up to the stark-naked shop owner, doing my best to act normal and not gawp at his privates. “Do you have any frogs?”

  My mother had a collection of frog art, dishes and paintings, and figurines. She’d love a little souvenir.

  The owner grinned at me with his white teeth. “I have one. It is a bit small. I do have something larger you might be interested in . . .”

  I caught my breath. “The frog will be fine.”

  “Over in that display case.” He looked disappointed.

  I quickly found what he’d been talking about. It was a solid piece of clay, small enough to fit in the palm of my hand, painted orange, red, and black in exquisite detail. Perfect. I paid quickly and got out of there, tucking the trinket away in my purse.

  A group of five young men stood in front of the shop, staring at myself and Alora as we exited. They wore black shorts and black shirts with big holes on the sides, showing off their muscles. I was instantly worried, alarm bells ringing in my mind. I grabbed Alora’s arm.

  Before I could speak, one of the men cupped his hand over his crotch and yelled, “You two are making my dick hard!”

  More uncouth language. I was speechless.

  The others rushed to chime in with their leader’s statements, a few of them also mimicking his crotch-grab. The fronts of their shorts bulged out.

  I backed up, my butt running into the shop wall. Alora didn’t move even though I tugged on her. She stood so relaxed; one hip jutted out. Didn’t she recognize the danger?

  The men spread out, surrounding us. I looked over as there was movement from the shop; the owner
emerged and joined the ring, rubbing himself the whole while.

  The leader smirked right at me, singling me out. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re going to be a good girl and show me and my friends some love.” He reached out and grabbed my breast, squeezing.

  I pulled in a sharp breath, horrified. This resembled all too closely some of the porn I had seen Tyler watching. The reality was even worse.

  “No!” I cried, breaking out of my shock. I shoved the leader away. He stared at me, mouth open. He hadn’t expected me to fight back.

  I pushed away from the wall, ducking through the small gap I’d made by pushing the man aside. I turned around once I was out of reach, expecting to see Alora right behind me.

  She was behind me, but not running. She was on her knees, taking a member into her mouth while the others around her disrobed. She wore a look of pure delight.

  She really is a slut.

  This was in her nature.

  As I looked at her, I was struck by how similar her happy look was to the one she had on her face in my dream.

  What had happened on the plane had not been a dream at all.

  Chapter 8

  Run girl run

  I reeled from the realization of what I had done. Unknowingly, I had partaken of the debauchery of the island before I even arrived by making myself orgasm on the plane while Alora and Donovan went at it. That wasn’t who I was. That wasn’t me. I was a good girl!

  Memories of what I had done with Duke almost two years ago now came back to me, unbidden.

  No! I barked at myself. The two incidents weren’t related.

  With the men distracted by Alora, I made my escape. I ran past the shop and ducked into a narrow alley, behind a dumpster. My heart pounded so loud I could hear nothing except my racing pulse. I peered back around the dumpster and didn’t see anyone coming for me. I held my breath, gray flecks floating in my vision, and crept back to the entrance of the alley to check out what was going on.