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The Botanical Beauty: Part III-Smelling the Roses

The Botanical Beauty: Part III-Smelling the Roses

Our beguiling Isabella Bloom and John head off on a romantic date.....
The Botanical Beauty: Part III—Smelling the Roses 

There is one certainty in life and that is the essential uncertainty of our frail existence. No amount of “planning” can truly prepare one for the curve balls life tends to throw or what might be around the next corner. Sometimes our curve balls cross the plate bearing a name like “cancer” and sometimes they clip the corner with the moniker “love” or synonyms therefore. Unlike the batter who knows the ball is coming and can see it’s trajectory, most often life’s curve balls cross the plate before we are even aware the ball has left the pitcher’s hand.

Life’s medley is one of interwoven realities where odd synchronicity and serendipitous happenings guide us across a grid we little comprehend. We have come up with little phrases and sayings to deal with this unpredictable theatre of our mind. We will commonly say things like “in the blink of an eye” and “there are no guarantees in life” or perhaps “take time to smell the roses.” Well there is no better way to “smell the roses” than a romantic date in a flower scented tropical paradise under the soft glow of the distant moon. And that is exactly what our besotted rather older John and our bodacious and beguiling young eighteen-year-old botanical beauty Issy (Isabella Bloom) were embarking upon when we last left them.

Our two lovers were wending their way along a narrow dark stone path among the lush vegetation of the amazing five-star tropical Balinese resort perched next to the spectacular rock out-crop of Nusa Dua Beach. Leaves and branches brushed their arms and legs with teasing tickles as they slowly advanced walking carefully to ensure Issy does not to trip on the uneven stone path in her strappy high heels. The rich scent of the Frangipani bushes (genus Plumeria), not noticeable during the day, was wafting to their noses. This scent is well known to those from the Indian sub-continent as a key alluring ingredient for incense.

Those Americans and Europeans who participate in the “drug scene” and pop music culture probably pass these nighttime flowers with little knowledge that the incense they produced enhanced many of the most famous tunes penned by the Beatle’s and The Who among others. [For those who want to set the appropriate cultural references for this section please proceed to Youtube and listen to The Who’s “Baba O’Riley” and do two minutes of meditation in honor of Meher Baba. Burn some Frangipani incense should it be handy.]

Issy slows and reaches out her delicate hand to show John the beautiful Frangipani flower up close. Gently pulling down a flower festooned branch Issy gestures towards the fragile almost porcelain like flower, ivory white at the edges and strikingly egg-yolk yellow inside, which open at night to release their silky fragrance.

“John, Frangipani is a close cousin to the Oleander. Did you know that it is pollinated by a moth named the Sphinx Moth?”

Issy’s eyes sparkle as she speaks about a topic she is passionate about.

“The Sphinx Moth is sometimes mistaken for a small hummingbird because of its large size, its rapid wing beats and the fact that it has a long tube that looks like a beak which is for sucking nectar while it hovers near a flower. There are over 1200 varieties of these Lepidoptera moths.”

Issy smiles and anxiously continues uncertain as always about her listener’s level of interest.

“Be careful around the bushes as the sap can irritate your skin and especially your eyes.”

Isabella looks at John to query whether or not he is following her line of discussion and has any real interest in these captivating flowers. Convinced John has genuine interest, or at least is feigning such interest, Issy continues.

“The most fascinating thing about these flowers though is that they have no nectar at all. They use their pretty appearance and fragrant perfumed scent to dupe the moths into flying into them with the expectation of nectar. As the moth moves from flower to flower in a fruitless crusade searching for the elusive but non-existent nectar it inadvertently pollinates the tree.”

Issy smiles a mischievous smile and adds.

“Sort of like a beautiful woman who dresses up in the sexiest way, the dress, the lingerie, the stockings and puts on Chanel No. 5 to attract the guy, flirts with him in a friendly girlish manner, but she’s really a hollow bitch inside.”

Issy giggles and laughs as her strong sexual attraction to John drives her to new heights of provocative flirtatiousness.

“Those girls still get pollinated anyways you know.”

Issy laughs and blushes.

“They dupe the men with their beautiful flower but they have no sweet honey inside.”

Issy giggles and laughs at her use of simile. John looks at Isabella admiringly and once again is taken-a-back by her incredible knowledge of botany and her flirtatious manner. John is truly amazed at how Issy can, with only a few words, bring the world around him (a world he thought he knew, but clearly has only scratched the surface of) alive and make it more vibrant, more colorful and more interesting. John looks at Issy and asks.

“Hmmm so the name “Frangipani”, where does that come from? It’s a wonderful sounding name.”

Issy’s face lights up as John offers her the opportunity to expand further on her favorite passion, an offer no other boy or man has extended previously.

“Well that’s interesting too. It comes from the name of a noble Italian family, a sixteenth-century Marquess, who invented a Plumeria scented perfume that became extremely popular at that time. It was rumored among the Italian nobles that the perfume would enable women to seduce reluctant males, enchant them so to speak. The perfume was credited with more than a few births out of wedlock.”

Isabella giggled at the sexual innuendo and let the flower she was displaying for John spring back from her delicate hand. They both watched entranced as the flower bobbed in the air, its ivory and yellow lit by the moonlight and slowly settled.

As the two walk on their way the path is lit by a near full moon and romantic flaming torches set far apart along the winding path. John’s thoughts are struck by the fact that only one or two days before Issy and he did not exist for each other; in fact the prospect that their orbits would intersect was so distant and remote you would have had a better statistical chance buying a lottery ticket. They had been walking entirely separate paths towards distinct and separate destinies, fates disparate, divergent and dissimilar. Then serendipity had intervened and now here they were on the same path, holding hands, walking together through the world’s sometimes bleak darkness towards—his thoughts pause—towards who knows what? John placed his hand gently on the small of Issy’s back to guide her and felt a tingling pleasure from the touch of her silky soft naked skin. Somewhere in the chaos of the universe serendipity smiled knowing everyone needs guidance, a helping hand and a warm touch now and then.

Issy suddenly stopped in her tracks and held John back. Issy’s sudden stop caused John to bump into her rather fetching firm young body making the contact ever so pleasant and delicious from his point of view. John was a little startled wondering what had caused Issy to stop so suddenly?

“Look John, look at that gorgeous Rhinoceros beetle crossing the path.”

Issy pointed down at this very large black beetle, probably three inches long, with a long curved horn, as it’s beak. John was amazed that everything grew larger and lusher in the Balinese jungle. Issy reached down with her hand and gently picked the beetle up as it froze in place and made no effort to frantically scramble to safety, as one would expect.

“John this is a coconut palm Rhinoceros beetle. The males, like this one, have large horns on the front of their heads. The males fight using this horn for the right to mate with an attractive female.”

Issy looks softly into John’s eyes as she is saying this holding out the beetle for him to examine. John while feigning interest in this magnificent black beetle is finding it hard not to look down the deeply plunging slit neckline of Issy’s incredibly sexy white dress. The gorgeous full orbs that lie in the midst of the plunging neckline are of more interest to John at this time than the finer points of entomology. Horn or no horn, John is prepared to battle anyone for the right to mate with Issy. John smiles to himself noting how damn hard the horn in his pants has gotten just from being so close to this beauty.

“The children in Asia like to catch the males and have games letting them fight. Here let’s put him off to the side under the bushes so he doesn’t get stepped on by a guest.”

Issy places the beetle off to the side of the path. John can’t help thinking what a simple and gentle gesture Issy has just made tying to save the life of this little beetle from the footstep of a passing Brobingnagian giant (as humans must be perceived by such tiny beetles). As Issy leans forward and places the beetle far under a bush where it will be safe, John leans down and takes her hand to help her stand again. John is so close to Issy’s body he can feel the heat and as John smells her perfume it makes his head spin and his cock pulse with throbbing rushes of blood.

They walk along the romantic torch-lit path, the near full moon, the chitchat about flowers and beetles; it is all a fascinating prelude to what John hopes will be a wonderful romantic dinner and evening. The more time John spends with Issy the more engaging and enchanting he finds her to be. Issy for her part is somewhat mortified that she caught “mouth won’t stop flapping” disease and went on and on about flowers and beetle’s and all kinds of shit that she is certain John was completely bored with. Well he didn’t look bored she thinks to herself curiously? He looked positively riveted she ponders happily. But Issy is certain this must be an act on her behalf as no man who is this hunky and attractive has ever shown such interest in her life’s passion. Issy has yet to meet a man as attractive and desirable as John who actually wants to talk about botany?

The car John has booked whisks them through Nusa Dua town and along the coast towards Seminyak. The beach at Seminyak is wide and flat with very nice curling waves for surfers and is a popular spot for itinerant surfers to seek out. Every few years a surfer is bitten or killed by sharks, which tend to roam these very same waters, but this salient fact is little mentioned by the locals to the hoards of real Australian surfers and European wannabes taking lessons.

The car winds down off the main road past Seminyak towards the more deserted section of Legian beach passing numerous villas and condos in various stages of construction, all planned for sale to foreign tourists. As they get close to the ocean the driver pulls off into a large gravel parking lot with a single light in the center attached by cords to a significant specimen of a tree casting a dim light. John gets out and opens Issy’s door, helping to stabilize her so she can walk on the rough gravel in her high heels. A man attentive enough to not only open the car door, but who also offers his arm as support while she attempts to navigate the rough gravel in her strappy heels makes a significant impression on Issy. Holding onto John’s strong arm certainly makes Issy’s heart race. John instructs the driver to wait and then leads Issy over to the quaint little arched wooden bridge with a railing that crosses a small stream running towards the ocean that separates the gravel parking lot from the adjacent restaurant.

Holding Issy’s hand as they cross the miniature bridge our couple immediately arrive at La Lucciola, the fairly famous local Italian eatery catering to upscale diners. In particular the restaurant is popular with those having a romantic streak down their back since it is completely secluded, is directly on the beach and has an upstairs terrace dining area with stunning views of the sunset if you get there on time. During a full moon you may be eating your truffle risotto and the huge shining silvery moon will be lying so close and low in the sky you might attempt to poke it with your fork.

John has arranged a corner table on the upper terrace directly overlooking the ocean. The other advantage on the terrace is that you tended to get a nice cooling evening tropical breeze. The restaurant is a stand-alone wooden structure with a traditional Balinese open air design. The furniture is large with oversized wicker chairs and plain wooden tables that trend towards comfort and utility as opposed to any attempt at pretence. The food and the view are enough to take your breath away; the chair is to relax you. The panoramic ocean view, the sound of the blue-green waves lapping at the soft white sand, the full moon hanging low on the horizon, you can ask and they will tell you the restaurant has hosted more than its fair share of marriage proposals. Like the sharks, the restaurant staff never mentions the rejected wooers who have cast their carefully selected ring into those very same innocuous waves. Local Balinese divers will rush the next day to recover the wayward treasure of spurned heartache.

La Lucciola tends to attract the “beautiful people” so people watching and checking out outfits is also a favorite activity during your visit. The sarong-clad waiters are attentive, but never over the top and the casual atmosphere is a match with the slowness that pervades Balinese culture with languidness hanging in the air like humidity. John and Issy are soon seated and overlooking the blue-green tinged Balinese Sea, the sound of the waves enveloping them with a cadence of auditory sensation that has teased the ears of lovers for the ages.

Antonio the owner comes by to greet John, an often-returning customer and asks if he wants his “regular” drink? John nods his head affirmatively and then turns to Issy to ask what she’d like. Champagne cocktail? Issy seems undecided not being old enough to drink alcohol back home. John orders her a strawberry granita with half the regular vodka.

When the drinks come John’s is an exotic mixture of fifteen-year-old vintage Havana Club Grand Reserva Rum on the rocks with fresh ground mint leaves and a cinnamon stick for a straw. John feels his is a drink highly suited for the Balinese tropics; a drink to be sipped in a tardy and leisurely fashion, never rushed, never gulped, and one that must be rolled softly in the mouth and savored. The first part of the ritual is that you need to absorb the “nose” of the rum with aromatics reminiscent of hibiscus and green papaya, the ever-present molasses lies tantalizingly in the background and the fresh mint teasingly sweet rounds out the commingled infusion.

After absorbing the “nose” your palate is prepared for the first sip. The sweetness of the caramel-molasses and fresh mint tantalize the front palate, the molasses and liquorices dance across the mid-palate offering a full and round flavor that enhances the early sweetness with some richer bitterness. However, it is the exceptionally long finish deep in the palate that can be savored for twenty or thirty seconds that John truly enjoys, the warmness of the alcohol clearing the mind simultaneously with the flavor assault.

Issy loves her strawberry granita sipping voraciously and John needs to gently warn her to slow down as she quickly, with a peel of giggles, orders a second one. Issy asks to smell John’s drink and then impulsively takes a sip in the manner of lovers worldwide who share sips and spoonfuls of delicious this and that while making eyes and exchanging touches across the enormous distances of dinner tables.

“Wow!! That’s amazing! It warms your mouth and then you have the hint of mint and cinnamon mixed with the caramel of the rum. That’s so yummy John!”

The conversation is easy and the smiles and laughs are plentiful as the two lovers get to know each other better. Issy has no idea where her courage comes from, but at a certain point, her face full of laughter at something John has said she reaches across the table and takes John’s hand in hers and gives it a soft squeeze and then leaves their hands joined together on the table in full view, a woman’s claim to her territory being publicly made. Men fight, rut and piss, women use more subtle gestures.

John orders the lemon grass bok-choy risotto with sesame ginger and Issy orders the “just caught” ever so tender deep fried baby calamari. The dinner is excellent, the conversation even better and the spark between the two is enough to ignite wet wood. For desert John suggests Isabella try the very popular tiramisu. Issy asks what he’s having and John tells her he’s having the homemade vanilla ice cream made from Balinese grown vanilla pods and imported fresh Danish cream with New Zealand raspberries on top and a hint of Canadian maple syrup drizzled on top. Issy squeals and exclaims she will have the same.

Squeezing John’s hand in her excitement Issy looks at John with her eyes animated and vivacious, the near full moon reflecting in her iris forms a golden speckle, and she rushes to speak.

“Can I tell you about vanilla? It’s sort of a sexy story so you might like to hear about it?”

Issy asks with an expectant but hesitant tone in her voice. From sad experience Issy rarely expects anyone to show real interest in her passion for orchids.

John leans forward, his interest piqued by the word “sexy” coming from the luscious rosy lips of Isabella. John locks his big hazel eyes on hers and exclaims that she is to tell him everything she can about vanilla. John tries, but can’t resist letting his eyes travel down and take in once again the teasing view of the protruding rounded sides of Issy’s firm young teenage breasts offered flirtatiously by the plunging neckline of Issy’s amazingly sexy white dress. His cock hardens further and John tries his best to return to thoughts of vanilla.

Issy is shocked by John’s affirmative reply, but more than this she can’t believe how long John’s eyelashes are. My god they’re HUGE Issy thinks to herself. Issy almost loses her concentration and momentarily forgets about vanilla as she stares at his long curled gorgeous lashes that make her stomach churn with desire and threaten to do the same to her pussy.

Issy’s collects herself and her face lights up as she begins her dissertation on ins and outs of vanilla orchids. She explains that all vanilla originates from Mexico. Issy tells John that vanilla is the fruit of a vanilla orchid that originally could only be found in Mexico and Central America where it lives in a symbiotic relationship with the tlilxochitl vine and the local species of Melipona bee, which is the only insect capable of pollinating vanilla naturally. Since the Melipona bee cannot survive anywhere outside Mexico this means all other vanilla must be hand pollinated. Issy rushes on to describe the three varieties of vanilla and how the vanilla in Indonesia is of the Madagascar variety.

Issy tells John how Vanilla is the second most expensive spice in the world after saffron. Pausing only slightly to catch her breath Issy continues to prattle on. The reason it is so expensive she explains is because of the intensive care Vanilla requires for successful cultivation. The vanilla flower is open for less than twenty-four hours once a year and must be hand pollinated within the first twelve hours to successfully result in a vanilla pod. This means workers need to check the plants continuously night and day. It is the same at harvest time, when the long slick black pods must be picked within a very short time frame or they become worthless.

Issy carries on to describe for John how in 1841 a twelve-year-old slave boy named Albius on the French island of Réunion in the Indian Ocean (wherefore comes the name “French Vanilla”) was the one who first discovered how to successfully hand pollinate vanilla orchids using a small sliver of bamboo, the method still used today. Isabella looks up beaming and a little flustered at everything that has poured forth from her mouth. Issy reflects on her orchid outburst and recalls that this is at least the second or third time in the presence of John she has caught verbal diarrhea. Isabella tries to effusively apologize for her “orchid outburst” but John settles her, squeezes her hand gently and assures her he now appreciates vanilla ever so much more.

When the desert arrives they both spoon in and enjoy the delicious combination of pure natural Balinese vanilla, rich Danish cream ice cream and fresh New Zealand raspberries with a hint of Canadian maple syrup spun over the top. John gazes out at the three-quarter moon hanging in the sky, the softly curling waves, the bubbly white sea-foam lit by the restaurant’s lights lapping at the sand and turns to look at the gorgeous Issy.

John tells Issy his own “vanilla story” about the old lady at the Ubud market that he visits on every trip to Bali to buy twenty sticks of the long slick oily black pods of fresh vanilla. John describes how the first time he purchased vanilla from the old lady he asked her the price for her entire package. Expecting John to bargain the price down (as all tourist customers are wont to do in Bali) the old lady had proclaimed a munificent price of twenty US dollars. John had immediately whipped out thirty dollars and purchased her entire package of vanilla. John told Issy that the smile on the creased and wrinkled face of the old woman upon receipt of the three crisp new ten-dollar bills was priceless. The heartwarming story was enough to make Issy’s heart omit more than a beat or two and the teenage lust in her eyes burned ever hotter. John turns his attention back to Issy and probes a little regarding her description of vanilla.

“OK, vanilla, so what’s the sexy part?”

John grins a boyish grin and waits for Issy to answer. Issy giggles and her face turns a soft shade of pink as she blushes. Why Issy thinks to herself--embarrassed at her predicament--did I tell John about vanilla being “sexy”? Issy steadies herself in order to proceed and tells John that in earlier centuries vanilla was considered an aphrodisiac and was as popular with the amorous in those times as Viagra or Cialis is today. Issy pauses and blushes further at uttering the words “Viagra” and “Cialis” to a man she was so attracted to, her face turning a deeper hue of red now, more than its former shade of pink. John looks at her expectantly waiting for her to continue.

“And?” John asks, his question hanging heavy in the air.

Issy giggles and covers her face with her hand.

“Well, it’s the name vanilla.”

Issy waits for John’s reaction. John smiles and he squeezes Issy’s hand in gentle encouragement for her to continue.

“Yes, continue Issy. The name….?”

Issy’s face is now a shade more appropriately termed “beet red”, but she blusters forward feeling that since she put herself in this position, she has no reasonable exit.

“Well John as you probably know most botanical names have Latin roots. Vanilla is from vaina which is, in Latin, the diminutive form of….”

Issy pauses in her final hesitation to actually say the word, but John’s expectant expression and eagerly waiting face encourage her on and Isabella finally blurts it out.


John laughs at Isabella’s obvious embarrassment and discomfort at giving birth to this awkward word across a restaurant table in the presence of the man she is trying to impress and he rubs her hand encouragingly.

“So that wasn’t so bad Issy. You finally got the word out of your mouth.”

John chuckles happily as Issy blushes madly her face feeling on fire. John wanting to relax Issy and to return to the easy conversation of minutes ago adds.

“And why exactly did they name this flower after a vagina?”

John almost laughs as he asks the question, but restrains his mirth and again squeezes Issy’s hand lovingly. Issy regains her composure and with a calmer smile on her face continues.

“Well it’s quite obvious actually. Vagina in Latin means, “sheath” and the vanilla pod is a long sheath holding the seeds. So you see they named it after the shape of the vanilla pod.”

In order to extricate herself from her blush riddled conversation Issy begs John’s pardon and rushes for the washroom to take a nervous pee. Descending the terrace stairs Issy spies on the lower floor dining room none other than the Balinese Brahman princess, one Miss Ida Ayu Ngurah (or “Ngurah” for short”). Those who are fortunate enough to have been following our story from the beginning will be familiar with Ngurah as the beguiling beauty who’s name denotes “a gift from heaven” in Balinese. Ngurah was the representative of the local orchid society and university botanical faculty given the responsibility for picking Issy up from the airport and offering her support for her studies during the field trips to search out the elusive Phal orchid.

As a reminder for those not acquainted with Ngurah she is about twenty-five-years-old and stands around 5’7” with a lithe athletic body and firm 34B breasts that were somewhat smaller than Issy’s firm orbs. With long shining straight dark hair, light golden honey colored skin and deep chocolate eyes with pencil thin perfectly formed arched eyebrows, Ngurah was the very image of an alluring tropical beauty and can certainly be considered a “gift from heaven”. Ngurah is the exact woman a casting director would be waiting for to show up when casting a script that called for the role of a “tropical beauty”. The lightness of Ngurah’s skin and the delicate features of her face are somehow unique, however, and distinguish Ngurah. Anyone who sees her will know she is clearly no ordinary Balinese beauty.

Again Issy is surprised by how off-kilter Ngurah’s beauty and overt sexuality makes her feel. Like a Sphinx Moth in the presence of a Frangipani flower she finds herself excited by the potential presence of nectar. A girl? Issy ponders her excitement but has no satisfactory answer. Whereas on their previous encounter Ngurah was dressed like a classic beauty tonight she could more appropriately be described as “smoking hot.” Wearing a short black leather mini skirt exposing her long sexy toned legs, a sleeveless tight leopard print top that hugs her firm breasts and black high heels Ngurah would appeal to the widest range of men you can imagine and a fair percentage of the female species as well.

Ngurah introduces Issy to her cousin, an extremely sexy looking eighteen-year-old young woman named Ida Ayu Rai. Ngurah asks Issy to call her sweet sexy young cousin “Rai” for short, which means “little sister” in Balinese. Rai is dressed in a grey pleated mini skirt catholic schoolgirls uniform and has a slim firm sexy body not dissimilar to Ngurah’s. Ngurah tells Issy Rai attends Holy Rosary College and is just off from her studies for term break and they felt like celebrating with Italian food.

The girls’ chat like long lost friends and Issy quickly sneaks off for her nervous pee. While inside the stall peeing Issy is overcome by the tingles in her pussy that are heightened when she wipes herself. Being around John, making eyes and exchanging little touches and now seeing Ngurah has Issy’s hormones stoked like never before. Issy is compelled to stick two fingers under her thong panties and inside her wet pussy lips to relieve the incessant tingling and throbbing. Issy closes her eyes and leans back against the stall wall imagining her fingers to be John’s fingers stroking her clit. Or is it Ngurah’s fingers? Issy wonders and her mind wanders ablaze with erotic images both male and female. Issy softly strokes her clit causing herself to shiver and tremor sufficiently that she finally feels in a calm enough state to return to the restaurant.

Chit chatting in rushed and hushed girlish voices the three young ladies bond immediately. Ngurah insists on meeting the mysterious older “John” and so all three girls proceed upstairs. To say a man is “disappointed” by the appearance of two gorgeous Balinese Brahman princesses, one in a black leather mini skirt and one in a grey pleated catholic schoolgirls uniform might be unexpected, but John’s heart sank. John had his mind set on a quiet romantic dinner with Issy leading up to? Well let’s just say John’s mind wandered quite a bit and into some very naughty territory when it came to thinking about Isabella Bloom. Accordingly the appearance of these two strangers, even sexually intoxicating young female strangers, was a bit of a disappointment.

John realizes the evening is probably a write-off as far as his intended plans (fairly explicit sexual plans in fact) and does his best to man-up and make pleasant conversation with Issy’s new friends. Since the table was positioned against the terrace railing it only had room for three chairs. Ngurah quickly sat in one of the big over-stuffed chairs and immediately pulled Issy into her lap with gleeful giggles, her hands winding around Issy’s waist. Rai sat on the other side of John and seemingly without any effort the conversation, jokes, laughter and giggles began to flow.

More drinks were ordered and John realized that whereas only a few days ago he was swamped with work, bored, unhappy and sexually a monk, at least now he was surrounded by three beautiful women, having a wonderful time, looking out across a tropical ocean and laughing repeatedly with a smile seemingly permanently attached to his face. The fact that his cock still felt rather monk-like trapped in his trousers, hard, erect and ignored, was a fact John hoped might get remedied in due time if he was patient.

While they were chatting with Issy ensconced on Ngurah’s warm lap and Ngurah’s arm around her waist, Ngurah’s hand seemingly absent mindedly slips inside the very deep slit in the front of Issy’s incredibly sexy white dress and playfully teases Issy’s naked skin just below her large firm rounded C breast. Issy looks straight ahead and pretends to ignore Ngurah’s wayward hand and continues to chatter away nervously. Issy’s nipples were not so willing to disregard Ngurah’s deft touch and proceeded to harden becoming firm protrusions under the delicate white fabric. John’s eyes keep returning to Issy’s now hardened nipples as the sight of these two gorgeous women sitting together in each other’s lap fascinates him.

John being on what he intended to be a serious holiday has no cell phone with him to interrupt this incredible scene. Ngurah, however, was a local and her iPhone proceeded to flash with the face of an older Balinese gentleman showing on the screen. Ngurah answers the phone without removing her other hand from under Issy’s dress, a hand that is now lightly brushing up teasingly against the underside of Issy’s full rounded breast causing her no end of tingles and nervous excitement in her pussy. Ngurah turns to them all with an excited look on her face.

“Issy, good news, my Uncle Bagus says Oma wants to see us right away—tonight!”

She looks around at the group her face animated.

“Uncle Bagus’s son, my cousin, was on Kintamani volcano today and found a “first time orchid” in bloom. Oma wants to show it to Isabella.”

In a great bustle the group quickly pay the bill and rush off leaving the romantic La Lucciola in their dust. Ngurah tells John to let his driver go back to the hotel and to come in her car since it will be easier that way. John speaks to his driver and then he and Issy move into Ngurah’s car. As with most automobiles in Bali this is a smaller car and with Ngurah’s driver in the driver’s seat, Ngurah in the front passenger seat, it meant Rai, Issy and John needed to squeeze into the back seat. Issy saw this as an opportunity and after Ngurah’s little “sit in my lap” trick she decides replication of this sexy strategy is in order.

Rai slides in across the seat and Issy motions for John to get in. John looks quizzically at her, but slides in onto the car seat reaching out with his arms to help Issy into the car. Issy carefully grabs the roofline of the car and eases herself down onto John’s lap holding her short white skirt hem tight to her ass so nothing too intimate will show in the process. Issy wraps her arm around John’s neck to fit in more comfortably and then leans close to his ear to whisper softly.

“I hope you don’t mind being taken on an orchid wild goose chase by me?”

John feels Issy’s gorgeous firm rounded ass against his crotch, his cock rather hard pressing into her bottom and chuckles. John uses his arm to squeeze Issy’s waist lovingly to indicate he doesn’t mind a bit. Issy leans in close, her soft warm lips tantalizingly touching and teasing his ear and neck as she whispers seductively to John.

“I’ll make it up to you later.”

Oh my god Issy thinks to herself? What did I just say? Oh dear and what did I mean by it? What has come over me she thinks to herself. Issy knows exactly what she “implied” and her pussy and nipples are tingling at the thought. I’m a virgin! Oh dear I hope John doesn’t think that sounded too slutty? Issy’s mind is a-swirl with images of John’s naked body, her own naked body writhing on top and images of his? Oh my god! Issy realizes she’s picturing John’s big hard cock in her brain and she thrusts her hand hard between her legs to still the tingles and throbs.

Issy’s train of thought is interrupted as the car pulls away and Ngurah and Rai begin questioning her about orchids, how she’s liking Bali so far and asking John more about his business. Ngurah mentions that Rai has never been inside a five star hotel and so John proceeds to invite the two of them to come over for dinner anytime during the next ten days and Ngurah thanks him for his kind offer and says she and Rai will confirm a day and let him know.

The car careens through the hilly narrow Balinese roads, its lights piercing the jungle darkness with a sliver of intense white light as the driver deploys high beams for safety. John holds onto Issy tightly as they swerve around sharp corners fully appreciating the feel of her voluptuous young body in his lap.

The sensation of their bodies snuggled tightly together in the small dark car has Issy thoroughly enjoying the prolonged contact between her ass and John’s obviously hard cock. Issy wriggles her bum several times to enhance the sexy sensation while smiling innocently at John the whole time she is rubbing against his hardness. Issy has never had a hard cock pressed up against her for this length of time and its proximity to her pussy, only a few inches away, makes the whole thing even more thrilling. Issy has, of course, felt a boys cock during slow dances, but not like this, not a man who she truly desires and never for this long.

Issy is worried her pussy might soak right through her panties and onto her dress from all the tingles and wants to slip her finger inside to check, but is too nervous Rai or John might notice so waits to see if she will have a chance to act unobtrusively. Finally while flying around another tight corner, Rai’s face looking out the window, John laughing at something Ngurah has said, Issy slips her hand under and wipes the front of her thong panties. Oh my, they are so, so wet. Issy quickly grabs two tissues from the Kleenex box by the back window of the car and at the next tight corner she dabs her sopping panties to keep a spot from forming on her sheer white dress.

The car finally arrives at a very large set of metal gates, which swing open automatically, and the car proceeds into a large compound with a huge Balinese style house and numerous outer buildings. Ngurah leads them all along a stone path, up three wooden teak steps where everyone removes their shoes in Balinese fashion before walking in sock feet across the warm soft teak wood floor into the inner sanctum of this amazing house.

Gentle tinkles of mysterious Balinese music can be heard faintly in the background adding to the enigmatic mood, the house suffused only by soft candlelight. The music combines soft cymbals, gentle bell sounds, the haunting anklung (bamboo rattle) and teasing tones of the flute with the rich rounded feminine voice of the singer calling out to you in a universal cry. John has never heard Gamelan this affecting and asks Ngurah about the artists and Ngurah tells him this is a recording by Sekar Jaya.

Ngurah leads them all into a dark room with only one candle and an old wizened woman, seated cross-legged on a quilted cushion at the far end. They all group around her expectantly like a group of teens about to play Ouija; for some reason John understands something mystical is about to occur. In front of the woman is a pot with a tiny plant, no more than four inches tall with delicate oval leaves. On the plant are three tiny white flowers, each of them only a few millimeters long and with a blood red center. Issy has a sharp intake of breath. Oh my god, the “First Time” orchid she realizes.

Discussions take place in Balinese, a Malayo-Polynesian language spoken by the indigenous Balinese. While most Balinese also speak Bahasa Indonesian, when they speak amongst themselves and especially when they discuss orchids they only speak Balinese. Ngurah tells Isabella that her Oma, her Nini, wants to hold her hand. Issy slowly and gently reaches out towards the old woman. As Oma takes Issy’s hand the candle flickers wildly as if being affected by a strong breeze, but there was no breeze? John is perplexed as the scene unfolds. Oma smiles immediately and closes her eyes as she slowly strokes Issy’s hand. Oma feels Issy’s hand and traces it’s lines as if searching for something or reading some obscure signs that no one else is aware of.

Nini turns to her granddaughter Ngurah and begins to speak. The following story unfolds. Oma feels connected to Issy and feels Issy’s love of plants, her love for the earth and especially Issy’s love for orchids. Oma gestures to the orchid in front of her and asks Isabella to inspect it. It is a powerful orchid and only one other foreigner has ever been allowed to see it before Isabella. This exact orchid is particularly powerful having three blossoms. The number three symbolizes perfection for a Hindu.

Does Isabella know who the foreigner was who has seen this orchid before she asks? Issy looks at the old woman perplexed for how could she know who the foreigner was? Oma smiles a knowing smile. Ngurah’s grandmother carries on with her story. She tells of a young botany student who visited Bali in 1985. Oma gestures to her granddaughter.

“Ngurah is twenty-five years old now. If you look carefully at her face you will understand.”

Oma smiles and gestures to Ngurah’s face.

“Do you notice my granddaughter’s light caramel honey complexion and her more delicate western features? Have you noticed she has a stunning beauty that is quite unique?”

Everyone looks at Ngurah who is now blushing and John is amazed because of course now that it is pointed out Ngurah does not look pure Balinese at all. Oma continues with her tale.

In 1985 when Phineas Studman arrived in Bali I was only thirty-seven and my daughter Ida Ayu Kerug was only sixteen. Oma chuckles to herself recalling that her daughter was born in the middle of a huge thunder storm and therefore her name “Kerug” or “the beautiful storm”. I am sixty-three now, but of course I look much older. I could feel Studman was a true person and was a fellow lover of orchids with deep passion. I sent my daughter Kerug to help Phineas look for the First Time orchid since she had a feeling for these orchids and could find them when no one else could.

Issy’s mind is sent swirling by the mention of her idol’s name, Dr. Phineas Studman, the head of the department of botany at Berkeley University and the world’s foremost expert on orchids. Issy looks at Ngurah her eyes taking in her friend’s countenance, questions still swirling in her mind, the connection to Dr. Studman still not clear to Issy.

Oma speaks softly and almost reverentially as she continues. Well of course Kerug was a beauty at sixteen, the most beautiful of all the Brahman princesses of that time. And in terms of locating orchids she was the very best, like Ngurah is today. Well Kerug did find a First Time orchid, an orchid not unlike the one we have found today. Like this one it also had three blossoms and possessed incredible power. Well I do not blame Phineas, he was a young student, no more than twenty-two, for who can fight against the power of the orchid? By the time Phineas needed to leave Bali to return to his studies Kerug was pregnant with Ngurah. There could be no question of marriage of course. My daughter was a princess and has responsibilities to her people here in Bali, responsibilities to the volcanoes, to the orchids. Phineas was young and ambitious and, well, all I can be thankful for is that Ngurah is the gift he left behind.

Oma now looks into Issy’s eyes and turns to Ngurah. A discussion takes place in Balinese and then Ngurah turns to Issy.

“My Oma has told me to tell you the following. If you accept her proposition then you may take this orchid and keep it with you during your stay here in Bali. The proposition is this: that when you leave Bali, you must return this orchid to Oma and never speak of it—EVER—to any other foreigners.”

Ngurah then continues,

“The only thing we can add Isabella, is that Phineas made this very promise to my grandmother twenty-six years ago and he has never revealed the existence of the First Time orchid to anyone. Ever! Not even to advance his career. Not even to become the most famous orchid botanist in history.”

Ngurah turns to John.

“We have allowed you to be here and would ask you, John, to make the same promise. We know you are an honest man; my Oma can feel it in your eyes. Otherwise we would have asked you to wait outside. But Oma feels that Isabella loves you and Oma asked for you to stay and to share this with Isabella. This will be something that will connect you forever.

Issy gazes at the delicate orchid taking in its beauty and it’s mysterious power. She reaches out and pulls the pot closer to her body, feeling some inexplicable form of energy flow into her body. Isabella looks directly into Oma’s eyes and makes a solemn promise to her new mentor, her new guide into the world of unknown orchids. Ngurah smiles and takes Issy’s hand and gives it a squeeze.

John’s mind meanwhile is a-swirl with the words he has just heard spoken. Isabella loves him? Ngurah is Dr. Studman’s daughter? John is overcome, a bit disoriented and in awe of everything that has just taken place. John turns and nods his head towards Oma and utters his own promise to her in softly spoken reverential words. John feels like he has just had a true religious experience. Not some fake religious experience concocted by institutional religions with smoke and mirrors and phony chants and prayers, gimmicky rituals performed in churches built with slave labor. No this is an authentic experience. This is an experience where you are mystically connected to the oneness and continuity of life, to the earth itself, to the driving force of reproduction, to the green fuse. John’s mind is thrown back to his youth when he was a carefree student and could recite poetry to besotted women like no one else. In his mind he silently recites….

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower

Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees

Is my destroyer.

And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose

My youth is bent by the same wintry fever. 

John almost feels like his body is floating in the soft light and tinkling sounds of Balinese music and he is disoriented as he tries to fathom solid ground again. What has just happened John has no clue? He understands however that his life has just changed in some immeasurable way and his axis has shifted.

Oma sighs and holds Ngurah’s hand and they talk. Ngurah turns to the group.

“My Nini needs to rest now. Please, Issy, take this orchid and I will deliver you and John back to your hotel. You must hold it carefully.”

John almost feels like he should bow to this aged Brahman princess but restrains himself understanding that Balinese culture is highly informal and such a gesture would be very embarrassing for this sage old woman. Instead John nods imperceptivity towards Oma in a sign of discreet respect. Isabella, young and impetuous as she is, takes Oma’s hand eagerly and kisses it lavishly. Issy’s veneration of Oma would have increased to idolatry had she been given more time. John smiles at her youthful enthusiasm and wistfully wishes he had a bit more of that himself.

Rai stays behind with Oma. Ngurah and her driver soon deliver the orchid clutching Issy and the wistful and contemplative John--a slightly melancholy John--back to their hotel. The whole way John is reflecting and Issy is smiling. Occasionally Issy will reach out and take John’s hand and hold it for a while her face beaming. Then, overcome by concern for the orchid, Issy will return her hand to the pot to clutch the orchid pot with both hands carefully while rounding a rather tight corner or descending a steeper slope.

John’s mind is consumed by what the old woman has revealed. How can he be responsible for something as huge as “love”? What is his next step? What should he say to Issy? Serendipity will be well familiar with this scenario for it is nothing new. Men, their minds wracked by self-doubt, quite often flounder in these circumstances. Women, born to the responsibility of reproduction, sail forward sensing instinctively the direction of the wind and the force of the current; Isabella being a fertile female knows exactly what to do and shares none of John’s melancholy mood or habit of reflection. Isabella is young and she has her virginity to get rid of and she’s found the perfect man for the job which excites her. Issy looks at the three delicate white flowers with their blood red centers and notes how much they look like a tiny vagina and smiles. Oh my god, I have sex on the brain she thinks to herself and giggles silently.

Deposited at the hotel lobby John and Issy bid Ngurah goodnight and thank her effusively for such a unique and amazing evening. As Issy places a soft feminine “goodnight kiss” on Ngurah’s cheek our Balinese princess whispers a few secret words of advice to Issy out of John’s hearing. The two girls giggle in the manner of women worldwide that are planning something devious and their eyes sparkle and twinkle with lively mischievous charm.

Issy clutching the First Time orchid lovingly, John holding her elbow to steady her, the two lovers walk towards their rooms after bidding Ngurah goodnight. They wend their way over the same dark stone path they had passed earlier in the evening, but now somehow they are now more closely connected by the strange evening they have shared. They are connected by secrets that have been revealed, by promises made and by the love exposed by Ngurah’s grandmother. This strange Balinese Cassandra who can read vibrations in the air and the lines on Issy’s hand, who can delve to the deepest depths of John’s eyes and soul, had somehow bound these two together with an unseen glue, their shackles invisible, but tightly wound.

At the door John again hesitates uncertain as to the way forward. Isabella is so desirable, but she’s so young. Can she really be meant for him? Issy is oblivious to John’s distress and quickly kisses him goodnight on the cheek. Isabella brushes his hand with hers and leans in to whisper to him in a teasing tone.

“Have a shower John and don’t forget what I said. Oh, and don’t do anything naughty.”

With those whispered daring words Isabella giggles madly and does a sexy pirouette in her amazingly sexy short white dress, her plunging neckline tantalizing John for the final time and she closes her door. Before John can realize what has occurred Isabella is gone. His dilemma, for the moment, has been shut away behind a hotel door but this does not solve his quandary. John is left in the dark tropical night to shuffle off to his own suite a few feet away and a glass of Australian Shiraz to think about his next step. John ponders the hard-on that continues to pester him throbbing in his pants and thinks perhaps something will need to be done about it before he will be able to sleep.

John ponders Isabella’s final words. Shower? Remember what I said? Don’t do anything naughty? John is perplexed and feels teased and frustrated. Issy said so many things tonight? And what does she mean by “don’t do anything naughty?” So John mulls the evening and still gets nowhere with his ruminations. John retreats to his suite and decides; yes a shower and a glass of nice Shiraz.

In her own room Issy is a woman on a mission. The First Time orchid is placed next to the door connecting her room to John’s just as Ngurah has whispered to her. Issy places the small terracotta orchid pot on a rectangular teak end table next to the chocolate brown sofa by the connecting doors. The magical energy emitted by this most unusual plant suffuses Isabella’s room and suffuses her body.

Issy showers quickly, not taking time to stroke her pussy like she so desperately wants; someone else will attend to this task she knows soon enough. A lush blue cotton towel is wrapped around her amazingly curvaceous and sexy young body as Issy tears through her drawer looking for? Ah there it is. The delicate white lingerie Isabella has purchased for this very sacred event. Issy stands in front of the full-length mirror and blow-dries her hair anxiously fluffing her hair with her hand as she blows and nervously looking at her reflection. The towel loses its grip on Issy’s body and falls to the floor in a blue heap. Issy admires her form in the mirror tracing her hand over her full breast and her already erect nipple and has no doubt John will be more than satisfied. Issy’s nervousness slightly lifts for a moment with her satisfied survey of her feminine assets. The tingles in her loins however are not letting up one bit.

Issy’s hair blown dry she applies some pink lip gloss, a little eye shadow, a touch of blush. Issy checks and satisfied with her reflection she picks up the dainty white lace trimmed push-up bra with little bow details and tiny heart designs woven into the satin fabric. Issy fits the bra snuggly under her amazingly firm and full orbs and pulls the two parts together and hooks it front and center. Issy smiles knowingly since she picked this front latch bra for the very reason that John can unhook it ever so easily. Then Issy slips on the almost not there delicate panties with string ties at the hips and tiny triangles of white satin fabric front and back. Issy turns for a side view and checks her ass. My god, it is a great ass she thinks to herself and hopes John is an ass man. If so, John is in for a treat Issy chuckles as she takes in the view of the firm tight rounded form of her ass in the mirror.

Issy gives her gorgeous ass a playful slap as she slips on the short slightly see-through lace kimono wrap and cinches the satin tie at the waist in an easy to open loop knot. Issy knows that with one pull the loop will dissolve and her body will be John’s. Issy turns her hips and takes a final look in the mirror, brushes her hair a final time, purses her lips and applies the final touch of gloss. Almost overlooking her favorite scent Issy reaches out for her bottle of Frangipani Absolute perfume and dabs tiny dabs behind her ears and along her neck. The perfume adds a tantalizing bouquet of white frangipani, jasmine rose, plum with notes of cedar and vanilla in the background to Issy’s amazingly sexy lingerie outfit.

Steeling her now very jumpy nerves Isabella decides that she has had enough procrastination and she moves towards the connecting doors. Issy knows he’s the right man and looks down at the beautiful First Time orchid and touches one of the tiny olive green leaves with her finger. Issy’s hand rises and she gently and silently turns the knob on her door and pulls it open slowly and quietly. On the other side is John’s door. Issy’s heart is a-flutter and thumping against her chest like a filly bucking skittishly and excited. Issy’s stomach is nervously churning and her pussy is throbbing and burning with need. Issy forms her hand into a small fist and readies to tap on John’s door.

To be continued…………

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<a href="">The Botanical Beauty: Part III-Smelling the Roses</a>

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