Chapter 3
Yup. A luau-orgy. Not only is it hard to say, the name is quite deceptive. Nobody actually had sex as far as I know, although there were definitely some who came close. Then they hit us with the rules. Anyway, I’m skipping ahead again.
After my interview with Miles, an assistant led me away. As I followed him along the wooden boardwalk, I could hear another chopper approaching but the sound faded as we wound in between the tall trees. The path split multiple times, and even with the signage, I wondered how I’d ever find my way back.
We finally arrived at my bungalow. It’s like a gorgeous tree house, all pale bamboo and white draping. The view is incredible: the trees drop away around me and the ocean twinkles beyond them. I sighed and admired it for exactly ten seconds, before the huffy hair and makeup ladies practically threw me in a chair and set to work.
Hours later, I stood before the floor-to-ceiling mirror in my luxurious bathroom. I had to give it to the women who’d worked on me: my eyes looked emerald and huge, my hair was shiny and full, hanging almost to my backside, and my skin was fake-tanned to a golden hue. A pop of brilliant red on my lips completed the look.
Turning, I studied the outfit wardrobe had sent over. The black bikini was made of the tiniest four squares of material possible, but it was intended to be worn under a sheer beach dress, short and black. I slipped it on, along with my new red wedges, and walked out to the waiting crowd of helpers.
‘Okay, I’m ready,’ I announced. There was a general stunned sound. Looking around at the crew, I sought reassurance. ‘Um … do I look okay?’
‘Oh, honey!’ gushed the wardrobe guy. ‘You could almost turn me!’
‘Good, I guess …’
Once again, I trailed after my runner as he escorted me back along the wooden walkways. He had a walkie-talkie on his belt, with an earphone connected. I couldn’t hear the conversations, but from his terse responses, this was an event with exact timing.
As we approached the main bungalow where I’d been interviewed, my escort turned to me and pulled a blindfold from his backpack. ‘Okay, Miss Tara, I need to cover your eyes before we go any further.’
‘Sure,’ I sighed. At that stage, I was simply along for the ride.
He fastened the soft material over my head. ‘I’ll lead you in, then I’ll take off the blindfold and leave you standing on your own. It’ll be dark, so don’t move at all until the lights come up.’
‘Whatever.’ With my eyes covered, everything else seemed more pronounced. I could feel my skirt blowing gently around my thighs, and individual strands of my hair shifting on my back. Smells began to become identifiable: the runner’s cheap deodorant, decaying leaf litter, the salty tang of the nearby ocean.
Most of all, I could hear with clarity. As I was drawn forward towards the bungalow, my footsteps echoed on the wood, while the palm fronds snickered in the wind.
The runner moved me into position, removing my blindfold. It was just as dark without it on. They must have cloaked the entire building in blackout fabric. I could hear the other production assistants whispering softly. As their voices faded off towards the far side of the bungalow, I listened for anyone else around me.
Soft breathing on my left. I turned my head quickly to the sound, but without my sight to keep me balanced, I wobbled on my wedges and fell sideways.
Squeaking as I helplessly pitched down, I threw my arms up. Someone caught them.
‘Hey, are you okay?’ asked a cultured English voice in a whisper. Strong male arms held me and I breathed in the scent of clean skin and coconut shampoo.
‘I’m fine, thanks.’ I should have moved back to my position, but there was something incredibly sexy about being held by a stranger in the dark. I leaned my mouth close to his ear and said quietly, ‘Are you a contestant?’
‘Yes. You?’
‘Yeah. What do you think is about to happen?’
‘No idea, but I’m glad at least I’ve met someone else now.’ There was a smile in his voice and the heat from his skin felt soothing to my ragged nerves.
‘I’m Tara.’
‘I’m Henry.’
‘I should probably stand back where they put me.’
‘Let me help you.’ Henry held my hand and placed the other on the small of my back, moving me gently to my position. When I regained my balance, I squeezed my new friend’s hand, as a silent thanks, expecting him to let go.
He didn’t, and I didn’t release his fingers either. We stood in the dark, holding hands while invisible whispery forms moved around us and the room began to fill up.
It would have been incredibly boring to stand there alone, but with Henry’s hand in mine, it was a special experience; a sexy, mysterious bonding. Every twitch of his palm, the way he rethreaded fingers at the perfect time, it all somehow meant something. I wanted to show him I was enjoying what was happening, so I used my thumb to stroke his, and I felt him quiver from my touch.
I was trying to decide if we could risk another sneaky whisper session when a booming voice rang out in the dark, amplified to an almost painful level. ‘Contestants! Welcome to your first night on Erotic Island! Right now, you are all the proud recipients of a one million dollar cash prize—unless you break the rules. I know you’re all keen to know what the rules are, and you’ll find out soon, but for tonight, there is only one rule …’
Light flared, brilliantly illuminating the bungalow. ‘Party!’
The suddenness of the illumination caught my poor eyes off guard. They shrieked in protest against the floodlit room and I raised a hand to shelter them. Meanwhile, a throbbing beat filled the room while people around me cheered and whooped.
Strobe lights pulsed, but I desperately needed to see. I lowered my arm and took in my new island-mates. Nineteen beautiful creatures filled the room, raising glasses that had magically appeared, and grooving sensually along to the tune. People paired up with remarkable speed—within seconds, couples conjoined, threesomes vied awkwardly and shifting pairs formed and reformed around the dance floor.
Everyone was dressed stunningly: sheer dresses and gorgeous bikinis for the girls, suits and ties for the guys. Yeah, it was a little sexist, but since a good suit to a girl is what a bikini is to a guy, it somehow worked for everybody.
My hand was still being held. I turned to look at Henry for the first time, and I was not disappointed. His sandy hair fell in a straight line over his forehead and lined his glorious brown eyes. He was the perfect height for me, just a little taller than I was in my heels, and lean muscles roped along underneath his crisp white shirt and red suit vest.
He grinned, revealing a large white smile. ’Hi!’ he yelled over the music.
‘Hey!’
Our hands were still connected and he tugged on me gently, drawing me closer to him. And as I allowed myself to move towards him, another voice rang out from behind me.
‘Tara!’
Turning towards the familiar voice, I felt that same hot prickle running down my spine. Before I even saw him, I was expecting him.
Douche-face, aka Chris, stood there, dressed all in black. Smouldering and sexy as ever, his face was a dark cloud as he studied my hand, held safely by Henry.
‘Dance with me,’ he said. The words weren’t a question.
‘No,’ I replied, not sure if I meant it. Caught in his intense gaze, I felt pinned, owned. I hated the way my treacherous body responded to him, the hairs lifting off my arms and my nipples springing into a firm state.
‘One dance.’ Chris extended his hands to me and I looked back helplessly at Henry.
With the room full of crazy-hot people, I knew there was no way to bind the blond Englishman to me, but I had to try. ‘Please, don’t go anywhere, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.’
To my surprise, he squeezed my fingers reassuringly. ‘I’ll get you a drink. Come find me soon.’
The second Henry release my hand, Chris grabbed my wrist and pulled me backwards. Gasping and stumbling again, I fell into him.
‘Jesus! Do you freaking mind? ’
He grinned darkly. ‘No. Not all.’ He rocked me in time to the beat, holding me close to his chest. Through his black silk shirt, I caught the scent of his skin and breathed him in, hopelessly addicted to whatever pheromone he was giving off, even if my mind recognised what a total dick he was.
‘I can’t believe you got on the show. Out of everyone in the whole of Australia, they pick you.’ Pulling my hand from his grasp, I slapped him on the pec lightly.
His hands slid easily around to my hips and I shivered as he traced the string of my bikini. ‘I’m here because I have a great story.’
‘Oh, yeah?’ I spread my fingers wide across the material of his shirt, right above where his nipples lay. I couldn’t help wondering what it would feel like to slide my fingertips up and under that shirt, explore every inch of him with my bare, sensitive pads.
I looked up into his face, and immediately realised my mistake. His blue eyes, the colour of shallow clear seas, drew me in. I swam in their depths, sucked into him. Chris leaned forward until his forehead rested on mine, our breath mixing: mine almost a pant, his deep and steady.
He lifted his hand and placed a thumb possessively on my lip. I closed my mouth slightly, nearly kissing his digit, but not quite. The room had fallen away; there was him and me, and the rest was just background noise.
Swaying, connected with Chris like that, I felt my misgivings melt away. Maybe I had misjudged him. I couldn’t fight chemistry like this. I felt it and, clearly, so did he. If this show was all about sex, the viewers were about to get a spectacle, because I was ready to let Chris pick me up, throw me down and claim me.
‘So, tell me then; what’s your story?’ I asked, my voice a horse murmur.
His next sentence ended my little fantasy. With his burning pale eyes, he said, ‘I’m here for my prize.’
My body froze. Where only seconds before I’d been willing and pliant, now I’d shut down. Pulling away, I glared at him. ‘Of course you are. Well, you and me both.’
He looked confused as I pulled away. ‘Tara … what …?’
‘Do me favour, okay? Just don’t get in the way of what I came here for. I have a story too.’
Annoyed that, for a second, I’d believed he was here for a reason beyond the million bucks, I turned. Finally steady on my slender heels, I stalked off.
‘Tara, wait!’
‘All the best to you, Douche-face,’ I muttered. At that moment, I lifted my face to search for Henry, hoping desperately that he hadn’t been claimed by one of the other ladies, and was confronted with a roving camera crew.
Pulling up short, I just managed to avoid crashing into the gigantic lens. The guy behind the camera gave me a thumbs up, and as I eased around him, he tracked me.
Annoyed, I looked around again, only to see more cameras. They were everywhere. Lining the dance floor, remote-controlled in the ceiling, built into the walls. I know, I know, it’s reality TV with an international audience, but still. Can’t you chuck a blanket over them, or use a two-way mirror, or something?
That thought made me shudder. What about the mirror in my bathroom? Was there someone behind it? Actually, that’s a good question.
(Calling off camera to a producer) Hey, are there cameras in the bathrooms?
(A muffled reply) Not really? What the hell does that mean? Ew. Forget I asked …
Anyway, by some miracle, Henry appeared back beside me, a drink in his hand. ‘I brought you a vodka and cranberry. I hope that’s okay?’
With his slender fingers holding the glass hopefully and his giant brown eyes beseeching me for approval, I smiled. Taking the drink, I said, ‘Thank you. That’s perfect.’
Henry grinned goofily, and I decided to give him a little show. Lowering my mouth to the straw, I extended my lips to wrap around the plastic erotically. It was my favourite trick for catching eyes across the bar in the clubs at home.
Instead, my mouth missed the straw, and it slid straight up my nose.
As I snorted and coughed at the same time, my eyes teared up. I dropped the drink and clutched at my face. The glass hit the deck and shattered, the noise horrifically loud even against the music. Pulling the straw out and batting it away, my hands massaged the outside of my scratched nasal passage. Meanwhile, through my watery vision, I noticed two different camera lenses zooming in for a close-up of me completely losing my pride.
Unable to look at Henry, I slipped my hands up to cover my eyes. ‘Henry, oh my god! Can you just walk away and not look at me ever again? Please?’
A gentle chuckle reached my ears as soft hands touched mine and lowered them. ‘No. No, I don’t think I can do that.’ I squinted and peeked at him. His chocolate eyes met mine as he cupped my chin gently. ‘I’ve only just started looking at you, you see, and I’m afraid I’m already rather fond of doing so.’
I laughed, and shook my head, as if I could shake away the mortification. Henry laughed along with me. Being around him was so different to the raw sensation I felt with Chris. Henry was all gentleman, considerate and subtle. Did he immediately light my body on fire? No. Was that a problem? I don’t think so.
Anyway, Henry wrapped me slowly in his arms, and danced me away from the broken glass. As the track changed and the music grew hotter and more arousing, I allowed myself to close my eyes and simply rock with Henry in time to the song.
With my back against Henry’s chest, I took a moment to catalogue the other people in the room. Right next to us, a gorgeous girl with epic curves and midnight skin grooved away between two guys, who must be identical twins. Behind them, a couple were pressed up against the wall, tongue-wrestling, both of them with flaming red hair. Two girls danced with each other on the bar, Coyote Ugly style, running their hands up and down each other’s bodies, while a cluster of guys cheered them on.
And against the far doorway, Chris stood, wreathed in shadow, cutting into my soul with the heat of his glare.
Rolling my eyes, I felt like showing off. I leaned over, pushing my butt into Henry’s groin. I heard him moan as I swung my head around, hair flaring wild. Henry’s hands found the smallest part of my waist and spun me around to face him, while I let myself loll back, confident that Henry wouldn’t let me fall.
Upside down, I could still see Chris watching me, absorbing me. Even from across the room, I felt his energy, as strong as if it were his hands on my back and his leg between mine. Maybe that’s why, when I brought my head back up, I was surprised to see it was Henry’s face in front of me, going in for the kiss.
Startled, I recoiled, turning my face quickly. Henry’s kiss landed on my ear.
‘Oh! I’m sorry,’ he said, his cheeks pinking up deliciously.
Horrified, I said, ‘No! That was totally me—I’m so sorry!’
Even without looking, I knew that Chris would be laughing derisively at me as I embarrassed myself again. Fine. If he was going to watch, I would give him something to look at.
I grabbed Henry by the hair. ‘Let’s try that again.’ I moved my lips up towards his, pursing and ready for him to meet me. I will kiss Henry and forget about any cash-hungry Douche-faces.
Before I could do it, the lighting changed, the music went silent and a boo went up from our little crowd.
‘Ladies and gentlemen!’ boomed Miles Shield. He stood outside on the beach, where a small stage had been erected and tiki lamps flamed. ‘May I have your attention?’
‘May I have another thirty seconds?’ called back a very angsty female voice in a Brazilian accent.
As laughter spread through the room, Miles replied. ‘I’m afraid not. Outside please, everybody. You need to hear the rules—before anybody makes a mistake that may cost them a million dollars.’