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Click hereShe was like some fruit. Growing about a seed. Larger and fuller. Filling out until she ripened and was ready to be picked.
We decided to take a last holiday alone together. To go somewhere hot and indolent where we could do nothing but 'be'. Exist drowsily together. As we waited for her to ripen fully.
We argued half heartedly about locations, wanting an island away from the crowd, where we could have a bure on the beach, it's doors opening onto a perfect vista of white sand, coconut palms and blue ocean. The calm ocean of a lagoon. Perfect.
And privacy. We wanted to be alone. It would be the last time for a lifetime, and we could never have too much time alone. Or too much warm sun and ocean.
She was pale when we arrived, we were both pale, and the patterned bikini I insisted she wore highlighted the whiteness of her skin. Also highlighting how much she had grown, but how unripe she suddenly looked. So pale.
Within a day she had a bright pink haze over her body. By the second night she looked as if a golden frosting had been brushed over her, and after three days she was truly a body of shimmering gold, half done. On the fifth day she was done, her skin the colour of pale brown honey. She looked truly ripe, luscious, and ready to be picked.
Her fruit was full and round, and when I tapped it I expected it to sound hollow as if I was tapping the surface of some smooth skinned melon. But the fruit she carried was not hollow, it was firm and full.
She was like an almost ripe apricot, her belly skin tight, but soft and brushed with fine down, the fruit of her belly firm. I wanted her to ripen and for the fruit to come out from under the soft skin. I could imagine she was holding inside her some lush juicy fleshed peach as she lay there, glowing in the dappled shade of a coconut palm that leant out, and hung cross the sand with its fronds brushing the surface of the sea.
She reminded me so much of fruit that one day I made her into a desert.
As she lay there languidly, half dozing in the heat I cut up a banana and neatly arranged the slices over the peak of the mound of her belly. The banana stickiness enough to hold the slices to her as she lay still. Then I sliced mango finely, laying the strips over her between the slices of banana, the juice sticking and dripping down her sides. Then pawpaw, the colours now having a magic of their own. Cream, gold and sunset red against the honey brown of her skin.
Each day I had felt the fruit she carried ripening inside her move. Telling us that soon it would be ready and we would no longer be two, drifting thoughtlessly in our own circle of pleasures.
Over the bananas, mango and pawpaw I squeezed the pulp of passionfruit. Such an appropriate thing for her to wear.
Passion juice running over her honey brown skin, gleaming in the afternoon sun and the reflections from the lagoon.
I was hungry now and she was saying, "I have to get up soon."
I poured cream in a circle over the mound of my desert. It joined the sweet juices trickling down her sides. Then I added ice cream, plain white with small bits of crunchy caramel stuck in it. I placed a scoop on top of the mound of luscious ripe fruit, and she laughed at the chill of it.
Her laughter rocked her ripe belly and the ice cream slid off onto the towel beneath her along with pieces of banana, slipping down through rivulets of cream and melting ice cream.
"Oh," she gasped, frowning and clutching a hand to her melon belly.
I reached my hand to lay it beside hers and in a moment through the sticky, cool wreck of my desert I felt her belly harden. We both held our hands there till it relaxed again.
Then I lifted her hand to my mouth and slowly licked it clean. Mango juice, passionfruit, cream, ice cream and caramel, found lost in the webbing between her fingers and the creases along her palm. My tongue caught it all. Luscious, delicious, sweet and creamy. Ripe. Ready.
"I think it's time," she said to me, smiling nervously, as I started to lick her belly clean.
Soon there would be three of us.
Keep the stoies rolling - but was the ripeness that of a passionfruit?
From one Aussie to another
Two of my dogs being pregnant. And recently I also seemed to have an endless parade of pregnant bellies passing by me at the place where I do some casual work.
All about the same time that summer was putting on a hot steamy preview, and the mango's first appeared in the supermarket.