Pearl Beds

I have two secrets, and it is killing me. If I don't tell somebody soon, I am going to explode.

The first secret is I have fallen in love with Daphne! I can not believe I have fallen for her, here on this island, of all places. It started out all in fun. Just a big bunch of us shipwreck survivors running around boinking each other, having a fine old time, making the best of a difficult situation. Nothing meaningful, nothing but good old fashioned stupid fun.

But somewhere along the line, I got derailed.

The other day, when I saw Daphne hand-in-hand with another man, my fists balled up with fury. It was not so much that they were wandering off into the woods to fuck, but that they were _holding hands!_ It was such an inappropriately intimate gesture! How dare they!

For an hour, I hunched behind a driftwood log, despondent. But I am not the type to sit and sulk. I began to form a plan in my head, a plan to win her back. Which brings me to my second secret.

I have a gift. I have a gift I plan to give to the one I love. I hope to use this gift to make her mine.

What is the gift?

It is pearls. I have a little leather sack full of pearls.

It is funny. Thinking back. When I first found the oysters, I was just out taking a breather, floating in the sheltered bay on a makeshift raft. The raft bobbed in the gentle ocean swells. I was feeling contemplative, and I think I felt the very first inkling of my feelings for her. Daphne and I had just had a vigorous fuck back in the forest, a fuck that left us both panting and drenched with sweat. Afterwards, we lay very close, looking into each other's eyes, and we kissed each other's fingers.

I lay on the raft, imagining her fingers, long and slender. Three pads on each finger: bottom, middle and tip. Her bottom pad was the most sensitive. I lay on the raft, and images of her hands filled my head. The first smoky wisps of obsession began to form.

And there, lying in the sun on my raft, I stared down through the clear water, thinking about Daphne. And then I noticed the dark shapes on the bottom of the bay. Strange looking black lumps embedded in the silt.

The bay is not deep, and I was curious, so I slipped down into the warm water. With strong strokes, I swam down to pick one of the dark things up. I brought it back to the surface and took a look.

It was an oyster!

I pried it open and found the first pearl inside. It was silvery and nestled in the gooey, slimy oyster flesh. The pearl was egg- shaped and beautiful. Truly beautiful. I held it in the sun and saw the blue and green and violet shimmers.

I set the pearl aside and dove back down, picking up two more oysters. Inside the first was a delicate, rosy-hued sphere.

Inside the second was a miracle.

The pearl was enormous, as big as a cherry tomato. I rolled the giant, silvery, teardrop pearl in my palm. The shimmering translucence was breathtaking. And it was so _heavy_. I couldn't believe how heavy it was. It was awesome. It was probably worth a fortune.

But here on a stupid island, what would I do with it?

And at that very instant, it hit me.

I was in love!

Yes, I was in love! I was in love with Daphne! She of the gentle hands and soft belly. And the lovely warm recess between her smooth legs.

But at the time, so soon after my discovery, it was still an ill- formed love. I did not yet have a plan. Every day I would simply drift aimlessly back out into the bay and harvest more oysters. I had a leather bag with a drawstring where I hoarded my treasure.

People began to notice my trips out into the bay. "Ivan, what are you doing out there?" The Bear asked once.

"Nothing!" I said. "I am doing nothing!" And I hid the bag behind my back.

I was afraid of being discovered. So as to arouse no further suspicion, I began to return with shucked oysters. They were an instant hit with the other survivors. "Way to go, Ivan. Hawr, hawr!" and a friendly slap on the back.

I built up quite a collection. Most of the pearls are small, but larger ones were not uncommon. I found a second huge one, wine red and nearly perfectly round. At night I would sneak my two biggest beauties out and stare at them in the light of a dying bonfire.

My stash is now quite large, and it is getting hard to keep it secret. I keep the pearl bag in my knapsack, but the damn things rattle when I walk! People are beginning to stare. It is finally time to make my feelings known.

Earlier today, I caught up with Daphne on the trail into the jungle. She wore a towel wrapped around her curving hips, and nothing else. My eyes smarted with an expectant desire. "Daphne!" I called. She turned, and she faced me with her beautiful up- turned breasts. "Will you come with me?" I asked. "Tonight?"

She cocked her head to the side and smiled. "What do you have planned, Ivan?" She batted her dark lashes.

I was disappointed. She did not have a clue. Could she not detect my love? Was I so opaque?

But I am a trooper. We made arrangements to meet later that night. I went back to the beach and prepared my knapsack with a few things for the evening. I sat down on a bleached-out log, alone, and waited.

And here I sit, still waiting. The sun is setting, orange light streaking across the waves. The sky has deepened to an indigo blue. The first sparkles of stars speckle the sky.

The other shipwrecked survivors begin to congregate on the beach. Pulp Fan, Tom, DG, Mat, Bronwen, Kitt, Malinov, Janey ... the early arrivals. A party is planned for the night, and with all the sexual energy building among us, it is bound to turn into something spectacular. The crowd quickly swells. A big fire is started. Woodsmoke is there, and Kim, Bear, Taria, Adrian. I think I see Kristen, but perhaps not, it's hard to see clearly. Bodies begin to sway in the firelight. The all dance and writhe.

Daphne arrives late, with the party in full swing. I stand up to greet her. She is naked, like many of the others, her nipples hard and pointed, the light of the fire flickering across her smooth skin. She looks longingly into the throng. Already they are pairing off, their dark silhouettes coming together in lascivious embraces.

"Are you ready?" I ask.

She gives me the once-over, taking in my body. "Aren't you cold?" she says.

"No. What about you?"

"Maybe a little."

I drape my blanket over her shoulders and we walk side by side down the beach, away from the noisy crowd. When we are out of sight, we stop, I take the blanket and spread it on the warm sand, and she sits. I gather up some dry palm leaves and driftwood, and I start our own small fire.

The night is warm, still, and moonless. We lie together and gaze up at the star-swept sky. My heart pounds as I fish in my knapsack for my little leather bag.

I turn up on my side and take in her naked form. The soft rise of her breast, the dark bushy pubes. Her eyes have a far-away look, as if she were pondering some big, deep question.

I gather up a few tiny pearls, rattle them in my hand, like lucky dice. She looks down at my hand. I squirt the pearls out from between my fingers, and I fill her bellybutton with them, a little pyramid of smooth, glowing round spheres. They catch the flickering orange firelight.

She gets up on her elbows and gazes at the jewels on her belly. "Oh, Ivan," she whispers.

I find the big silver tear-shaped pearl. I lift it to my mouth and breathe on it, warming it. I look into Daphne's liquid eyes, the flicker of firelight reflecting in them. I hold the pearl up to where she can see it. She holds her breath, staring at the incredible pearl. I lower the pearl and press the perfectly smooth surface against her warm skin. Daphne exhales loudly.

I roll the pearl around, trying to use my fingers to steer it. But the oblong lump seems to move with a will of its own. It leads my hand across, rolling over the softness of her belly. It pauses at the ridge of her ribcage, and with an extra push, up over the first rib it goes. I slide it back and forth in the groove between her ribs, down around her side until I almost lose it, then back up. Her lungs take in air.

Back and forth, up and down, the pearl leads my fingers. I can see the beating of her heart, just under her left breast, a visible throbbing against her side. I hold the pearl on the pulse, and it rises and falls with the pump of her heart.

I follow the pearl up into the crease at the bottom of her breast, rolling back and forth underneath. Then to the centerline of her body, and up between her breasts, rolling up the hard breastbone. Her nipples twitch. Up the pearl climbs, up the rise of her breast. I roll the smooth cool sphere towards her dark nipple, around and around the perimeter of the areola, and the nipple peaks up. Goosebumps rise on her soft skin.

I kiss her, and she kisses back hungrily. I squeeze her nipples between my fingers and the pearl nestled in my palm.

She inhales sharply as I break the kiss. The pearl is travelling again, and this time my lips follow its path down her body, kissing her soft skin, down the front of her neck, my tongue sliding between her breasts, down her soft belly, detouring around the pile of pearls in her bellybutton. Her stomach muscles jerk and a couple pearls tumble down and roll away. The big pearl reaches her dark pubes, and my lips are only a few inches behind.

Her legs part, and I move around to crouch between her knees. I smell her, I smell her body.

The pearl is warm and heavy and round and smooth. I sweep it across her lower belly, moving from hip bone to hip bone, skimming along the top of her dark pubic patch.

The shell of her pussy opens up, the soft flesh inside revealed.

I move the big pearl against the opening of her vagina.

"Careful," she whispers.

I swirl the pearl around in her slick. I coat it until it is slippery in my fingers. All slippery and smooth. Gently as possible, I ease the smooth sphere around, working it with my fingertips, pressing into the fold inside the outer lip. I work the slippery pearl up and down the fold.

I roll it, shiny wet, up and down, right next to her clitoris. The hood pulls back, and her bulb peeks out.

Two pretty pearls, side by side.

I gather up saliva in my mouth. I purse my lips and press them over her clitoris. I slurp it.

Daphne arches and gasps for air.

I move my tongue slowly over her clitoris, lapping with a slow rhythm. And I press the big pearl down, down between her lips, roll it again in her slippery stuff. "Oh God," she moans, and her thighs strain apart.

I press firmly, and her pussy yields. The pearl eases in. Her breath comes in shudders. I suck her clitoris, and she grabs my ears. I press inward with my thumb, firmly and relentlessly, until it is completely inside.

I take the second big pearl, and place it behind its brother. She pulls my head hard, and I slurp and suck and kiss and lick, and the second pearl enters her vagina.

She grunts, three times, her belly twitching. She exhales sharply. And a long, easy sigh.

I look up from between her legs.

Her face is sweaty and strained. She sits up and the little pearls in her navel stream down her belly. She scoots around a little, stretching her legs. She holds her hand between her legs.

"Jesus, Ivan," she says.

She rolls up on the balls of her feet. Squatting down, she holds her hands between her legs. She crinkles her nose, and the two big pearls pop out into her hand, one after the other, the second one clicking against the first.

She breathes easily and lies back down. I gather up all the stray pearls. I lie down next to her. She holds the two big pearls in her palm.

"I can't accept these," she says.

And I know it. What on Earth was I thinking?

She stands up, and I scamper up after her, brushing the sand off my legs.

She places the two pearls in my hand and pats my behind. "Thank you anyway," she says.

I roll the two pearls together in my hand. There is only one thing to do.

I hand her back the red one, and she opens her mouth to protest, but I shush her. Her eyes squint. I open the leather sack, turn it upside down and empty the gleaming pearls out into the sand at the water's edge.

"Don't you hate symbolic gestures?" I say.

She laughs. "Definitely. They are the worst." We use our bare feet to squish the small pearls into the wet sand. The incoming tide will soon cover the burial ground.

Which leave us with only the two big beauties.

I roll mine around in my hand one last time. It really is remarkable.

I wind up and throw the pearl out into the ocean. It plops into the water, and it's gone.

Daphne watches for a moment, then laughs. She takes the red one, leans back, and heaves it out. It disappears into the water without a sound.

We stand for a moment, side by side, looking out into the dark ocean. I take her hand, and our fingers twine together.

We turn and walk back towards the orgy. "So, Daphne," I say, just making conversation. "Do you know anything about quadratic residues?"