Moon Goddess

The classic rock music is loud enough to be heard all throughout the open bar on the beach. A crowd of people fill the majority of the round wooden tables, the bar, and the makeshift dance area. There is a constant flow of people appearing and disappearing, wandering in from the night. Couples and small groups walking in and melding into the crowd of people, ordering drinks, excitedly talking with their friends, or dancing barefoot in the sand. Off in the darkness, illuminated by the moonshine, the small rolling waves stretch quietly back and forth on the beach. Its constant calmness is lost and filtered out by the upbeat music and multitude of voices masking the otherwise peaceful nature of this beach.

He sits at the bar, holding a glass bottle of beer and is leaning his back up against the bar watching the crowd of people. He doesn't watch any particular person but is lost in his thoughts while watching the overall movement of the mass of people spread out before him. He is not drunk but does feel the familiar fuzziness and giddiness of a warm buzz filling his brain.

It never ceases to amaze him how he can feel so alone in a crowd of people. Unnoticed, unheard, and unwanted. No, not unwanted, just ignored. He feels there is no significance to him or his life. He has no woman in his life and it has been a few months since the breakup. It wasn't really a breakup, she ditched him. He never understood why or what he had done. He knows it had to be something he did because all she said was, "It's not you, it's me." What does that even mean? he sighs. All he knows is that he is depressed.

This was supposed to be their vacation. He doesn't even know why he is here. It's been a couple of days, and he hasn't really had any fun. Oh, he has gone through the motions, visited some sights, and enjoyed the island culture. But all he thinks about is blaming and punishing himself for losing her. He misses her.

His friends convinced him to go and get away in the hope that he would stop moping around and wallowing in self-pity. No sense in wasting the plane ticket and hotel reservation, it wasn't cheap. Albeit, her ticket was wasted though. Can't help that now. She didn't even offer to reimburse him for it. Of course, she hasn't spoken to him or even seen him since she left him. 'Who knows,' they said, 'maybe you will meet some hot island girl, and she will help you forget all about your ex.' Yeah, right.

He runs his hand through his thick, dark brown hair. He didn't really feel like putting it into a ponytail as he normally would, so his long hair hangs down around his face and down to the middle of his back. It is thick and full like a lion's mane, but dark, almost black. His tall stature, piercing gaze, strong jaw, and athletic physique give him a dark, foreboding and even intimidating appearance. He typically uses that intimidation to keep people away and enjoys the isolation it affords, but he still can't help feeling depressed in this newfound loneliness. It's not quite what he really wanted.

Bringing the bottle to his lips he leans back as he finishes off the last few gulps of beer. No sooner does he set the bottle on the bar than the bartender asks him if he would like another. Turning around to face her, his eyes flicker over her upper body and up to her face. She is wearing an oversized t-shirt that hangs off of one bare shoulder, making him wonder if she is even wearing a bra. The shirt is so baggy he can't really make out the size or shape of her tits. She probably doesn't have very big ones, he sighs as he takes in her facial features. Her face has a slight roundness, that makes him think she is probably a little overweight. She has nice eyes, a nice smile, and her hair is probably as long as his. She is short, probably just under the average for women. She is ok, he thinks, but nothing extraordinary. However, if she was interested and he couldn't find anything better, he supposes he would do it with her.

Oh yeah, you are a real piece of work, he thinks. Well, he is depressed, lonely, and it's been months since he has been with a woman. Jerking off is ok, it'll get you by, but there is nothing better than what a woman can do to a man. He is just getting desperate because he needs to get laid. He needs to get a 'lil strange' as one of his friends told him before he left on this trip.

He nods at the bartender and mumbles something incoherent at her. She spins, slams open the metal lid of the cooler, grabs another bottle, pops the top with a flair, and hands him another beer. She walks away and he takes note of how big her butt is. It's not huge, but it's proportionately too big for her small body and apparently small chest. He sighs again and turns back to resume his earlier laid-back position against the bar. On second thought, he probably wouldn't do her. Just something about disproportionately large butts is an instant turn-off for him. He's always been a tit man first and a butt man second, and she doesn't have either of his preferences. It doesn't matter anyway, doubtful she is interested in him, so it's not like he even had a chance with her.

No woman wants him apparently. He is not really looking for just a piece of ass, or meaningless sex. That's just his hormones being out of balance and screwing with his head. He wants love, true love, that is what he lost. Or maybe he never had it in the first place, he just thought he did. Unrequited love. But she was so wonderful and affectionate and so many things clicked. She even called him the most romantic man she'd ever met. So where did he go wrong? Was she just not ready? He sighs again. He's just asking the same questions and guessing at the same answers. Definition of insanity.

Letting his gaze wander back across the crowd he thinks about how pathetic he has become. He looks at the mass of people as if they were a forest of trees. In this case, he can see the forest instead of the trees. Occasionally, a break in the crowd allows him to see through to the waves rolling up onto the sand in the distance. It is only a glimpse but it both calms him and makes him feel even more alone. He ponders the idea of how he is simply a drop of water in the ocean. Its depth and breadth are more than intimidating, it's overwhelming.

After a few more beers and another hour has passed he considers walking back to his hotel room. Not that there is any reason to do so, but he feels he has tolerated about as much as he can of all the people being around him. They annoy him with their proximity and the bits and pieces of their superfluous conversations that he has overheard. All their materialistic worries and selfish concerns are such a waste to him. People as a group are a mindless mob. Not that he is any better than them, but they still grate on his nerves. Like hearing someone chewing their food loudly or an abhorrent smell of someone's breath. There are just some things that he can't ignore, at least not for long.

Looking down at his beer bottle he realizes he still has over half of the beer left to drink. Well, no sense wasting it, might as well sit here a little while longer.

Shifting his gaze back to the crowd he notices something is off. There is a change in the pattern, as if there was something that didn't belong. Whatever it is, it caught his attention from the corner of his eye. That's normally how it goes for him. He sees things from the corner of his eye, things that stand out to him, but are missed by everyone else. Like noticing a hawk sitting on a power line, he has always been very observant to details and patterns.

Turning his head slightly he focuses intently on the spot of people where he thought he saw something. There is nothing there, just random people standing around talking in groups, nearly shoulder to shoulder to everyone and completely oblivious to anyone else outside of their group. Frustrated, because he knows he saw something, he flickers his eyes to expand further around the group intent on seeing whatever it was that caught his attention.

Then, he sees a slender arm before two people shift and obscure his view. A couple feet away he sees the flash of a long, exposed leg, barefoot. Once again, the crowd shifts and he loses sight of, what, her? Now, he has a path, a direction, and his eyes fixate on the spot he calculates she will appear next. She does. This time he sees a side profile of her face and long, straight hair cascading down both the front and back of her body. She slips through the crowd easily, no one jostles her. Somehow, people move out of her path at the last second, parting and making a space for her to step through. Then they close back behind her after she has passed. It is as if she exists outside of our realm and is simply passing through. It is incredulous to him how no one seems to even notice her.

She keeps her head facing down towards the sand, which causes her hair to hide most of the features of her face. He combines all the pieces and glimpses of her into a three-dimensional puzzle in his head. He is stunned. She is beautiful. She doesn't walk, she glides like a ghost, and her skin somehow reflects the moonlight, tricking his mind into thinking that she is glowing just slightly.

He has lost her in the crowd again. How is nobody noticing her? She is right there. Isn't she? Glancing at his beer he wonders if he is more drunk than he thought. But no, right now he is hyper-focused. His senses are operating at a heightened level and he doesn't feel any of the effects of the beer that he felt earlier. His brain is racing. Twisting and turning all the pieces in a myriad of ways, he tries to make sense of the pattern, but can find no pattern. Nothing makes sense. In frustration, he downs his beer and places the empty bottle on the bar.

There, in amongst the people dancing, off to the side, a corner where there are more shadows than artificial light. There she is. But she is simply standing there with her head bowed, as if she is waiting for something. He leaves his stool and slowly pushes through the crowd. He is bigger and taller than most and the people move to get out of his way, although some give him ugly stares, but none dare speak any words to him. None truly wish to upset this foreboding presence easing through the crowd like a hunting animal. The look on his face is so intense that they choose to not take the chance of upsetting this dark and possibly crazy man.

Now that he can see her fully, even though she seems to stand in shadow, he can tell she is tall, not as tall as him, but close. Her hair flows down in two waves over her chest and ends at her belly, which is exposed. In fact, he can't tell if she is wearing any clothes at all. Her legs are uncovered, her arms, and even her upper body. What the hell is she wearing? Is she naked? No. He notices now, some type of seashell belt at her hip, and there is some form of cloth hanging down between her legs like a long scarf that ends just above her knees. He also sees some type of seashell bracelet on both of her wrists, and possibly another around her neck.

The music dies down as the song ends. He pauses and looks around trying to identify if anyone else can see her or if it is just him. Then, another song starts up that has a tribal theme to it. He doesn't recognize the song, as dance music is not really his type of music to listen to, but he does sense the sensuality of the song. Apparently, she does too, as she begins to dance. Her arms rise up fluidly above her head and her hips sway back and forth. She moves like thick coconut milk being poured over rocks in a stream. She seems to flow around everything, somehow covering it up as she engulfs it. Her hair sways with her body but never completely exposes her chest. He knows now that she is not wearing anything above her waist. He can make out the shape of her breasts and can tell they are not small, but her hair keeps her nipples covered. She spins and kicks her feet out causing little sprays of sand to fountain through the air. She holds her hands out invitingly as if asking someone to dance with her, but no one seems to even see her. She is the most exotically beautiful woman he has ever seen.

He steps up to her hesitantly, unsure what he should do. She doesn't look at him or even acknowledge his presence. He feels awkward standing so close to this amazing woman while she dances, obviously lost in the music. Dancing was never his forte or an interest. He lifts his hands towards her body in an attempt to dance with her, but she stops suddenly and her eyes glare directly into his, piercing his soul. He senses that she is telling him to not touch her. When he lowers his hands she continues dancing as if nothing had just happened.

He stares at her, now that he is so close to her. She is extraordinary. Everything about her features is slender, lithe and supple. From her long, shapely legs that ripple with toned muscle up to her flat tummy and out to her long, slender arms. Even her face has sylvan features. And those eyes, those eyes that flashed at him. They are fine and almond-shaped, even sparkling, but containing some inner fire that nearly burned his soul. Everything about her exudes exotic sexiness. The round calves, the thick thighs layered with muscles that take shape when she kicks out her legs. That smooth tummy with the subtle line that starts above her belly button and disappears into the strands of her thick hair dangling over her breasts. Her breasts are amazing. From the brief glimpses he can make out their overall size and shape. They are full and perfectly round, somehow defying gravity standing up and out so rebelliously. They move and bounce and sway to her body's movements, but the whole time her hair keeps her nipples hidden as if they were some secret. The cloth scarf hanging between her legs also performs the same trick by never quite exposing her femininity. There are quick flashes of bare skin that excite him for how close it gets, but it's as if there were some invisible force holding it in place, teasing him.

The song fades and she stops dancing. Her arms return to hanging at her sides and her head is bowed in her hair's shadow again. Suddenly, he hears a woman's uproariously loud laugh invading into his senses. Turning around to try to identify the source and understand what the hell is wrong with the woman, he growls his annoyance at the disturbance. Turning back around intent on speaking to the beautiful woman in front of him he is stunned and shocked. She has disappeared.

Looking around frantically and spinning about randomly he searches for her. Some sign of where she went. Glancing at the sand in front of him, he even tries to find any hint of her footprints leading off to give him a direction to pursue her. But the sand is a mess of footprints and he is not skilled as a tracker. About to give up, forlornly he looks up towards the ocean and spots a silhouette of someone standing at the edge of the water. How did she get out there so fast?

Walking quickly, his long strides eat up the distance between them and he keeps his eyes locked onto her. He is not going to lose sight of her again. Not as if he could, there is no one else anywhere near her standing at the water's edge.

Approaching her backside, she is turned away from him facing the water. Most of her long, thick hair hangs over the front side of her body, allowing him to admire her backside. Her shoulders are broad for a woman, not hunched together as if she were cowering, but spread wide as if she were proud. There is a good amount of muscle too. Not thick and bulbous like some gorilla half-breed, but tight and toned with just hints of definition here and there as she moves. Just enough to give the impression she is not frail and delicate, but rather that she is defiant and strong. Definitely not a woman to be trifled with.

Her back has a natural flow and arch to it, a sultry curve that seems to push her butt and hips out slightly. The belt of shells hangs around her waist and above her bare butt like some sea goddess's crown. And what an amazing butt she has. It's perfectly round in shape and completely exposed. Like the rest of her body her ass is tight and toned. It is about the size of two volleyballs pressed hard together, with those extremely sexy dimples on either side. The bottom creases of her butt cheeks are perfectly rounded making him desire more than anything to cup them softly like a pair of breasts and feel the amazingly soft flesh there with his fingers. He can just imagine the extremely fine hairs that most likely cover her entire body like the softest downy fur. Nearly invisible to the eye, yet felt through touch and probably more soft than that of a baby chick.

He feels thrill after arousing thrill as he gazes longingly at every minute aspect of her body. Never has he felt such extremely strong sexual attraction for another woman. But there is something unexplainable about her, definitely extraordinary, possibly making her unattainable.

Is she some kind of spirit? He has heard plenty about the mythology and mysticism that accompanies this island and the culture of its people. Magic is real for these people. And she certainly gives off some kind of tribal, magical, ethereal presence. Like, how is she still shrouded in shadows when they are standing out alone together on the openness of this beach. Where is the moon? Glancing up he notices that the moon is hidden behind a bank of slow-moving clouds. Figures.

Looking back down at her long, muscle-toned legs he watches as the waves wash up over her feet, submerging them before receding back again. Even her feet look perfect, not that he is one of those who has a foot fetish, but it seems everything about this woman is perfect and alluringly sexy.

Now that he is near her again, he is hesitant and unsure what to do. He raises his hand to touch her and let her know he is standing there, but remembers how she responded the last time and lowers his hand. He is about to clear his throat or say hello when she surprises him.

"Kia ora, Az." She turns her body slightly towards him but doesn't look up into his face.

Her voice is amazing. It's low and sensual, not high-pitched like tinkling bells, but more thick like syrup slowly about to drip off the tip of her tongue. It's intoxicating and sends gooseflesh up the back of his neck.

But what the hell did she just say to him? Is that some kind of tribal greeting or something else? Fumbling with his tongue, he tries to say, "Hi, hello... um, I have no clue, um idea... I don't under... know what that means." His normal deep, smooth voice falters as his brain quickly tries to respond in the best way possible without being able to decide what that is, while his mouth speaks whatever garbage of half-thoughts his brain has decided to say for that split-second before moving on to the next.

Suddenly, her head is turned up towards his face and her eyes are staring hungrily into his. She moved so fast that he didn't even register the movement. It was as if one moment she was looking down and then she flickered and the next moment she was looking right at him. Her tongue has even curled around and is poking out between the corner of her lips giving him the impression she wants to lick him, or even bite him. He feels a throbbing wave of lust flow through him as if some sexual energy just passed from her to him. God, he wants her so badly right now.

"Hey!"

Spinning around surprised, he sees some guy walking his way and waving his hand at him.

"Oh, sorry mate. Thought you were someone else." The guy turns abruptly and wanders off back towards the bar.

Shaking his head in dismissal he turns back and tries to speak to her but is shocked, yet again. She is gone.