South Seas Seduction

by Anita Kidesu

  “Some tracks that seemed to be from pigs and rabbits,” Toby said. “Other than that, nothing.”

  “Probably wild boar,” Steve added. “Can anyone cook pork over a plane wing?”

  While they walked to their makeshift campsite, the men discussed ways to catch the pigs. Emma’s stomach felt like she was on a ship tossing and turning in a storm. Wouldn’t they have to kill one first? Her only experience with the little porkers was in books as cute little pink, chubby animals or on the menu at a restaurant. She’d never given any thought to how they arrived at the table as pork chops. She sincerely hoped they wouldn’t expect her to participate in the killing.

  “That was a hell of a lot quicker than the way we went up,” Jack commented when they reached the plane, bringing Emma out of her gruesome thoughts.

  Toby turned around to the path. “If the lake water turns out to be good, we can clear a trail for easier access.”

  “Maybe we could even make a small stream or use bamboo for a pipe,” Steve suggested. “And have the water come to us.”

  “Right now, let’s make lunch and get some rest,” Jack said. “I’m exhausted, my ribs hurt, and my stomach’s empty.”

  Emma headed to the plane for supplies. As long as pork isn’t on the menu.

  Chapter Six

  Hours later, refreshed from eating and napping, the quartet sat around the fire pit. Jack decided each one of them was strong enough to survive whatever would happen. If life existed elsewhere on the island, surely someone would be here by now or at least a rescue plane flown over.

  Toby, being a doctor, would be invaluable if anyone became sick or injured again. Even though a professor and a little soft around the middle, Steve seemed strong and smart. Emma obviously led a sheltered life, but Jack believed her to be intelligent and anxious to prove herself.

  “So what do we do next?” Emma asked, interrupting his thoughts.

  “Don’t we need to take stock on whether the plane can be fixed?” Steve said.

  So much for a professor’s knowledge. “Ah, how do you propose we put the wings back on, especially when we’re using part as a stove?” Jack asked, trying not to sound too sarcastic. “Those wings didn’t fall off. They were sheared, shredded, and stripped. The propeller is bent to hell. Even if I thought they were fixable, I don’t carry the necessary tools for such a large repair.”

  Toby picked up his cup of water and took a sip. “What about the radio?”

  “I can try to attach the wires, but I think the damage done by the hijacker is irreversible.”

  “Are you saying we’re stuck here?” Emma whispered.

  “Unless we find some sign of life other than animals, we’re here for a while.”

  “Didn’t you file a flight plan? Won’t the authorities send out search planes?” Toby asked.

  “Of course I filed a flight plan. I fly among the islands all the time, but those hijackers got us so far off course, and with the storm adding to the mess, I don’t have a clue where we are. I wasn’t able to send out an SOS before we crashed.”

  Jack watched as they each thought about the idea they may be stuck on the island. Steve sucked on his bottom lip. Emma twisted her hair around a finger, and Toby pulled on his mustache. Jack dug his toes into the sand.

  Steve finally broke the silence. “You sure we can’t fix the plane?”

  “Unless you find a crashed WWII plane in the jungle we can filch parts from, including a pair wings, then no, I can’t fix the plane.”

  “Oh. Just needed to make sure.”

  “Jack, do you have any paper on the plane?” Emma asked after a few more moments of silence.

  Jack nodded. “Why?”

  She jumped up and brushed the sand from her skirt and slipped on her sandals. “We can’t sit around here moping. We might as well make the best of the situation.” She walked toward the plane. “I’m going to take inventory of our supplies. Maybe you guys can rig up something for a bathroom, or figure out where we can sleep, or do something manly instead of worrying about a way to get off this island. I’ve a feeling it’s not going to happen for quite some time.”

  “Man, she’s feisty,” Steve said, watching her climb the stairs.

  “Feisty hides a lot of good things,” Toby added as she disappeared into the plane.

  “We’re gentlemen,” Jack reminded them.

  “Yeah,” Steve sighed.

  Toby stood. “Too damn bad.”

  “I agree,” Jack said. “She’s right about one thing. Let’s get to work and make this place livable.”

  ****

  The next week was packed with long hours and hard work as they made the crash site serviceable for their needs. They constructed a latrine using larger portions of the plane’s wings for the sides and top, and dug a hole deep enough to allow them room to sprinkle sand after each use to keep the smell down. A tarp served as the door. Jack rigged up a toilet using the frame from one of the plane’s seats. They kept the fire burning and made an SOS sign with rocks in case a search plane flew over.

  Steve didn’t get sick from the lake water, and it was deemed safe to drink. Steps were cut into the incline, and a trail hacked to the lake. The project took a better part of the day, and since Emma had the good sense to pack a lunch, when they reached the top, the rest of the day was spent swimming and resting by the lake.

  That evening Jack decided they shouldn’t sleep out in the open, even with the fire going. He’d seen some tracks he couldn’t identify and worried there might be more than wild boars in the area. Temporary arrangements were made in the plane for sleeping. His camping gear included two sleeping bags, but the discovery of a crate of blankets among the supplies gave each person enough bedding.

  They staked out individual places in the plane, but with the seats, luggage, and supplies, finding ample space was difficult.

  The following day the men unscrewed the passenger seats and hauled them out to the fire pit and anchored them in the sand, creating a comfortable seating area.

  Emma went through the cases of canned beef and pork, powdered eggs and milk, breakfast drink, pork and beans, several varieties of soup, bottles of spaghetti sauce, packages of noodles and rice, along with medical supplies, batteries, flashlights, and Bibles.

  She finally located the other woman’s suitcase and found a long-sleeved blouse and pants to replace her tattered clothes. The pants were too short and the top too big, but they would cover her from the men’s eyes.

  By late morning, sweat ran down her back and chest. Hair stuck to her face and neck, holding in more heat. Even with the windows propped open, the beating rays of the sun made the plane unbearable. At least no bugs plagued them. The men, dressed only in shorts, fared better. Emma finally reached her limit and went to the open doorway and fanned her face with a Bible.

  Jack stood at the bottom of the steps looking up at her flushed face and tendrils of damp hair curling down her cheek. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

  “Emma, come down here.”

  She hesitated at his curt tone. Head high, chin jutting out, she came down the stairs. She reached the bottom step. He took her arm, yanked the sleeve of the blouse, ripping it from the shoulder.

  “My blouse!” Emma cried, pointing at the sleeve dangling from Jack’s fingers.

  “Turn.”

  Before she responded, he grabbed her other sleeve and yanked.

  “You beast! Why did you rip my blouse?”

  “Because, Emma-girl, you’re sweating so hard, you’ll get dehydrated. This will cool you off. Now give me your pants,” he said, dropping the sleeves onto the sand.

  “What?”

  “I said give me your pants.”

  “I will not, you pervert.”

  “Emma, I simply want to cut them into shorts.” She stared, not moving. “Aren’t you cooler already with those sleeves off? I bet if you tied the blouse at the waist like you did your other top, you’d be even cooler.” He wiggled his fingers at her. “C�
��mon give me your pants.”

  Emma hated to admit it, but she was already considerably cooler. But no way was she going to take her pants off for any man—especially with him watching and with no underwear to put on. She didn’t find any in the woman’s suitcase to replace her missing ones. “Not here.”

  Jack sighed. “Go into the latrine and hand them through the door. I’ll trim the legs and give them back to you.”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she strutted to the bathroom and, seconds later, her sigh came through the door before she pushed the pants around the tarp.

  “Stay there until I get back,” he ordered.

  “Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” she responded.

  Jack chuckled his way back to the plane. Once inside, he located a tiny pair of scissors from the first aid kit.

  “How short are you going to make them?” Toby asked.

  “Real short?” Steve added.

  Jack smiled at his new friends. “With nothing to go by, I’m guessing at the length. If I make them too short, you know she won’t wear them.”

  “Yeah, but if you don’t make them short enough, we won’t get a good view,” Toby pointed out.

  “So kinda short, but not too short?”

  “Yeah,” Steve said, a sigh in his voice.

  Noting where her knees made an indentation in the fabric, Jack stretched out his fingers and measured from thumb to little finger. Just before he started snipping, Toby moved the mark a good inch higher. They all grinned like schoolboys ready to put a frog in their teacher’s desk.

  He finally managed to cut both legs off, their uneven length reminding him of the first time he tried to saw to a board when he was ten years old. He trimmed off more in an attempt to match up the legs.

  The end product turned out to be shorter than he’d planned.

  “Think she’ll wear them?” Steve asked.

  Jack bit his bottom lip and held up the shorts. “I don’t know. They’re kinda skimpy.”

  “They’re not so bad. Besides, what are her other choices?” Toby pointed out.

  “What’s taking you so long, Jack? It’s hot in here.”

  Jack grinned at Toby and Steve. “Well, here goes. Wish us luck.”

  Emma peeked her head around the tarp. “Thank goodness, you’re done.” She grabbed the shorts and disappeared. “What the hell have you done?” she screeched a few moments later.

  “Oh, oh,” Steve whispered.

  “Yeah, oh, oh.” Jack said. “That’s the first time she’s sworn. I think we’re in trouble. What’s wrong with them, Emma?” he asked, trying to sound innocent.

  “There’s nothing left.”

  “They can’t be that bad. Come out here and let us decide,” Toby said.

  “You won’t laugh?”

  “No,” they answered together.

  “You won’t stare?”

  Jack smiled. Toby licked his lips. Steve rubbed his hands together. They must be shorter than they thought. “No.”

  “Promise?”

  Jack put a finger to his lips to shush the men.

  Emma stepped from the small enclosure. Even if they wanted, no way could they laugh. They simply did what she told them not to—stared.

  Luckily she was too busy looking at the chop job to notice. The pants, not as short as they had hoped, came just above mid-thigh, and showed off her long, long legs.

  “Good lord,” Steve gulped.

  “Yowza,” Toby whispered.

  Jack put a hand over his mouth to hide a smile.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “I think they’re okay,” Jack said quickly, nudging the other two to stop staring.

  “Yeah, they’re fine,” Toby agreed.

  She finally glanced at the men. “I think they’re too short.” She turned around. “And look, they’re all uneven in the back.”

  “I had a little trouble getting the edges the same,” Jack admitted.

  Emma looked down at the shorts again. “They are cooler.” Then smiling, she took up the edges of her blouse tied them together as Jack suggested, and sauntered past the men, up the stairs, and into the plane, giving them a good view of upper thigh.

  Toby cleared his throat. “Good thing she can’t tell how short the back is.”

  “Fuck, we’re screwed,” Jack said.

  Steve licked his lips. “Wish we were.”

  Jack heaved a sigh, adjusted the bulge in his pants and headed up the stairs chanting, “We’re gentlemen. We’re gentlemen.”

  Emma was stacking food on a shelf made from shipping crates, ignoring Jack’s presence. Each time she stooped over the box and reached to put the items away, her shorts rode up. With each movement, his cock got a little harder. Whether she actually heard or sensed him, she turned around and smiled.

  “Thanks, Jack. Cutting off those pants really helped.”

  Turning away before she glimpsed his hard on, he pretended to find something by his pilot’s seat. “You don’t need to thank me,” he said.

  He glanced over his shoulder. She hummed a little ditty he didn’t recognize. This time he had a side view of her putting bars of soap on the top shelf, and every time she raised her arms, her blouse rose, exposing her midriff.

  He clamped his teeth on his lower lip. Biting down on his fist would be too obvious, and even someone as naïve as Emma seemed to be would figure out his predicament. After all, she was married and had seen a man’s prick before.

  He picked up a box from the floor. “Have you checked out the rest of the woman’s suitcases yet?”

  Emma turned. “No, why should I?”

  “I thought if you’re uncomfortable with how short I cut your pants, maybe there’d be some other things you could fix.”

  She looked down at her bare legs, which Jack thought had to be the finest, longest piece of landscape he’d ever seen. She was at least five-nine with three-fourths being all leg. Shapely, smooth, sexy legs to wrap around a man’s waist twice.

  “Jack, is something wrong?”

  Realizing where his thoughts were headed, he mentally shook himself. “Uh, no. I was trying to remember how tall that woman was and if anything of hers would fit you.”

  “I’ll look. Hopefully none of them are more slacks and long-sleeved blouses.” She swept her hands down her legs. “Just the short time I’ve been wearing these makes me never want to wear long pants again.”

  “I can always cut them.”

  Her innocent eyes made him want to beat himself up for the erotic thoughts going through his head. At this rate, he was going to have to beat himself off—soon.

  “Would you help me move these bags? They’re quite heavy.”

  Jack tried not touching her as they maneuvered the suitcases. The heat radiating from her body sent his senses swimming. They needed a discussion on new sleeping arrangements. No way would he be able to continue sleeping in the same area with her.

  Emma opened a bag and pulled out a pair of shorts and held them up to her waist. Jack was torn between hoping they would cover more skin and wishing they’d cover less. For his sanity, the former would be better.

  Next came a cotton tank top, which would be cooler, but since they’d burned her bra, they would need to handle seeing her nipples pressed against the fabric. She found a few more pairs of shorts and a couple of T-shirts. She pushed the suitcase with her toe.

  “What are you doing?” Jack asked.

  “This suitcase is way too heavy for the few clothes in it.”

  “You have a point.” Jack helped her move the bag, trying to figure out what caused the weight. “Doesn’t it seem like there should be another part?”

  “Didn’t you notice how heavy the suitcases were when you loaded them?”

  Jack turned the bag over, and when he didn’t find another latch, pulled out his jackknife. He slit the bottom open. “I didn’t load their bags. I was busy filing flight plans and dealing with new passengers. They said they would handle loading themselves. Come t
o think of it, they were damned adamant about loading their own bags.” He pulled back the suitcase material.

  Emma gasped.

  Jack whistled between his teeth. “Well I’ll be a horse’s ass,” Jack said, unwrapping a bulky object.

  “Brandy?”

  “Not just any brandy but very expensive brandy. Here’s another bottle.”

  “And another,” Emma chimed in. “What’s this?” she said, pulling out a smaller package, and nearly dropping it when another gun fell from the wrapping.

  “Here, let me,” Jack said, taking over the remaining packages. “Get Toby and Steve.”

  Jack opened them to find two more pistols, a box of Cuban cigars, and several boxes of ammunition.

  “What’s up?” Toby asked, kneeling beside Jack.

  “Look what we found in the lady’s suitcase.”

  “Holy shit,” he said. “Contraband?”

  “Probably,” Jack answered.

  Steve came up behind them. “I wonder what’s in the other ones.”

  Emma placed the items back in the suitcase while the three men found more bags among the boxes of supplies. As each one was opened, their confusion grew.

  Steve scratched his head. “Seven bags each filled with clothing wrapped around booze, guns, cigars, and ammunition.”

  “Let’s not forget the bag with the money,” Toby added.

  “Fat lot of good that’ll do us,” Steve said.

  Jack picked up a bottle of brandy. “I don’t think they would strike terror in anyone with brandy and cigars. I think more likely they were dealing in the black market.”

  “Makes sense to me,” Toby said. “Wonder where they wanted you to take them.”

  “We’ll never know now,” Jack answered. “The rest of this stuff will come in handy. The booze and cigars will make our stay a little more pleasant, and the guns will be good for hunting.”

  Emma pointed to the food on the shelves. “Don’t we have plenty of food? Why hunt?”

  Jack opened a bottle of the brandy and sniffed. “Ah, nectar of the gods.” He turned to Emma. “I don’t plan on living on canned meat for however long we’re here. Hunting for fresh game will make this food last longer.”

  He took a sip from the bottle and handed it to Steve. After taking a swig, he passed the brandy to Toby.