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Chapter 6 by Zingiber Zingiber

Is Dunstan there when you and Diane get to your cabana?

Yes, and he's not alone.

You guide Diane down the trail toward the main part of the resort. She holds your hand during the steeper bits, picking her way carefully to favor her bare foot with its swelling toe. Her rust-pink sundress ripples in the afternoon sea breeze, making the Hawaiian rock art people on the fabric dance. On a side seam near her waist, the pattern is sewn together in a way that a stick figure from one side of the seam looks like it's doing something naughty with a figure from the other side.

Diane stumbles, and you catch her with both hands before she falls over onto her face. "Ouch!" she says, as her toe stubs on the ground. You manage to hold on tight and keep her upright.

"Sorry," you say. Her sunshine-and-flowers scent is kind of distracting. Ordinarily that would be a nice thing, but not now. You make sure she's steady, then release her.

"Not a problem," Diane says. "I'm grateful you were around to pull me out of the bushes. Just try not to step on my toe."

"One of my few skills," you say. "I don't step on women's toes."

Diane laughs. "Your momma's gift to womankind, eh?" The little edge in her voice sounds so familiar to you, whom does she remind you of?

"So how soon should we try to get you back to where you're staying?" you ask Diane.

"Well, John, I suddenly find myself with no plans for the evening," she says, tapping the purse holding her phone. "So we'll see how things go."

You make your way down the resort's border with the nearby golf course and approach your cabana near the beach.

"Dunstan might still be napping," you say. "We just got in today. He has the other side of the cabana, so we don't have to be too quiet. Plus he's a heavy sleeper."

You help Diane up onto the wrap-around porch circling the cabana. She stumbles again and pauses to collect herself, and you wait with her. Then something in her posture changes. She cocks her head, listening for a second, then looks round through Dunstan's screened window. You follow her gaze.

Through the breeze-parted curtains, you glimpse Dunstan kneeling on his bed entering a woman from behind. She has a petite, boyish figure and short-cropped brown hair.

The woman cries "Oh yeah move your finger like that yes I'm c-ah! Ah! Ahhnnnnnhhhh!" You hear a dull slap-slap-slap of flesh on flesh, and Dunstan's familiar groan joins her orgasmic gasps and sobs.

Diane gives you a wink, and starts walking again. You circle around to the front doors, facing the beach and the bright blue Hawaiian sea.

"This one's mine," you say, and unlock the door.

"Your friend's a fast worker," she says.

"And a lucky fellow," you say. "Cute and charming, as well. Let me get you that ice. Would you like something to drink?"

"You have a mini-bar?" Diane asks.

Ten minutes later, you're out on the front porch, Diane's foot propped up on the bamboo rail under an ice pack, sipping premixed Mai Tais over ice. Diane twirls the paper parasol you tucked into hers.

You chat about your vacation plans. Diane tells you about Hawaii's human and natural history.

The other front door opens, and Dunstan pokes his head out. His hair is damp. "John!" he says. "Where the hell you been? I scored a date for you. She's kinda got the tomboy look going, but you'll love her. We've been hanging out chatting, you know."

You tilt your head toward Diane. "Allow me to introduce my friend Dunstan," you say. "He's a fast worker."

Diane snorts her drink out her nose, and coughs and laughs until her face turns pink.

"This is Diane," you say. "She hurt her toe."

"Aww, John, what do I always tell you?" he says. "First impressions are so important. No stepping on ladies' toes even if you think they're going to run away!" He turns to Diane. "Let me take you off this big lug's hands," he says. "I'm surprised it's just a toe! Do you already have evening plans? I won't ask you out dancing, but perhaps we can order in and we can look at my etchings together."

Diane coughs, steadying herself, and extends a hand. "Charmed," she says.

"Let me get you a new drink, honey," Dunstan says. "Another Mai Tai?"

"Thank you Dunstan," she says. "Don't mind if I do." He bustles off to bring her a fresh drink. She looks out at the ocean, then at you. "Thank you for rescuing me, John," she says. "I hope I haven't stepped on your plans."

"No, no, we didn't have any special plans for tonight," you say. "Would you like to join us for dinner?" you ask. "With what you were telling me about Maui, I'm sure you would have some hints about what Dunstan and I should make sure not to miss while we're here." Dunstan's still out of sight. "Or just me, if Dunstan seems a bit much?"

Diane's telephone gives off its bird trill again. She looks at it and silences the ringer.

"Well, I AM free," she says. "And I hate the idea of limping back to my cottage and eating alone, then lying round the room all evening. I would love company for dinner. The room service here is pretty good, the little grill out by the pool is quite decent, or there's my favorite place in the village across the bay. We could get a cab out and back. Now that we're talking about it, I'm getting rather hungry."

You and Diane compare some dinner options.

"That reminds me," she says. "I need to cancel a reservation." She recalls a number on her phone, and talks to the person who answers. "Yes? Yes, I need to cancel a reservation, tonight at eight?" she says. "Westerland, party of two? Yes. Yes, thank you. Thank you." She hangs up.

She looks up toward Dunstan's door. "Didn't he say he was going to freshen my drink?" she asks you.

"Let me check on him," you say.

What's keeping Dunstan? What's for dinner?

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