The Promiscuous Traveler by Sebastian V

Author:Sebastian V.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: General Fiction
Publisher: Bruno Gmünder Verlag
Published: 2012-09-06T00:00:00+00:00

A Rescue and a Lost Prince in Tahiti

The flight attendant bent down and handed me a Diet Coke, smiling at me. There was a tiare flower behind his left ear, the delicate white symbol of French Polynesia. After all my years in Hawaii, I still couldn’t remember if the flower behind the left ear meant he was already taken, or if it was the right. Or if anyone knew for sure. His equatorial skin was tan and deep and sensual against his appropriately sky blue uniform. His eyes, dark brown, as dark as unmapped volcanoes, lit up at me.

The plane would soon be landing in his remote isles thrown across the breadth of the great Pacific like splintered shards of discarded glass. Islands with no names, hard to get to and even harder to hold. I was on my way from Sydney to Papeete. It was a long-haul, long-protracted Air Tahiti Nui flight over the endless waters of the Earth. I was in a foul mood. Tom was still on my mind. I couldn’t dislodge him. I had left him in Sydney a week ago, late at night, standing at his doorway, with hot raging tears in my eyes.

Tom, a semi-retarded American (at least a semi-retarded American emotionally ), was the fateful catalyst for my long journey across this sea and sky in the first place. Tom was tall, in his early fifties, blond, and wealthy, and all those attributes were not gifts but curses. I had met him in New York City where I was living at the time. We had dated, and had had good sex. His cock was crooked and scarred where he once had to have it drained because of a recreational erection injection (the kind porn stars use) that had evidently lasted a bit too long. But the thing was thick and hefty, and he fucked me well with it, spraying his sperm deep and wide into me. Or I’d flip him over, and enter his milky white buttocks which were perfectly outlined with careful tan lines and pump him full of mine. We cuddled well too, despite the fact that in bed he wore a breathing mask apparatus over his face that was hooked up to a machine, for sleep apnea. It was like sleeping next to someone who was scuba diving.

There was something off about Tom, and if I had had my wits about me I would have sniffed the lingering whiff of expiration I could never quite put my finger on. He was like a carton of milk on the verge of going bad, but you go ahead drink it anyway. And then you get sick. Every time I thought I shouldn’t be with him, he had a way of softening and showing his healthy whiteness, the part that hadn’t gone bad yet. He had a way of bringing me back to him. He was a salesperson. The dark secret he was hiding was that his wealth had inflated

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