Brazilian Rain, Sinful Touch

The humidity hung thick and heavy, clinging to True’s skin as he watched Lissa saunter by. That blasted beautiful woman, so wild and free in her fresh femininity. A man can only take so much of that. He’d come to Brazil to take over operating a rubber plantation, the Emerald Rubber Company, a venture owned by Mr. Emerald. The owner would soon be heading back to the States for surgery and needed a reliable man to run the business. With the end of the Korean War, rubber was in high demand, and True Lattimer had the experience, so he got the job.

For five weeks, the work had been pretty easy, with the typical challenges and rewards of any business. The Emerald Rubber Company employed mainly native Brazilians who knew the jungle and the trade. True spoke fluent Portuguese and got along well with them. Then Lissa arrived.

She was a guest of Mr. Emerald, though True felt the real reason she was there was to titillate him. As was said earlier, a man can only take so much of an attractive, sexy woman who clearly sets her eyes on him. She was long and slender, of South American descent, her hair black and her eyes flashing like gems. Skin tanned both by the sun and her genetics wrapped all the curves that glorify any woman. True was bewildered that none of the other men ever made passes at her. Most of the time, he was overpoweringly tempted, and he wasn’t even Brazilian.

Being top man at the plantation, he’d been instructed by Mr. Emerald to come up to the house for dinner any time. Of course, the good food and the interesting conversation of his employer were attractions, but nothing like the female guest. He sat at the table one evening, in tie and white coat, enjoying roasted chicken and exotic fruits with some wine and trying to pay attention to Mr. Emerald. His eyes kept wandering across the table, where Lissa sat. Often, her eyes met his, and he just couldn’t look away. What was it that magnetized his gaze to hers? Was it her beautiful dark eyes? Or was it the overtly sensual flaring of her nostrils and drop of her eyelids as she studied him? Her dress didn’t help matters. Blue silk, with thin ribbons to hold up the bodice and a sweetheart neckline that revealed the rolling tops of two glorious breasts, it acted as mere ornamentation for her soft browned shoulders and neck. A thought invaded True’s brain right then: from the exposed skin he could see, it was evident the rest of her must be pretty enticing under that layer of silk.

Mr. Emerald asked him something, and he jerked himself back to reality. Shame on him for paying such poor attention to his employer, he thought—and for daring to undress Lissa in his mind. But when he looked at Lissa again, she was smiling. Though discreet, it was definitely curving her wet red lips.

After dinner, she excused herself, saying she had a light headache and wanted to get some fresh air. The flow of her silky skirt around her legs mesmerized True. He wanted to follow her, but he couldn’t desert Mr. Emerald. That gentleman offered True a cigar, which the latter refused politely. He didn’t smoke. The two men continued discussing some last business details. Mr. Emerald planned to take a flight the next afternoon to the States and remain there some months after his surgery. Admirably, True kept Lissa out of his thoughts for the remainder of their conversation, realizing the generosity of Mr. Emerald and the difficult health situation he was facing. They shook hands, exchanging a word of good luck, and Mr. Emerald retired.

Now he was free, but True, stepping out on the sprawling veranda with its glorious view of the moonlit gardens, couldn’t see Lissa anywhere. He waited a minute, his hands in his pockets, and scanned the shadowy paths winding through the palmy foliage. No Lissa. Maybe she’d gone to bed already; she did say she had a headache. True sighed, admitting to himself he was disappointed. Some distant thunder growled beyond the mountains, and he guessed that a storm was coming. He wandered back to the small house Mr. Emerald had designated as the foreman’s quarters.

Inside, he headed for his bedroom. It was simple and comfortable, with a little private patio off the bedroom. A lot of the furnishings and window blinds were bamboo. True liked the setting. It reminded him of something in those exotic Hollywood adventure movies. He threw off his coat and removed his tie, thinking he’d take a quick shower when he realized he was pretty sweaty. The jungle heat did that to a guy. But he couldn’t get Lissa out of his head. Besides, the night was so beautiful. Grabbing a bottle of coke from the kitchenette, he went back out on the front piazza and lounged against the railing in his undershirt. A muggy breeze cooled the dampness on his arms and neck and brushed at his brown hair.

What a night! Humid and tropical, with strange night birds sending screeching calls through the jungle and the moonlight vanishing as black clouds rolled in. Raindrops pattered in the leaves. There was no lightning, and the thunder had moved west; True could hear it far away. As the rain fell thicker, soaking the ground, True wanted to feel it. He was so hot, and the fans inside just wouldn’t get the job done.

Setting the bottle inside the door, he lightly descended the steps and walked lazily in the rain. It was pouring now, and soon his shirt was drenched and sticking to his brawny torso. Getting wet felt good; it cooled him down. He tramped along past the Emerald villa and into the garden paths that meandered by the pool. The rain was dumping so hard that he couldn’t hear anything, even his own footsteps over the ground. Through the falling water, he could see the pool, almost hidden by gorgeous wild palms and flowers, little lights scattered along the perimeter. The surface was a watercolor blur as droplets from the sky splashed and mixed with the pool water.

True just stood, rain dripping in his eyes as he scanned the exotic scene. A thought blazed through his brain and made his blood turn hot: it was the perfect place to bring a woman, to strip her clothes off, to lay her down in the wet grass by the water and make wild love to her in the rain. His desire for Lissa raged in his lower belly. He felt his manhood, constrained in his trousers, grow taut and push against the fabric.

Thunder rumbled a mile or two away, echoing the hungry thuds of his heart. Then, abruptly, he thought he heard something, a loud rustle in the plants behind him. He turned.

Clothed only in a drenched sarong and barefoot, with her hair straight and wet and water dripping down her face, Lissa stood there, gazing lustfully at him. The sarong clung to her, revealing every curvature of her molded body and plunging dangerously at her breasts. It took about five seconds for the image to process in True’s brain; then he strode towards her. He grabbed her against him in a hot kiss. She returned it with ardor.

As the rain poured over them, its loud rushing sound the perfect background to their excited passion, their kiss intensified. True’s arms wound tightly around her womanly form, while she combed her fingers through his wet hair and stroked up and down his back. To True, the feeling of having her against him was almost like heaven. Her warmth, her eagerness, and best of all the flame of her mouth stoked the fire in his body.

The kiss spread to touching, to groping on both his part and hers. His fingers slid their way up her thigh, where he was startled to meet with the wet heat of her love-garden, naked under the sarong. She, meantime, punctuating her actions with little moans and sighs of hunger, clawed at his undershirt and tore it off his back with her strong little hands. Her hips rolled and ground against his, taunting the part of him that ached to break free and ravish her.

He could take no more. His pelvis was already quivering, tensing up, at every touch of the seductive woman pushing herself into him. Forcefully, almost roughly, he gripped her wrists and sprawled her out on the ground, crushing himself on top of her and taking her lips again with hot kisses. Shame on him for paying such poor attention to his employer, he thought—and for daring to undress Lissa in his mind. But when he looked at Lissa again, she was smiling. Though discreet, it was definitely curving her wet red lips.

After dinner, she excused herself, saying she had a light headache and wanted to get some fresh air. The flow of her silky skirt around her legs mesmerized True. He wanted to follow her, but he couldn’t desert Mr. Emerald. That gentleman offered True a cigar, which the latter refused politely. He didn’t smoke. The two men continued discussing some last business details. Mr. Emerald planned to take a flight the next afternoon to the States and remain there some months after his surgery. Admirably, True kept Lissa out of his thoughts for the remainder of their conversation, realizing the generosity of Mr. Emerald and the difficult health situation he was facing. They shook hands, exchanging a word of good luck, and Mr. Emerald retired.

Now he was free, but True, stepping out on the sprawling veranda with its glorious view of the moonlit gardens, couldn’t see Lissa anywhere. He waited a minute, his hands in his pockets, and scanned the shadowy paths winding through the palmy foliage. No Lissa. Maybe she’d gone to bed already; she did say she had a headache. True sighed, admitting to himself he was disappointed. Some distant thunder growled beyond the mountains, and he guessed that a storm was coming. He wandered back to the small house Mr. Emerald had designated as the foreman’s quarters.

Inside, he headed for his bedroom. It was simple and comfortable, with a little private patio off the bedroom. A lot of the furnishings and window blinds were bamboo. True liked the setting. It reminded him of something in those exotic Hollywood adventure movies. He threw off his coat and removed his tie, thinking he’d take a quick shower when he realized he was pretty sweaty. The jungle heat did that to a guy. But he couldn’t get Lissa out of his head. Besides, the night was so beautiful. Grabbing a bottle of coke from the kitchenette, he went back out on the front piazza and lounged against the railing in his undershirt. A muggy breeze cooled the dampness on his arms and neck and brushed at his brown hair.

What a night! Humid and tropical, with strange night birds sending screeching calls through the jungle and the moonlight vanishing as black clouds rolled in. Raindrops pattered in the leaves. There was no lightning, and the thunder had moved west; True could hear it far away. As the rain fell thicker, soaking the ground, True wanted to feel it. He was so hot, and the fans inside just wouldn’t get the job done.

Setting the bottle inside the door, he lightly descended the steps and walked lazily in the rain. It was pouring now, and soon his shirt was drenched and sticking to his brawny torso. Getting wet felt good; it cooled him down. He tramped along past the Emerald villa and into the garden paths that meandered by the pool. The rain was dumping so hard that he couldn’t hear anything, even his own footsteps over the ground. Through the falling water, he could see the pool, almost hidden by gorgeous wild palms and flowers, little lights scattered along the perimeter. The surface was a watercolor blur as droplets from the sky splashed and mixed with the pool water.

True just stood, rain dripping in his eyes as he scanned the exotic scene. A thought blazed through his brain and made his blood turn hot: it was the perfect place to bring a woman, to strip her clothes off, to lay her down in the wet grass by the water and make wild love to her in the rain. His desire for Lissa raged in his lower belly. He felt his manhood, constrained in his trousers, grow taut and push against the fabric.

Thunder rumbled a mile or two away, echoing the hungry thuds of his heart. Then, abruptly, he thought he heard something, a loud rustle in the plants behind him. He turned.

Clothed only in a drenched sarong and barefoot, with her hair straight and wet and water dripping down her face, Lissa stood there, gazing lustfully at him. The sarong clung to her, revealing every curvature of her molded body and plunging dangerously at her breasts. It took about five seconds for the image to process in True’s brain; then he strode towards her. He grabbed her against him in a hot kiss. She returned it with ardor.

As the rain poured over them, its loud rushing sound the perfect background to their excited passion, their kiss intensified. True’s arms wound tightly around her womanly form, while she combed her fingers through his wet hair and stroked up and down his back. To True, the feeling of having her against him was almost like heaven. Her warmth, her eagerness, and best of all the flame of her mouth stoked the fire in his body.

The kiss spread to touching, to groping on both his part and hers. His fingers slid their way up her thigh, where he was startled to meet with the wet heat of her love-garden, naked under the sarong. She, meantime, punctuating her actions with little moans and sighs of hunger, clawed at his undershirt and tore it off his back with her strong little hands. Her hips rolled and ground against his, taunting the part of him that ached to break free and ravish her.

He could take no more. His pelvis was already quivering, tensing up, at every touch of the seductive woman pushing herself into him. Forcefully, almost roughly, he gripped her wrists and sprawled her out on the ground, crushing himself on top of her and taking her lips again with hot kisses. Shame on him for paying such poor attention to his employer, he thought—and for daring to undress Lissa in his mind. But when he looked at Lissa again, she was smiling. Though discreet, it was definitely curving her wet red lips.

After dinner, she excused herself, saying she had a light headache and wanted to get some fresh air. The flow of her silky skirt around her legs mesmerized True. He wanted to follow her, but he couldn’t desert Mr. Emerald. That gentleman offered True a cigar, which the latter refused politely. He didn’t smoke. The two men continued discussing some last business details. Mr. Emerald planned to take a flight the next afternoon to the States and remain there some months after his surgery. Admirably, True kept Lissa out of his thoughts for the remainder of their conversation, realizing the generosity of Mr. Emerald and the difficult health situation he was facing. They shook hands, exchanging a word of good luck, and Mr. Emerald retired.

Now he was free, but True, stepping out on the sprawling veranda with its glorious view of the moonlit gardens, couldn’t see Lissa anywhere. He waited a minute, his hands in his pockets, and scanned the shadowy paths winding through the palmy foliage. No Lissa. Maybe she’d gone to bed already; she did say she had a headache. True sighed, admitting to himself he was disappointed. Some distant thunder growled beyond the mountains, and he guessed that a storm was coming. He wandered back to the small house Mr. Emerald had designated as the foreman’s quarters.

Inside, he headed for his bedroom. It was simple and comfortable, with a little private patio off the bedroom. A lot of the furnishings and window blinds were bamboo. True liked the setting. It reminded him of something in those exotic Hollywood adventure movies. He threw off his coat and removed his tie, thinking he’d take a quick shower when he realized he was pretty sweaty. The jungle heat did that to a guy. But he couldn’t get Lissa out of his head. Besides, the night was so beautiful. Grabbing a bottle of coke from the kitchenette, he went back out on the front piazza and lounged against the railing in his undershirt. A muggy breeze cooled the dampness on his arms and neck and brushed at his brown hair.

What a night! Humid and tropical, with strange night birds sending screeching calls through the jungle and the moonlight vanishing as black clouds rolled in. Raindrops pattered in the leaves. There was no lightning, and the thunder had moved west; True could hear it far away. As the rain fell thicker, soaking the ground, True wanted to feel it. He was so hot, and the fans inside just wouldn’t get the job done.

Setting the bottle inside the door, he lightly descended the steps and walked lazily in the rain. It was pouring now, and soon his shirt was drenched and sticking to his brawny torso. Getting wet felt good; it cooled him down. He tramped along past the Emerald villa and into the garden paths that meandered by the pool. The rain was dumping so hard that he couldn’t hear anything, even his own footsteps over the ground. Through the falling water, he could see the pool, almost hidden by gorgeous wild palms and flowers, little lights scattered along the perimeter. The surface was a watercolor blur as droplets from the sky splashed and mixed with the pool water.

True just stood, rain dripping in his eyes as he scanned the exotic scene. A thought blazed through his brain and made his blood turn hot: it was the perfect place to bring a woman, to strip her clothes off, to lay her down in the wet grass by the water and make wild love to her in the rain. His desire for Lissa raged in his lower belly. He felt his manhood, constrained in his trousers, grow taut and push against the fabric.

Thunder rumbled a mile or two away, echoing the hungry thuds of his heart. Then, abruptly, he thought he heard something, a loud rustle in the plants behind him. He turned.

Clothed only in a drenched sarong and barefoot, with her hair straight and wet and water dripping down her face, Lissa stood there, gazing lustfully at him. The sarong clung to her, revealing every curvature of her molded body and plunging dangerously at her breasts. It took about five seconds for the image to process in True’s brain; then he strode towards her. He grabbed her against him in a hot kiss. She returned it with ardor.

As the rain poured over them, its loud rushing sound the perfect background to their excited passion, their kiss intensified. True’s arms wound tightly around her womanly form, while she combed her fingers through his wet hair and stroked up and down his back. To True, the feeling of having her against him was almost like heaven. Her warmth, her eagerness, and best of all the flame of her mouth stoked the fire in his body.

The kiss spread to touching, to groping on both his part and hers. His fingers slid their way up her thigh, where he was startled to meet with the wet heat of her love-garden, naked under the sarong. She, meantime, punctuating her actions with little moans and sighs

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