My Mai Tai is an adventure-comedy with a touch of spice and an element of mystery involving the humorous escapades of two feisty and fun-loving couples while vacationing in Hawaii. The story is based on a number of entertaining events personally experienced by the author. It presents a series of light hearted escapades that many North Americans, who have travelled to a vacation spot in a warm setting to escape the cold of winter, will relate to.
Several colourful and eccentric characters are woven into the story line and an element of mystery is introduced through one of the local characters with connections to the underworld.
|Product dimensions:||5.00(w) x 8.00(h) x 0.51(d)|
Read an Excerpt
My Mai Tai
The Hawaiian Condo Capers
By Alan Taylor
Trafford PublishingCopyright © 2014 Alan Taylor
All rights reserved.
God is it pissin' down big time or am I dreaming I'm taking a shower? Bud queried rhetorically.
Lost in thought, Bud Topper gazed absentmindedly out the window. The windswept rain and sleet beat incessantly in a tireless attempt to pierce the brittle surface of the glass. He snuggled deeply into the warmth and sanctuary of the inner recess of his overstuffed armchair, engaged in a trancelike stupor ... drifting, suspended in motion – looking but seeing nothing.
Slowly his head began a downward motion, bobbing towards a resting place on his hairy chest as he journeyed into a deep sleep.
Suddenly a rasping snore burst from his throat and with a jerk he snapped upright. A quick shake of his head brought him back to consciousness – collecting his senses enough to focus at arms length on the sight in the street below. The spectacle stared back at him with stark reality; the bleak and dreary picture was a mirror-image of his drab mood.
Work in the form of unfinished briefs and papers littered his desk – over here a written proposal that was going nowhere, over there an itemized invoice awaiting his signature. The wastebasket at his feet overflowed its contents. Scrunched up wads of scratch paper covered the floor – he was loaded with work from the office and too damn tired to do it.
"When the hell does the work end? Does it ever end? I guess not for this cowboy," he said to no one in particular.
As the scene below gained focus Bud began to make out shadowy shapes scurrying along the sidewalk; fuzzy objects blending into the grey twilight. People darted quickly this way and that like ferrets stalking prey, working their way through the rain and mist, anxious to reach a myriad of destinations. They were eager for the warmth and dryness of home, to purge themselves of the cold and dampness chilling the inner recesses of their bodies.
To the right a stray dog huddled in a doorway across the street taking refuge from the elements. Its undernourished body quivered in the bone-chilling dampness. The canine's coat, a mottled grey, blended into the bleak surroundings. The mist digested the outline of the hapless figure – transforming it into a nonentity.
On the left a toddler and his mother, both dressed for the elements, made their way up the street. The little boy strained against his mother's grip as he stopped to splash in various pools of water forming on the sidewalk. A sense of déjà vu took over as Bud recalled his fondness for splashing in mud puddles and playing in the dirt when he was a wee tyke.
Next he expanded his gaze to incorporate the balance of the scene below. Fleeting images of cars and trucks appeared in the peripheral of his vision as they whistled along the slick street – on their way to any one of a multitude of locations. A muffled swish announced the arrival and immediate departure of each vehicle as it hissed its way into and out of his observational domain.
"Damn!" he uttered in a low growl, "Seattle is such a bloody wet and miserable place during the winter!"
A pattern formed on the window as shiny beads of moisture rapped against it, clung, momentarily suspended and dispersed into tiny rivulets cascading down the pane.
Suddenly he heard a deep, growling rumble coming from the darkened sky – his apartment shook in response. A sharp flash of blinding light quickly followed – the lightning emerged to play a role as costar of the evening's theatrical performance.
Following this multi-sensory display the pounding rain continued incessantly, droning on and on, inducing in Bud a hypnotic trance. His mind was caught up in the action, focusing solely on the window – oblivious to all else. The elements conspired to sweep him away from his work through a continuous, pulsating beat against the glass. Immersed in the spell, Bud's thoughts drifted to more pleasant surroundings – the soothing warmth and sensuous sweetness of Hawaii.
* * *
Bud pictured himself languishing contentedly on his back, prostrate on the sands of Kuhio Beach – warm sun penetrating his body, the tang of salt air lingering in his nostrils, and the erotic view of bikini-clad beauties surrendering their bodies to the warmth of the sun.
What a vision, what a gorgeous vision!
Bud's upper lip quivered expectantly and a smile formed on his face as he settled into a state of utter bliss. His escape into paradise began to form as shapes emerged and transformed into vivid images in his mind. Through this sojourn his thoughts took flight, soaring temporarily from the sobering effects of reality.
Immersed totally in his dream, Bud could see, hear and smell the essence of Waikiki. Now he was sitting, oblivious to current surroundings, on his perch at Kuhio Beach.
To his left lay the majestic beauty of Diamond Head, visible to all subjects in its domain. Directly ahead he drank in the grandeur of the Pacific Ocean, a blend of bluish hues crowned by snow white caps on its waves. On the right he was rewarded with an unsurpassed view of the Pink Palace itself, the Royal Hawaiian, nestled among its common subjects – the other hotels on Waikiki Beach.
The sojourn into paradise served its purpose as it blanked out the dank grey scene and bone chilling dampness greeting him through the window. It was a welcome respite from the elements and other problems at hand; one he wanted to savor as long as possible.
Suddenly a door slammed shut! The spell was abruptly broken. The building shuddered and groaned in defiance.
* * *
"My God, it's freezing out there!" Tina bellowed. "It's a son-of-a-bitch!" She yanked off her boots and threw them helter skelter into the closet. "How's your work coming? I hope you're not taking any with you when we leave for Hawaii. Remember, you promised me!"
Tina's voice took on an accusatory tone as her eyes met Bud's glazed stare. It was obvious that he had been daydreaming again instead of working on his report for the office. She wanted him to get his ass in gear and complete the work before leaving.
"Don't worry, dear. This year I'm completing all my reports and projections before we leave." A hint of annoyance accompanied his voice, resulting from the harsh intrusion into his pleasant flight into fantasy. He had sought only a brief respite from reality to precede the real thing scheduled to take place in a few days. It annoyed him the way Tina had a habit of jumping in and shattering his daydreams.
Over the last five years trips to Hawaii had become an annual event for Bud and Tina. They provided a welcome sanctuary from the chilling rain and snow of Seattle's winter and were looked forward to expectantly well before the scheduled departure date. Each of the previous trips, however, had been compromised by the paperwork Bud inevitably took with him.
This year would be different! Bud had promised Tina. To hell with the office! No work would be brought!
"Bud, d'you realize we have only three more days before we're off to Hawaii?" Tina cried excitedly. "What're you looking forward to most?"
"Sun, booze and broads," he teased. His mind flashed back to Kuhio Beach and the tantalizing view of scantily clad female bodies.
He knew it would be touch and go whether he could complete enough work during the next three days to allow the luxury of no paperwork during the coming holiday. This possibility, however, wasn't shared with Tina. It would only upset her. Last year she had been irritated when he spent most mornings huddled over the kitchen table in their rented condo by the beach surrounded by paper. He didn't share her concern, however, since there had still been time for afternoons at the beach and visits to the local pub, the Melting Pot.
Ah, the Melting Pot! Its atmosphere dripped of adventure and intrigue. The Mai Tais were incredible. Although the origin of the bar's name was unknown to its current inhabitants, Bud surmised it was due to the diverse collection of colorful characters that frequented it over the years.
In Bud's mind the paperwork routine was not really that unpleasant ... it did, however, keep the office an active participant in their vacation. Although he didn't mind this imposition, Tina resented it deeply. Last year Bud had kidded her about the benefits she derived from his practice. He claimed tongue in cheek that she should be pleased since it didn't give him time to frequent the 'ladies of the night' who pedaled their wares on Kalakaua Avenue. In response Tina erupted into a tirade. She berated him, his "goddamned" office, and the "tight-assed broads" who frequented the street. Afterward she stormed over to the Melting Pot and drank with her friends from the beach. It wasn't until the wee hours of the morning that she returned to the condominium. As a peace offering Bud had promised to leave his work at home the following year.
* * *
To put their upcoming vacation into perspective, Bud's thoughts flashed back to earlier years when annual vacations were limited to simple, inexpensive camping trips – in those days it was all they could afford. The trips were restricted geographically to a region in the Pacific Northwest. The area was bounded by Vancouver in Canada to the north, Portland to the south and Yakima to the east. The western side of the rectangle was the Pacific Ocean – a natural boundary. Within this perimeter they explored the wonders of the region – camping in the gigantic rainforests of the coastal northwest, squatting on farmers' pastures in the interior areas of Washington State and on occasion sleeping overnight in supermarket parking lots.
Bud treasured the outdoors. He loved tramping through lush evergreen forests, savoring the soothing fragrance of pine needles and the stillness that prevailed. In this environment only the occasional chirping of birds broke the intimate relationship between man and nature. It was a therapeutic experience, contrasting sharply with the hustle and bustle of the city. In this setting the sweet, musty aroma of moss enveloped the air and the delectable taste of wild salmon berries tempted his taste buds – adding to the multi-sensory collage.
It was exhilarating! He drank in the cool crisp air of the countryside with deep and greedy gulps, in contrast to inhaling the heavy and stifling atmosphere which enveloped the city. He woke to the joyful chirping of birds rather than to the tinny sound of an alarm clock. He examined the intricate changing patterns emerging from the glowing embers of a campfire, rather than the shallow, routine antics displayed on a television screen. In this setting, Bud was in his glory. He was born to live in close proximity to nature and looked forward to these annual visits to pay it homage.
In the beginning, Tina tolerated the annual trek into the wilderness. Although she knew Bud enjoyed it immensely, she could not generate the enthusiasm needed to fully share it with him. Tina hated the hard ground sheet which she slept on fitfully each night while dreaming of bugs, bears, and sundry wildlife which could threaten her existence. No wonder, she surmised, that Bud woke up early each morning tingling with excitement. However, in her opinion he rose early to escape the goddamn lumpy bed and the tingling was thanks to the cold, clammy dampness of the morning.
She hated, with a vengeance, the flies and bugs who always shared their vacations. While most campers rated campgrounds on the basis of proximity to lakes, showers, electricity and other amenities, Tina applied her own rating scale – based on bug density. Large quantities of mosquitoes rated a minus ten, black flies a minus five and so on. With this scale no campground could ever receive a positive rating from Tina.
BUD'S EARLY DAYS
* * *
Bud was not his real name. He was christened Robert, Alden Topper ... R.A.T. for short. Needless to say, the acronym did not please him and he vigorously discouraged its use as a nickname. Often, as a child, his displeasure was conveyed to peers though lightening-fast fists. As a small child he usually answered to adults as either Bobby or Robby – his favorite being Bobby. Bud's current nickname had evolved as a result of a nervous reaction he experienced when flustered or embarrassed. When he felt uncomfortable his face flushed and his voice stammered. This affliction was brought about when adults in authority spoke to him directly. When asked his name he would blurt out: "B-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-b-d-d-d-d-y-y-y-y-y!"
As a result of this pronunciation, Bobby evolved into Bud, a name he carried into his adult years.
Bud's enthusiasm for the outdoors grew out of childhood experiences. As a young boy he was raised in Grants Pass, Oregon, the son of a hunting guide and trapper. From the age of 10 he often joined his father on treks into the wilderness. Hunting and fishing became the love of his young life and he longed for school vacations which freed him to join his father on camping trips. He quickly gained expertise in setting camp, ferreting out edible foodstuffs from the surrounding woods, and tracking animals. Cubs and Boy Scouts were not for him ... he was where the real action was. Books, sports, and girls were distant seconds on his list of priorities.
Shortly after his thirteenth birthday Bud discovered girls. It was an awakening he never forgot.
Prior to this event he had little time for them since they couldn't play football and weren't interested in tramping around in the forest. On occasion, however, he found himself daydreaming in school, staring with wonder at those bumps protruding from their sweaters – especially those belonging to Diane Grey. They were magnificent! So perfect, so firm and so huge. He fantasized about them. How they looked and felt. These thoughts were usually accompanied by a stirring in his loins, something he didn't quite understand. During these times his face turned crimson and he stammered when he spoke – his infliction intact. In these instances he was acutely embarrassed by thinking others knew what was on his mind.
It was on a warm day in July, during one of his frequent hikes into the hills, when the big event took place. Bud was playing the role of a big game hunter, stalking imaginary prey along a gently flowing creek. The pale blue water danced in the sunshine as the creek meandered slowly through the woods. Dark shadows and bright golden rays of sunshine intermingled among the huge fir trees in the dense forest, as they weaved intricate patterns of light and darkness. Bud knew what lay ahead as he worked his way along the bank of the stream.
A small waterfall was located just around the next bend; at its base was a deep, clear pool of water. Fish congregated there. Only last week he had caught several brook trout at the base of the fall. They were a good size, each measuring about eighteen inches in length. Their underbellies were a golden hue with a slightly red tinge blended in. The sleekness of their backs and tails were speckled with small black dots.
Fantastic! He licked his lips as the sight and smell of golden-brown, pan fried trout formed in his mind. The pink flesh melted in his mouth. Suddenly a different sound caught his attention. Bud froze – his ears instantly alert. It sounded again. This time the sounds of girlish laughter cut through the air. It was coming from the direction of the waterfall.
"Damn!" he cried aloud. "Girls've found my secret place."
He was annoyed. Although their bodies intrigued him, girls were a pain in the ass. They thought they were so grown up, whispering and giggling in groups of two or three. Most girls in his class talked about older boys all the time, viewing their male classmates as pests for whom they were far too worldly. Besides, Bud thought, their long dangling earrings, thick lipstick, and rouge looked ridiculous. God, they were a nuisance.
He thought of turning back, but curiosity won over. Who were they? What were they doing in his secret spot? The laughter and shouting increased in volume, overcoming the roar of the waterfall as Bud drew nearer.
Bud could hardly believe his luck, right before his bulging eyes frolicked three beautiful girls – stark naked. Except for imagining the female parts hinted at in underwear ads in the Sears catalogue, Bud had never actually seen a grown female body before. It was just like he had imagined – only better, much better. They couldn't see him as he was settled into his vantage point.
His heart beat so loudly he thought it could be heard over the roar of the waterfall and the sounds of the girls. Bud's breath came in quick gasps and a dry throat complemented his red face. A sensuous spell tightly gripped him, like a vice, as his eyes darted from one glistening body to another. He was mesmerized as his eyes focused on firm breasts that bounced saucily as they moved and the furry down covering their pubic areas. Eventually his eyes found their faces. Two he recognized as seniors at school—one starred on the basketball team—but he had never seen the third girl before. She had the largest tits he had ever imagined and he noticed that the blonde hair on her head didn't match the rest of her.
Excerpted from My Mai Tai by Alan Taylor. Copyright © 2014 Alan Taylor. Excerpted by permission of Trafford Publishing.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Table of Contents
ContentsChapter 1: Getting Ready, 1,
Chapter 2: Arrival on the Scene, 36,
Chapter 3: The Beach At Last, 59,
Chapter 4: The Melting Pot, 79,
Chapter 5: Rocco, 98,
Chapter 6: Ben's Birthday Dinner, 115,
Chapter 7: The Soul Singer, 127,
Chapter 8: A New Discovery At The Beach, 148,
Chapter 9: Back to the Beach, 165,
Chapter 10: The Maui Experience, 180,
Chapter 11: The Puzzle With A New Twist, 201,
Chapter 12: The Return Home, 216,