A Few Days Of Love In The Trobriand Islands
One Wednesday afternoon, in late June of my third year of working in Port Moresby, James, the partner who interviewed me in London, surprised me by visiting me in the computer room. My two female assistants were absorbed in their work, keying in data belonging to separate clients. I was working on a specialized format that would hopefully help a third client operate his business more profitably.
I looked up. “James, this is a rare pleasure. What can I do for you?” I asked, expecting him to ask me to visit one of his audit clients to see if I thought we could help them by computerizing their accounting system.
Instead, he said. “Hi Phil, how busy are you over the next week?”
“I’m always busy, but there’s nothing really urgent that can’t be postponed if needs be. I’m due to visit the Lae office for three days, in four weeks time, but there are no other critical events on the immediate horizon. Why do you ask?”
“How would you like three days and next weekend, five days in all, out of Port Moresby, in return for two days’ non-computer work?” James replied.
“This sounds fishy to me,” I said. “What do you want me to do, and where do you want me to do it?” I asked.
“Attend a stock count in the Trobriand Islands,” was the reply.
I gasped. “You’ve got a whole audit department at your disposal, there must be somebody who’d jump at that opportunity. Even if I were married, I’d be happy to pay for my other half to go with me. You must have somebody who would jump at the chance.”
“No,” James said. “As it’s the end of the financial year on Friday, all my staff will be attending stock counts all over Moresby on Friday and Saturday. We’ve got a large audit client who owns 120 or so trade stores, 17 of which are in the Trobriand Islands. They are all stocked from a central stocking facility on the largest island of Kiriwina. It’s not far from the largest hotel on the archipelago, which is nothing more than a bar and restaurant surrounded by a collection of thatched rooms with their own toilet facilities. The value of the stock held in the storeroom is material, but you will not need to worry about the valuation aspect. All we need is someone to check that the physical quantities are accurate. Stock held at the individual trade stores is treated as being sold, so we are only interested in the stock at the central warehouse. We’re talking about bags of rice and cartons of tinned fish and the like; nothing very complicated, so it should be an easy exercise. Are you interested in helping us out?”
“Sure,” I replied, “But why will it take five days?”
“That’s where your bonus comes in,” James continued. “Air Niugini only flies to Kiriwini twice a week. On Fridays and Tuesdays. It’s only a half-hour flight, leaving POM early morning and returning mid-morning. So you can fly there, leaving at 7.00 am on Friday. We’ll make sure that you are met at the airport. You’ll be taken to the hotel to book in, and then you’ll be taken straight to the warehouse, probably before 9.00 am. The boss, who can speak English fluently, will be expecting you, and you can get to work immediately. The boss has already organized things so that there will be no receipts or issues on Friday or Saturday, so all ten staff members will be under your and the boss’s control. You may be able to finish everything on Friday, but at the latest, it will only take until Saturday lunchtime. You may need a couple of hours to gather the sheets together and write a short report, but you’ll have all Sunday and Monday to enjoy the delights of a tropical paradise before you fly home on Tuesday. Of course, we’ll pay for the hotel and all food. All you will need to pay for is your booze. Are you in?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied.
So, after spending Thursday, ensuring that my girls had enough work that they could do on their own, to last them until the following Wednesday, I got picked up from the apartment where I lived on my own, by the office driver at 6.15 am on Friday. An hour later, I was in the air on a small turboprop 12-seater plane en route to the Trobriand Islands. The flight only took 30 minutes before landing on a grass strip. As promised, I was met at the airport and taken to the hotel where I booked in. After I left my small suitcase in a thatched hut, I was taken to the company’s warehouse, where I met the boss, whose English was impeccable.
Before I got involved in computerization, I attended many stock counts, culminating in a huge one, which I covered in an earlier blog post. I always enjoyed being involved in stock counts, as they offered a respite from the day-to-day audit work. I had an enormous amount of experience in many different styles of counts in many different industries, and I had developed my own range of controls to avoid both omitting items and double-counting.
The boss’s great relationship with his staff, combined with my stock counting skills, meant that the whole exercise went smoothly. By 5.00 pm, we were nearly finished, and we gave the staff the opportunity to vote on finishing that evening or coming back the following morning. It was agreed that we should carry on, and by 6.30 pm, the boss and I each had a copy of the number of all stock held in the warehouse on the last day of the financial year, whether they be in Kilograms, Liters, packs, or individual numbers. The boss and I signed both copies. I would take my copy back to Port Moresby where the quantities would be valued at cost, and be included with the value of the stock held at all of the company’s other warehouses. The grand total would be included as an asset in the company’s accounts.
The boss took me back to the hotel himself, where I bought him a beer. We chatted for an hour before he announced that he had to go. “You realize the next plane is not until Tuesday,” he said. “That gives you three days to relax.”
“It will take me an hour or two to write my report, but yes, I’m looking forward to some time off,” I replied.
“I’m sure the girls will keep you happy,” he said with a smile before disappearing out of the building.
What did he mean by that? I thought to myself, before ordering my third beer. I then asked for the dinner menu. It wasn’t very exciting, made up of a lot of the canned stuff we had been counting all day, so I asked for locally caught red emperor fish accompanied by locally grown vegetables.
“That will take twenty minutes, sir,” the barman said.
No worries, I’m in no hurry,” I replied before swinging round on my bar stool to look at the restaurant for the first time. There were only two other, fairly elderly couples eating at separate tables. I recognized them from the plane that morning. One of the gentlemen raised his hand, and I was amazed to see a topless girl dressed only in a red flowery skirt approach their table. After a quick conversation, the waitress approached the bar and spoke to the barman in a language that was neither English nor Pidgin. The barman poured two glasses of white wine. As he was doing this, the waitress turned to me, showing off her firm, pointed breasts to me in all their glory. She gave me the most beautiful smile while making full eye contact with me. “Lukim yu behind,” she whispered in pidgin, meaning “see you later,” before she took the wine back to the couple’s table.
I studied the restaurant in more detail as I drank my third beer, hoping that the waitress would re-appear, which she did on several occasions while dealing with her two sets of customers. Once she set out a table for one, as far as possible from the two occupied tables. Occasionally, she looked in my direction, her lovely smile lighting up the room. I noticed a dartboard, a pool table, and a table tennis table along the wall furthest from the door. I wonder if she can play any of them, I thought.
I finally turned back to face the barman to order my fourth beer, only to hear him say, “Your dinner is ready now, sir. Could you please go to the table that has been set up for you on the left?”
“Sure,” I replied. “Could you please bring another beer over for me?”
I had just started sipping my fourth beer when the beautiful waitress brought my meal to the table. Her stiff nipples stood out inches from my bulging eyes as she placed the plate in front of me. “Enjoy your meal,” she said in English as she stood up. “I’ll be back to check on you in ten minutes.” The fish, poached in coconut milk, surrounded by boiled yams, was delicious, and I was just finishing the plate when she came over again. The other tables were now empty.
“Would you like a sweet?”
“No, I’m fine, just another beer, please. As the restaurant is now empty, are you finished for the evening?”
“Yes, after I clean up your table, I’m finished for the night. We’ve no bookings.”
Can I buy you a drink?”
“Sure, I’d love that. You’ve still got half a glass there. Give me five minutes and I’ll be with you.” She wiped my table and disappeared into the kitchen with my used plate and cutlery. She reappeared shortly after, went to the bar before returning to the table carrying two glasses of beer. I asked her name, and she replied “Doris”.
“I’m Phil,” I said. “Can you play pool, darts, or table tennis?”
“I bet you I can beat you at all three,” Doris answered.
“We’ll see about that,” I replied. “I’ve been up since 6 this morning, and this is my 6th beer. I’m suddenly very tired.
I’m here until Tuesday morning. Let’s postpone our sports competition until tomorrow.”
“Okay,” Doris said. “But I’m sure that you can manage one last beer. What hut are you in?”
“24,” I said in surprise.
“Okay, you go there now, and wait for a knock on the door.”
Doris disappeared into the kitchen again, and I, staggering slightly, made my way with my briefcase containing the stock count details, to hut 24. I fished the key from my shirt pocket, where it had been since 8.30 that morning, opened the door, and went inside, closing it behind me. I found the main light switch and sat down at the small table under which I put my briefcase. My small suitcase was in the back corner of the room where I had put it that morning.
Less than a minute later, there was a knock at the door. I got up, opened it, and Doris came in. She was still wearing her red flowery skirt, but she had put on a yellow T-shirt. She was carrying a round basket made of woven strips of wood. Doris turned on the bedside light before turning off the main one, then went to the table and took from the basket two cold bottles of beer, a bottle opener, two glasses, and a small box with a ribbon around it tied in a bow. “That’s my present to you,” she said. She continued. “There are two things you must do, and one thing I must do, before we drink the beer. First, please open my present to you.”
I nervously undid the bow on the little box, took off the lid, and looked inside. Lying there, still in its protective covering, was a condom. “But we only met two hours ago,” I stammered.
But, we’ve only got until Tuesday morning, so why waste a night?” Doris retorted. I knew when I looked into your eyes at the bar that this is what I wanted to do. Don’t think just because I show my boobs to all customers, that I do this every week. Going topless is a local custom, all girls do it. I rarely, if ever, sleep with guests.
“I need that last drink now, but you said that there were two things that you wanted me to do. What’s the second?”
“Yes, undress me,” Doris ordered, holding her hands in the air. I grabbed her yellow T-shirt by the hem with both hands and pulled it up over her head and clear of her arms. I couldn’t resist kissing her romantically on the mouth, before sucking each of her breasts in turn. Finally, I fell to my knees and pulled down her skirt. She wasn’t wearing any knickers, and her lightly haired pubic area looked very inviting. Doris did a pirouette. “What do you think?” she asked.
“You’re the most beautiful creature to walk the earth,” I stammered again
“Now it’s my turn,” Doris said as he started to unbutton my work shirt. Nobody wore ties in Papua New Guinea. After I was bare-chested, she asked me to sit down and she took off my watch, socks, and shoes, before unbuckling my belt and slipping off my trousers. She hung my shirt and trousers in a small wardrobe that was built into the wall. It took her a bit of effort for her to lift the top of my underpants over my erect penis, but, soon I was naked. Doris moved the two chairs away from the table a little before opening the beers, so we could enjoy feasting our eyes on each other’s naked bodies as we slowly sipped our last beers.
After the beers were finished, the condom was in place, the bedside light was off, and we lay together on the comfortable bed, our foreplay was long and tender. We finally climaxed in delightful harmony before we both fell into a deep sleep in each other’s arms.
When I awoke the following morning, I was alone. I reached over and managed to grab my watch. It was 10.30. I’ve missed breakfast, I thought. There was a small kettle on the dressing table with everything I needed to make a cup of tea or coffee. While I waited for the kettle to boil, I noticed a used tea bag in the rubbish bin, alongside the used condom. Then I looked around the room more closely. The large colorful towel I had brought was hanging over the end of the bed where the sunlight was streaming through the window. It felt dry, but when I turned it over, the underside was a little damp, so I replaced it damp side up. Then I noticed that my suitcase had been opened and my shorts, a T-shirt, and underpants were laid out neatly on the table. My sandals were under one of the chairs, both of which had been replaced nearer the table.
I had a cup of tea while I was still naked, remembering the events of the previous evening, before I went into the toilet. My toilet bag had been opened, and my toothbrush, toothpaste, and shaving requirements were neatly set out by the side of the sink. There was a white towel bearing the hotel’s name hanging on a rail. Why didn’t she use the white towel? I wondered as I performed my morning ablutions. I had bought a new tube of toothpaste, but when I came to brush my teeth, I noticed there was a small dent in the base of the tube. Also, the one ‘untidy’ error she had made was that the cap had not been replaced, and it was lying beside the tube. Goodness, she does feel comfortable around me, she must have used my toothbrush as well, I thought.
I dried myself with the white towel before folding my towel, which was now completely dry, replacing it at the end of the bed in the sun with the damp white one. I then dressed in the three items Doris had laid out for me. There were a couple of dry biscuits beside the tea-making facilities, which I ate while drinking a cup of coffee I made after I had rinsed the cup I had previously used for my earlier tea.
I spent the next two hours sitting at the little table, writing a report of the stock count I had mainly organized and witnessed the previous day. That’s that out of the way I thought with a smile as I stuffed everything work-related into my briefcase. Now for two and a half days of fun and frolics. I left the hut, locking the door behind me, before going to the restaurant.
It was 1.30. The topless waitress who served me was pleasant enough, but lacked that special ‘Doris’ sparkle. Her breasts were a little on the flabby side, and her nipples were flat and uninteresting. I ordered a staple Papua New Guinean meal of boiled rice and “Ox and Palm”, a cheap corned-beef-like concoction, and a glass of beer. I had supervised the counting of hundreds of cartons of tinned “Ox and Palm”, and hundreds of Kilograms of rice in bags ranging from one to fifty Kilograms the previous day.
After I had finished, I retired to the bar, where the same barman as the previous night was on duty. As he served me a beer, he told me to expect Doris to be there about 3 o’clock. “She also asked me to give you this,” he said, as he handed me an envelope addressed to “FILL”. I opened the envelope. It contained a piece of paper with one line of untidy writing in block capitals. It said, “X THE ROAD, GO RITE, TRADE STORE NO. 3 SELLS 6 FOR 10 KINA. BY 12 TO BE SAFE”.
“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” I told the barman as I downed my beer. I returned to the hut and retrieved forty Kina from my wallet in my briefcase. I locked the door, before trotting through the restaurant, out the door, and across the road. The third shop on the right was a little bigger than the other stores, as it was set up as a mini supermarket. I checked the 2 checkout counters as I entered, and, yes, there were condoms for sale as you left. I wandered through the store before selecting a large colorful towel, similar to mine. It cost 10 Kina. The checkout operator put the towel in a large paper bag and showed no emotion or surprise when I also checked through two strips of six condoms each. I stuffed my 10 Kina change into the top pocket of my T-shirt before I quickly returned to my hut at the back of the hotel. I put the towel, still in its bag, under the bed, and put the condoms on the table.
I was back at the bar sipping another beer, just on 3 o’clock, when I felt her arm curl around my waist. I turned, and again I was captivated by her beautiful eyes looking deep into mine. “Another beer, please,” I shouted. I needn’t have worried, as the barman had spotted Doris’s arrival and was just about to put a fresh glass on the bar in front of her.
Doris was dressed in a blue top and a western-style beige skirt. “I’ve got some great news,” she said excitedly. “But first, have you got them?”
“Yes, twelve. But what’s your great news?”
Doris drank half of her glass of beer in one go, before she blurted out, “I’ve swapped shifts with two friends, and I can be with you 24 hours a day until Tuesday morning. We’re going to have a wonderful time. I’ve even brought my own toothbrush and a cooler that will keep up to six bottles of beer cold for hours. Let’s see if we can use all twelve of what you bought today.”
“That would be a bit ambitious, but it’s great news,” I replied with a smile. “But remember, today’s the day for our sports challenge. I’ve had a few beers already, so let’s start with table tennis. I’ve not played for years.”
The bar was busier than it had been the previous evening, with a few locals in attendance, as well as the two elderly couples. Despite that, the gaming area was unoccupied, and Doris and I played uninterrupted. “This is my weakest of the three games,” Doris announced as she set up the net. We played three games. We both got better as we progressed, but we were both mediocre at best. I bamboozled Doris a bit in the first game as I had always served right-handed, before quickly transferring my bat to my left hand for the rally. Throughout all three games, there were long, pretty boring rallies, as we both lacked a killer finish. But I managed to win the first game 21 – 17. Between games, we had a beer each and, as we were practically hidden from the other customers, we had a long romantic kiss, with our tongues intertwining like spaghetti. Doris won the second game 21 – 18, and I won the third game, and thus the match 21 -19. We went back to the bar for our pre-dinner drink, agreeing that we wouldn’t bother with table tennis again.
“Let’s get dinner as soon as the kitchen opens at 5.00,” Doris announced. “We got a load of great-looking T-bone steaks yesterday on the same plane you came on. They weren’t defrosted fully in time for last night’s dinner, but the chef’s got some of them ready for tonight. They’ll be served with yam chips fried in coconut oil. It will be delicious.”
Sounds a bit more appetizing than the Ox and Palm I had at lunchtime,” I replied. “Do you fancy a bottle of wine?”
“That would be lovely, a real treat for me. I can’t remember the last time I had a glass of wine.”
By 5.45, I was gazing lovingly into Doris’s mysterious eyes after we had eaten a delicious meal finishing with ice cream and mango, washed down with a bottle of white wine. While I really wanted to disappear to our hut to make passionate love, I forced myself to say, “It’s time for our game of darts”. We went straight from our table to the darts area, but it was a waste of time. We agreed to play the best of three games starting at 501, playing down to zero, ending with a double. We only played 2 games, each ending in less than ten minutes. Doris beat me twice. In the first game, I was still in the low 300s when Doris ended scoring a double 8. The second game ended with me still in the high 200s when Doris won, when she hit double 16. I was never close to aiming for a double.
We adjourned again to the bar, returning to drinking beer.”
Suddenly, Doris said, “I want to get my suitcase, it’s in the kitchen.” She returned a minute later and opened her case, which she left on the floor. “Don’t look inside,” she said. “It’s full of surprises. Here’s the first one.” She pulled out a blue polystyrene box with a handle. “This will hold up to 6 bottles of beer, keeping them cold for hours. I want to go to the room now, I’m dying to show you something. How many more beers do you want tonight?” Doris asked.
“Two more will do,” I replied.
While I finished my current beer, Doris spoke to the barman in their local language, and soon there were four unopened beers in the blue box, and Doris had closed her suitcase. We walked to our hut together. I carried the blue box, while Doris carried her suitcase. After we were inside, Doris closed the curtains and put on the bedside light.
“What do you want to show me?” I asked as I put the beer on the table beside the condoms.
Doris put her arms around my waist. “How do you like my Western-style blouse and skirt?” She asked
“You look beautiful, of course,” I answered.”
“Well, I’ve gone fully western,” she continued, before backing away from me. “Sorry if I’m slow, but I’m not used to buttons,” Doris said as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse. She finally undid the bottom button and unhitched her blouse from her shoulders. The small inbuilt wardrobe was behind her, and she hung her blouse on a hanger beside my work clothes. Her breasts were covered by a frilly white blouse, showing only a small amount of cleavage. She did a quick pirouette before reaching down to the left side of the top of her skirt. There she found a clip and a zip. She unclipped the clip and slid the zip down to the bottom of its length. Her beige skirt fell to the floor. Doris picked it up before neatly hanging it below her blouse in the wardrobe. Unlike the previous evening, she was wearing frilly knickers. She spun round again. “What do you think?” she asked.
“I’m speechless, but let’s have another beer,” I answered.
“No, not yet. You’ve got one thing to do first”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Strip to your underpants”
Moments later, we were sitting opposite each other, sipping beers. The bulge in my pants was huge, as were the extensions in Doris’s bra, where it struggled to cover her stiff nipples.
“Your skill at darts is amazing,” I said as I gawked at her beautiful brown body, accentuated by her frilly white lingerie. “Especially your ability to finish so quickly with a double. What’s your secret?”
“After my score gets below 100, I quickly work out the quickest way to get my score down to 32. That’s where I start seriously going for doubles.”
“Why 32”? I asked.
“Think about it, you’re the accountant,” she replied. “If I hit single 16 when I go for double 16, that leaves me going for a double 8. Then, if I hit 8 when going for double 8. I’m left with double 4. If I then hit 4, I’m left with double 2. If I’m really in poor form, as I’ve usually won by then, a single 2 leaves me on double 1. So I don’t waste any throws getting back from an odd number. Also, 16, 8, and 2 are in the lower half of the board, and 4 is not too high. Given that I’m short, I’m much more accurate when aiming at the bottom half of the board, so my tactics make even more sense.”
“That’s brilliant,” I commented. “But can I suggest one more thing that could make you even more unbeatable?”
“Sure, what do you have in mind?”
“As you said, you, like me, are short and find it easier to aim for numbers in the lower half of the board. So, why, while you are getting down to 32, don’t you concentrate on aiming for treble 19 instead of treble 20. There’s not much difference between 60 and 57, but you’ll get more 57s than you will get 60s. In our 2 games, I can only remember you hitting 60, at the top of the board, once. I’m sure if you were aiming at treble 19, near the bottom of the board, you would have scored 57 at least four or five times. In addition, the numbers to the left and right of 19 are 7 and 3, while the numbers to the left and right of 20 are 5 and 1. So, even missing your target altogether will be less disastrous. I bet you’d get down to 32, 6 or, maybe even 9, darts sooner if you aimed for treble 19 instead of treble 20.
“That’s brilliant, darling,” Doris said. “I’ll sure try that in the future.”
“Remember, we’ve still got a pool match to squeeze in. I promise that I’ll give you a better game of pool than I gave you at darts. Talking about ‘squeezing’ my mate between my legs, is tired of being squeezed into my underpants. It’s time I let him free. That also means that it’s time for our last beer.” Doris smiled as she watched me struggle to step out of my pants, and she gasped when she saw my huge member sticking out of my naked body. She poured the last beers into our empty glasses and put mine in front of me, before standing up in front of me. Her hands went round her back.
“Stop,” I shouted. “Let me try to do something I’ve never done before.”
“What’s that? Doris asked with a frown.
“I’ve never unclipped a bra before, let me try. Please turn around”. Doris turned her back to me, and I studied the clip in the strap across her back. I finally worked out how I could squeeze it together to release the clip. I did this, and the back strap fell apart. “Now turn to face me again.” Doris did this before gabbing my erect penis in her right hand. I reached up and slipped her straps from her shoulders, letting her bra fall to the floor. Her firm breasts stood out proudly, topped by her erect nipples. I stooped down and Doris lent on my bare shoulders as she lifted each foot in turn as I slipped off her knickers.
Soon, we were sitting opposite each other, staring at each other’s naked bodies in wonderment. “Can I ask you one last thing for tonight?” I asked.
“Yes, of course, darling. What do you want to know?”
“What you’ve told me about your darts scoring tactics means that you’re good with numbers. But the note you left for me this morning was terrible. A seven-year-old could have written it. Were you just trying to be funny, or do you really have a problem with written English?”
“Okay, I struggle to write using English characters,” Doris answered. “I can write in our local language as we don’t use English characters, but I’m useless if I try to write English, Pidgin, or Papuan.
Why’s that?” “Your spoken English is perfect. Almost as fluent as mine”
I don’t want to go into that now. If a certain question comes up on Monday, I’ll try to explain, but it’s a long, complicated story. There’s no point going into it all now.”
“What certain question?” I asked. “I don’t understand”.
“Quiet, forget it for now,” Doris almost shouted. “I just want to make passionate love with you.” She pushed me onto the bed before biting the end of the protective covering of one of the strips of condoms. She deftly covered my erect penis with the first condom, before diving on top of me. She stuck her tongue far down my throat and massaged my upper body with her excited nipples. Her knees and lower legs were on each side of my prone body. Suddenly she knelt up and maneuvered my manhood into her vagina. She unbent and bent her knees only about a dozen times before I came with a groan of delight, my hands cupped around her breasts. Doris, too, screamed as I came, indicating her sexual fulfillment.
After pausing for thirty seconds to recover her breath, Doris dismounted from my body by swinging her left leg over onto the floor. She removed the condom, only spilling a few drops in the process. She emptied it in the loo, rinsed her hands, and reappeared with a damp flannel and the white towel. She deposited the used condom into the rubbish bin before wiping my slightly flaccid penis with the damp cloth, drying it with the towel. Then she majestically walked around the bed, my eyes never leaving her beautiful naked body. She opened her suitcase, again ensuring that I couldn’t see inside, and removed an alarm clock and a small pair of scissors. She set the alarm to go off at 8.00 am, and cut off the second condom a lot more elegantly than she had removed the first. She put the condom on my smaller than usual, penis, but the constant view that I had of her naked body had ensured that it had not shrunk to the point where it would not support the new condom.
Doris climbed in beside me and snuggled into me, kissing me passionately on the mouth. For the next hour or so, we gently explored every square inch of each other’s bodies, using every inch of our own. It was a completely different experience compared to the energetic, fervent act of lovemaking we had engaged in earlier. Finally, I entered her, and, after ten minutes of me gently and rhythmically throbbing inside her, while Doris groaned with pleasure, I exploded into the condom for the second time that glorious evening. When I returned from the toilet by way of the rubbish bin, Doris was asleep, as was I, two minutes later, lying by her side.
The alarm woke us both up at 8.00 on Sunday morning. “Let’s go for breakfast before we shower,” Doris said, stretching out her arms, showing off her breasts spectacularly. “I’ve got an energetic day planned. Just wear your shorts and T-shirt, don’t bother with your underpants.” Doris slipped on a pair of her own shorts that I hadn’t seen before and a blue T-shirt over her naked body. Five minutes later, we had walked barefoot to the restaurant.
We ate a basic Western-style breakfast of tea, orange juice, and bacon and eggs. We both had a second orange juice before we returned to the hut. Doris hung the ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the knob, before she closed the door and checked that the curtains were closed.
“Joint shower time,” she announced before lifting her top over her head and stepping out of her shorts. She threw both items onto the bed. I followed suit before we disappeared into the toilet facility. Doris unhitched the shower head and sprayed herself all over, including her short, black curly hair. She then turned the shower head on me and completely drenched my body with the unheated, yet mild water. She switched the water off and let the shower head dangle. Grabbing the bar of soap I had brought with me, Doris lathered my entire body, and by ‘entire’, I mean ‘entire’. She then opened my shampoo and thoroughly lathered my hair, right down to my scalp. “Your turn,” she announced, putting down the shampoo and giving me the soap. I lathered the soap in my hands and covered Doris’s entire body with bubbles. No part of her beautiful body escaped my soap-filled hands. I covered her back and front, bum, breasts, and her legs right up to where they met each other. Then I shampooed her curly hair. All too soon, we were both covered in bubbles from top to toe.
Doris grasped the dangling shower head, turned on the water, and, starting with my hair, she rinsed me completely until I was as clean as a baby. She gave me the shower head, and I did the same to Doris. Starting with her hair, I removed all traces of shampoo and soap from her body. I lingered longer than necessary when spraying her boobs as I noticed that her nipples noticeably lengthened as the soap drained from them. “Goodness, that’s so sexy,” she exclaimed. “I’ve never felt that before when I’ve showered alone.
“Can I use your big towel?” she asked, grabbing it from the rail before I could answer. She wrapped it around her body, and left me to finish what I had to do on my own. When I emerged five minutes later, wrapped in the hotel’s towel. She was still naked, laying the towel in the sun at the end of the bed. “Let me brush my teeth and do other things,” she said, disappearing into the loo. When she reappeared, I had almost finished drying myself while sitting at the table.
Doris jumped onto the bed, landing on her back, her erect nipples pointing to the ceiling. “I’ve planned a busy day for us, but do you fancy a quickie? I know that you came twice last night, but are you able to make it three times in twelve hours?”
“Watch me,” I replied as I cut a condom from the strip on the table. I put it on before throwing myself on top of Doris, sinking my tongue deep into her mouth. Her hands were massaging my bum when I moved my tongue from her throat to her nipples. Doris groaned again with delight as I imagined that I was tickling her belly button from the inside. I climaxed with a shudder, filling the condom just as full as I had on each of the previous three occasions.
When I came back out of the toilet to dispose of the used condom in the rubbish, Doris had removed a large plastic bag from her suitcase. The bag obviously contained something or more than one thing that I could not discern, but Doris was busy folding the still-damp large towel, and the even damper white one, ready to put into the plastic bag on top of what was already in there. After that, she added the remaining three condoms from the first strip, the scissors, and the bottle opener.
“Don’t bother with your shirt, underpants, or sandals when you dress, just your shorts,” Doris said as she quickly slipped on her shorts and blue top. “I’ll be back in five minutes.” She grabbed the blue polystyrene box before disappearing towards the bar, returning a few minutes later with the box full of 6 cold beers. “I’m not even going to bother with this,” Doris announced as she pulled her top over her head, revealing her gorgeous breasts.
Doris moved the ‘Do-Not-Disturb sign from the outside of the door to the inside, before locking the door. Doris carried her plastic bag while I carried the beer as we walked hand-in-hand, past a few huts before going down a dusty, tree-lined path. Suddenly, just after we reached the top of a slight rise, my eyes were treated with the glorious sight of a narrow sandy beach leading down to a calm, azure blue sea. Near the horizon was a coral reef, beyond which the sea looked markedly wilder.
“It would probably be okay to stay here,” Doris announced. “But just in case one or both of the old couples decide to visit the beach, follow me.” We walked to a knoll at the far end of the beach. Doris pulled back a banana tree frond, revealing a narrow gap leading up and over the knoll. It wasn’t the easiest of climbs or descents, especially as we were both carrying something, but soon we were standing on a smaller, but just as sandy beach as the one on the other side of the knoll. Doris took the two damp towels out of her bag and hung them from the branch of a tree backing onto the beach.
“Find somewhere shady to put the beer,” Doris ordered. “I bet you are dying to know what else I’ve got in the bag.”
Yes, what is it?”
“Not ‘it’, ‘are’. I’ve 2 sets of snorkeling gear. Snorkels, flippers, and masks. Can you swim?”
“I’m not great, but I can get from one side of a pool to the other.”
“That’s okay, I won’t be far away, and you’ll never be out of your depth. Get ready to enter a different world. Firstly, clothes off,” Doris said as she stepped out of her shorts. I followed suit, and soon Doris was showing me how to put on my flippers and mask, and how to use my snorkel by breathing through my mouth. Finally, we waded hand-in-hand and naked into the mild water. Within five yards we were up to our chests. Doris’s nipples appeared to be floating on the calm surface. “Don’t worry,” she said. “It doesn’t get any deeper until about five yards from the reef, then it suddenly gets much deeper. Now, lower your mask over your eyes, start breathing through your snorkel, turn sideways, lean forward, and let your feet drift up to the surface before you start flapping them. Only then put your face under the water, keeping your eyes open.”
Within ten minutes, I had relaxed and was going from one side of the bay to the other as if I had been doing it all my life. It was like swimming through a tropical fish tank as small fish of multiple hues and shapes swam before my eyes and around my naked body. It was like I had become part of their shoal and was now a family member. After Doris was sure that I was safe to be left alone, she started swimming further away from me. She could do cartwheels and all sorts of moves, presumably holding her breath when her snorkel was underwater. The sight of her naked body twisting and turning as she was weightless was just as alluring as the colorful fish swimming around me.
After about forty-five minutes, I got tired and waded out of the water. I took off my flippers and perched my mask on my head before I walked up the beach carrying the flippers and snorkel. I retrieved the large towel from its branch and laid it out in the shade of a tree. I found the bottle opener in the plastic bag, and I was happily sipping a beer straight from the bottle when my darling strode out of the water like a movie star. It was then that I decided I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. Doris came straight up to me, dropped her snorkeling gear, and kissed me deeply, holding my head in both hands.
She finally removed her mouth from mine. “Drink up, Phil. I’ll get you another one,” she said. She returned with two, still cold, open beers, which we drank while chatting about the marvelous fish we had been swimming with. “There are bigger, less beautiful ones, the type you eat, deep in the trench just this side of the reef. Would you like to catch one? The chef would happily cook it for us.”
Yes, but we don’t have any equipment, and how will we get out there?” I said with a puzzled look on my face.”
Doris delved into the plastic bag and found one of the dry biscuits we hadn’t eaten that morning. She held it up in triumph. “But we’ve got this,” she said, smiling broadly.
“Now you’re being silly,” I said. “Let’s make love instead.”
“No, we’ll do that later,” Doris said, as she stood up, her naked body looking divine. “Come with me,” she said, offering her hand to help me stand up.
Doris half pulled me towards the knoll at the far end of the bay from the one we had originally climbed over. She pulled back another coconut frond, revealing a dug-out canoe complete with an outrigger. Together, we dragged the canoe fully onto the beach. Inside the canoe were a short fishing rod and reel, a glass jar filled with hooks, and a paddle. Dorris put the biscuit on the seat in the middle of the boat. Ten minutes later, we had dragged the boat to the water’s edge and pushed it in until it was afloat. There were two flimsy seats. I was sitting in the back, and Doris had the paddle in the middle of the canoe. Unfortunately, I could only see her naked back. After we had neared the reef and had crossed the line where the light-blue shallow water had darkened, indicating that it was suddenly much deeper, Doris stopped paddling. She attached a hook to the end of the line, broke off about a quarter of the biscuit, and hung it on the hook. She passed the rod back to me. “Be careful when you put the hook in the water,” she said. “Make sure the biscuit doesn’t fall off.”
Doris paddled slowly up and down, parallel to the reef. I wound the line down until I felt it hit the bottom. I wound it back up a couple of feet and held it there. Doris continued to paddle up and down slowly. It was all very relaxing. Suddenly, after about ten minutes, the rod jerked in my hand. “I think we’ve got a bite,” I shouted to Doris.
“Quick, pass the rod back up to me,” Doris ordered. She wound the line up about 5 feet before stopping as the waggling on the other end increased. After the rod became comparatively steady again, Doris wound the line in for another five feet or so. Again, the rod waggled violently, and Doris stopped until the movement steadied. Using this stop-go method, Doris took about twenty minutes to bring the fish to the surface. She hauled the obviously exhausted fish into the boat. I shuddered when I heard the thump, and I was pleased that I couldn’t see Doris smash the end of the handle of the paddle onto the fish’s head. Doris removed the hook from the dead fish’s mouth. “It’s a huge red emperor,” she announced. Easily big enough for us both. “We don’t need another one, so let’s go back ashore.”
Working together, we dragged the canoe and the fishing gear back to their hiding place before returning to the towel. Doris removed the three remaining bottles of beer from the blue box and squeezed in the folded large fish. We slowly drank a beer each from the bottles and shared the last one by taking alternate sips until it was empty. Doris was gathering up all 6 empty bottles and their tops, putting them in the blue plastic bag to take home, when I said, “It’s been a lovely day, but this is probably the longest time we’ve spent awake together without making love.”
“Well, let’s rectify that right now,” Doris said with a smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever made love under the sky before. No, let me rephrase that as I now know that, before last Friday, I’d never made love. I’d only occasionally had sex.
Doris lay back, her shiny brown, damp, sweaty body glistening in the sun. Her nipples pointed towards the heavens. She spread her legs, revealing her smattering of pubic hair. I kissed her passionately as my left hand moved from massaging her right breast, down her body, to stroke her between her legs. Our foreplay was half an hour of bliss as we explored each other’s bodies. I finally entered her, realizing at the last minute that I had no condom on. Just before I felt that I was about to explode, I withdrew and showered her brown body with my white fluid. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I got carried away.”
“Don’t worry, it’s my responsibility. It just felt so good, skin to skin. Thank you for pulling out.” With that, Doris ran down the beach and dived into the water. She swam to the reef, pushed off from it, disappearing under the water for at least ten seconds before reappearing halfway back to the shore. For the second time that day, I watched her majestically emerge, naked from the water. Doris ran up the beach, past me on the big towel, and grabbed the smaller white towel, which had remained on a branch unused all day. She brought the towel to me. “Dry me, please, darling,” she asked, handing the white towel to me. I dried her completely, gently covering every part of her glorious body. “Now help me put my shorts on. I held her shorts, legs open as she stepped into them. “Lukim yu behind.” I said as I pulled them up to her waist.
“My turn now,” Doris said. She held my shorts open for me to step into. “See you later,” she said as she pulled them up to my waist.
We clambered back over the knoll and, hand-in-hand, back to our hut. We were surprised to see that it was already 4.30. We dumped the plastic bag containing the empty beer bottles, and we both put on T-shirts. We went directly to the restaurant, Doris carrying the polystyrene box. I went to the bar where I ordered two beers, while Doris entered the kitchen. She came out five minutes later to join me. “The chef says that he does not have the time this evening to gut, fillet, and prepare our fish. We’ve got several bookings, including an Australian family who are sailing around the country, in their private yacht. He promised to do it tomorrow. I’ve ordered T-bone steak again, the same as last night”.
We were just finishing our second beers when we were asked to go to our table. We again enjoyed the tender steaks, this time washed down with beers. After we had eaten, I suggested that we play a game of 15-ball pool. “Just a minute,” Doris announced, before she went to the bar. She returned minutes later with two beers and a key. “It normally costs 50 Toea (half a Kina) a game, but I can override that with this key,” she said.
Doris was almost as good at pool as she was at darts, but I was slightly better. My father had been a university snooker champion, and I had grown up with a small slate-bed snooker table at home. I actually preferred snooker as a game, but a full-size snooker table was too big for me, and I performed better on a smaller pool table. Back home in Britain, I had won several pub pool competitions. But Doris wasn’t far behind. She had a good understanding of the game. She was a good potter of balls. However, her control of the cue ball, after hitting the object ball, wasn’t quite as good as mine, so, although she always thought about which ball she wanted to go for after potting a ball, she rarely managed to leave the cue ball in the best position to pot it easily. Also, while she was good at escaping from snookers, she rarely, if ever, consciously left me in a snooker as a tactic.
I won the 10-game match 7-3. After we had one more beer each at the bar, and Doris had returned the key to the table, we returned to the hut with 4 more cold beers in the blue box. We lovingly removed each other’s T-shirts and shorts before kissing each other romantically, our hands wrapped around each other’s bottoms. “I wish you had been able to play with no shirt on tonight. The sight of your nipples scraping the table while you prepared to take a shot would have been so sexy.” I said after we had separated, and Doris was pouring beer into the glasses from the previous night, which the maid had rinsed and left in the toilet.
“Okay,” Doris replied. “As long as there’s nobody else in the play area, tomorrow, I’ll play you topless, on one condition.”
“What condition?” I asked as we sat naked in front of each other.
“When you hit a ball, you can make the cue ball go right, left, straight on, or stop dead. Please show me how to do that, too?” Doris asked.
“Sometimes, if I want to, I can make the cue ball roll back towards me as well.” I answered. “But that’s harder. I don’t always succeed. “Sure, I can tell you what to do in all cases, but don’t expect to master it all in one evening. You’ll have to practice for hours.”
Doris stood up and came towards me, and kissed me gently again.”Thank you, darling. I’m sure that your tip about going for treble 19 will help my darts, and your lessons tomorrow will make me just as unbeatable at pool. There’s one other waitress who sometimes beats me. Hopefully, that won’t happen so often in the future.” She sat down on her chair again, finishing her beer with one large gulp. “Come on, finish yours. It’s been a long day, I’m tired, and we’ve one last beer each to drink.
“Yes, I’m tired too,” I said as Doris poured our last drinks. We drank our last beers in silence. I was dying to ask her a question, but I controlled myself and decided to leave it until Monday night after I gave Doris her pool lesson. Little did I know that Doris was restricting herself from telling me a story. That too would have to wait until the following evening. For the first time, although we were naked and cuddled up to each other, we both fell into a deep sleep without making love.
We were both woken by Doris’s alarm clock at 8.00. Doris got up to put the kettle on. “I fancy a cup of tea before we go for our Western breakfast,” She announced. “You too?”
“Yes please,” I replied, getting up to sit at the table.
Doris brought two cups of tea over to the table, giving one to me. She sipped her own before saying, “What do you want to do today?”
“Why don’t we do the same as yesterday, except for the fishing trip? I replied. “I suggest a big breakfast, a joint shower, a not-so-quick quickie, a topless walk to our secret beach, an hour’s worth of snorkeling, followed by a long session of love making under the sky. Getting the canoe out was hard work, and we’ve already got tonight’s dinner, so we’ll skip that part. We can eat a snack lunch in the restaurant before spending the afternoon playing pool and drinking beer. Then it will be wine with our red emperor, before we retire to hut 24 with 6 cold beers. What happens after that is in the lap of the gods.” I then drank my tea in two large sips.
“Sounds okay to me,” Doris said, finishing her tea. “Shirts and shorts on, and let’s head for the breakfast buffet.”
That morning went almost exactly how I imagined it would. We ate well, washed down with two large orange juices each. Then we enjoyed washing each other’s naked bodies together in the shower, followed by a love-making session which lasted more than half an hour. We wandered, both of us barefoot and topless to the nearest beach and over the knoll to our secret beach. We spent at least an hour among the beautiful, colorful tropical fish. before making love for the second time that morning. This time, our foreplay lasted for over an hour before I exploded into the condom Doris had previously lovingly wrapped around my penis. We strolled hand-in-hand back to our hut, where we left the snorkeling gear and put on T-shirts, before we went to the bar, with the blue polystyrene box. The beers we drank were our first of the day, as we hadn’t taken any beer to the beach that morning.
We had a snack lunch of rice and basic Papua New Guinean food with our second beers. After that, Doris retrieved the pool table key and our third beers from the bar. I spent the next two hours teaching Doris the theory of how to control the direction the white cue ball moves in after it, hopefully, pots the object ball. Doris was beginning to master the skill, but as the cue has to hit the cue ball off-center, Doris miscued a lot. The only piece of available chalk was nearing the end of its life. “Is this the only piece of chalk that is available?” I asked.
“Yes, that’s all we’ve got,” Doris answered.
“You’re going to have to ask your boss to order some more,” I said. “I usually chalk my cue after every five or six shots, but when I want to screw the white ball left, right. or backwards, I always make sure my cue is well chalked. If you are going to practice what I’ve taught you today, you’ll need new chalk.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to him tomorrow, Doris said. “Now, let’s have a few games. We’ve got time for about three or four games before dinner. But you deserve a reward for the lesson you’ve given me.” She looked around the room. Seeing that there was nobody close by, she pulled her T-shirt over her head, as I set up the balls. I stood at the far end of the table, as Doris leaned over to break the pack, her nipples touching the green beige. What a lovely sight, I thought.
We played four games, which I won 3 -1. During the game she won, Doris potted a ball, and, following what I had taught her, she managed to stop the cue ball right where the object ball had been. The white ball did not move backwards at all, but that did not matter, as the cue ball, where it was, remained in the perfect position to pot a second of her balls into a different pocket.
At 4.30, after Doris had put her T-shirt back on, we adjourned back to the bar. Doris returned the pool table key and had a few sips of her new beer before she disappeared into the kitchen. She returned, smiling, about five minutes later. “The chef is turning the red emperor we caught into a beautiful meal. It will be ready by 5.00. Can we share a bottle of chilled white wine with it? I really enjoyed the one we had the other night.”
“Of course,” I replied. “Just make sure that it’s not too sweet”.
We had a lovely three-course meal centered on the fried red emperor we had caught. By 7.00 we were back at the bar. I was sipping a straight whisky while Doris had a gin with plenty of tonic. By 8.00 we were back at our hut, with 6 cold beers in Doris’s polystyrene box. We kissed and cuddled while we undressed each other, before we sat near the table, with a beer each.
Although I had drunk a lot that afternoon and evening, I felt fairly sober when, after having a large mouthful of beer, I blurted out, “Doris, I love you. Please come back to Moresby with me.”
Tears started to well up in Doris’s eyes as she replied. “Remember a few days ago, when you asked me why my written English was so poor, and I answered that it was a long story which I would only tell if you asked one specific question?”
“Yes.” I replied, fearing the worst. “It was a strange answer.”
Doris continued, fighting back tears. “Well, you’ve just asked the specific question, to which the answer is, I love you too, Phil, but, unfortunately, as much as I’d love to, I can’t leave Kiriwina.”
Why not?” I asked, fighting back tears myself.
Pausing only for frequent sips of beer, while I took over the bottle opening duties when required, Doris spoke in hushed tones uninterrupted for almost thirty minutes. I took her that long to tell me that her father was a senior police officer in Port Moresby, where he lived with his wife and two daughters. Doris was the youngest, and Noela, her sister, was six years older. They lived happily in a police house in Port Moresby, but they also had their own house in Kiriwina, which they rented out. The two girls attended an English-speaking private school where most of their classmates were the children of expatriates.
One day, when Doris was 7 and Noela was 13, their father was killed while attending an attempted bank robbery. He died instantly when he was hit in the head by a stray bullet. The broken-hearted family was given three months to vacate the police house. Noela had won an Australian Government-funded sponsorship to the school’s secondary classes, so she stayed in Moresby, living with her aunt. Doris and her mother returned to the Trobriand Islands. Doris’s mother got a job as an assistant cook in the hotel, while Doris went to the local primary school
The primary school did not teach written English, only Pidgin in block capitals, so Doris only had the little she had learned in the two years she had attended primary school in Moresby to fall back on. However, as most of her classmates in Moresby spoke English both in and out of class, she became a fluent English speaker. Conversely, though, she had shown a great proclivity for arithmetic while in Port Moresby, and this carried on in Kiriwina. When she left school at age 11, her basic arithmetic was as good as anybody else’s in the world. As her mother did not earn enough to send her back to any level of secondary school in Port Moresby, from the age of 12 to 15, Doris helped her mother by washing dishes in the hotel’s kitchen. At 16, she became a waitress, wearing traditional dress. Her skills grew in tandem with the size of her breasts, and she was probably 18 years old before she realized that it was not normal practice for waitresses to work while topless.
When Doris was 27, twenty years after her father was killed, Doris’s mother, aged only 55, had a stroke while working in the kitchen. That happened only 2 years before Doris was telling me this tale. Luckily, it happened on a Monday, and, after she had been rushed to the local medical center, the local medics were able to sedate her and order the required drugs from Port Moresby in time for them to be put on the next morning’s plane. The phone line to Moresby had only been installed two years previously.
Doris’s mother’s life was saved, but her ability to walk and operate her right hand was taken from her. While her brain was still active, and she could speak, but only in Pidgin or the local language, she could do little for herself, including washing. All cooking had to be done for her, although, as she could only use her left hand, everything had to be in small bite-sized pieces.
“That’s why I can’t come with you back to POM,” Doris said, wiping tears from her eyes. “I have to look after Mom. You won’t remember, but on last Friday’s plane with you, as well as the two couples, was a local girl in her late thirties. That was Noela, my sister. She’s a qualified solicitor now, and the money she sends every month, together with the little I earn, keeps Mom and me fed and pays for Mom’s drugs. She had a week off, and that happy coincidence was the only reason we were able to have so much time together. She’s been looking after Mom. She’ll be here until Friday, so that will allow me time to make up for the shifts I’ve missed.”
“I don’t know what to say, I’m so sad”, I said. “Not only for you and your Mom, but for us, as well. I know we’ve only been together a few days, but I’m sure our relationship would have lasted a lifetime. Our feelings for each other go much deeper than just the sex we’ve enjoyed together. If there was any chance that I could find a job in Kiriwina, I would jump at the chance, but there’s no chance of that. Your Mom could live for another 20 years, and you must look for a local man to help you look after her and to love you. Whatever the future holds for you, you can be sure of one thing. Wherever I end up in the world, I will never forget you.”
I ducked under the bed and retrieved the new towel I had bought at the same time as the condoms. “Here is something to remember me by,” I said, handing the towel to Doris.
“Thank you, you’re so kind,” Doris reacted. “But I don’t want that one. Can I please have the towel we’ve used all weekend?”
“But that one’s three and a half years old. I brought it from Britain when I first came to Papua New Guinea. It’s getting frayed at the edges. It’s getting old, I’m offering you a brand new one,” I said with surprise.
“Yes, but the new one has never been around your naked body,” Doris said. “I’ll fix the fraying, and I’ll know, every time I use it around my naked body, that it has also been around yours.” We had finished our beers, and Doris shoved me onto the bed. “Now, let me wrap myself around your naked body for the last time.
Our foreplay was gentle, yet intense.
When I felt that the time was right, I whispered, “I’m not wearing a condom.”
“Try and withdraw at the right moment, and spray my boobs, like you did the other day on the beach,” Doris whispered back. She kissed me passionately before I could reply. Seconds later, my white fluid was dripping from her extended nipples, and I had rolled from her body and was asleep by her side.
Doris’s alarm clock woke me at 8.00, but Doris was not by my side. My work shirt, trousers, socks, and shoes were in the wardrobe, but the now-dirty shorts and shirts I had worn over the weekend were packed, as neatly as possible, in my small suitcase, along with the new towel. My briefcase was also on the table beside the suitcase. In the toilet, Doris’s toiletries had disappeared, leaving only mine. However, only the hotel’s towel hung on the rail, my old one had disappeared.
I did what I had to do in the toilet facility, drying myself with the white towel. I couldn’t face going for a proper breakfast on my own, so I had a few cups of tea and the four dry biscuits the hotel provided. It took me thirty minutes to book out of the hotel, as I had to go through all the drink and meal dockets, allocating them between what should be paid by my employers and what was my responsibility. The joint dinners were the most difficult to calculate. I signed the final allocation and asked the receptionist to send the whole bill to my employers. My costs would be deducted from my pay. The amount was rather hefty, but I did not regret a Toea of it.
A mini-bus arrived at 9.45 to take me and the two elderly couples to the airport. I sat on the far side of the bus, and while we were waiting for the second of the couples to pay their bill, Doris came out of the hotel to sweep the steps. I don’t think she could see me, but she looked particularly unhappy. She was wearing a T-shirt bearing the name of the hotel, and my old towel was wrapped around the lower half of her body. As the mini-bus pulled away, I looked at Doris out of the back window, for as long as possible before we rounded a bend and she disappeared from sight. I wiped tears from my eyes and took a deep breath, knowing that, for the rest of my life, whatever was in store for me, that weekend with Doris would remain in my memory forever.
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I hope you’ve stayed with me by reading my longer-than-usual blog post in full. As affiliate marketers, we occasionally “meet” subscribers who we know would be a perfect fit for whatever it is we are promoting. Perhaps we initiate an individual email-based conversation with a particular subscriber, or perhaps a Facebook Messenger chat begins, which highlights the fact that our offer would significantly enhance our prospect’s ability to succeed as an affiliate marketer.
Despite the growing friendship with your prospect and their apparent eagerness to access the product you are promoting, no sale is forthcoming, whether it’s a front-end offer or a high-ticket item. Sometimes people are just not ready to buy. Usually, this is caused by a lack of finance, but often, no matter how keen your prospect seems to be, no matter how persuasive you are, you cannot convey the value of whatever it is you are promoting to him or her. On other occasions, a third party intervenes. Perhaps a family member convinces your prospect that your scheme will not work, or your prospect’s day job means that they would not be able to devote the necessary time needed to succeed.
No marketer can be certain that their offer will help their prospect. Similarly, I could not have been certain that, if she had been able to come home with me, my relationship with Doris would have been permanent. However, I will never know, as Doris, despite being keen, was not “ready to buy”. Not because of finance, as I would have provided that, nor was she unsure of the value of my “offer,” as she wanted so much to be on that plane with me. The problem was a third party, her mother’s condition.
When circumstances like this arise in affiliate marketing, you must shrug them off and carry on. I was not going to stop looking for a lifetime partner because of what happened in Kiriwina, so you must not give up your marketing efforts, because what you thought was a perfect prospect turns out to be a disappointment, whatever the reason.
Cheers
Phil