You Don't Know Me But We Are Lovers

This is my submission for the Valentine's Day 2019 contest. A great big thank you to Selene for her encouragement and for offering to beta-read this story for me, as well as for having been so kind and thoughtful in her correspondence about my earlier work. To each and every reader who has reached out to me or may do so in the future, I am deeply grateful.

***

The shrill sound of Amber's alarm clock went off exactly as scheduled, hammering its way through the last vestiges of a disturbed dream like a siren going off. The dull thud of a headache pulsed and spread through her body; the tail end of a physical trauma anxious to be cured by the early light of dawn. It was not the way she wanted to wake up that morning but it was the morning she had been given.

Still, as a foggy morning disorientation cleared from her mind and she became conscious of the day's agenda, Amber leapt from her bed and scrambled to start a hasty cup of coffee. She zipped past her suitcase, packed and sitting squarely in the middle of the living room, pulling off her clothes as she went and darting into the bathroom for a rushed shower.

Giving herself one moment of pause to relax beneath the soothing warmth of the jets, Amber stood amidst the hissing cone of water and toured the deep abyss of her own thoughts. She reflected on how much she hated Valentine's Day. A day designed for a celebration of all the things she wanted for herself but could never manage to find. A day for lovers. A day for the elusive acceptance of who she was and how she felt about another woman. A day for the freedom from a dark loneliness that gnawed constantly at her mind, forever cementing a life of longing and sadness.

Shaking off these somber thoughts, Amber worked to restore the resolve and determination she had to escape from it all this year. Amber had taken enough time off to manage a brief getaway, leaving behind a day not made for her while she soaked up the glorious Caribbean sun. Her present accumulation of airline points gave her just enough for Jamaica. Granted, this held the risk of witnessing other couples' seaside romances playing out like a cruel punishment. However, it held just as much potential for a quiet escape on a remote stretch of beach where she could sink into a book and forget the world around her.

Before long she was drifting through the dark urban fjords of a still-sleeping city, imagining all the people inside the silent buildings, softly sighing in their cocoons of comfort and human companionship. The airport soon rose on the horizon with its gleaming windows, seemingly bitter to be awake at such an ungodly hour. She boarded her flight and was off, breathing a sigh of relief while she continued her ascent into the sky and watched the city lights slowly vanish below.

***

The local news was already watching a developing storm, still far out to sea, but it felt like an unrealistic threat...

The fact remained: Jamaica was a little bit of heaven on Earth. Amber's modest villa was gorgeous. The sea almost came straight up to her window. Her bathroom doubled as a garden oasis. The whole resort was a wonder. -- It just wasn't precisely where she wanted to be. Not with the crowds of people wandering around like zombies marveling at the wisdom of snagging their discounted holiday packages. Instead, she wandered outside the boundary of that carefully constructed idyllicism in search of a more authentic experience.

She found it at the edge of town, along a scrappy stretch of beach where a group of men smoked ganja beneath a canopy of black, yellow, and green. They welcomed her enthusiastically and offered her some of their stash. She politely refused, instead recruiting their help in finding a good place for a bite to eat. They gladly pointed out a ramshackle spot nearby called "The Jerk Shack."

As Amber ducked into the beachside joint, she found it amusing that she was neither indoors nor out, as the sand and the wood seemed to blur together and become one, surrounded by a cathedral of Red Stripe bottles and white rum in various states of near-completion. Throwing herself down at a table she realized that she had finally found the safe-haven she needed, far from the world.

"Hey-- wah gwaan," a man said, spotting her. The sole waiter, who was also the bartender, cheerfully arrived to hand her a laminated menu before returning to the glow of a small television at the far end of the bar. As Amber began to study the scant options, she suddenly felt eyes on her. Glancing up, she realized there was a woman in the corner, reclining in the shadows. The woman squinted at Amber, tilting back and forth on her chair with an air of amused reflection.

Amber's flesh suddenly simmered with goosebumps.

The girl was attractive. Incredibly so. However, more than that, she seemed somehow familiar despite her mysterious presence in the dark corner of the room. Flowing hair cascaded over her bare shoulders, curling toward the tips like impetuous strands of seaweed as they reached the top of a sexy orange bikini. A long, tie-dyed wrap swooshed about her hips and draped over her legs like a flowing skirt. That expression of quiet confidence and reflective silence was incredibly alluring and filled Amber with an instant desire to muse about who she was and what she might be doing there.

Attempting to return her attention to the menu, Amber remained alert and watchful, secretly hopeful that something would play out that would prompt an interaction of some kind -- any kind -- with the strange girl.

The bartender sighed, "Well, dat storm ah-coming." He clucked and swiped a towel aimlessly across the bar, as if frustrated.

"Yeah, I know it..." the girl in the corner lamented. Amber perked up.

"I just took down de boards an 'ere we go again," the bartender continued to grumble.

The girl glanced in Amber's direction and caught her observing. Amber quickly looked down at the menu again and realized she still hadn't absorbed what was offered there.

"Don't worry. It's a couple days out yet," the stranger added. The bartender nodded back to her apathetically. Amber realized that the two seemed to know one another. She felt the same pair of eyes on her once again. They remained there, unmoving, quietly watching. Under normal circumstances, she'd feel uncomfortable but she somehow became excited to have the attention, given her fascination with the woman.

Amber heard the scrape of a chair leg on the floor followed by footsteps. Her heart started to race. The girl was approaching. She stopped, then stood there, hovering over Amber until she finally looked up. The face gazing down at her cracked a smile. She sat down across from Amber.

For the next several moments, Amber did not know what to do. It was intimidating and awkward to have such a beautiful girl sit there quietly, just watching as if expecting Amber to say something profound to a complete stranger. However, she couldn't look away. The girl had the most expressive, playful brown eyes, tempting, lush lips, and the cutest heart-shaped chin. Her hair looked like it had once been made of pure gold but, over time, grew delightfully tarnished through a life full of sportiveness and tireless adventure.

Finally, the girl spoke. "The jerk chicken is good, but you can get good jerk chicken all over Jamaica. What you want is this." She pointed to a picture on the menu in a grid of faded, artificially colored photos that likely did not resemble the actual dishes. "Calypso Chicken. It's Zidane's specialty." The bartender-slash-waiter who was apparently now also the cook held his fingers to his mouth, then released them, kissing the air as if to describe how delicious it was. The girl continued, "It's got this amazing pineapple salsa with thyme and allspice and lots of scotch bonnets. It's really hot— but not melt-your-face-off hot. You'll love it."

Strangely, Amber had no doubt she would love it. It sounded a lot like a dish she often craved back in Crown Heights, Brooklyn where she sometimes went for Caribbean food. "... Okay, I'll try it," she said, bewildered by the unsolicited suggestion.

"Good," the girl said. She turned to Zidane with two fingers in the air. "And two rums." Zidane nodded eagerly and grabbed a half-empty bottle of Wray and Nephew. "Try this. It's like... rotten bananas-- but in a good way."

Amber laughed. "All right... I'm skeptical but open-minded."

The girl grinned. "I'm Gianna," she said, holding out her hand.

"Amber." They shook hands as two shots landed on the table beside them. Zidane casually left the open bottle sitting on the table as if granting them permission to accept liberal enjoyment of its contents.

Gianna raised her glass until it was eye level and then peered at it. "You'll prefer the Jamaican stuff over the rest of the island rums. It's funky. It's nasty. It's a high-ester, hogo spirit with a flavor that's beautifully indescribable. They basically take a bunch of bacterial old rum and add it to the new rum to turn the liquor into some super-potent, smelly stuff." She took a swig and exhaled happily, then set the glass down on the table with a loud clack.

Amber laughed. "Boy, you really know how to sell a girl some rum..."

"Just try it," Gianna said, smirking.

Amber held the shot glass to her nose and inhaled. A wild, untamed odor of sweat, unripe bananas, a rancid nuttiness, and earthy funk flooded her nostrils and overwhelmed her senses. Amber's eyes shot open in astonishment but she still ventured a sip. It was funky, yes, but full of molasses and spice, fruity and strong, somehow containing all the sights and smells of the island, crashing together all at once. It went down like fire and continued to blossom in her throat, awakening her whole body.

"Wow!" Amber exclaimed. "You're not joking... But that's actually really good!"

"See?" replied Gianna, satisfied. "If it doesn't reek, if it's not juuust on the verge of being undrinkable, it lacks the spirit of the spirit. Of the people that made it and the terrain it came from. Until you can taste the dedication of the producers, the toil, the history and pride of Jamaica, you haven't found what you came to the islands for."

As the potent drink worked its way into Amber's system she found herself beginning to become absorbed in this strange girl's presence. Deeper and deeper she went, lost in her eyes, in the insightful things she had to say about Jamaica and its people, hearing her stories and observing her passion for life and all of its adventures. Amber learned of Gianna's first visit to the island from a small Italian-American working-class community outside of Philly. She learned how quickly she fell in love with the place, later moved there, and settled right into the beauty and relaxed way of life.

Sitting there, eating a deliciously spicy dish, listening to Gianna and sharing her own stories in return, Amber began to feel a strange sensation; a captivation, a bond forming, perhaps even a need. She felt drawn to Gianna, instantaneously. The fierce beat of her heart signaled something powerful. So powerful she was afraid to even consider what was happening...

"So have you had a chance to explore much yet?" Gianna asked. "It's such a beautiful place, there's so much to see!"

"Not yet! Where should I go? I'd love your recommendations," Amber replied.

"I can do better than that. How would you like a little tour?"

"Great!"

Amber finished her meal, quickly paid, and then hurriedly joined Gianna for an opportunity to spend more time together and learn more about the splendors of Jamaica.

***

Gianna led Amber by the hand down a small trail behind the restaurant, peeling back wide blades of tropical vegetation that seemed to tap them on the shoulders and demand attention as they passed by. It wasn't long before the forest opened up before them. The tropical climate of the island produced an impressive array of flora, much of it colorful and bursting with species of fruit that Amber had never seen before. She kept pace with her mysterious new friend whose excited gait reflected the same giddiness Amber felt upon witnessing such an explosion of lush vegetation.

For some time, Amber remained absorbed in Gianna's narration about the exotic wonderland that flourished around them, pointing out species of birds, indicating which plants were edible, and describing the long walks she often took to enjoy an abundance of natural beauty. The forest canopy filtered a sparkling green light down upon the shadows, casting everything in a magical sheen. It was a private tour that Amber would have welcomed from anyone but seeing the world through Gianna's eyes, full of such enthusiasm and awe, made it that much more appealing.

Amber had no idea where they were going but she savored a pure moment of not caring. One thing was for sure, civilization was never too far away, as was evidenced by the sudden ringing of church bells from a chapel out there somewhere amidst the fiery poinciana and swaths of white bougainvillea.

Gianna stopped short and perked up. She listened to the bells for a moment, then turned and faced Amber with a twinkle in her eye. She seemed to recognize the musical tones of the distant chimes— as if they meant something more to her than the crystalline beauty of their sound.

"Wanna see a neat trick?" she asked, excitedly.

"Sure," Amber replied.

"Okay, we have to hurry though."

Gianna grabbed Amber's hand again and rushed her through the dense forest, clearly on a mission to reach some specific destination. It turned out to be a small clearing at the center of which grew a large tree with round green fruit, much too high to reach. She deposited Amber there and then rushed to stand beneath its leaves. Amber looked at her with a perplexed expression.

With a finger to her lips, Gianna gestured to Amber to remain there in silence and wait for something. Moments later, an explosion of yellow-billed parrots invaded the sunlit circle, pouring in from all over and flocking to Gianna's tree. They gathered there with their green bodies and bright, banana-colored beaks, chattering excitedly and flashing their wings en masse. They were a comically noisy bunch, apparently with much to say to one another as they paused there for a moment immersed in a cacophonic dialogue.

Before long, a small faction of birds launched from the tree as if growing weary of the repetitive conversation. They streamed back into the sky, prompting a hurricane of feathers as the rest of the group raced after them. Within seconds, the tree was shed of every last one of its brief companions.

Gianna seemed to prepare herself for something, ducking low into a defensive position and lifting her wrap to stretch it out flat in front of her. All at once, the strange green fruit began to rain from the tree, knocked loose by the departing birds. Gianna began to laugh and dart left and right, capturing one after the other as they tumbled into her net.

Amber was captivated. It began to sink in just how perfectly in tune this beautiful girl was with her environment. It was as if the world had been personally cultivated by and for her, everything being just so. Nothing was ever out of place.

Standing there watching Gianna, feeling swept up in the magic of her presence and never wanting to leave, Amber began to see Gianna like some version of a Caribbean goddess. Perhaps she was Calypso herself, after which her lunch had been cutely named. Amber felt like Odysseus, trapped on Ogygia, being the sole recipient of Calypso's feminine charms. Only, in this case, Amber didn't feel trapped at all. She'd have been happy to stay there in Gianna's presence for all eternity, developing a shared love that secured for them a blissful immortality together, alone in that island paradise.

"Neat, huh?" Gianna laughed as she raced over to Amber, bearing a multitude of gifts. "That's a guinep tree. The fruit is a bit like a tangy lychee."

They found a spot in the sun and sat down with the pile of fruit trapped in Gianna's colorful wrap, hiked up for use as a makeshift basket of sorts. Amber mimicked Gianna's actions as she split open the green skin and peeled it back, revealing the creamy orange pulp inside. With an air of innocent eroticism, they sucked on the juicy flesh inside, tasking a little sour and sweet. Soon they found themselves drenched in citrus juice and sweat, surrounded by the scattered remnants of fruit peels that lay like strips of confetti littering the streets on the morning after a parade.

A sweltering heat was on the rise and both Gianna and Amber were beginning to feel its effects.

"I have an idea..." Gianna said.

"What?!" Amber asked excitedly, revealing her growing ambition to spend the entire day with her new friend.

"There's a place I like. It's a little remote and sometimes empty. Right by the beach."

"Let's go! This was fun. I'm ready to see more of the island through your eyes," Amber said, standing up and offering Gianna her hand.

Gianna grinned and hopped to her feet. Soon they were off, launching into their next adventure together.

***

The two girls arrived at a secluded spot where the beach began to curve and swiftly vanish around an arc of dense forest. Amber stopped when Gianna stopped, having the immediate sense that this was a spot quite familiar to her new friend. Amber took a moment to observe her surroundings, absorbing the sight of dark green leaves swaying in the breeze, a peaceful grove of palm trees, the flat blue plain of water, and an occasional empty crab shell shattered by a hungry seabird. In the distance, at the forest's edge, a thin Jamaican man quietly hacked away at a small coconut, whistling happily to himself to the tune of an old Bob Marley song pouring from a small radio set on a nearby rock.

Gianna turned and cupped Amber's face all of a sudden.

"If I ask you to do something with me, will you?" she asked.

"Huh?" Amber said, snapping out of her peaceful enchantment.

"Do you trust me?"

"... Sure. I guess."

Excited, Gianna took a step back. A wicked smile began to curl on her lips. "Great. Then we're going skinny dipping," she said matter-of-factly.

"Wait, what?" Amber gasped.

"Let's swim in the nude together. Right here!"

"But... this isn't a nude beach! ... Is it?"

"Nope."

"And there's a guy right over there!" Amber laughed, pointing to the man in the coconut grove.

Gianna chuckled. "Who? ... Jean-Baptiste?"

"You know him?"

Gianna shrugged. "Sure. He's harmless. I've been friends with him for three years. I asked him to open some coconuts for us."

"Huh? When?"

"It doesn't matter. Anyway, he'll keep watch. Besides, I don't expect anyone to come through here for another hour at least."

Amber laughed nervously. "How would you know that?"

"I have my ways..." Gianna said, mysteriously. She reached down and undid the wrap at her waist. The long splashes of color collapsed into a heap at the base of her feet.

Amber's heart started racing as she realized that Gianna was serious. She froze, captivated by the sight of Gianna's lithe body standing there in a brilliant orange bikini, knowing that in a matter of moments it too would be lying there in a pile of clothing beside a row of freshly painted toes.

Gianna locked eyes with Amber in a fit of magnetic sexual tension. Amber was barely aware of the movement of Gianna's hands as she reached backward to pop the hook of her top. Gianna's breasts came free and settled into place as she tossed their former covering to the sand. She smiled softly and swung her head about, letting the soft curls of her hair dance across her rubied nipples. Her coral pink nubs were smooth and glossy, shining in the sunlight with their impish presence.

Amber gawked at Gianna with a mixture of quiet jealousy and delirious arousal, haunted by the soft, smooth curve of her gently sloping breasts and the excited nipples that stood out at the tips, tickled by the warm tradewinds. Gianna seemed to relish Amber's devout attention, moving with a teasing slowness to advance toward the next step in her act of disrobing. Amber followed Gianna's hands down toward her hips, past two gold hoops that connected the skimpy front and back pieces of fabric, then sliding across the tight orange bikini bottoms that stretched snuggly between her thighs. The thin material puffed out slightly at the soft mound of her still-hidden sex.