Tahitian Nights

Let me begin by explaining what I do for a living:

In my line of work, I get to see some of the world's most beautiful tourist destinations, and the great thing is, I don't have to spend one cent of my own money doing it. Some people would say, 'Great life if you can get it,' but what makes it hard is that every one of these fantastic places I go to is to work.

I work for a company involved in prospecting for oil and gas. My 'territory' covers the enormous area of the Pacific Basin. The place I physically travel to stretches in a rectangle from Japan in the Northwest to the West Coast of the United States in the Northeast. From Japan, in the Southeast, I visit all reasonable size places across the Southwest, including Australia, New Zealand, Papua New Guinea and the Solomon Islands.

Tahiti is the furthest island in the Southeastern territory, with many beautiful places in between. Among the island groups, I visit Hawaii, Fiji, Tonga, Western and American Samoa, New Caledonia and Vanuatu, and the small islands of Micronesia and Melanesia.

More often than not, I base myself either in Sydney, Australia or Auckland, New Zealand. They're both exciting places to live with good weather most of the time. It doesn't do any harm that they are also renowned for beautiful beaches and great-looking women.

I don't spend too much of my time in any one place, so I have got used to feeling reasonably comfortable wherever I stay, and living out of a suitcase is now second nature. Within hours of landing in a new place, I can generally put down my temporary roots and feel at home. It always seems familiar after unpacking my bag, showering, and driving the Avis rental car to the next place. Of course, travel agents and tourist advertising are generally accurate, but even beautiful places have different languages and accents, and all sites feel the same if you work alone.

Staying in good hotels is a prerequisite for my job. Some might think I do this to name-drop the great places I visit. The reason for the excellent hotel rule is simple: I work and play hard and need somewhere safe to live when I'm not working. I want the comforts of home while enjoying the ease of communication. You don't get all of this at the second-rate hotels.

The good thing about staying in five-star hotels is that you often meet some friendly people. True, you also get to meet the opposite. Some people believe that money is a license to be a nuisance to hotel employees. I've never worked out why this is. They are often the noisy ones in a bar or the ones that complain about the wine or service at dinner.

Many people I have met on my travels are happily married. However, a single man would like to meet straight, single females, but they don't often travel alone, and this is probably the most sensible thing to do in many Pacific islands. If a European woman is alone in many places I travel to, they might as well have a yellow flashing light attached to their head saying, 'Hello, I'm here! Come and get me.' It must be infuriating for women because I know what I'm saying is true.

So, to recap, when I'm travelling, I often look for an eligible woman to join me at dinner and more if the circumstances are right. I prefer older women, but I don't mean so old they require a walking frame. To be more accurate, she will be in her late forties to early sixties.

In my most recent travels, I met a woman from the Australian High Commission in Suva, Fiji. Then I had a similar fling with an Air New Zealand hostess while working in Tokyo, and they were both excellent.

Don't get me wrong, though; I don't go to these beautiful places and sit around panting like a dog after a bitch in heat. If it happens, it happens; if it doesn't, then it doesn't. My next job is in Tahiti, so maybe my luck might change.

They gave me the details of the new job and a technical data dossier before I left my Auckland office. I estimated it might take about a week, maybe ten days maximum. A Japanese firm was negotiating to drill for oil offshore in French Polynesia. The local government officials asked my company to supply an independent consultant to review the Japanese data. I arranged to meet with both parties at eight on Monday morning in their downtown office in Papeete, the capital of Tahiti.

I arrived in Papeete on Sunday at five in the afternoon, local time. The plane landed reasonably well in the swirling winds continually buffeting the area. Although it was warm, the rain lashed the runway. Just as the rain went horizontal, the hostess decided this was the best time for the passengers to descend the steep aluminium steps they'd pushed up against the side of the plane. I was soaked to the skin before I got to the terminal building; rain ran off my clothes like being in a shower fully dressed.

After clearing customs, I went straight to the Avis desk and hired their only remaining car, a left-hand drive UK Mini Clubman. It had to be thirty years old. The paint colour was a combination of rust and fading grey. There was even a hole in the driver's door that I could get my fist through. They didn't advertise it as air conditioning, but it wouldn't have surprised me. The tiny car had seen better times, that's for sure. Then, just to make my day, as I was driving to the hotel, a giant cockroach ran up the right leg of my trousers and almost got me killed. I spent five minutes beating my leg until I got a warm squishy feeling running down the back of my calf. I had arrived in yet another tropical paradise.

The hotel was something else. I had not stayed in this hotel before, so the odd sensation when I used the elevator was different. The hotel was said to be the best in Papeete. It clung precariously to a hillside overlooking the ocean. I could see the twinkling lights of Club Med on an island close to the shore. Seeing the lights wasn't easy as a mist appeared as the rain storm went out to sea.

The sky came alive with stars, and an unseen hand had struck a match that set fire to the furthest clouds. Another ten minutes and the colour of the sky would change from a dull red glow to a soft blue as the moon came up and bathed everything in milk-white light. The cockroach aside, I was pleased to be in Tahiti again; this was a magnificent place to spend time, working or not.

After checking in at reception, at street level, the receptionist advised that my room was on the 8th floor. As I hit the number eight on the elevator wall, I was amazed as the elevator began to descend instead of ascend. The hotel's fifteen floors, including the ground floor, at street level, all went down the hill. There was no building above street level; it was all below.

After unpacking my bag, I had a shower and shaved, then lay down for a half hour to see if I could get rid of the fuzziness in my head. The long flight from Auckland had been tiring, especially with getting to the airport so early for security checks.

Two hours later, I woke slightly confused and hungry. I try to maintain sensible habits on planes and try not to sway from them too often. I only eat every other available meal and only drink a maximum of two drinks during a flight, no matter the distance. If you over-indulge in either of these, you will feel like shit at the other end of your journey. Travel for a living and find out.

I had been given a mobile phone number as my contact in the Papeete local government office. When I called at 8.15 pm, the reply was a female voice with a pleasant French accent, "Allo, Oui? Madam Voiret."

"Bonjour, Madam Voiret, this is Dave Bishop from Consolidated Oil and Gas."

"Ah, yes, Mr Bishop. Welcome to Tahiti. I hope you had a good journey."

"Yes, thank you, Madam; it was a good flight, but the rain when we landed was something else."

"Please call me Vivian, Mr Bishop; we do not stand on too much ceremony in Tahiti. Tell me, have you eaten?"

"No, I haven't. Would you care to join me for a late supper?"

"Yes, that would be nice. Shall I meet you at your hotel? They have a good restaurant, and it will mean you do not have to drive anywhere."

"That sounds great. How long will it take you to get here?"

"Maybe twenty minutes. What about we meet in the lobby at nine."

"Great. I'll see you then, Madam Voir... Sorry, Vivian." I hung up the phone and whispered aloud, "I wonder what Vivian looks like?"

I dressed, went to reception and asked them to direct Madam Voiret to the house bar when she arrived. I sat at an almost deserted bar and ordered a beer from a stunning Tahitian woman behind the counter.

I stared intently at the girl behind the bar with a genuine coconut shell bra. Her fabulous tan and jet-black hair were mesmerising. I heard, "Monsieur Bishop?"

" Yes."

"I am pleased to meet you, Monsieur Bishop."

"I will call you Vivian if you call me Dave... Deal?"

She smiled and said, "Deal."

Our handshake was brief, but her touch sent a sensation up my arm that was hard to describe. I offered her a seat next to me at the bar, and she seemed to glide the few steps, then float onto the tall bar stool.

It was hard to know Vivian's age. Her olive skin was flawless in the soft bar light. When I tried to guess her age, I was miles out. Later that evening, she told me she was sixty-one--the most youthful-looking sixty-one-year-old I've ever seen.

It turned out that Vivian was a practising lawyer specialising in business law. She worked on a contract with the local government office in Papeete, selected from a long list of equally qualified people, all originally from Paris.

The selection of Parisians was not unusual; a Paris to Tahiti flight is 'local' for French nationals travelling on Air France. Most French Polynesian judiciary is from Paris, as are most other professions in these islands.

Our table location at dinner resembled a scene from a movie set. It overlooked the ocean, and moonlight removed the darkness surrounding the hotel exterior.

Moments after we sat at our table, a harsh slow drumming began somewhere on the hotel grounds, and from the volume, it was pretty close. People, especially the tourists, peered beyond the half-wall surrounding the dining room. As the beat got faster, Vivian attempted to explain what was about to happen above the noise of the drums.

I heard higher-pitched drumming begin above the slow beat of a bass drum. As the noise reached a crescendo, a line of beautiful girls appeared from behind the dining room's palm tree entrance.

They all looked about the same height and age, maybe around nineteen or twenty. They were all dressed in traditional hula skirts made from flax-based grass. Like the girl behind the bar, the dancers had coconut halves held by a thin rope tie in place of a bra. A couple of them had grass bracelets around their ankles, plaited with coloured strands of wool.

Their hips gyrated as they swayed toward a temporary stage; the movement was hypnotic. Coloured lights created a hint of mystery on the stage set. The drums stopped abruptly, and the girls formed two lines across the stage.

As quickly as the drums stopped, they started to beat again, only this time, it expressed greater urgency. The dancers displayed a magical Tahitian-style dance far better than anything I'd seen in Honolulu.

The girls all had a light sheen of moisture from their necks to the waistband of their flax skirts. When the drums finally stopped, applause rang out from the diners and the people at the bar. As their gyrating hips slowed, the dancers returned to the darkness beyond the palm trees.

Minutes later, six dancers came back into the darkened area of the stage and the drums set to work once more. The skirts swayed, individually highlighted as the lights went from bright white to a soft shade of blue and from spotlights to floodlights.

The girls had removed their coconut shells and not replaced them with anything. I looked sideways at Vivian and smiled. I was trying not to feast my eyes on the spectacle before me. Their well-rounded breasts bounced up and down with the rhythm of the dancer's feet.

What seemed like two minutes, but was probably closer to five or six minutes, the girls left the stage. A man who resembled Arnold Swartzennegger began twirling large bamboo poles on fire at both ends. He gave an excellent juggling show and went like the girls had, stage left.

The floor show lasted another fifteen minutes, and in the applause that followed, the waiters and waitresses began serving dinner again.

"That was fantastic," I said to Vivian.

"Yes, I know; they are outstanding. I did not want to spoil the show for you by trying to explain everything before it happened. I thought it better that you see it for yourself."

We ate for a few moments in silence while I reflected on the dancer's magnificent bodies.

Besides her numerous business talents, Vivian was also interested in physical fitness. She explained that she trained in a local gym every afternoon from midday until two "While my friends take a siesta or enjoy an island-time lunch. Some have put on ten or fifteen kilograms in their first year after moving to Papeete from France. They look so unhealthy." Her French accent fascinated me, and she had certainly not let yourself go; that is plain to see."

During the meal, we got to know one another much better. The conversation never seemed dull, and the pauses were not because we had nothing further to say; they always seemed to be a comfortable lull in proceedings.

Vivian had been married. Her husband had been a prominent lawyer in Paris until weeks before he died from cancer. He had died three years ago, and Vivian had done what many before her had done in similar circumstances; she buried herself in her work. She eventually decided to apply for a job in Tahiti as a lifestyle change from the grey skies of Paris.

She found that she liked the lifestyle change so much that it made her think more about her appearance and her health in general. She hadn't become a 'health nut' but had become healthier, slimmer and fitter due to her regime since moving to French Polynesia.

She explained how she now had a better figure than when she was thirty-nine. "I have the figure of," she thought for a moment, to change the measurement from centimetres to inches, and then she laughed. "I have the calculation: I am 38 by 27 by 37. How do you say, not bad for an older woman?"

"Not bad is an understatement, Vivian."

Vivian held up her hand, creating a pause. "Dave, I have enjoyed myself tremendously this evening, probably the best time since my arrival in Tahiti. However, I must, how do you say -- take my leave. We have a meeting planned for eight, and I could lose my job if we're not on time. The Japanese are anxious to explore, and they demand superb service."

"Of course. You are right to remind me. I look forward to seeing you in the morning. Perhaps we can have dinner again tomorrow evening?"

"I would like that, Dave. This time we will go to my favourite restaurant, and it will be my turn to take you out to dinner."

I hugged Vivian and kissed her on both cheeks. "Madam Voiret... You have a deal!"

The following day was hard, and the detail required painstaking. What made things more complicated was the Japanese interpreter translating from Japanese into English and then hearing Vivian interpreting English into French.

By six that evening, our meetings were over. I said, "I have about an hour of phone calls to make to my various offices, Vivian, so could we meet for drinks before dinner?"

"My throat feels so dry from all the talking today. What about we meet in the ocean side bar at seven?"

"Great. I'll see you then."

Meeting Vivian the previous evening, she had worn a loose silk shift dress; it looked fantastic, but it left the shape of her body to the imagination. When she joined me at the bar, my mouth remained open. I stood to welcome her; she asked if I was pleased with her appearance.

"J'approuve, Vivian. You look awesome."

Her dress was skin tight, but somehow the material allowed her to move freely. It was probably from one of the Paris fashion houses and cost her a fortune. The colour fascinated me. It began in midnight blue at the top; then it changed through a rainbow of increasingly lighter blues finishing in teal at her shoe line.

The material clung to her figure, but the dress had no tell-tale lines showing bra or panties. A narrow white leather belt accentuated her slim waist. She looked unbelievable. Other bar patrons were equally impressed as both men and women admired her form.

"How can you look this gorgeous when I only left you an hour ago? You must have spent most of that time in the car. What's your secret?"

"The speed I changed and returned so fast because I enjoy your company so much." Her cheeky schoolgirl grin made my heartbeat increase.

Vivian's favourite restaurant served Chinese food. Only the French can make a Chinese restaurant seem like anything other than a Chinese restaurant. The food, the service and everything about the meal was superb.

The waiters and waitresses were of Vietnamese descent and did not speak English. Locals usually frequent a place with an excellent reputation, and I seemed to be the only English-speaking person in the restaurant. However, when I needed translation, Vivian helped in the same efficient way she had in our business meetings during the day.

As time passed, our conversation became more intimate, and I invited Vivian to my hotel later for a nightcap that I should have offered the previous evening. She accepted my invitation and made two phone calls to rearrange for a mid-day start the following day. As far as the Japanese and French Government officials were concerned, this was to allow me time to read the geological survey information. I had read this information on the flight to Tahiti, so it allowed me to use my time better between now and mid-day tomorrow.

When we returned to my hotel, I opened the curtains allowing the moonlight in unhindered. I flicked the 'do-not-disturb' sign, chain-locked the door, and welcomed the silence. Vivian turned as though on tip-toes, removed the white leather belt and tossed it onto the shelf above the refrigerator. I looked on, fascinated by this beautiful woman, watching her undress and slowly reveal her body.

Two things happened, I became light-headed and lost concentration, and the skin around my cock tightened as it swelled at the sight of Vivian lowering the shoulder straps of her dress. Like an experienced striptease artist, she slowly pulled the dress over her head to expose her beautiful breasts.

The pink-tipped nipples sat on dark areola against olive tan skin, Vivian's lips parted, making her look incredibly sexy. My already engorged penis swelled further as my system dumped more blood.

It was obvious that Vivian was a nude sunbathing fan because there were no tan lines anywhere. As she flicked her designer dress to the floor, she revealed a pair of black crotchless silk panties. I had heard of these but never seen anyone wearing them, not even in the porn movies I'd watched.

The effect of the dress swishing down to the floor and then seeing the well-trimmed blonde and silver-haired pussy in the panty gap was something I'll never forget. It was wonderful. I could not wait to lick and suck around this exquisite pussy.

Vivian's face had little make-up. She had not attempted to hide anything as some women do, but she accentuated what was already there. Her short hair was luxuriously thick and made her face look quite angelic.

Vivian stood virtually naked before me. She still wore thigh-high stockings and black high heel shoes. My mind did not register the material surrounding her pussy as clothing; it was window dressing making my cock stiff enough that I could feel my pulse through the shaft without touching it.