Strange Allure

by Susan Lewis

  He didn’t answer, and she was almost afraid to look round.

  ‘Do you believe we’ve lived before?’ she said. ‘In another place, another time?’

  ‘I think it’s possible,’ he answered.

  ‘What about soulmates? Do you think that’s possible?’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I used to.’ She turned to look at him, and found his mouth so close she could almost feel his breath. Seconds ticked by, filled with the hiss and scream of the forest, as he took in every curve and hollow of her face, every plane and shadow. Then he was looking only at her lips, watching them part in readiness for his own …

  ‘Family over here,’ Akili said, making an untimely return.

  Carla’s breath expelled in a laugh, as John rolled his eyes, and laughed too.

  Obediently they went to look at the family, most of whom were sleeping, though the babies were curious and playful, and might, at any other time, have been even more enchanting than they seemed right now.

  ‘What I think,’ John said, later, as they wandered along the raised boardwalk of a mangrove swamp where sunlight streamed through a ceiling of fleshy green leaves to fall in small, quavery splashes on the water, ‘is that we connect with a lot of different soulmates throughout all of our lives. Sometimes they’re friends, sometimes lovers, members of our families, people we work with … They can be anyone.’

  ‘So you don’t think there’s just one special connection?’ she said, glancing back over her shoulder.

  He shook his head. ‘I can think of plenty of connections I’ve made in my life that I’d term special, so it would seem, well, dismissive, or just plain inaccurate, to say there was only one. But I know what you’re driving at, and sure, sometimes it can feel as though just one person, the one you love so much you can’t imagine existing without them, is connected to you in a way that goes much deeper than the simplicity of conventional understanding.’

  ‘You don’t sound convinced,’ she prompted, when he didn’t continue.

  He stopped to copy the way Akili was dropping mangrove shoots into the swamp, trying to get them upright so they’d plant in the mud. ‘No matter how much you love someone, or how much they love you,’ he said, as she came to stand beside him, ‘they’ll never be your sole reason for being on this earth, and without them life doesn’t come to a stop.’

  Carla watched as one of his shoots balanced. ‘Sometimes it feels like it might,’ she said.

  ‘Sure, because coming to the end of a journey with a soulmate can be one of life’s most painful experiences. So, isn’t it more helpful to believe that there are others out there who can mean every bit as much, if not more, than the person who has chosen, or is maybe destined, to leave the path you’ve been sharing?’

  Sensing he was speaking as much to himself as he was to her, she glanced over at him, and wondered whom he had loved that much. Whoever she was, it was hard not to feel jealous, for she was obviously in his thoughts now and her presence was altering his mood. Then he looked at her, and the roguish light that came into his eyes relaxed her and made her laugh.

  Their tour of the forest and swamp went on for another hour, by which time they were more than ready to tip Akili and return to the air-conditioned coolness of the car, where they set upon the packed lunch they’d got from Mapenzi, attempting to eat it, and drink beer, as they bumped, rocked and rattled along the dirt road towards the Sultan’s Palace Hotel on the south-east coast of the island. The plan for the afternoon was to go snorkelling, an activity Carla adored, and since the unit had exclusive use of the hotel’s fifteen suites and long white stretch of beach for the next three days, the prospect of having it all to themselves for a few hours, before the rest of the crew arrived, was more than appealing.

  Though Carla had heard a lot about the hotel during the build-up to shoot, and had even seen photographs, her first sight of it, when finally they rounded the curve in a drive where shiny green succulents bristled amongst brilliantly blooming flowers, almost took her breath away, for the sheer splendour of the combined Islamic and Indian styles was like nothing else they had encountered on the whole of the island.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she murmured, gazing at the gently curving coral and limestone walls with their onion-domed archways, and stained-glass windows of purple, yellow, red and green. The roof tops were edged in glossy white crenellations, where the starburst tops of coconut palms swayed in the breeze, and the cloudless sky provided a dazzling backdrop of blue. Already she was in no doubt that as far as hotels went this was the jewel in Zanzibar’s crown, and, stepping out of the car, she took a moment to enjoy the welcome of a wayward sea breeze that brought the heady perfume of frangipani flowers along with it.

  Having been here before, John watched her with humorous eyes as she turned slowly around, taking everything in, from the flame red blooms of the flamboyant trees, to the young gardeners who were clearing the grass with palm brooms, to the shimmering allure of the ocean that stretched out endlessly beyond the hotel. Then she looked at him, and felt her heart expand, for he’d obviously known how special it was here, and by deliberately underplaying it had turned it into the most wonderful surprise. She wished she could think of the words to thank him, though he must know how she was feeling, and as she looked at him she could think only of their first kiss and just how magical it was going to be.

  At the sound of footsteps, they turned to see a petite, elegant woman coming out of the entry courtyard to greet them, two porters in long white tunics and red waistcoats close behind her.

  ‘Paola,’ John said, taking her outstretched hand and shaking it warmly. ‘This is Carla Craig, the programme’s producer.’

  ‘It is a pleasure to meet you,’ Paola said, in Italian-accented English. ‘I have heard about you, from John and the others, and I am very happy that you are going to make some of your programme here. We are only one year old, so I think you will help us a great deal. Now, please, come inside. We shall find you something to drink, and maybe a little pasta …’

  ‘It’s OK, we’ve already eaten,’ John said, as they followed her into the circular courtyard, where a giant coco palm soared from an island of gazania, right up through the open roof.

  ‘Then perhaps a little Italian coffee,’ Paola said, with mischievous eyes.

  Both Carla and John smiled, for she’d clearly guessed that the powdery brew they’d so far been offered meant that neither of them had actually drunk any coffee since their arrival.

  ‘Oh my,’ Carla breathed, coming to a stop at the threshold of the foyer.

  Paola smiled with pleasure as Carla looked around the gleaming white rotunda, with its brass birdcage lamps, exquisite Indian sofas, vibrant African paintings, and huge French windows whose pointed bulbous domes and colourful stained glass were so redolent of the Arabian Nights it was easy to imagine Scheherazade herself, spread out on the sumptuous scattered cushions, spinning her endless tales for King Shahriyar. Then Paola led them up a central staircase of minga wood to another circular room, where huge calico sails were draped around the vaulted ceiling making it feel like a tent, and red-and-white-robed tables were already set for dinner.

  ‘And now I leave you to get the coffee,’ Paola said, waving them towards an open veranda.

  As she disappeared Carla wandered onto the veranda, where more cushions were thrown casually against the walls, and the view down to the ocean could be freely glimpsed through the garden’s tropical extravagance of trees and shrubs. A tremor of excitement coasted across her heart, for the whole place exuded such an air of romance that it was impossible not to be affected, and she could only feel sorry that the crew were arriving so soon.

  ‘Have you decided how to shoot it yet?’ she asked John, as he joined her.

  With an ironic lilt, he said, ‘From every angle.’

  Smiling, she was tempted to lean into him, as he too gazed out at the ocean.

  ‘It’s a good place to make memories,’ he said.
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  ‘Only very special ones,’ she whispered, turning to look at him.

  His eyes were suffused with more than laughter as he said, ‘Oh, I think they’ll be that,’ and, hearing Paola’s footsteps, they moved apart to watch her set the tray down on a low wooden table.

  They drank the delicious dark coffee from tiny porcelain cups, while lounging comfortably on the cushions and informing Paola of their plans for the next few days. Finally, when the pot was empty, she took them back downstairs and out to a thatch-canopied walkway that led to the suites, all of which were in their own private gardens, and named after a tree. Since the crew was doubling up again, Carla was sharing the Papaya suite with Avril, while John and Kit Kingsley were further along in the Eucalyptus.

  After they’d agreed to meet in twenty minutes, John walked on with a porter and Carla followed Paola into an Eden of hibiscus and bougainvillea to a set of heavy teak doors that opened into a sweeping crescent-shaped room with long cushioned banquettes, polished rosewood floors, and two double beds swathed in copious folds of muslin and lace. As Paola threw open both sets of French windows to let the sunlight stream in, Carla wandered through the arch that was between the two beds to find herself in an oval dressing room, where her suitcase was already laid out, and a vase of fresh flowers spilled over a central table. Beyond the dressing room was a crescent-shaped bathroom, and the secret niche for the bath and double shower made her think of an opium den.

  After Paola had gone she lowered the straps of her dress, and let it slide to the floor. Then, removing her panties, she went to stand under the shower. The water was cooling, and soothing, and when finally she stepped out she wandered into the bedroom, dabbing herself gently with a towel, and feeling the anticipation of what was to come fluttering through her like currents of air. On the private veranda she gazed down at the view and seeing the tide ebbing back to the horizon gave her a moment’s unease, for it reminded her of her thoughts in the night, when she’d felt as though her defences were rolling back like a tide, leaving her vulnerable to growing emotions. However, this tide had drawn back to reveal a vast blue lagoon where white-topped waves were spilling over the coral reef that she and John were about to explore, so perhaps there was no bad omen there at all.

  Turning back into the dressing-room she dropped the towel and began coating her skin with a protective lotion. Then, taking out the silver and black bikini she’d never yet had the courage to wear, she stepped into the bottom, drew it up over her thighs and hooked the elastic high onto her hip bones, making her suntanned legs appear even longer than they were. The bikini top had no straps, only strategically placed bones and a back loop fastener. Cupping it around her breasts, she linked it together behind, arranged the supporting bones, then turned to the mirror. Her heart gave a leap of shock and excitement to see just how sexy it made her look, though the way her large breasts were pushed up and together, and were so daringly revealed, made them seem so likely to burst free that she bent double, shook herself about, then stood up again to make sure they wouldn’t. To her relief she was still decent, though only just, so pulling a T-shirt dress on for the walk down to the beach, she picked up a towel and her snorkelling mask, closed the French windows and left the room.

  She found him sitting at the beach bar, which was in a palm-thatch gazebo, wearing khaki shorts and an open blue shirt and drinking a beer. She saw him before he saw her, and to her surprise she was overcome by such a sudden rush of emotion that she almost couldn’t go on. She wanted him so much, yet dreaming about it and longing for it was so much safer than actually going through with it. Then, as abruptly as it had come, the doubt disappeared, and she was still walking towards him.

  ‘OK?’ he asked, as she joined him.

  She nodded, glad for the moment that she’d worn the dress. ‘I’ll have a beer too,’ she said to the barman.

  When her drink came they got up and walked along the deserted beach, past the coconut-wood loungers and parasols, to an overhanging rock where the shade was deep and the sand cool.

  ‘We can walk out to the reef,’ he said, using his beer to point to the walkway that led to the edge of the lagoon. ‘Have you got fins?’

  She shook her head. ‘Only plastic shoes,’ she said, showing him her feet.

  Finishing his beer, he put the bottle down with his towel and mask, then stripped off his shirt and shorts. His navy trunks were brief and tight, showing the hard masculinity of his body, and a bulge that betrayed his state of semi-arousal. Raising her eyes to his face she smiled as he winked, then, taking the hem of her dress, she pulled it over her head and let it drop to the sand.

  The sun was hot on her skin and her breasts rose and fell with her laboured breath, as his eyes caused such desire to burn through her it was as though he was already holding her. But though she ached for him to, she knew he wouldn’t, despite his increasing arousal. Nor, when his eyes came back to hers, did he speak, but she saw a tightness round his mouth that told her just how hard he was finding it to hold back now.

  They swam and snorkelled for almost an hour, pointing out all the many wonders of the reef where black-and-orange-striped clownfish, long yellow trumpet fish, wavery, blue-spotted stingrays, sea urchins, jellyfish and a whole plethora of other marine life glided and darted about the crystal clear waters in a kaleidoscope of colour. They moved quietly, pulling gently at each other’s arms to indicate new and more spectacular sights, careful not to touch the reef itself, while stretching out their fingers for the fish to nibble.

  When finally they waded back to shore they towelled themselves dry, then Carla sat down in the sun, leaning back on her hands, to stare out at the gentle roll of the lagoon. He sat next to her, his elbows resting on his knees, as he too gazed out at the view. Time drifted on with only the rustle of palm fronds in the breeze and occasional screech of a bird breaking the silence. Beads of water dripped from her hair and rolled between her breasts, while dustings of crystal white sand clung to the taut, dark skin of his legs with their covering of curling black hair, and sinewy curves of muscle.

  Then he turned to look at her.

  For a moment only their eyes conveyed the desire that engulfed them, until his mouth came slowly to hers, touching it in a soft, lingering kiss that seemed to gather up her heart and send so many sensations through her body that she could no longer breathe. It was a long, sensuous and tender embrace, his lips moulding hers, covering them, sucking them, then gently biting them. When finally he lifted his head, he watched her, waiting for her eyes to flutter open, then he kissed her again.

  As he stood up he didn’t even attempt to hide the enormity of his arousal, simply took her hand and pulled her to her feet. He put on his shirt and shorts and gathered up their masks and towels as she slipped into her dress. They walked back along the beach and up through the gardens to her suite, where he closed and locked the door while she opened the French windows.

  Going to stand behind her, he took her shoulders between his hands and kissed her neck. Her head fell back against him, and turning her round he kissed her with a potency that made her go weak. The sound of a blues piano began to drift in on the breeze, as, taking the hem of her dress, he pulled it up over her head. Reaching behind her to unfasten her bikini top, he peeled it from her breasts. They were heavy and swollen, and her nipples were so enlarged and tender that just the feel of the breeze was like an erotic caress. Then he was drawing down her bikini bottom, holding it as she stepped free, then removing her shoes. When he stood up again she felt brazen in her nudity, and so aroused that she could hardly bear it.

  He undressed himself quickly, casting aside his shirt, shorts and trunks, and stood apart from her, allowing her to see just how great his desire was for her. She looked at him, big and hard, straining up to his navel, and felt her heart turn over to think of it going inside her. Closing the space between them, he found her lips with his own, filled her mouth with his tongue and with his erection against her belly, began moving her gently in time t
o the music. After a while he slipped his penis between her legs, using it to rub her most intimate part as they continued to dance. Then he ran his hands over her breasts, cupping them, squeezing them, tugging her nipples and rolling them, before stooping to suck them deep into his mouth. Such a brutal onslaught of sensation was making it hard for her to stand, as her fingers twisted his hair and her breath escaped in tormented groans of pleasure.

  The bed was behind her, the muslin drapes fluttering in the gusts of an overhead fan. Lying her down, he parted her legs and knelt on the floor between them.

  ‘Oh yes,’ she murmured, as he began stroking her gently, while watching the effect on her face. Then his tongue was there, and his lips, starting her on the exquisite journey to a place she hadn’t been in so long she was almost afraid to go. But he was persistent, and strong, and the pleasure was so intense, and the sensations so great that all too soon she could feel herself soaring …

  ‘John, please, please,’ she gasped, reaching for him.

  But he only increased the pressure, holding her wide, and forcing her on until finally the sheer power of the explosions that began ricocheting through her caused her to cry out over and over, as though she were in pain, which she was, an overwhelming ecstasy of it that seemed to have no end.

  Her body was still shaking and her eyes were closed as, lying down beside her, he drew her into his arms and waited for her to relax. There were tears on her cheeks, and her heart continued to pound, but when a small gasp shuddered from her and she turned to look at him he could see she was regaining control.

  ‘Shall I tell you something?’ he whispered. ‘Almost from the first time I saw you I’ve wanted to make you come like that.’

  Laughter sprang to her eyes. ‘What a very worthy ambition,’ she commented. Then she was serious again as she saw the way he was watching her lips, and knowing he was going to kiss her she pressed her body in harder to his, and as his tongue entered her mouth she felt the thick, solid stem of his erection between them, and reached down for it.