Masquerade

He looks down at me amused, but he nods, and like a pair of kids we run toward the party. There are many people there and most of them either call out to Jaron or wave at him. I drag Jaron to the middle of the throng of people dancing. This is one of my favorite songs. If I close my eyes I can actually see it like waves in the air. I find a gap in the crush and gyrate to the beat.

Jaron stands a foot away from my body and watches me. There is passion and possession in his eyes. Then I swagger closer to him and sinuously sliding my hands onto his shoulders rub my body all over his. I want him all over me and I am saying it in no uncertain terms. He grins, his eyes at half-mast, and moves his hips to match mine. It’s casual. And it’s damn sexy.

I pull his body so close I feel his erection. We gaze into each other’s eyes. The music changes and I don’t really notice. He ushers me around a corner and pushes me up against the wall of the house with his lips. The music is so loud it is rattling the wall of the house that I am pressed against.

‘Right now all I want to do is suck your wet cunt loudly and hungrily,’ he says. The thought is so fucking erotic I soak my knickers through there and then.

‘I didn’t know men loved eating pussy that much.’

‘I don’t know about anyone else, but I can’t fucking get enough of yours. I dream of eating your pussy,’ he says, and claims my mouth in a hard kiss that takes my breath away.

‘Hey, lover,’ someone calls from behind us.

Jaron takes his time about releasing my lips. ‘Later,’ he promises, his hot breath mingling with mine. Jaron turns around and I see a man, his startling white teeth flashing in the darkness.

‘Look at you,’ the man says in a really cool accent. ‘You brought a sweetheart.’

‘This is Noel,’ Jaron introduces and then turning to Noel with a wry smile says, ‘And the sweetheart is Billie.’

‘You finally went and fished yourself a girl, huh?’

Jaron rubs his chin thoughtfully. ‘Yeah, but she’s a bit of a handful.’

I punch Jaron on the arm, hard.

Jaron pretends to wince and rub his arm and Noel laughs. ‘It’s island love.’

A woman comes to join us and Noel introduces her as his wife. She has the most amazingly beautiful brown skin, the exact color I would have chosen to have if I had been given a choice in the matter, and she is wearing big hoop earrings with beads in them, which I covet. She has an Afro hairstyle. She grins at me and Jaron.

‘I love your hair,’ I tell her. ‘I used to have an Afro when I was in school.’

‘Was it the fashion then?’

‘Nope. I just liked it. I still do. I might yet have one,’ I say and feel Jaron’s eyes on me.

‘A green Afro might be pushing it even for you,’ he says with a chuckle.

‘It’s teal, not green. And I’ll do as I like with my hair,’ I say haughtily.

‘Did you enjoy the chicken?’ asks Gwen quickly.

‘Very much. It was delicious,’ Jaron replies smoothly. ‘But there wasn’t enough for me. Billie ate most of it.’

Noel laughs hard, his eyes twinkling, and I wonder if he knows what really happened to the chicken.

‘I will cook some more for you tomorrow,’ says Gwen.

‘Would you?’ asks Jaron beseechingly. He sounds so different with Gwen that I turn to stare at him. There is no mask, no barriers. Just boyish enthusiasm.

‘Noel will bring it,’ she says, nodding firmly.

‘Thank you,’ both Jaron and I speak in unison. It’s a strange thing to speak in unison with someone. It has never happened to me before. We smile at each other.

‘You two are already drunk on love, but come and have some rum anyway,’ invites Noel with a chuckle. The statement is casual but explosive to me. I dare not look at Jaron to see his expression. I turn toward Noel eagerly.

Rum, I must say, is a drink I enjoy very much and it flows very freely that night. I make friends with everybody. The mainlanders must be the friendliest people on earth. They laugh uproariously at my jokes and teach me all kinds of really cool phrases. Bust up means badly drunk; you can intensify anything by adding the word dead in front: dead cold, dead ugly. To sip, sip is to gossip, Jack means friend, leg short means you have arrived too late for something, to be without money is to be break. I consume more and more rum and it is all great fun. Everything is funny as hell and I am the life of the party.

A man in an open blue shirt carrying a guitar comes and sits opposite us. Jaron introduces him as Terrance. Someone switches off the music. The air fills with the sound of the waves and human voices. Terrance smiles broadly and starts strumming his guitar. Soon the place becomes silent but for his guitar, the crackling of the fire and the incessant waves. It is very peaceful. I turn to look at Jaron. His blond hair shines in the firelight. Terrance starts singing. It is a strange song. I must be very drunk because I am unable to catch all the words but some stick in my head as if they have been nailed in.

Understand the truth of the flowers.

Become the lord of the flowers…people…cattle.

Become the lord of the flowers…people…cattle.

Understand this truth.

Fire is the in-dweller of the water.

Understand the truth.

Understand your in-dweller.

I am too drunk to make any sense of it. I frown up at Jaron. ‘What’s the song about?’

‘It is about us, people. We who live our lives like cattle.’

For a moment I stare at him. Is he serious? ‘What do you mean?’

‘It is a cry of the soul, the fire inside the water, to wake up.’

‘Wake up?’

‘Most of us are sleepwalking through life. He is daring you to explore your inner world.’

‘Yeah,’ I say, looking at Jaron with new eyes. There could be something more to this man than meets the eye. Something deep and profound. Terrance has finished his song and starts singing Bob Marley’s, No Woman No Cry. Now this I can understand. A few songs later, Terrance packs up his guitar and music from the loudspeaker fills the air again.

Time to dance again. I get up and go for it.

When Feeling Hot, Hot, Hot comes up on the loudspeaker, the crowd actually parts for my solo. Fueled on alcohol and Jaron’s hungry eyes I give it all I’ve got.

I am still dancing when Jaron picks me up bodily and says, ‘Time to go home, Dancing Queen.’

‘Awww… Don’t be so dead boring,’ I slur drunkenly and bring my glass of delicious drink—Noel’s famous gin and coconut water cocktail—to my lips. He takes the glass out of my hand so fast I am left staring at the empty space where the glass had been.

‘Say goodbye to everyone,’ he says firmly.

Some of the men jokingly tell Jaron not to spoil the party by taking me away.

‘See? They don’t want me to go,’ I tell Jaron.

‘Sorry, guys, but it’s my bedtime,’ Jaron says good-naturedly.

I stand on my tiptoes and whisper in Jaron’s ear, ‘I ain’t going to bed until you show me all kindsa shit.’

‘Right you are, beautiful,’ Jaron says coolly, catching me as I stumble.

Noel grins at me. I say my bleary goodbyes and let Jaron lead me to the boat. I have to admit the return journey on the boat is not nearly half as much fun as the journey there. I lie at the bottom of the boat feeling quite sick. Instead of urging him to go faster I yell at him to slow down. ‘Oh God! I’m going to throw up.’

The man is pitiless. ‘Just hang your head over the side and throw up,’ he shouts. Fortunately, it never gets to that and thankfully the ride is fairly short. The engine is cut. As I loll about at the bottom of the boat in a state of inebriated self-pity, Jaron comes to me. He stands over me with his legs spread wide to steady himself in the rocking vessel. I squint up at him.

‘Give me a hand then,’ I groan.

His answer is to heave me up like a sack of potatoes onto his shoulder.

‘Whoa,’ I cry.

He walks me up the path and opening the front door takes me directly into the bedroom. The cool air from the air con makes my sticky skin tingle. It feels wonderful. He puts me on the bed and I look up at him. His hair is messy with the wind and a whole shock of it has fallen on his forehead.

I raise my hand and pinch his rough cheek. ‘You are so cute,’ I tell him. ‘I could take you to bed.’ I spoil it by then yawning widely.

‘You’re totally wasted, aren’t you?’

‘No, I’m not,’ I insist, but my words are slurring so badly they are almost indecipherable.

‘Bed for you, I think.’

I snake my arms around his neck before he can straighten. ‘No, no, no. I want to fuck…you.’ I smile feeling inordinately proud of the way I left that pause between fuck and you.

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

I let go of his neck and start trying to wriggle out of my pants, but it’s difficult to accomplish in my condition. I look up at him. He is standing over me, stone cold sober, just watching me.

‘Help me then,’ I demand.

He holds both the ends of my trouser legs and tugs hard just once, and my trousers slide out from under me like water.

‘Smooth,’ I tell him in an impressed voice. ‘Now my top.’

He makes even shorter work of that. I slide a finger into my knickers and look up at him with flirtatious eyes.

‘Last bit,’ I say invitingly.

He slides them down my legs and off my feet. His eyes inspect me. I like that! I open my thighs wide and say, ‘Come and get it, big boy.’