Beauty from Love
Page 8
We arrive at the restaurant and a hostess escorts us down a path lined with lit tiki torches through a garden with waterfalls and tropical foliage. I realize we’ll be seeing a dinner show—a luau—when we’re led to a table with a stage and stunning oceanfront backdrop. I’m not at all surprised to be seated on the first row, obviously the best seats available. My man doesn’t do second rate.
The sun dances just above the water’s surface. We’re seated at the perfect time to watch it set.
I reach under the table for Jack Henry’s hand. “Nothing could be more romantic than this.”
He leans over and kisses the side of my neck just below my ear. “I thought our first night in Maui should be a traditional one.” He gestures toward the empty seats next to us. “Which means we’ll share this table with strangers. It’s the way it’s done, I’m afraid.”
“It’ll be fun.”
“Maybe. But if they know what’s good for them, they won’t put wife swappers at this table.”
“Definitely not.” I remember the way Jack Henry put swinger Chris on his ass when he expressed interest in fucking me. Those were such different times for us. “I don’t need my husband punching anyone in the face tonight.”
“I might not mind an indecent proposal from some swingers.” He moves his hand to my leg and strokes it. “I seem to remember a mighty fine reward for coming to your defense.”
“The compensation is the same if you don’t get into a fight. You’d just be making extra work for yourself.” I grab his hand from my leg and bring it to my mouth for a kiss. “And busted knuckles.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, no sucker punches tonight.”
“Thank you.”
Our tablemates—a husband and very pregnant wife with three young boys and a toddler girl—fill our table to capacity. I have spent much less time around children than Jack Henry but even I know this is going to be entertaining.
His eyes immediately hone in on this picture-perfect family and he slips his arm around me. He gives my arm a slight squeeze and I’m pretty sure I can accurately guess what he’s thinking—that’ll be us one day. And it will be. It’s not a question of if, but when.
“Hello,” the couple says in unison as they assist their children into their seats.
“Hello.” We mimic their greeting.
The wife settles the baby girl into a high chair. “We didn’t realize we’d be seated with anyone but we’ll try to keep the circus to a minimum. Won’t we, boys?”
The boys do a fair job of ignoring their mother so I take that as a bad sign and a likely indicator of the free show to come.
“It’s okay. We’re used to kids.” Jack Henry looks at me and shrugs. It’s a half-truth because he’s very used to children. Me … not so much.
“You must have left yours at home?” the husband asks.
“No. We don’t have children yet. We’re here on our honeymoon.”
“Then congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you.”
We continue the small talk with the couple briefly before the server brings our first round of mai tais. “Wow. That’s beautiful.” It’s a tall, stemmed glass curved in the center, the dark rum collecting in the bottom. Each is garnished with a tiny umbrella, pineapple slices, and cherries with a lovely purple orchid next to a sprig of mint leaf. I can smell the liquor as soon as it’s placed in front of me. I’ll need to show restraint so I don’t get wasted.
“I must admit I don’t feel very masculine with such a pretty drink in my hand.” Jack Henry holds his glass toward mine for a toast. “Here’s to us and a very long and happy life together.”
I touch my glass to his. “Thank you for making me your wife.” I lean over and a place a kiss against his lips.
“Yuck! That’s so gross. I may throw up.” I hear gagging noises from one of the boys across the table, followed by a chastisement and apology from his mother.
I silently pray this isn’t what we have to look forward to during the entire dinner but I soon discover it’s only the beginning. The boys’ antics alternate between booger picking, booger eating, making fart sounds—some, I question the authenticity of—a stunning display of controlled chaos.
Jack Henry squeezes my hand as he leans over to whisper in my ear. “They’re little boys trying to get the attention of my pretty girl. Ignore them or it’ll get worse. Trust me.”
He knows children. I don’t so I take his advice. The night seems to take a turn for the better once I no longer appear preoccupied by the mischievous boys. And the fire-knife show holds their attention, preventing any further performance out of them.
I’m in the midst of clapping for the fire-breather when one of the performers comes into the audience and grabs my hand to take me on stage. I’m surprised because I didn’t see it coming but I should’ve known. Shows like these always select people from the crowd to participate in the performance.
I turn to look back at Jack Henry and see him grinning and clapping as I walk away from the table. He probably volunteered me and paid them to put me in a string bikini so I could dance on stage for him. Horny bastard. I’ll get him for this if I find out he’s behind it.
I’m quickly given directions about my performance while shoved behind a divider to change into an orange bandeau top and green hula skirt. I come out and costume designers surround me—and the others pulled from the audience—to place flowers around our heads and ankles. I’m handed two feathered rattles. “The girls will demonstrate the motions. There will be a series of hand, hip, and foot motions. They’ll introduce them slowly, one at a time—nothing complicated. All you have to do is mimic what they show you.”
My man is so gonna love this.
4
I watch the show with much enthusiasm but not because of a particularly spectacular performance. I’ve attended countless luaus. Although this one is quite good, it’s L’s performance I’m anxious to watch.
The audience members are led onto stage and L is the last one. That places her right in front of our table.
The people range in age from young children to, well, old as dirt. She’s definitely the hottest one in the bunch. I’d say that about her even if she weren’t my wife.
The hula dancers position themselves in front of the audience participants and demonstrate the first motion with their hands. Laurelyn mimics it slowly. Gracefully. Perfectly. They incorporate the hips next and I’m mesmerized by the way her body moves. I think she’s better than her demonstrators. The foot motion is last but I’m already lost in her sensual motions when she peeks over her shoulder at me as she turns. Her body language is unmistakable. She’s gonna let me fuck her ever how I choose.
The sun dances just above the water’s surface. We’re seated at the perfect time to watch it set.
I reach under the table for Jack Henry’s hand. “Nothing could be more romantic than this.”
He leans over and kisses the side of my neck just below my ear. “I thought our first night in Maui should be a traditional one.” He gestures toward the empty seats next to us. “Which means we’ll share this table with strangers. It’s the way it’s done, I’m afraid.”
“It’ll be fun.”
“Maybe. But if they know what’s good for them, they won’t put wife swappers at this table.”
“Definitely not.” I remember the way Jack Henry put swinger Chris on his ass when he expressed interest in fucking me. Those were such different times for us. “I don’t need my husband punching anyone in the face tonight.”
“I might not mind an indecent proposal from some swingers.” He moves his hand to my leg and strokes it. “I seem to remember a mighty fine reward for coming to your defense.”
“The compensation is the same if you don’t get into a fight. You’d just be making extra work for yourself.” I grab his hand from my leg and bring it to my mouth for a kiss. “And busted knuckles.”
“Oh. Well, in that case, no sucker punches tonight.”
“Thank you.”
Our tablemates—a husband and very pregnant wife with three young boys and a toddler girl—fill our table to capacity. I have spent much less time around children than Jack Henry but even I know this is going to be entertaining.
His eyes immediately hone in on this picture-perfect family and he slips his arm around me. He gives my arm a slight squeeze and I’m pretty sure I can accurately guess what he’s thinking—that’ll be us one day. And it will be. It’s not a question of if, but when.
“Hello,” the couple says in unison as they assist their children into their seats.
“Hello.” We mimic their greeting.
The wife settles the baby girl into a high chair. “We didn’t realize we’d be seated with anyone but we’ll try to keep the circus to a minimum. Won’t we, boys?”
The boys do a fair job of ignoring their mother so I take that as a bad sign and a likely indicator of the free show to come.
“It’s okay. We’re used to kids.” Jack Henry looks at me and shrugs. It’s a half-truth because he’s very used to children. Me … not so much.
“You must have left yours at home?” the husband asks.
“No. We don’t have children yet. We’re here on our honeymoon.”
“Then congratulations are in order.”
“Thank you.”
We continue the small talk with the couple briefly before the server brings our first round of mai tais. “Wow. That’s beautiful.” It’s a tall, stemmed glass curved in the center, the dark rum collecting in the bottom. Each is garnished with a tiny umbrella, pineapple slices, and cherries with a lovely purple orchid next to a sprig of mint leaf. I can smell the liquor as soon as it’s placed in front of me. I’ll need to show restraint so I don’t get wasted.
“I must admit I don’t feel very masculine with such a pretty drink in my hand.” Jack Henry holds his glass toward mine for a toast. “Here’s to us and a very long and happy life together.”
I touch my glass to his. “Thank you for making me your wife.” I lean over and a place a kiss against his lips.
“Yuck! That’s so gross. I may throw up.” I hear gagging noises from one of the boys across the table, followed by a chastisement and apology from his mother.
I silently pray this isn’t what we have to look forward to during the entire dinner but I soon discover it’s only the beginning. The boys’ antics alternate between booger picking, booger eating, making fart sounds—some, I question the authenticity of—a stunning display of controlled chaos.
Jack Henry squeezes my hand as he leans over to whisper in my ear. “They’re little boys trying to get the attention of my pretty girl. Ignore them or it’ll get worse. Trust me.”
He knows children. I don’t so I take his advice. The night seems to take a turn for the better once I no longer appear preoccupied by the mischievous boys. And the fire-knife show holds their attention, preventing any further performance out of them.
I’m in the midst of clapping for the fire-breather when one of the performers comes into the audience and grabs my hand to take me on stage. I’m surprised because I didn’t see it coming but I should’ve known. Shows like these always select people from the crowd to participate in the performance.
I turn to look back at Jack Henry and see him grinning and clapping as I walk away from the table. He probably volunteered me and paid them to put me in a string bikini so I could dance on stage for him. Horny bastard. I’ll get him for this if I find out he’s behind it.
I’m quickly given directions about my performance while shoved behind a divider to change into an orange bandeau top and green hula skirt. I come out and costume designers surround me—and the others pulled from the audience—to place flowers around our heads and ankles. I’m handed two feathered rattles. “The girls will demonstrate the motions. There will be a series of hand, hip, and foot motions. They’ll introduce them slowly, one at a time—nothing complicated. All you have to do is mimic what they show you.”
My man is so gonna love this.
4
I watch the show with much enthusiasm but not because of a particularly spectacular performance. I’ve attended countless luaus. Although this one is quite good, it’s L’s performance I’m anxious to watch.
The audience members are led onto stage and L is the last one. That places her right in front of our table.
The people range in age from young children to, well, old as dirt. She’s definitely the hottest one in the bunch. I’d say that about her even if she weren’t my wife.
The hula dancers position themselves in front of the audience participants and demonstrate the first motion with their hands. Laurelyn mimics it slowly. Gracefully. Perfectly. They incorporate the hips next and I’m mesmerized by the way her body moves. I think she’s better than her demonstrators. The foot motion is last but I’m already lost in her sensual motions when she peeks over her shoulder at me as she turns. Her body language is unmistakable. She’s gonna let me fuck her ever how I choose.
