Hot Winds From Bombay Read Online Free PDF Page B

mattress in a stuffy, dingy room. The women’s faces, bodies, techniques, all blurred and ran together in his mind. They had no names.
    But Mahianna—the tender beauty on that South Pacific isle—had been a different matter entirely. He remembered his shipmates laughing, joking, slapping him on the back as they approached the sheltered, ginger-scented cove.
    “Aye, lad, you’ll be wanting to jump ship here and that’s no lie. Four women to a man, and every one of them a delicate jungle flower. Just mind you take it slow and easy. Don’t drink too much of their coconut beer and take a nap alone in the heat of the day. Otherwise that fine young dick of yours will be turning blue and falling right off from sheer exhaustion before we leave this paradise.”
    The others who had been to the islands before regaled him with wild tales of exotic delights. The women were the most beautiful, the most willing and expert at giving pleasure. He didn’t believe a word of it… until he met Mahianna.
    “Mahianna,” he sighed aloud on the cold Maine air.
    He’d left ship with the others in one of the long boats. As they rowed ashore, the women swam out to meet them, tossing orchids, hibiscus, and plumeria blossoms into their boat. Some of the sailors tore their clothes off and dived overboard, making love to their passionate partners in the salty aqua sea. Zack remembered his own desire rising as he’d watched. But he’d kept his seat, not sure how to deal with women so eager to give themselves to strangers from strange lands.
    He walked the shore alone for a time, trying to recover his land legs. At the edge of the forest, he sat down on the sand and watched his shipmates groping, fondling, and mounting their women. He was aching to have one of them, but they didn’t speak English. Since he seemed less than willing, the girls had left him to himself to take their pleasures with more eager partners. He was sitting under a banana tree, feeling lonely and sorry for himself, when she stepped out of the green foliage. His breath froze in his throat at the sight of her.
    She stood before him, smiling shyly. Her hair was long, falling past her slim, bare waist. Her eyes were as black as a starless night, and they seemed to be staring into him, caressing him gently. She stood very still for several moments, allowing him to take her full measure with his gaze. Her skin was smooth and firm—the color of the petals of almond flowers. Her lips were wide, sensuous, and as bright a coral as the hibiscus blossom she wore in her ebony hair.
    At first, because of her cascading tresses and the lei of purple orchids about her shoulders, he didn’t notice that she wore nothing above her waist. But when she bent toward him, removing the flowers to place them around his neck, Zack saw her beautiful, bare breasts—full and tanned with large, erect nipples.
    He was sitting on the sand. She was leaning over him, placing the flowers, kissing his forehead, his salty hair, his sunburned cheeks. But her breasts—those wondrously soft, warm globes of pulsing flesh—held his full attention, fascinating him with the rich copper brown of their crinkling crests. His hand came up. He hesitated. She looked into his eyes, smiling, took his hand to hers, and guided it to where she sensed he wanted it to be.
    Her skin was every bit as silky as it looked. He held her warmth in his palm, feeling a pulse against his flesh. She was kneeling beside him now, brushing her long hair back over her bare shoulders, offering him what seemed to entice him most. He rubbed a callused thumb over her nipple. A delicious little shudder shivered through her, and the taut skin shrank from his touch, growing hard as a pebble.
    He was aware of his own hardness and the heat rising within him to an unbearable fever pitch. Still, she seemed in no hurry. She knelt there, smiling and making soft cooing sounds to let him know his caresses pleased her. He forced himself to take his time.