Me Tarzan, You Jewel

by Titania Ladley

  But who? One of the Sisters? The priest? A gift, perhaps, from one of the children’s parents?

  Her brow suddenly creased. But hadn’t she locked her door last night?

  Rise, Jewel Dublin. Rise from that bed and come here to the bottle.

  The voice seemed to echo in her head. She sat upright and gasped, poking her glasses further up her nose. “Who…who’s there?”

  Come. You must open me.

  Jewel clutched the scratchy, wool blanket to her chin and jerked her gaze to the left, the right, upward.

  “God? Is that you?”

  Oh, God, she didn’t want it to be God! Please don’t be God. She wasn’t ready, not yet.

  This is not God—at least not that God.

  She flung the covers aside and scrambled from the bed. Her eyes snapped to the bottle. Hopefully, she’d be safe here with the bed in between her and the dresser. But if she found it necessary to escape, she’d have to pass by the highboy to get to the door. Which made her suddenly feel like a trapped rat.

  “Who’s there, and how did you know my thoughts?” She cringed at the panic in her own voice, along with the silliness of the question. A lengthy, deafening silence followed.

  “Did you hear me? I want answers right now!”

  A deep timbre of what she thought was an amused chuckle, rang out.

  You will not be harmed. Come here, Jewel. Come here and open the bottle.

  Emphasizing the man’s words, the bottle flashed and glowed a warm gold, as if a yellow light bulb had lit up inside its purple glass walls. It pulsed in heartbeat rhythm. It beckoned to her sensual and hot, bringing to mind the buff men in the magazines she had hidden beneath her mattress.

  “What…what’s going on? I—I don’t understand,” she said, even as her feet seemed to step around the bed of their own accord.

  Yes. That’s it. Come here. Come closer.

  As she neared, a tantalizing heat enveloped her. Temptation—that oh-so forbidden devil here in the convent—overwhelmed her. Her bare feet padded across the cold, raw, wood floor. Flashes of those nude centerfold men in magazines filled her mind. Hard abs, tight rears made just for squeezing, smoldering gazes that promised fulfillment. And…soft body parts that engorged in seconds and fit within a woman’s passage like the rigid piece of a puzzle. Her panties flooded with excitement, but as always, she outwardly and expertly hid her desire from the outside world. Only she knew of the throbbing that plagued her sex. Only she knew of the painful longing in her heart to be held once again, to be brought to that pinnacle of insanity.

  But never again would anyone hurt her the way he had all those years ago.

  It’s time, Jewel. It’s time to experience a man again, just like those in your magazines, just like those you’re fantasizing about right now, just like you once had so long ago.

  She halted in mid-step, the bottle mere inches from her reach. A ragged intake of breath escaped her throat. “How…how did you know…?”

  Open me. Open me, and you shall see…

  The stopper, poised elegantly atop the bottle, glittered seductively; it charmed and enticed much like her centerfold men. Jewel inhaled and caught a whiff of citrus and wild tropical flowers. She tipped her head and furrowed her brow. Was that a parakeet she heard chirping? No. It couldn’t be. There weren’t parakeets here in the hillsides of Chastity, Vermont, even if it was late June.

  She rubbed her eyes beneath the glasses and glanced over at the dull-gray curtains. They partially covered the open window and fluttered on the cool morning breeze. Streaks of tangerine and coral layered across the jagged horizon, blending with the lingering gray of night. Fingers of fog hovered across the pond down by the convent’s wrought iron gate. Dawn made a brilliant entrance…but was it real? Could she be dreaming?

  No, it’s not a dream, Jewel. It’s an opportunity of a lifetime. Open me now!

  Her gaze jerked back to the bottle. Well, she didn’t believe a word of it. Her dreams were always vivid and alive with men and the world out there she’d been hiding from. Just because it seemed real didn’t mean it was real. But since it most probably was a dream, curiosity won out. It had been a stressful week teaching at the convent, so she deserved to indulge herself and see just where this dream would take her. And she certainly deserved an exciting diversion from the melancholy moods that had been plaguing her of late. These drab walls were beginning to close in on her. Thoughts of things and emotions long buried had begun to haunt her. Oh yes, she definitely needed a distraction. She was going to open the bottle and see what this was all about, what excitement might await her and help her forget.

  Jewel lifted her hand and reached for it. Energy assaulted her, making her fingers twitch and her toes curl against the cold slats of the hardwood floor. She sucked in a breath and snatched her hand back.

  It’s okay. It won’t hurt you.

  Gathering a lungful of courage, she nodded her understanding. Stretching out her hand again, she gripped the narrow neck. Her body convulsed almost violently. The tempting borders of ecstasy reached for her. Heat wrapped with the luscious, just-out-of-reach edges of orgasm taunted her. She moaned and threw her head back. With a trembling grasp, she slowly drew the bottle toward her until she could cradle it against her chest. On a sigh, she closed her eyes and soaked in the warmth and passion of it. Her legs trembled beneath her long, cotton nightgown. The bottle pulsed in her hands and sent ripples of fire through her, hardening her nipples, oozing down into her womb.

  And with impulsive speed, she clutched the jeweled stopper in her palm and yanked it from the bottle’s neck.

  Pop!

  A humid breeze spun around her, plastering her high-necked gown to her body. Her loose hair blew back from her face, fluttering madly behind her. The morning Vermont chill fled her flesh and became replaced by soaking, blessed sunrays. She drew in a breath and salty sea-scents filled her lungs. Looking down, she wiggled her toes against the soft grains of warm, wet…sand?

  “Hello.”

  The voice, no longer an echo, brought her head up with a snap. And there before her levitated the epitome of every centerfold model all wrapped up into one finely honed man. Sun-streaked, golden, long hair framed a handsome face with the most interesting aqua eyes she’d ever seen. He floated nearer and she caught the rugged, earthy scent of him. As he moved, so did his short garment, a strange rendition of a Greek god or a Roman gladiator. It revealed well-defined, powerful legs just made for…

  “Jewel Dublin, it’s time to change your life.”

  “What…who are you?”

  The gentle smile he gave her momentarily distracted her from the wonder of this strange morning. “I’m Luke. And I’m your genie, here to assist you.”

  She raised one skeptical brow. A genie? Why, that was ridiculous! There was no such thing in God’s universe.

  “Is too.”

  With a blink at his blunt rebuttal, she wondered if she’d spoken her thoughts on genies out loud.

  Jewel shifted her stance, absently noting the soft give of the sand beneath her feet. “And how would you know what’s good for me and my life?”

  “Well…by the same token, how would I know about the magazines?” he asked without missing a beat. He crossed his arms over his thick chest, emphasizing muscles that bulged and flexed.

  She slammed the bottle onto the dresser surface with a thud. “That is none of your god—none of your business!”

  The man chuckled and revealed straight white teeth within a wide, arrogant mouth. But his laughter died abruptly. He zoomed forward until his eyes were level with hers. She detected a new scent, that of…?

  Of woman? Yes, the cad had the smell of some woman soaked into his very skin!

  “You don’t want to be a nun.” He announced it as if it was a fact to report on the morning news.

  She shrieked and slapped a hand over her mouth.

  “No need to confirm that, love. I know it’s true.”

  “How…how did you
know?” Jewel stumbled backward across the sandy floor and dropped to the bed. It squeaked beneath her weight. She held a trembling hand to her cheek as she stared in stunned disbelief at the man. Please, please, don’t tell Sister Thea or Sister Neoma. Her heart pounded against her breastbone. They’ll toss me out without a stitch on my back.

  “No need to worry. My lips are sealed. And I know because I can read your mind. I’ve been…gifted with certain talents that you obviously cannot deny. But all in the name of love and lust,” he said cheerily.

  “Oh, no…” she groaned. Stabbing her fingers into her medium-length tresses, she gripped the strands as if they were her only hope of sanity. “Oh, no.”

  “Oh, yes,” he replied, gliding over to where she sat slumped on the bed. He reached out a warm hand and lifted her chin so that her eyes had no choice but to look into the sparkle of his.

  “You’ve been a prisoner of sorts in this convent for over four years now. Without any family or friends nearby, you turned to God after your heart was broken. You saw no need for any other man, so you devoted your heart and your time to Him, to the nuns and their school. You’re a wonderful teacher to all those little ones, but that’s as far as you should go, love. Don’t you see? Your valiant plan to be a nun would take a commitment your fiery soul cannot fulfill. Deep down, your impetuous heart always thumped, always fought to beat. Don’t be ashamed that you desire exactly what God gave you, passion and carnal needs in order to carry on and keep His world thriving. Jewel,” he said huskily, tweaking her nose, “you must follow your heart, let it mend, let it be you. God will not blame you.”

  When she tried to lower her eyes, he once again tipped her face up to meet his stare.

  “No…” Jewel shook her head emphatically. But he held her jaw and refused to hear any refusal. “Why have you come? What is this all about?”

  “I told you,” he said with a devastating smile that made her pulse flutter. “It’s time to change your life.”

  “But—”

  He didn’t allow her to speak again. His apparition spun upward in a funnel-like swirl, then reappeared whole above her. Behind him, through the flaking ceiling and old, rotting, wooden beams, she caught glimpses of cerulean skies edged with the green fronds of palms.

  And he was now naked. The sight of it took her breath away. It was as if the pages of her magazines had come to life, an Adonis, a perfectly sculpted man no longer made of one-dimensional ink. But his sex organ wasn’t soft as they all were in the magazines. It stood full and erect, his sac tight and drawn up, the veiny shaft jutting upward over his rippled abdomen. In shocking response, her panties filled with a hot, sticky wetness.

  But she didn’t have time to so much as mentally scold herself for such a wanton response. He threw his arms wide and lifted his head toward the heavens. In a language she didn’t recognize, he sang and mumbled. But somehow, she understood every word he chanted.

  “Her destiny to Carnal Island shall be, the course of this journey, one, two, three.” Fire and smoke churned around him. The room seemed to wane and ebb out of her vision. A sudden renewed aroma of salt mixed with oranges and acrid smoke filled her lungs. And she could swear the flavor of coconut suddenly erupted in her mouth. Above him, the ceiling burst open with a crack, revealing a wide and full mural of vivid, blue summer skies. She heard the splash of water, the song of a cockatoo, the swish of saw palmetto in a tropical forest.

  Eagerness laced with a vague trepidation filled her soul. It may be a dream, she thought, but it was going to be a wondrous one!

  “Lead her, oh Xanthian powers that be,” he sang, “to a life and a love and a man by the sea.”

  The words caught her off guard. “But wait. I don’t want another man to—”

  But it was too late. A painful wheeze wrenched through her chest. The pleasant smells she’d been experiencing whooshed from her lungs. In their place came the scent of a man…a familiar man.

  Dizziness engulfed her with fingers of soft, obscure memories.

  And she floated into oblivion as a vision of him, trapped in her subconscious for more than four years, emerged to once again torment her heart.

  Chapter Two

  Was that goddamn sandpaper he had his face buried in? Vince groaned and opened one eye. Sprawled on his stomach, he could look out over the surface of the earth. He raised his head and stared in awe. Make that a white sandy beach, he thought with a mental grumble. He scanned the perimeter and noted the sand rose in ripples to a grassy area which, in turn, gave way to a thick forest of soaring palm trees and flowering undergrowth.

  Swoosh.

  He glanced behind him to see that a white-tipped wave arced its way toward shore—and crashed over him. Cool wetness soothed the flesh of his back and legs where the sun had apparently baked him in sleep. He leapt to his feet brushing the soggy grit of sand from his chest, arms, cheek and boxers.

  “How in the hell did I get here?”

  With his vision still a tad blurry, he peered out to sea. An aqua expanse of endless, rocking waves filled his gaze. Panic rose in his chest. It was definitely a long way from here to the cozy threesome he’d been participating in back in Denver. He scanned the horizon. Not a skyscraper or civilization or even a sailboat in sight. The cloudless, crisp blue sky, and the water, a stunning, immense obstacle, all seemed to mock him, to threaten his sanity with looming madness.

  What was going on?

  “You will be fine,” the familiar feminine voice of Jennie said.

  He spun around and searched the area for her. But he stood alone on the strange beach. “Where are you, damn it?”

  “That’s not as important as where you are.”

  He planted tight fists on his damp hips. “And can I ask where that might be?”

  She giggled a melodious sound that made him think of sea sirens. “Weren’t you listening when I cast my magic upon you? You’re on Carnal Island.”

  Yes, he recalled that particular mention in her chants. “Carnal Island?” He nodded mockingly. “Oh yes. And do you mind if I ask where the hell that is?”

  “Not at all. It’s in the Gulf, way off the coast of Florida.”

  “Ah, well,” he began with a relieved yet sarcastic sigh. “Then row me on back to the mainland and I’ll be outa your hair, doll—that is, unless you wanna…?”

  He felt the shove of her hand just before he stumbled into the sea. The surf hurtled over him as he landed on all fours. The swift kick to his ass that followed brought him face down against the shell-ridden seabed beneath the water.

  All he could think was that he hadn’t meant any disrespect, had only been lashing back at a genie who insisted on putting him on some freaking island against his will. He spit and sputtered as his head broke the surface of the water.

  “Well, this is no dream. It’s a fucking nightmare,” he muttered sardonically as he spat the grains of salty sand and broken shells from his mouth.

  “That may very well be true at times, dear Vince. Remember, though, it’s entirely up to you. Now, I’ll be on my way. You make yourself at home, you hear?”

  “Wait!” He dragged himself up and whirled around. “Where are you? No. No. You can’t…you can’t just leave me here stranded on some strange island. All alone,” he added under his breath.

  Silence was interrupted only by the caw of a sea gull. The crash of the surf followed, pounding in tempo with his morning-after, hangover headache.

  “Jennie?” Still, she didn’t reply. “Jennie?”

  He kicked the shallow water and stubbed his toe on a hidden rock. “Damn!” Hopping on one foot, he cradled the offending digit, wincing until the pain subsided.

  That was when he heard the choking sounds, the short spurts of coughing and gut-wrenching gags.

  Radar-like, he swiveled his head around and let go of his foot, plopping it back into the water. Up the beach about fifty yards, a sopping-wet lump that could only be a human body, washed ashore. The tide shoved it onto the beach, pushing and
rolling its limp, soggy bulk. From where he stood, he could tell it was a woman by the obvious curves outlined through the long, soaked gown.

  “Jennie.” Vince couldn’t help the set of his jaw or the grind of his teeth when he said her name. Nostrils flared, he kept his gaze fixed on her as he took flight. Sloshing through the edge of the surf, he waded up shore. His hands flexed, itched to close around that luscious neck of hers and demand to be returned to Denver. The woman—or genie or whatever the hell she was—would put him right back in bed between…what’s-their-names.

  As he neared, he halted abruptly, not due to the painful moans or the violent coughs and retching that tore from the woman’s soul.

  But due to the legs.

  The sight of them drew him up and seemed to kick him directly in the gut. The great gams were stretched out in the edge of the surf all long and toned and creamy white. Normally, he didn’t go for pale skin, but there was no denying that those legs, with the ugly nightgown bunched up around lean thighs, were delectable! He sucked in a breath when she dragged her knees up under her abdomen. His gaze moved helplessly to the upthrust twin globes of her rear. Kneeling on the beach, her forehead pressed to the sand, her arms clutched her stomach. She presented a most interesting picture, even though the noises she made were less than attractive gags. He couldn’t see her face due to the medium-length strands of dark gold hair hiding it. But the smooth, gently curved ass proved to be irrefutably gorgeous. Despite being covered in high-waisted, cotton granny-panties, there was no mistaking the prize that came wrapped beneath.

  Luscious, just made for squeezing and gripping, slamming up and down on a man’s hardness. Speaking of which, he felt his wet trousers tighten. Down boy. Not exactly the time, the place or the woman for that, now, is it?