Copyright 2001-2008, James J. Belcher.  All rights reserved.

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Copyright  2003 James J. Belcher.  All Rights Reserved. 

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Alex, Heaven and Hell

 

Chapter 5

 

          Time flies when you're having fun.

          I applauded my own good judgment when I acknowledged that not a single person knew where I was going; Seychelles visa requirements meant a return flight and hotel booking, but no one in Victoria seemed to care that I put down "private accommodations" in lieu of a hotel name.

          An aide carrying a sign with my name on it met me at the Victoria airport. There was no need for a shuttle the small plane was for us only VIP status had arrived.  I gathered the aide didn't speak English, other than "Please come with me."  We flew together, but in absolute silence.

          We walked off the plane, just the aide and me.  There was a nondescript vehicle for us and for my one bag.       

          We were suddenly there and I was looking at it.  I snapped a photo.  It was just a one-story lifeless red brick building with no windows, exactly as advertised, a low-budget nondescript.  But in the middle of a nowhere jungle?  That's Sidney.  I bade farewell to the aide.

The sign didn't read much of anything.  Same style of lettering as a Holiday Inn, but Arabic characters.  There was something like a reception area, and a man with a pen and form waiting, but it was surreal.  There were several forms in English and Arabic requiring my signature, the most notable one stating the room rate.  The figure "$US3,000.00/day" had been crossed out and the word "complimentary" inserted.  I didn't bother to read much of the fine print, but I did notice I was responsible for health problems of my own making.  I guess lawyers the world over use the stuff to cover their client's collective butts.  There were several pages, too much bother, so I just signed where indicated.  Then those wonderful words: "Your suite is ready, sir, and your bags will be transported shortly.  Please go through the two swinging doors to your left and you will be met by your escort."

          That's when the magic began.

          Behind those doors stood a hooker.  Not just any hooker but maybe the hooker of all time.  Clothed fully, but with the sort of extra large lips that said "Not a lady" and if you were I, you would want to follow her anywhere.  And she motioned and I walked in and that was all that mattered.

          "Just call me Lovey."  Her voice was American!  She said it in a sexy sort of way and I was in a daze.

          We were in my suite and it could have been anywhere because I wasn't looking.  All I saw was an extra large bed and the usual.

          She carefully unzipped my pants.  The coat, shirt and undies followed, along with socks and shoes.  No clothes, just what I wore on day one.

          "You need a bath."

          I couldn't argue.  We went into the bathroom and it was huge, with the Jacuzzi taking up most of the space.  A naked black girl appeared from nowhere and suddenly there was suds and warm water and I was in it, alone.  The black girl disappeared.

          Lovey took off her clothes, not like a stripper, just matter-of-fact, and stepped in beside me.  She didn't say a word, just picked up a luffa and a bar of soap, and began scrubbing me.  I didn't say a word, but she was really applying the pressure, taking off dead skin faster than I could say no.  I picked her up and kissed her hard and she just smiled.

          "Honey, you need to learn the rules of the road here.  This ain't Kansas or Lubbock or Bayonne.  Lay off and go with the flow."

          I started to think.  I was on an island in the Indian Ocean.  I was nude, in a spa. . .  That's when she began to work her own kind of magic.  She had these long fingernails and she was using them as tools, just slowly raking them up and down my legs, underwater.

Whoa!

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