Isle of Lays Ch. 01

Charlaine took in the view speeding past the limousine service car's heavily-tinted windows as she sped to her destination in air-conditioned comfort. Her job as a high-flying quality control consultant just paid off at times like these, she thought to herself with a satisfied pucker of red lips as she cocked one delicately arched brow. Them are the perks.

It was rather disconcerting, at first, to realize that there was a six-star sex resort right on one of the thousand or so islands that make up the archipelago of her birth. Well, it was a very upscale (and extremely discreet) resort catering to the most discerning and chi-chi of sex tourists, if the by-invitation-only website advertising the place to a select and moneyed few was to be believed, Charlaine mused.

She only got this enviable access because she was hired with a six-figure check in pounds sterling to evaluate the place and recommend any possible improvements by the reclusive billionaire who owned it. That and she had happily signed a non-disclosure agreement and waiver for payment up front and a fully paid sexperience to end all sexperiences as part of the deal. One full month of "service quality assessment" in the sun, sand and various sets of pants. These were the times Charlaine just loved her job.

Vivaldi's Summer was the perfect soundtrack for the view of verdant tropical vegetation and acacia trees as thick around the trunk as bulldozers shimmering in the summer heat -- a haze that was probably the same temperature as certain very female parts of her anatomy.

It was the slow, delicious scorching of anticipation she felt moving between nipples and clitoris, bisecting her torso in a delightful series of frissons when she arrived the private harbor where the last leg of her journey would begin.

She would continue by sea to the pristine crescent island where the Odalisque Resort sat gleaming like a brooch of white stucco, silver glass and gold enamel set in gardens and forests of emerald, amethyst, amber and ruby dotted with sapphire infinity pools.

Pressing her legs together, Charlaine closed her eyes to the local scenes flashing past, weaving her fantasy on the loom of her imagination, plucking the gorgeous mainlanders' cafe au lait faces and putting them in her own private show as her thumbs traced light little circles on the pale skin of her inner arms. A smile curved heavenward from her plump red lips and her head fell gently against the black leather backrest of her seat.

She could feel all her work stress from travel and the usual strictures that go with her stock-in-trade fading to the backstage of memory as she created lips and hands with her thoughts. Lips and hands that would skim her creamy mestiza skin lightly, gently rub the fabric of her silk blouse against nipples that were already rock-hard and so very sensitive.

Her back arched and her feet went pigeon-toed in their red fuck-me heels as she pressed her knees against each other and rubbed her thighs together. She ran hands trembling with anticipation and arousal through her raven curls and sighed. Oh, she was almost there.

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The yacht was magnificent, Charlaine noted, with a golden gleam in light brown eyes that reflected the shining gold and black trim on the shipshape white vessel.

She spared the gleaming blue water an appreciative glance, then lowered her thick lashes coyly as one of the crewmen approached to relieve the driver of her bags, pass the luggage off to another crewman and greet her with a deeply dimpled smile that flashed even white teeth set in an equally handsome face. Standing in the bright sun, he looked godlike – as if a master sculptor had chiseled him into being.

In the minutes that the sailor who greeted Charlaine had his back turned to her, she took the opportunity to ogle his tightly-muscled hindquarters with undisguised lust and frank appreciation.

Looking around, she saw a multi-culti crew all dressed in smart white uniforms with black and gold epaulets. Their clothing seemed to be cut to show off their toned and tanned bodies to maximum sensual effect without baring too much skin. Mmmm. Delicious, she thought. Like expensive chocolate truffles all wrapped in the prettiest foil.

"Welcome aboard, Ms. Caro. My name is Jaime, I am the First Mate of the Siren," he said slow, lazy smile as he put a deeply tanned hand to his white uniform cap. "Your pleasure is my delight. Just let me know what you need." His dark eyes swept over her from top to toe and told her that he would, indeed, be most delighted to serve her every need. So did the very thick, very long bulge straining the zipper of his white pants.

"Thank you, Jaime," Charlaine said, her voice husky with self-inflicted arousal as she put her hand in his large, outstretched palm so he could steady her as she walked up the gangplank to the shiny mahogany deck. "How long will it take to get to the resort? I can't wait to begin my vacation."

"Your vacation begins right now, Ma'am," Jaime said as he waved her to the receiving area and lounge of the ship. "You may select your pleasures from the menus available at the lounge. Just let the stewards know what you want and you will have it."

"And if I want you?" Her blunt question was rolled like loaded dice in Jaime's general direction. That triggered a grin and a low chuckle as Jaime put a flute of Dom Perignon in the hand she'd raised along with her question. "Then I am yours until you want something or someone else. Just remember that we are here to whet your appetite for the main course, which will, of course, be served on the Isle of Lays, at the resort."

She'd looked over the menu with happy eyes and decided to get the "Sensual Waxworks and Oil Massage" treatment to prepare for the sun, sand, beach and playrooms at Odalisque resort.

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Having five very handsome, extremely hunky and shirtless men skillfully rubbing her body with sweet, peach-scented oil as the hair down there was taken off took the sting out of the depilation of her woman zones and legs. That done, they took the massage to a new level.

"Look at those beautiful breasts, Jaime," one of the men said in a voice like hot chocolate. "Such lovely nipples standing straight up, pointing to the sun." Jaime nodded in agreement as he ran a hand over Charlaine's now-bare pudendum. "She has such sleek legs and a lovely little pussy, too. So demure, so shy. I'm sure we can get it to open up to us if we treat it right, eh, Tomas?" But how Charlaine's pussy began to twitch as she listened to their words. How it clenched and grew so very wet.

The very thought of lying there, naked and getting even more bare as they caressed her deep pink nipples, the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs and those sensitive spots between her toes made her shiver in the sunshine as she lay stretched over a specially-engineered massage table upholstered in white leather on the upper deck. That table was divided down half its length, with each lengthwise half designed to swing outward.

Her shoulder-length hair had been put up in a French braid and tucked under to keep it out of her face and so her neck was bare to the cool breeze, the warm sunshine and the talented hands of the Siren crew that were attending to her body.

A pair of warm, full lips brushed against her ear: "Turn over, please. We're going to do your back, Ma'am." It was Jaime, his voice thick like dark honey, his bare chest and eight-pack dominating her line of sight. She could see his nipples were hard, too.

Charlaine did as Jaime bid and warmed oil was poured in a slow line of seduction down her spine from shoulder to just above the crack of her rounded ass, along the length of each arm, in circles over each butt cheek and down the backs of her thighs and legs. Large hands began to work the oil slowly into her skin and she closed her eyes blissfully, taking in the scents of the oils and the men surrounding her.

By this time Charlaine was so wet she was sure her arousal was dripping to the table as the crewmen's hands began massaging oil over her extremities, all over her back and down the seams of her inner thighs, skimming the freshly waxed lips of her sex.

She bit back a moan as those fingers circled closer to her pulsing core and Jaime's full lips approached her ear once more. "Do you have any special requests, Ma'am?" His question sounded so inviting, so sexy, so turned on that her little moans escaped as she turned her head toward him. "Kiss me," she said, her voice trembling with want, her limbs doing the same and, unconsciously, she began to thrust her hips down against the warm leather of the massage table.

Jaime complied by cupping her chin, trailing his lips across hers once and lightly licking at the line between her upper and lower lips. She moaned while he increased the pressure of his lips on hers and began involving his tongue just as the table's divided "legs" were swung outward and she felt someone's breath and lips moving along the inside of her legs -- up one leg, down the other and back again.

South of her navel, another set of hands was increasing their pressure against her nether lips, parting them and pressing then together firmly and, yes, a tongue began to get frisky there, darting quickly in and out of her core as a slick thumb began rubbing gently but firmly around her naughtiest hole and that talented tongue began rimming her there, too.

She gasped at the melange of sensations heightening the warmth of sunshine and the cool sea air on her oiled skin and she thrust her tongue against Jaime's with the urgency of intense need, pleading each twist of her against him as two more sets of hands caressed her buttocks and thighs, ingiting erogenous zones she was just discovering she had. Then the mouth at her sex began some seriously heavenly sucking on her hard clit and she couldn't stop the crashing tide of pleasure rampaging through her body.

Charlaine came in two mouths. Her screams of orgasm spilling into Jaime while her clitoris spurted into another man's hot mouth as long, thick fingers pumped and curled (first one, then two) inside her pussy, rubbing that sweet spot that turned off her brain's ability to think, ran circles around her asshole and trailed up and down her legs and spine, left trails of fire with their tongues along the sides of her neck and nipped her earlobes softly in time to her groans.

Jaime kept kissing her as she came, shuddering until she lost count of the intensifying orgasms that ended with her flipped over and the men continuing ther special massage as the went about licking and suckling on her nipples, her clitoris and pussy, her mouth, her fingers and toes. All this time three fingers were pumping her nether regions: The two already in her pussy and another, smaller one, just inside her tight ass to the first knuckle, but pumping all the same.

Oh, wow, five mouths all licking and sucking at all the right places and fingers everywhere. Oh, fuck. What she may have uttered, she did not recall at all. That thought was about the only coherent thing in Charlaine's ecstasy-addled mind by the time the ship approached its jetty and her attendants helped her up off the massage bed and into a nearby jacuzzi to rinse off the oil amid bubbles, scented bath gel and warm male bodies in the buff surrounding hers.

Strong hands held her up, legs open, so the warm jets of water were aimed directly at her clitoris and she came several more times against a water jet and frisky fingers flicking her clitoris, fucking her pussy and ass and tweaking her nipples as she kissed dark and beefy Dominic, the tallest of her five masseurs and Siren's captain, who had visited the upper deck to give her his own special greeting.

The two hours and a half at sea took her across prime diving spots beneath fat seagulls circling overhead. Charlaine was relaxed and more than ready to dive into the pleasure of the crescent island and its white sand beaches. Not that she'd focused on the scenery, coming as much she had. She was, however, sure that the scenery was stunning, too.

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Dressed in a short denim skirt and a white tank top, sans undies (the dress code was "casual but commando" for new arrivals, Jaime had informed her as he confiscated her matching lace thong and demi-cup bra), Charlaine alit from deck to gangplank with a blissed-out expression that gave her face a lazy, sexual look, heightening the glow in her almond eyes and on her high cheekbones that was definitely not the light bronzer she'd applied on the plane.

My lord, if that was the appetizer, I wonder what more the Odalisque can do to top that. "Oh, Ms. Caro, there is a lot more the Odalisque can do for you," Dominic said with a sexy, roguish grin. "Much, much more. You haven't had sex until you've had it at the Odalisque. There is a pleasure for every kink you can think of and the only rules that apply are the ones you choose. You can even make your own fantasy and we will take you there in style."

Blushing at the fact that she'd spoken her thoughts out loud, Charlaine halted as her feet (now shod in black, Swarovski-studded flip-flops as a "greeting" gift from the captain, who'd sucked her pretty little toes before putting them on her himself) touched the powdery white sand of the island. She turned her head up to Dominic, her sudden unsureness clear as day in her brown eyes.

Gathering herself again, Charlaine reminded herself that she was here for business. Never mind that the business at hand was to sate every urge for pleasure she could think of -- she had to get herself together.

Straightening up and cocking her head to the side with a smile at Dominic, she spoke in her best businesswoman voice: "Well, you did put the best foot forward on the Siren. I am sure the Odalique's hospitality will be most admirable."

With that, she walked up to the resort lobby situated in a plantation-style house behind which individual villas ensconced in private bamboo and hardwood groves rose up into the tropical sky.