Lust And Loneliness

By Mika Doll

Claire and John are the last survivors of a plane crash. Background and age difference makes the two castaways an unlikely couple. Having only each other though, it is the loneliness as much as their lust that lets them cast aside all reservations one day. As Claire sets out to discover her sexuality, she inadvertently falls in love. Love, however, is a big word in a small world that is anything but paradise. When after years in oblivion both unexpectedly return from the dead, the real challenges are just beginning, as each of them has to find back into a life that will never be the same again.
With Lust and Loneliness begins the extraordinary love and life story of two people brought together by destiny, a destiny that is holding far more in stock for them still than both can possibly foresee yet. And it is not about Claire and John’s destiny alone. The world, as they once knew it, is in flux. It is the time of great uncertainty, of social and moral decay, which is soon testing their will for survival all over again.
The story of Claire and John will continue with Book 2 of the Destiny Series, The Lovers, which will be released in summer 2017.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mika Doll
• Release date: Jun 29, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370735280

Mika Doll

Born and grown up behind the Iron Curtain, and after a decade-long stopover in West Berlin, Mika found a new home in Canada and now enjoys the laid-back country life in picturesque Nova Scotia, a paradise for writers and individualists. Besides raising two children and several chickens, as an outspoken advocate for permaculture, self-reliance and De-growth, Mika is also trying to raise awareness for the challenges of our time, and with a lifelong fascination for history, philosophy and anthropology likes to look in particular from this angle at the complex nature of human sexuality.

Book preview

LUST AND LONELINESS

An Erotic End-time Story

By MIKA DOLL

Book One of the Destiny series

Smashwords Edition

Copyright © 2017 by Mika Doll

Cover art by Mika Doll, use of tarot cards courtesy of Carl-W. Röhrig.

Copyright Tarot-Cards by Carl-W. Röhrig 2017, www.roehrigart.com

Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events, places or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. The issues raised, however, are real.

Table of Contents

Chapter 1 - Stranded

Chapter 2 - The Incident

Chapter 3 - Pleasure

Chapter 4 - Libido

Chapter 5 - Valor

Chapter 6 - Homecoming

Chapter 7 - Rude Awakening

Chapter 8 - Anything Is Possible

Chapter 9 - Interference

Chapter 10 - Marlene

Chapter 11- The Abyss

A Big Thank You To All My Readers

About The Author

Connect With Mika

Reading Sample Book 2, The Lovers

Chapter 1

Stranded

The stormy sea below grew more and more menacing by the second. Doing it like the man beside her, she took her head down to her knees and tried to make herself as small as she could. The airplane skipped the surface, was airborne for one last time, and then, the loud crash. She felt how she was thrown forward. Her head hit the seat in front of her. It hurt. Screams. Crying. Darkness. Fear.

With a loud groan, the man next to her scrambled to his feet. Instinct told her to follow him, along a row of seats with people still strapped to them. The water was already up to her knees. A dim light shone through a large opening ahead. The man was tall, his face invisible, and she could only hear his deep voice, urging her, Girl, stick with me! Do as I say and you’ll stay alive! Now jump and swim for your life!

She jumped and swam as fast as she could. The big wave behind her came closer and closer. The giant wall of water engulfed the aircraft, lifted the entire jet up like a toy before burying it under its mighty mass, mercilessly drowning everyone who was still inside, and then, a loud last scream.

Claire, wake up! You’re dreaming again, John said and shook her gently.

After more than ten months, she was still haunted by the same nightmare. She heard John’s voice, knew he was there, turned around and shortly after was asleep again.

To find sleep was harder for John. He lay awake and recalled that fateful day as well. He had just arrived in St. Thomas. In his hotel room, he had been preparing for a speech on new treatment-resistant diseases that he was supposed to give at a symposium the next day when he had received a call. They had asked him to report back to Washington, immediately, but had refused to give him any details over the phone. It must have been something very urgent, and secret.

Orders were orders. So he had taken the next flight back to Miami and had been seated amid a swim team from Louisiana, a group of teenagers excited to get home. A tropical storm front over the Bahamas had made the flight a rough ride and soon had quieted everyone down. John had never figured out what had caused the crash. Most likely something must have struck the aircraft in midflight. It was of no consequence anymore. All of them had perished. Of 127 people on board, seven had made it to safety, and of those, only two were left now.

His eyes were fixed on Claire, as she was so peacefully sleeping next to him, and he asked himself what would have been if the flight had arrived in Miami. The answer was like a stab in the heart when he realized that he would not even have known her name.

When John opened his eyes, the sun was already up and the bed next to him vacant. Instinctively, his hand reached over and touched the spot where she had slept. The warmth of her body was still there. She could not be gone for long.

It had been the same dream torturing him. He was glad Claire was hardly ever around when he woke up. It would be quite awkward if she caught him sporting a morning erection. But there was not much he could do to prevent it from happening. It was a normal physical response.

What he did not consider normal was having those disconcerting dreams that each time stirred his frustration even more. On one side he was pained by feelings of guilt for having such desires, then again, deprived for so long of any closeness and tenderness, could he blame himself for having them?

He could not have said when it had started. It just seemed to have arisen while observing Claire how she had downright blossomed to maturity over the last few months. When he had met her, she had been just another kid, typical for her generation, grown up bubble-wrapped by her parents and totally unprepared for the realities of life. But soon the bubble wrap had come off, and it had been impossible to overlook the transformation she had made from a self-conscious juvenile into an adorable brave young woman. With it, though, had also come sexual attractiveness, a fact she seemed to be completely unaware about still. Somehow it was a dilemma, more for him apparently than for her.

John knew that she had gone down to the beach. That she went alone left him always with some mixed feelings. He would not be able to forgive himself should anything ever happen to her. Then again, she was old enough to take care of herself and could very well do what she wanted. He was not her father. And if she liked to go out early in the morning, spearfishing all on her own, he could not keep her from doing so.

At first, he had disliked the idea. After all, hunting was a man’s job and not without risk. Consequently, his ‘sexist remark’ had given cause for quite a heated discussion a few months ago. In the end, he had been forced to admit that she was very well capable of doing the hunting without any help from him and that their daily tasks didn’t need to adhere to any gender specific roles any longer. Regarding survival, it should be rather divided according to what each of them could do best she had argued, which had made him the gatherer and the cook.

Or had it been a hint at his age maybe? He had to leave it to Claire, with her mere 18 years she was the faster swimmer and could dive deeper and longer. 20 years ago, it would have been different though. But 20 years ago she was not even born yet. The very thought made him feel old all of a sudden.

You’re becoming more and more ridiculous, old boy. You’re having a midlife crisis, John said to himself and decided it was better to get out of bed. Maybe a morning swim would do him good. At least it would cool him down somewhat.

Sneaking out at sunrise and taking a walk down to the beach had become a daily routine for Claire. She knew that John liked to sleep in, since he had to be up early his whole life, even on his days off. Now he wasn’t expected to be anywhere anymore and called it his ‘early retirement.’ Claire, for her part, certainly did not mind that he was such a sleepyhead. She always looked forward having this time of the day all to herself. John apparently had no problem being together around the clock. But she simply needed to be alone for a while, and if she could combine it with the provision of food, even better.

Claire emerged from the grove of palm trees and soft beach sand greeted her bare feet. Suddenly, she noticed a rare sight. In the calm of the morning, the water surface of the lagoon lay undisturbed still and like a mirror reflected a cloudless sky, giving the impression of a turquoise lake amid the deep blue of the ocean. Separating the two shades of blue was a coral reef that protected the entire lengths of the south shore with its long wide beach. It was a true postcard image of a little paradise. The pleasant climate, the sunshine, the green of trees and shrubs, the sea and the fresh air, and more so the serenity together with an abundance of time, it all made it the most idyllic place one could imagine to be. It was a treacherous beauty though. It could also be the loneliest place on earth, and on top of that, a very unforgiving one. Nobody needed to tell her that anymore.

Still, John could be truly annoying by being overly worried about her all the time. He meant well, but in some aspects, he could be even worse than her father. Then again, except for their age, dad had not much in common with John, who was so different from other men she knew.

Claire took off her little backpack, untied the knot that held her oversized blouse together and simply let the top slide off her shoulders. The leather belt was the only thing keeping her baggy shorts around her bony hips. The pockets contained some handy essentials, like a pocketknife, a lighter, a rag and a role of string. A quick move, the belt buckle was open, and the shorts just dropped down her slim legs. When she stepped out of them, it was all she had to take off. Panties were just a hassle. Being in the nude bore a sense of liberation, something she had never known before everything in her life had taken a sudden turn.

As she usually did, Claire walked over to the water’s edge, squatted down and relieved herself right on the spot. She didn’t need to care about her privacy, for privacy came in abundance on a 200-acre world-forgotten island she shared only with her Mr. Sleepyhead.

A sign further down the beach, rusty and bent over by the wind, declared the island as ‘Private Property.’ But so far neither the owner nor someone else had cared to show up yet, which was not surprising. There was no building on the island, not even a landing for boats, and so, for the time being, it had become their private property.

The last two survivors had not only taken possession of the island, but also considered everything else as either ‘inherited’ from other passengers or a courtesy of the airline. Since the Virgin Islands were a destination for snorkelers and divers, their luggage had turned out a treasure trove of items that certainly made a castaway’s life a lot easier.

Claire donned her diving mask and snorkel, put on her flippers, and grabbed the makeshift spear, a 6-foot-long wooden shaft with a sharpened blade attached to one end. With her flippers on her feet, she walked a few steps backward until the water was knee-deep before she turned around and swam the 400 feet out to the wreck of the crashed airliner, which blocked the entrance to the lagoon. It was Claire’s favored hunting ground.

She could have chosen to put on a bikini or a swimsuit. But not having to wear anything, made the swim so much more enjoyable. The water streaming along her exposed skin felt refreshing while it also added something sensual to it. In fact, it could not have felt more natural, diving into a colorful underwater world the way she was born and visiting a place that was both, an eerie mass grave, yet already thriving with new life again. Nature did not leave a void for long.

With only a deep breath in her lungs, Claire entered the large opening in the fuselage from which she barely had escaped once. In her mind she still could hear John’s deep and intimidating voice reverberating, ‘Girl, you better stick with me. Do as I say and you’ll stay alive!’ After that day, John had never called her ‘girl’ again, and in return, Claire had always done as he had said. So far he had kept his word, while she had never felt so alive.

In the search for suitable prey, she looked under seats and open overhead compartments. If one didn’t look too closely, after almost a year, there seemed not much left of any human remains. Even though she had done it so often before, the shadows of the past were still present each time, reminding her anew of the crash in all its clarity when fate had decided who died and who lived that day. Now it was all quiet and peaceful. The dead had moved on, and so had the survivors.

The morning sun was sending beams of light through the row of windows, making it easy to shake off those oppressive memories. Knowing every nook and cranny of the wreck, Claire advanced deeper into the confined space. In the board kitchen, she greeted a moray eel that seemed to have found a new home in one of the drawer shelves. Not far off on the sand covered aisle rested a scorpionfish. She kept a safe distance from this one. The fish itself resembled no threat, except that its poison was fatal. Just one sting was enough. Claire had no trepidation. On the contrary, she felt elated. Having such freedom meant heaven to her. She was very well aware of her vulnerability, but this again made life so exciting, gave it this thrilling intensity someone her age constantly sought.

Life in isolation had also become a life of habits. One of those habits was picking the top card from a deck of tarot cards each morning, right after getting up. It could be almost called a daily ritual. They did it more for fun though. Neither John nor Claire believed in any fortune telling. For that, they had met the unforeseen much too often. Anyway, none of them had any idea about tarot or knew how to interpret the card’s meaning.

Nevertheless, the cards were a small treasure. John had found them wrapped up as a gift in one of the passengers’ suitcases. Still sealed in its original clear wrap, the cards miraculously had stayed undamaged. John had been disappointed at first. He had hoped for real playing cards. In the lack of any other games, they had tried them anyway, only to notice how beautiful and mysterious the images were. John could see the artist inspiration that so vividly transpired from them, and looking at each of the cards more closely, his mind found something new to draw on every time. In fact, those 78 cards resembled the only notable artwork on their island.

Before John took his card from the stack, he noticed Claire’s card for the day that lay open next to the deck. She had picked Strength, a naked woman in bliss kneeling next to a lion, which according to the writing on the card was to symbolize the lust for life. It was a fitting card for Claire. According to the little booklet that had come with the cards, Strength stood for a time of contemplation, harnessing thoughts, to conquer fears and to control impulses. It read like a horoscope and could mean anything.

John had to laugh when he looked at his card, The Hermit, the lonely guy who was still waiting for his enlightenment. Yes that would be me, he conceded aloud. The card was supposed to be all about spirituality, about finding the ‘truth’ and gaining a new perspective. Well, one can still hope.

Maybe there was some secret message revealed here by the cards, John wondered, willing to accept miracles at any time. Or was it just by sheer chance? Yesterday he had The Chariot, he remembered, promising a new start and inspiration, which had yet to happen though. Following a hunch, he looked at the stack of remaining cards. No, there was surely no mystery involved here, he realized right away. It was not even a funny coincidence. Claire, most likely out of boredom, had sorted all the cards by numbers. So much for some help from the realm of the esoteric, John thought and rather focused again on the things that mattered.

Out of another habit, or maybe it was still out of hope, whenever John went for a walk, he grabbed the binoculars, one of their most prized possessions and courtesy of the airline’s pilot. John took the rocky path that led him through the bushes up to a little hill from where he could scan the horizon, which also had become a habit.

Except for a calm ocean, there was not much else to see. John could not even feel any disappointment about it anymore. Why should this day be any different from the day before? It was still puzzling him though. They could only be on one of the hundreds of islands that constituted The Bahamas, yet for more than ten months they had not seen any vessel, no post boat passing by, no fishermen, no commercial ship, no sign of any life at all. It was indeed strange.

From his elevated position, John had an excellent view over the entire beach below. Not even a hundred yards away, he noticed Claire’s backpack and clothes. But there was no trace of Claire.

John had no reason to feel alarmed. Through the binoculars, he looked over at the spot where metal fragments of the Boing 737’s tail end rose from the water’s surface. He suspected her being somewhere around the plane wreck that now lay broken on the sandy bottom of the lagoon. The pilot had almost achieved a remarkable undertaking, trying to land the aircraft in the shallow waters of an island. If it hadn’t been for the reef, it might have worked.

Claire’s head popped up not far from where he thought she would be and a fountain of water shot from her snorkel. She stayed at the surface and swam in circles while keeping her lookout for any potential game moving at the bottom, 30 feet below. John had no doubt that Claire knew what she was doing. He had seen her snorkeling and diving often enough. She was like a fish in the water.

Suddenly something must have caught her attention. The moment Claire was diving after it, he caught a glimpse at her beautiful behind and became aware that she was not wearing anything. It instantly reminded him of that disturbing dream he had earlier when he kissed and touched her young innocent body in such disgraceful ways, alone thinking of it made him ashamed of himself.

John tried to shake off those tormenting images while he waited for Claire to come up to the surface again. When she did, luck must have been smiling on her. She had caught something. Despite all his trust in her abilities, John could not help feeling relieved to see her swimming back to shore again.

Where the water was shallow enough to stand up, Claire first took off her flippers before she rose from the sea in all her natural beauty and walked up the beach with the gracefulness of an indigenous hunter. The next lunch stuck on the tip of her spear, a big octopus, which went right into a plastic bag.

From what John could tell, Claire seemed in no hurry to return. She took her time drying her wet hair with a towel. Afterward, she spread it out over the sand in front of her. He told himself it would be best to leave now. His behavior was becoming more and more ridiculous indeed, watching Claire in secret from behind the bushes as if he were on a reconnaissance mission. Since when did he become a voyeur, a peeping John? How embarrassing if his wife knew that her husband was spying on another woman, a tender young thing who could be his daughter for crying out loud.

If Caroline were there, loneliness would not feel as much of a burden. How he was missing her. Throughout those 20 years of their marriage, their love had to adjust to many challenges in life, yet his devotion to her had never faltered. Together they had raised four beautiful kids, three girls and, the youngest, a boy. Yes, he missed all of them terribly. But, as John realized once more, thinking of them didn’t make things any easier either, and so he gave up punishing himself by pondering the same question all over again, ‘when will I see them again?’ Realistically, by now the question was rather if he ever would.

During those first few weeks after the crash, they still had hoped to be rescued, especially since they had reason to believe that someone sooner or later would pick up the beacon of the airliner’s two black boxes. But nobody ever came. Now, after so many months, he most likely was declared dead already. All that was left now were the memories of a past life, a never known loneliness and a terrible longing, and yes, plenty of regrets too. It felt almost like being a kind of ghost, caught between the world of the living and the dead.

On the bright side, he was not dead yet, and more importantly, fortune had given him Claire, the only precious thing that gave his existence meaning. Sometimes John wondered if his concern for her wellbeing bordered on obsession already. But this brave young woman had her whole life still ahead of her, and his only mission now was to make sure that Claire would at least get a chance to live it, somewhere, someday, somehow.

It might have been out of sheer sex-deprivation or maybe because of his worries for her, but John was still there. He watched Claire rummaging through her backpack and retrieving her big fancy hairbrush she always seemed to carry with her. With every stroke, the sun-bleached, reddish-blond hair was flowing like a golden shower over her shoulders, all the way down her slender back. It was mesmerizing, and an image came to John’s mind, the sculpture of The Little Mermaid, a famous landmark he had seen when he had been in Copenhagen for a NATO meeting two years ago. With that perfect mix of innocence and sensuality, Claire indeed could have been the artist’s model.

It would have never occurred to Claire that someone might be watching her. Even less so that anyone might ascribe something like innocence or sensuality to her, let alone compared her with a sculpture. For that, she was too much a creature of flesh and blood. Blood easy to heat, as she let the sun warm her body, and flesh that was welcoming the first gusts of wind, greeting her intimately where it felt very pleasant.

While she continued brushing her hair, her thoughts returned to Mr. Sleepyhead once again. She could consider herself very lucky. Of all the people she could have ended up with on this speck of land, her comrade in misfortune was at least someone she could hold onto when everything seemed lost. He was always there for her, offered a shoulder for her tears, gave her courage and made her laugh again. There was no doubt in her mind that John cared for her and wanted to give her some sense of normality.

Claire would never forget how he had surprised her on her 18th birthday, in September, a few months after they got stranded. He had whipped up something that had remotely looked like a coconut cake. Unfortunately, the same had also applied to the taste. Nonetheless, she had appreciated the kind gesture. The thought and the effort were what counted.

Besides being caring, John was also quite an