tagGroup SexIsland Fever Ch. 09

Island Fever Ch. 09



"You know what, Amy? Fuck Jeremy! Fuck him! FUCK HIM and the horse he rode in on!

"But maybe Jeremy is right. Maybe I should go..."

"Seeing a psychiatrist would be a total WASTE of your time! Talking one on one with someone you don't even know; someone who psychoanalyzes you won't do a GODDAMN THING to improve your life, Amy. You're not doing anything, you're not ACTING, creating change. You're simply sitting in an office and dwelling on your thoughts, all the negativity."

"But Jeremy says it helped him..."

"You don't need no fucking emo clinic!" Camille raged at Amy, wanting to get her point across, as they lounged together in their guest suite on this Tuesday afternoon. "FUCK JEREMY! You tell him that psychiatrists and their magic potions, their mind-bending drugs, offer you NO CHANCE to improve as a human being. Fuck Jeremy and his ideas! FUCK HIM!"

"Whoa," I said inside the voyeur room as I eavesdropped on their discussion. "I guess SOMEONE doesn't like me. Wow." As much as it hurt me to witness Camille's reaction when Amy confided in her that I suggested she see a psychiatrist on the mainland, I wasn't surprised. Camille had a fiery temper and, for whatever reason, she seemed to have a vendetta against me. Fuck me and the horse I rode in on? Wow. All I wanted to do was help Amy; make her life better, easier to manage. I had no hidden agenda, no ulterior motive, other than that.

Amy, quite simply, was treading water in life. She wasn't going anywhere. Although she stormed away from me earlier in the week when I suggested she seek professional treatment for her mental issues, the fact that Amy was at least considering it now (by confiding in Camille and saying it helped me) was an excellent sign. I believe that she now realized a change was necessary but did not know how to make any progress toward it. That's where a psychiatrist and proper treatment would come in.

Amy had spent the past several years trying to drown out her problems in life, her deficiencies, with a volatile mixture of alcohol and hypersexuality. But that had only caused her more issues, I believe, and put her deeper into the abyss.

She did not get along with either of her parents and was divorced in 2016 after a three year marriage full of infidelity and deceit. Amy was impulsive and irresponsible, and routinely said and did things that she later regretted. One minute she could be happy; high as a kite, even, and the next she could be wallowing in the depths of despair. Yet there was no apparent trigger, no reason for the sudden mood switch. Amy was irritable and, to be blunt, emotionally unstable.

I was beginning to wonder if Amy suffered from something far worse than what I originally expected - bipolar disorder. It is an illness that can trap a person in their own body and mind. No, strike that. It's not an illness. It's a disease. Oftentimes the victims feel reckless, hopeless, a burden to not only others, but also themselves. These people need help.

_Amy_ needed help.

Was I a psychiatrist? Was I qualified to be throwing around these medical terms and diagnoses - cyclothymia, bipolar disorder - the way I have when discussing Amy? No, of course not, and I'd never claim to be. But what I did know was that there was no harm in seeking counseling and possibly being placed onto a medication program for whatever issue ultimately did ail her. It wouldn't harm or hurt Amy in any possible way and besides, I'd pay for it. Everything. It would be completely free of charge to her.

I once read an opinion article in a medical journal that there are five phases a person goes through before seeking help for their depression. The article had always stuck with me because as someone who suffers from dysthymia, a mild, perpetual form of depression, I'd experienced them all first-hand. At one time, I was just as hesitant and stubborn as Amy is now about getting help.

The first phase? Being unaware. Who? Me? Depressed? No way. All those years I spent battling insomnia and a poor appetite, I had no idea depression was the root of all my problems. There was something else (besides the fear of rejection) that forced me to build a wall between myself and the rest of humanity, and live on a deserted tropical island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for the past 16 years.

Denial. I'm not depressed! Only those wackos in the mental wards experience that! They roam up and down the halls and require round-the-clock monitoring. Kristanna was the one who convinced me to see a doctor four years ago. It took several months of being persistent, constantly hammering the point home to me, that I needed help. Oh, I fought and argued with her about it. Trust me, I did.

(And I spent two weeks in a California mental facility back in 2015. It wasn't full of wackos, I learned, and patients did not mindlessly roam the halls throughout all hours of the day and night. Well, most of them didn't, anyway. They were regular people with jobs, families; people who needed help.)

Resistance. Okay, okay, maybe I am depressed and/or have a related health issue, but I surely don't need to see a counselor over it. (This is where Amy is right now, I think, after being in the previous stage (denial) a few days ago.)

Flakiness. I know there are things I need to do to change my life, to make it better, but it's just not worth my time or effort. I should eat a better diet and get more exercise - it would surely improve the quality of my life and I'd feel so much better - but I'm too lazy. I just don't feel like it.

And finally, acceptance. Okay, I understand now. If I want things to improve, I need to step forward and initiate the change myself. No one is going to do it for me. When can I make my next appointment? Depression is something that I'm just going to have to manage every day for the rest of my life.

Believe me, I've lived it. All of it.

How could I convince Amy to seek the treatment that she so desperately needed? I was not going to force her or try to talk her into going against her will. That's not my style. Nor was I going to offer her a large sum of money - extra money - if she agreed to go and see the psychiatrist. That would get her nowhere as she needed to make this decision, fully embrace it, on her own. Else, seeing the doctor would be pointless.

I cared about Amy. How can I put it any simpler than that? I was falling in love with all the ladies on the island - minus Camille - some faster than others, but trust me, Amy was near the top of the list. I suppose the best course of action would be to just prove to Amy how much I cared about her - as Kristanna once did for me - and somehow convince her that seeing a psychiatrist would be in her best interests. But I'd be gentle and nurturing about it. I'd do it with care. Only good things could come from it, I'll tell her. There is no risk and she would not lose one red cent over it.

And if I'm wrong and counseling does nothing to help Amy and her situation in life, I'll admit it. I can admit a mistake. There's no harm in trying, though.

But I knew it would help her. There was no doubt.

_Fuck Jeremy and the horse he rode in on_.

Ahhhh... Camille Josephine Santiago. What exactly had I done these past nine days to warrant such resentment, such backlash, from Camille? I'd been just as nice and as courteous toward her as I had all the others. Everyone else, dare I say it, seemed to like me; even enjoy my company. In no way, shape or form had I ever disrespected Camille or spoken down to her. So how come she seemed to despise me so much?

I suspect many people would suggest that I drop everything I'm doing right now and go give Camille a piece of my mind after her outburst. Fuck Jeremy? Yeah, fuck him! Fuck me! While confronting Camille and finding out why the hell she hated me so much would solve the riddle, I couldn't. I had to stay quiet and act totally oblivious to the subject.

It was because of the voyeur room. Amy and Camille were having a private, one-on-one discussion in their guest bedroom, yet I had spied on it with my hidden cameras and microphones. I could not let any of the ladies know that I sat in the proverbial shadows and eavesdropped on their private moments, their conversations. It would surely cause a riot and everyone would wind up hating me even more than Camille already did. They'd hate Kristanna too, since she was in on it with me. It would ruin everything we'd worked so hard for.

So, I'd have to bite my tongue and would continue to treat Camille with the same class and dignity I did all the others. There was no other option. I could not let on that I knew she harbored any sort of animosity toward me.

And strange as this may sound - knowing my passive and forgiving nature - there still remained the possibility that Camille could ultimately emerge from the group one day as my favorite. My future wife, even. A long shot, yes, and something I could never see happening myself. But opinions and viewpoints often change over time. I was going to leave the door open for Camille - just a crack - in case she ever wanted to sit down with me and talk. Who knows where it may lead?

* * *

"Do I know you?"

Several hours later, I looked up from the computer laptop here on the pool deck outside only to find a very tall, statuesque blonde standing before me who was so lovely, so radiant, her beauty literally shone out across the whole ocean. People on the other side of the world were probably wondering what was causing such a heavenly, magical glow.

"Excuse me?"

Kristanna grinned. "Do I know you? Because I'm having an awfully hard time recognizing you with your clothes on." She then broke out into a fit of sweet, melodious laughter.

I glared up at my 23-year-old best friend, an eyebrow raised, and was temporarily thrown for a loop by her playful comment. My last interaction with Kristanna was yesterday when she all but verbally destroyed Amy, claiming she would be a terrible choice for me as a potential soulmate. I was not happy and, not wanting to get into an extended argument, I'd stepped away from Kristanna before things escalated. "That's seriously how you're saying hello to me today?"

"Oh, lighten up, Jeremy!" Kristanna insisted, offering me a quick-hitting embrace from behind. "You're way too tense lately!" She came around to my frontside and looked at what was on the laptop's monitor. "What are you doing? You looking at porn again on the Internet?"

This time, I had to stifle a laugh. "NO, little Miss Curious, I am NOT looking at porn. You and your co-horts have seen to it that there is enough porn in my regular, everyday life that I do not need to seek out more on the Internet."

Kristanna gasped and held a hand to her mouth as if she was greatly stunned. Shocked and appalled, even. "I'm telling the others that you called them my co-horts!"

"You go right ahead," I encouraged her, as I returned my focus to the laptop's monitor and resumed typing. However, I slowly turned my gaze to the right and looked at Kristanna as she was now nosily peering over my shoulder at the screen.

"Seriously, what are you doing?"

"Why do you got to be such a woman and know everything? You sound just like my mother."

"JEREMY!" she screeched at my teasing words.

"I'm checking the weather reports for the next few days," was my answer. "There. Are you happy? Clear skies and sunshine today and tomorrow, and 76 degrees. Looks like a chance of storms on Thursday, unfortunately."

"Today and tomorrow sound perfect!" Kristanna chirped. "What about Norway? What's it like back home? I haven't talked to Momma and Papa since this morning."

I did some furious typing on the keyboard. "Hmmmmm... says it's 23 degrees in Oslo right now. Of course, that's Celsius, and that translates to about 73 for Fahrenheit, I think. So, a tad bit cooler than here on the island.

"The temperature won't really pick up and start to get warmer in Norway until July." The sweet sound of Kristanna's voice - her sultry accent - and the sensations her infectious smile caused never failed to leave a lasting grip on me. Last night I went to bed and felt both physically and emotionally ill because she and I had that little spat over Amy. I did not like it one bit when Kristanna and I were at odds.

I shrugged my shoulders. "I love this weather right now. It's nice, but there's humidity in the air, and it is just perfect for swimming."

"Very true," Kristanna nodded, suddenly shoving the laptop computer to the side and promptly plopping herself across my lap and hooking her slender, loving arms around my neck and shoulders. Obviously, Kristanna was in a much better mood than the last time we interacted. That was good. She smiled brightly at me, her blue eyes twinkling like stars, then kissed my forehead.

Kristanna looked mesmerizing as usual, wearing what, at initial glance, appeared to be an oversized t-shirt with flouncy sleeves, with an aqua and white tie-dye color and design pattern. In actuality, it was a pull-over dress that simply resembled a t-shirt and went down to mid-thigh.

I reached out with a hand and grasped her right foot and the strappy sandal which adorned it, then ran my thumb over and across her toes in repeated succession. "What do you have planned tonight, sweetheart?" Oh, I much preferred this Kristanna to the one I dealt with yesterday. "Maybe going down to the beach with Trish and Lindsay for their picnic?" Would the girls mind if I tagged along with them, too?

Kristanna smiled and offered me an innocent shrug of the shoulders. She then made a happy face and retorted, "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'll just spend the rest of the day with you!"

I chuckled and placed my opposite hand upon her hip. "I would certainly have no objections if you did." Every time I was this close to Kristanna, things just felt right. The world itself felt right. Perhaps it was because being in such close proximity to Kristanna put me within reach of her most attractive, desirable trait. No, it wasn't anything physical, nor was it her personality or even her happy nature.

It was her essence.

Someone tell me, why hadn't Kristanna and I hooked up for a more serious relationship long ago? Oh... that's right.

Kristanna glanced downward and wrapped her hand around my wrist. "Jeremy, I wanted to apologize for the way I acted yesterday." Her gaze shot up and she tugged at my wrist. Her eyes were sincere, full of care. Vintage Kristanna. "I'm sorry. I know that you think of Amy - hold her in a higher regard - than mostly everyone here. I should be more open to Amy because of that. I trust your judgment, Jeremy."

"You don't have to be sorry." I brushed the hair away from her face. "You did nothing wrong. I've always valued your opinion and ask that you keep sharing it with me."

"I just don't want to see you get hurt again. Remember what Victoria did to you?" Sympathy flashed across her face as she sucked in a shaky breath. "You mean too much to me. I want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy."

"Krissy," I said her name softly. "I'm a big boy and can take care of myself."

Her blonde hair shimmied and swayed upon her shoulders as she shook her head. "Can you?"

"I can," was my assurance. "Trust me."

She nodded as realization seemed to set in. "Have you had the opportunity to talk to Amy yet?"

"Not yet. But I will."

"You see a lot of yourself in Amy. Don't you, Jeremy? All the struggles and difficulties you went through? That's why you want to help her... why you're so attracted to her."

"I'm attracted to Amy because underneath that rigid, tight exterior, I believe, is a truly awesome girl. She just needs... a little guidance... to climb out of her shell. Someone who actually cares about her, wants to help her set things straight." Wanting to change the subject, I shifted about in my seat and asked, "What have you been up to today?

"Oh... Devvy and I played a round of putt-putt golf and then we went up to the north beach for a romantic walk."

I smiled. "That was after breakfast?" She nodded. "Awesome. You and Devon are getting along great."

"Anything new and exciting happen to you while I was gone? Anything I should be aware of?"

_Fuck Jeremy and the horse he rode in on._

"No, not really." There was no need to tell Kristanna about Camille and what she said about me. It would only upset her. Besides, with the voyeur room and the way she liked to review daily events in it, I figured Kristanna would learn soon enough on her own. Why drag her down with me now?

"Let's you and I go out and do something together on the island," Kristanna suggested, pulling back and smiling at me. "C'mon... just you and me. No one else! We can even skip dinner and make our own later if you like. Louisa will see to it that everyone gets a good meal at dinnertime! C'mon... just like old times, when I used to fly here from Norway and visit, and it was just you and me. No one else."

I grinned at the prospects. "I'd like that very much."

* * *

I watched as the cool water trickled down Kristanna's sleek, suntanned body, washing off the salt and sand, the carrot oil sunscreen and surfboard wax, as she stood just three feet away from me underneath the next nozzle. Although I knew every nook and cranny of Kristanna's lean, 5-foot-11 frame, I could not help but to steal quick glances of her whenever I could regardless. Water from the beach access shower splashed down onto her delicate shoulders and torso, tapering all over - and through - her two-piece, strapless white bikini before dripping down her long, graceful legs.

Kristanna and I had spent the past four hours playing and frolicking together both in and out of the ocean alongside the southwestern tip of the island. It was evening now, the sky a majestic blue, while the horizon was decorated with a mixture of orange and purple. A few shadows fell on Kristanna's sultry body and, even as I shook my head furiously to clear the mental cobwebs, I again wondered why she and I hadn't hooked up and gotten married long ago. Why wasn't Kristanna the mother of my children? Why hadn't I devoted my entire existence to her? I felt protected and safe on the island, yes, and she was loyal to her home country, her family. Kristanna refused to stay here with me permanently when I offered her the chance a few years ago. But couldn't I have left this damn island in exchange for true love? Why did Kristanna have to make the sacrifice, but not me?

And did I seriously believe the likes of Pamela, Devon or Amy - or even Trish, Lindsay or, good God, Camille - would drop everything in their lives and stay on the island with me as well? It was getting time to spread my wings, I thought inwardly, and go back to the real world. This was all part of my ongoing journey toward wellness and redemption.

I watched Kristanna turn the shower off, then whip her hair about, its long locks damp and sticky, and run a dry towel through it. "What's on your mind, baby?" she swooned.

"Nothing specific, I suppose," I lied. "Just happy."

"Me too," Kristanna said, handing me a hot, sun-toasted towel. "This is me favorite time to be at the beach, you know that? When the sun is about to set? It's so gorgeous."

I dabbed my face with the towel. "It certainly is." I used to correct Kristanna when she'd misspeak the English language, but decided to stop one day. I loved her voice, her accent, and its quirkiness way too much.

We dressed, my insides overflowing with happiness for my Valkyrie friend. My life was always just so much better whenever she was around. Kristanna slipped into her favorite cover-up, a yellow sundress I'd purchased for her two years ago during one of our trips to Lima, the capital city of Peru. She said it had a very light feeling and made her feel really cool. The color was rich but not too bright, and contrasted perfectly with her beige sandals and sun-bronzed skin.

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