TroubleinParadise (4 page)

Once the food had been delivered, they sat at the dinette.
Mika offered her a forkful of his twice-cooked pork.

“Delicious meal I made.” She kissed his cheek. “Next Sunday
dinner, stop me before I kill again, okay?”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. I couldn’t sculpt anything to
save my life. We’re just good at different things. That’s all.”

A sip of chardonnay washed down the spicy pork. Slicing a
bit of sesame chicken, he fed her another bite.

“I can feed myself.” She giggled around a mouthful of food.

“It’s more fun this way.”

A forkful of lo mein came next. Each time she reached for
her own cutlery, he pushed her hand away. Alternating bites, he fed the two of
them until both plates were clean.

They claimed their respective fortune cookies, eating the
cookie before they could read the fortune as was their habit.

Eying hers dubiously, she wrinkled her nose. “‘Jump in with
both feet’? That’s not a fortune, it doesn’t even make any sense. How else
would you jump into something?”

“Mine’s not much better. ‘True understanding is the key to
all hearts’.” He shrugged and tucked the fortune in his shorts pocket.

“Do we have anything else for dessert?”

He ran to the kitchen and scooped out a bit of ice cream and
smothered it with fudge sauce.

He set the bowl before her as though it were a sacred offering.
“To finish us off.”

“You’re the best. I guess it’s a good thing I’m good in
bed.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well, there are only two ways to a man’s heart and I
certainly can’t make it there through your stomach.”

Dotting a bit of ice cream on her lips, Mika kissed away the
sweet residue. “My heart is all yours, bad cooking or not.”

“Ew. You’re still sweaty.” She gave him a playful shove.

“Let’s go soap me up then.” He caught her hand and pulled
her to her feet.

“What about our ice cream?”

“The ice cream can wait.”

Leading her to the bathroom, Mika stripped her clothes off
and shed his as well. Mouth pressed to hers, he adjusted the water, backing her
through the stall doorway. Warm water surged over her body, each rivulet
licking at her skin just as Mika soon would. Her nipples grew tight, her pussy
pulsing in anticipation.

He quickly soaped his body and rinsed, then turned her
around, pulling her back against his slick front. Hands mapping her curves from
every angle, he lathered her as well.

Reaching behind, she stroked his solid erection as she
rubbed her ass cheeks against his pelvis. No more foreplay, he bent her forward
and buried his cock in her slick folds. She gasped, biting her lip. Each
forward thrust crushed his head against her G-spot.

“Like that,” she moaned, letting her hands stray to her
breasts.

As she pinched and tugged at her nipples, Mika drove into
her harder and faster. Hands grasping her hips, he collided against her, the
smack of his pelvis warming her ass almost as much as the water. He reached
around to tease her clit, hastening the buildup of tension and pleasure in her
core.

Her cunt tightened around his cock, her legs trembling. They
had played this game before—how fast could he make her come? He had become an
expert at the fast and furious quickie.

As he strummed her swollen bud, she felt herself nearing the
edge. She impaled herself on his shaft, riding every inch of him until finally,
the dam broke and wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

“
Yes.
” She spread her legs, bracing her hands against
the shower wall.

Milking his cock, her pussy contracted over and over again.
The soft sucking sound reverberated around the stall. She quaked, bucking
against him. He pushed her forward, pinning her to the cool wall. Cock pulsing
inside her, he too came, ragged breath grazing her ear.

After their bodies had calmed, she felt laughter rumble in
his chest.

“I think that might be a new record,” he said.

With a chuckle, she nodded. “I think so.”

She wriggled free, letting his cock slip out, and turned to
face him. His hair clung to his face and neck. She kissed the streams of water
running down his chest.

He finished rinsing off and handed her the shower head.
Washing away the cum leaking down her thighs, she shivered at the stream of
water passing over her still-engorged clitoris.

Once they’d shut off the faucet and toweled off, they
scurried, naked, into the living room to find that they hadn’t been quick
enough. The ice cream had turned into a bowl of hot fudge soup.

Monday morning began like most weekday mornings. Mika slept
in since the dinner shift didn’t start until three in the afternoon and ended
at midnight. As much as she would’ve loved to lounge in bed with him until she
had to leave for classes, there never seemed to be enough hours in a day to
focus on her own projects. Not that Mika would’ve been conscious anyway. The
hours he kept rendered him comatose until at least eight or nine. Clarissa got
up around six in the morning to squeeze in some work time before her first
class at eight. Her hubby had set up the coffeemaker to start brewing at
five-fifty. By the time she dragged herself from the bathroom, a fragrant pot
of coffee awaited her.

One mug of coffee and one toaster waffle later, Clarissa
climbed into the Vanagon and headed to the Art Building. As she approached her
studio through the courtyard, she noticed an envelope taped to the door. The
note read—

Clarissa, come see me when you get in. I’ve got some
exciting news for you.

—
H.

Her adviser, Hector Ross, didn’t often request to see her,
but for him to consider the news exciting, it had to be something big. She
dropped her backpack and headed down the corridor that led to the glass and
ceramics courtyard. The door to Hector’s workspace hid in this darkened hallway.
Easy to miss if you didn’t already know it was there. She knocked on the open
door.

“Clarissa, come on in. I see you got my note.” The older man
looked at her over a pair of drugstore reading glasses perched atop a beaklike
nose.

“Yep. So, what’s up?”

He set aside the figurine he was fiddling with and took off
his glasses. Turning his swivel chair toward her, he crossed his spindly legs,
making himself comfortable for what Clarissa hoped would be a brief
conversation. In truth, the old man creeped her out a little. Balding, too
thin, with the faint scent of whiskey on his breath, Hector seemed to cultivate
others’ dislike of his company, and she tried to spend as little time with him
as possible.

Fingers steepled, he said, “I assume you’ve heard about the
sculpture garden that’s to be installed in the new Honolulu Performing Arts
Center.”

“I have.”

“I assume you’ve also heard that slots are invitation only,
voted upon by the Center’s board of directors.”

“Yep.” Sigh. Would he cut to the chase already?

Instead of going on with his mysterious question-and-answer
session, he handed her an envelope. “Open it.”

She did as she was told and skimmed the contents of the
letter within. Though eleven of the twelve slots had been awarded to local
artists and UH faculty, the board had decided to open up the last slot for
competition among a select few grad students. Her name was on the list—along
with Sione’s and a ceramicist named Kim Nakamura.

“Holy crap!”

“Indeed,” Hector replied. “Congratulations. Your work, should
you choose to submit one, must center around the theme of music. Preferably an
interactive exhibit that makes some sort of sound.”

God only knew what she’d come up with to fulfill those
requirements, but she’d give it her best shot.

He went on, “Should your piece be selected, you’ll be paid
for materials—with a cap of a few thousand dollars—plus receive a fee of twenty
grand for the work.”

“Holy crap!”

“Yes, dear, you keep saying that.”

“Sorry, I don’t know what else to say.”

“I take it you’re interested, then?”

“Hell yeah I’m interested.”

“Good. I thought you would be. Tanya and I will help you
three come up with the best possible pieces. I’d like to see your first design
by Friday and a scale model by the end of the month.”

“No problem.”

“Make us proud, eh?”

She assured her adviser she would and scampered back to her
studio to begin the design process. Musically themed, interactive, makes sound
and aesthetically pleasing. Her instincts also told her it should reflect the
unique flavor of Hawaii itself. How to say all that with one sculpture? Well,
she had some time before Hector’s first deadline. Something would come to her.
It always did.

Thursday night found Clarissa in a foul mood. She’d come up
with nothing of any merit for the contest. Everything that came to mind seemed
too pedestrian, too static, too uninspired. But the harder she pushed herself
to be brilliant, the further her creative impulses receded.

Screw it. She’d worried enough about the submission. If
inspiration struck between now and tomorrow evening, great. If it didn’t, it
just wasn’t meant to be. But how could she let an amazing opportunity like this
just slip through her fingers? Shoulders tense and nerves frazzled, she decided
to join Michelle and Sione at the Gardens for a drink.

She found her friends at the usual table, a pitcher of beer
half gone.

“Get yourself a glass, girly. You’ve got some catching up to
do,” Michelle told her.

But instead of a mug of beer, Clarissa ordered a double
bourbon. Making her way back to the patio table, she took down half the glass
in one gulp.

“Whoa,” Sione said. “You mean business tonight, sistah.”

“Damn skippy.”

“What’s wrong?” Michelle asked.

“It’s that fucking Performing Arts Center contest. I got
squat. Nada. Can’t come up with shit.” That her vocabulary had degraded told
her the whiskey had already gone to work. She’d had little to eat so the liquor
went straight to her head.

“Oh boo hoo hoo. Cry me a river.” Michelle rolled her eyes.
“At least you got an invitation.”

“True dat,” Sione piped up.

Clarissa leveled her gaze at him. “I bet you’ve got your
idea all mapped out, don’t you?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

She threw back the rest of the bourbon and waggled the glass
at Sione. “Another please.
Mahalo
plenty.”

“Okay, but only because you’re depressed. You want something
else, Mich?”

Michelle declined anything stronger than beer. When Sione
returned, he brought not only Clarissa’s shot but also a double of tequila for
himself. Burning through the forty bucks they had on them, the two proceeded to
get, for lack of a better term, shitfaced.

“You know when I said you had some catching up to do,” Mich
said, “I was only kidding.”

Clarissa giggled. “Now you’re the one who needs to catch
up.”

“Afraid not. I gotta get going. You two okay to leave here
alone?”

“We’re doing jus’ fine,” Sione slurred.

“Very reassuring. Call me when you get home, girl.”

Clarissa waved goodbye to her friend.

“Ready for another?” Sione asked.

Not foolish enough to try to keep up with the man, she shook
her head. A dizzy spell clouded her vision. “Woo. I think I’ve had more than
enough.”

“You gonna blow chunks?”

“Nope. But I need some fresh air.”

He laughed. “We’re already outdoors.”

“Shut up. I wanna go for a walk.”

“You’re da boss.” Sione took her hand and helped her to her
unsteady feet.

Walking through the campus at night could be downright
eerie. Tall trees lined the sidewalk, their giant roots buckling the pathway in
some areas. Spooky or not, Clarissa’s favorite tree on the university grounds
was a huge banyan that gradually expanded its empire with each passing year.
Left untended, the imports from India could choke out all surrounding
vegetation.

She fell to her knees at the foot of the giant tree and
spoke to it, “Are you going to eat the planet like in
The Little Prince
?”

“Sistah, you
lolo
? Talkin’ to a tree? Besides that
was a baobab tree in
The Little Prince
.”

Flopping onto her back, she looked up to the foliage far
overhead and the great tangled mass of aerial roots that dropped down from the
branches. “That’s right. Oh my God. I love that you know that.”

“Come on. Time to get you home before Mika kills both of
us.” He extended a hand, but instead of helping her up, she pulled him off
balance. Sione tumbled to the ground in a gale of laughter.

“Isn’t it beautiful under here?” she asked.

He scooted next to her. His exhalations grazed her cheek as
he turned his face toward hers. “Yeah, it is.”

Her good sense drowned in a sea of bourbon, she turned her
head to face him and found they were almost nose to nose. Studying his angular
bone structure, she noted what a gorgeous man he was. She could smell the musky
liquor on his breath and clean scent of his aftershave. A dull ache formed
between her thighs and tension twisted in the pit of her stomach. She wanted
him, God help her, she did. It was wrong in every way imaginable, but she did.

Her heartbeat sped up, the same hammering rhythm echoed by
her pussy. It clenched tight, sending a burst of pleasure through her.

A chorus of “this is wrong” ricocheted around her brain, but
she was unable to break the thrall. Fortunately, Sione turned away first,
clearing his throat.

Apropos of nothing, he said, “My mother died when I was
eight years old.”

The comment threw a wet blanket on the fire between her
legs. She nodded. “I know. It broke my heart when Mika told me that.”

“Yeah. He felt the loss too. My mom was close with his mom.
Auntie Na’ilah had me over for dinner every night when Mom was sick and after
she passed. Mika would help me with my homework. Mika’s always been smarter
than me, even in third grade—”

“That’s not true. You two are smart in different ways.”

“Ha. You’re sweet, but it’s okay. I know he’s smarter. I’m
cool with it.” He waved a hand as though to dismiss the digression. “So like a
week after Mom’s funeral we had a book report due. The class read
The Little
Prince
and we were supposed to write an essay about our favorite part, but
I’d missed a lot of school. I missed most of the book. Thinking about it now, I
should’ve just talked to the teacher, but you know, stuff like that doesn’t
come to you when you’re little. I was seriously stressed about it.

“I tried to read the book on my own. I tried, but I
couldn’t. That night, Mika finds me crying on the lanai, asks me what’s wrong.
I tell him and he was cool about it. He said he’d write my report for me since
his was finished. But I didn’t want that. I was mad I’d missed reading the
story with my friends at school, mad at my mother because her being sick made
me miss the story. How fucked-up is that?”

Clarissa touched his arm and electricity crackled against
her fingertips. “You were a child. You can’t blame yourself for that.”

“I guess I know that now. At the time it was really
confusing, to be mad at Mom like that. So Mika takes the book from me, tells me
to sit down and starts to read to me. I don’t mean like skipping through it or
leaving out the big words, he read it to me word for word. But for the life of
us, we couldn’t figure out what a baobab tree was.”

Sione’s shoulders shook with silent chuckles. “We thought it
was like a name like ‘Bay-o-Bob’. We went out into the backyard and started
looking for the biggest tree we could find, which was Uncle Johnny’s prize
mango tree. Tree looked huge to us back then. We used our pocketknives and
carved ‘Bay-o-Bob’ into it.
Auwe
, Uncle Johnny beat us the next day, but
it was worth it. For my essay, I wrote about the tree named ‘Bay-o-Bob’ as my
favorite part. Mrs. Tanaka must’ve took pity on me because she wrote
‘excellent’ on my paper. Only time she ever wrote that on one of my
assignments. Anyway, that’s why I know what the tree is in
The Little Prince
.”

“What happened to Johnny’s mango tree?”

“It got a fungus and died. He told us we wen’ kill the
tree.”

“Poor tree.”

“Yeah,” Sione said, then fell quiet.

They listened to the wind, letting the silence stretch out.
She imagined surging forward, planting her lips to his and climbing on top of
him. She could feel his stubble against her cheek, taste his tongue, smell his
skin. What was wrong with her that she longed to betray her husband? But there
it was—that throbbing, pulsing, tense arousal that claimed her every time she
was near Sione.

An exhaustion almost as profound as the attraction weighed
on her too. It was this constant internal struggle—good versus bad, right
versus wrong. It shouldn’t be a struggle, should it? Then again, what was the
harm in one kiss?

A jolt of clarity compelled her to sit up. She’d gone too
far already. The bourbon had allowed her to take too many liberties. Dangerous
thoughts could turn into reckless action faster than she could react to stop it
and, worse, she might not want to stop.

But you have to stop
, she reminded herself.

Unable to bear the tug-of-war any longer, Clarissa made a
show of yawning and stretching. “Best get me home. I’m gonna have to take the
bus again.”

He lay still for a moment longer then pulled himself to his
feet. “I’ll walk you, make sure you get on the bus all right.”

“You don’t have to. I’m good. I can make it on my own.”

To her surprise, Sione shrugged and said, “If you’re sure.
I’m beat. I’m going to call it a night myself.”

Confusion swirled in her head and chest, mixed with relief
and disappointment in equal measure. Tired of conflicted feelings, Clarissa
trudged to the bus stop. By quarter of eleven she’d made it home safe and
sound.

After a quick call to Michelle, she settled in on the couch
to wait for Mika’s return.

She must have drifted off, but then the jangle of her
husband’s keys at the front door created a spark. When she opened her eyes, she
half expected to find herself lying under the banyan tree.

Banyan trees and house keys.

Crack!

The strike of inspiration was palpable. She jumped up from
the sofa.