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Category: Erotica/Classic Erotica
Description: Kidnapped to an Island of Tropical Pleasures! In this classic of Victorian Erotica, a group of aristocratic renegades hijack a transatlantic liner. They force twelve first-class passengers to join them on a voyage devoted to every carnal pleasure. In the concluding volume. Their sensual adventures continue on a delightful tropical island, where conventions are not the only things that are shed.
eBook Publisher: Renaissance E Books/Sizzler Editions,
eBookwise Release Date: January 2008

2 Reader Ratings:

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Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [111 KB]
Words: 24074
Reading time: 68-96 min.

John Tucker, ex-MD, Edinburgh, sat on the great flower-bedecked balcony of his summer palace on the island of Fleur de la Chair.

Before him, steps cut in the turf led down to a glistening white stone jetty. A few little yachts, a half-dozen motor launches, and a score or so of small boats rocked lazily on the gentle waters of the bay. The sky was a vault of pure turquoise, the sea a little deeper blue, and the undulating hills which fringed the bay made a verdant carpet studded with radiant flowers.

A soft sweet breeze from the sea lulled the fierce rays of the sun, and the regular swing of the punkah above him made John Tucker very comfortable.

John Tucker was a square-jowled man of stocky build, with determination writ large all over him. As he sat in his brilliant silk pyjamas, smoking a pipe, he looked a little out of place in this lazy lotus land.

John Tucker did not look a sensualist, but after leaving Edinburgh for an unmentionable offence in Princes Street Gardens, he had still further disgraced himself in Newfoundland, and on his departure a wag had written:

There was a young man of Cape Cod,

Who put his best girl into pod.

His name was John Tucker

The bugger, the fucker,

The bleeder, the blighter, the sod.

John Tucker had been led to the island of Fleur de la Chair by 'a set of devious chances'. Having shipped on a tramp steamer, he had blocked his Captain's wife, and then murdered the captain. Seeing retribution on board certain, and land being in sight, he had risked the sharks and jumped for it. The pursuing boat had been held off by the 'young man' who was out fishing, and who did not want any strangers messing about the island. He took, however, a strange fancy to the villainous visage of Tucker swimming for his life, and rescued him.

In due course John Tucker's powerful personality and unscrupulous business instincts brought him to the directorship of the island.

In direct contradiction to John Tucker's glowering appearance were his delightful human surroundings.

By his side, behind an up-to-date Remington-carrying typewriter desk, sat the sweetest little divinity of a flapper secretary who ever sat down to her work in the open air, dressed only in her drawers and chemise.

She was a blonde, and her hair hung rich and luxuriant over her bared and dimpled shoulders. Her eyes were as turquoise blue as the sky above, and lips as red as the strange scarlet flowers which hung in curiously wrought pots round the verandah.

She had no corsets on but her lithe little figure was caught in tight at the waist by a scarlet sash.

Her drawers were frankly open; a little golden growth showed as she sat with legs rather wide apart, and her drawers were also very short Their lace fringes finished well above the knee, and the rest of her exquisitely moulded legs was quite bare. She had no shoes or stockings. Her legs were tanned a pretty russet brown by the tropical sun, as were her bare arms. Both her fingernails and toenails were elaborately manicured. She wore for ornament a few bracelets and rings of barbaric design, and she was lazily smoking a cigarette from a richly jewelled holder. A golden snake from which hung tiny gold tassels, each bearing a different jewel at the end, clasped her left leg just below the knee, and she wore a ring bearing an immense emerald on the third toe of her left foot.