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I nodded as I looked up at her, taking a few steps back. As she started shaking her body against the tree, the leaves began rustling and a few seconds later four or five pineapples plopped to the ground beside me. She descended the tree just as easily as she'd climbed it, and when she got to the bottom, she rubbed the loose bark off her hands then brushed the debris covering the front of her gown.

"Now I see why you native girls wear such thick clothing," I said, pinching her cloth between my fingers. It felt a bit like thin cardboard, though it clung to her curvy figure like a cotton dress.

"The bark of the mulberry tree is like papyrus," she said. "And it's easy to decorate using turmeric dye and volcanic mud. Nothing goes to waste on our island."

I picked up one of the spiny pineapples off the ground and held it in my hand, feeling its heavy weight.

"These look pretty nutritious. But how will we get to the flesh inside?"

"It's simple with the right tools," Teuila said, taking the fruit from my hand.

She placed the husk against the side of the tree, then deftly hacked the two ends off with her sharp adze. Then she chopped the shell in half across the middle and placed the two hollow rings against the trunk and cut each section into two semi-circular crescents. We sat down, leaning our backs against the tree, and bit into the juicy pulp like watermelon pieces. The yellow juice squirted all over my face as I bit into it, running down my chin. I drew the back of my hand across my mouth, then wiped the sticky juice on the blanket of leaves lining the forest floor.

"Be careful there," Teuila said, noticing the juice dribbling down my neck toward my T-shirt. "Or we'll have to do another load of wash."

She rubbed her fingers over my chest just above my cleavage then sucked her fingers into her mouth.

"Anything to get me out of my clothes again near you," I said, feeling my pussy throb from her seductive gesture. "Besides, I can always change into my new native garb," remembering how sexy I felt wearing just a grass skirt and floral lei around my neck.

"We might be able to get you out of those clothes and cleaned up sooner than you think," Te' said, motioning further up the trail. "There's another waterfall about twenty minutes up the slope, with a secluded swimming hole. It's one of my favorite places to go when I want to be alone."

"To convene with nature or to find some private play time?" I said, raising an eyebrow.

"Both. But this time, we won't just have to watch each other."

"Mmm, yes," I said, feeling my panties moistening with a different kind of juice. "I've been dreaming of touching you ever since I laid eyes on you two days ago."

"We better get a move on then," Te' said. "Because I'm definitely starting to feel hot under the collar."

Teuila and I quickly finished eating our pineapple slices, then we continued walking up the trail. As I watched her sexy hips rocking back and forth in her tight native smock, I reflected back to the ceremony last night and her extended family sleeping on the floor of their straw hut.

"Do you mind my asking," I said. "Whatever happened to your mother? Your grandmother is so sweet and helpful, but with such a large family, how do you and your father manage?"

"She died many years ago when she stepped on a rusty knife a European traveler had left on the beach and her foot became septic. The infection spread rapidly, and we had no way of saving her. I think this is one of the reasons why my father is so suspicious of Western visitors."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. Did your father ever remarry? I noticed that most of your siblings are quite a bit younger than you."

"He never quite recovered emotionally from her loss. But our tribe has a culture of sharing between families, and he's adopted many children whose mothers and fathers died during fishing expeditions and other natural disasters."

"So your Nona raised you from the time you were young? Where did you learn to speak such good English?"

"There was a period when my father welcomed the presence of Western visitors. We had a missionary school set up for many years where other children of my age studied many of the same subjects you learn in primary school. But my father became suspicious of their motivation after a period of time and banished them from our island, fearful they were stealing his mana. Ironically, they might have been able to save my mother if he'd allowed them to stay."

"It's a difficult proposition," I nodded, "melding two disparate cultures. Many other native people around the world have rejected Western help for the same reasons. It's never easy for men to relinquish the reins of power, no matter how much his subjects may welcome the change."

"My father can be a stubborn man," Te' said. "But his heart's in the right place. Even though our tribespeople defer to him, our culture of aropa dictates that all of our natural spoils be shared equally by the community. He's never tried to hoard resources or oppress our people in any direct way."

"What about this cargo ship that visits the island from time to time?" I said, reflecting back on his order that I leave the island as soon as practicable. "Why does he still permit the occasional outside intrusion?"

"We only exchange goods when the ship comes around," Teuila explained. "The markets in Honiara on the Solomon Islands are willing to pay a high price for the shark fins we harvest. We barter their equivalent value for things like nylon fishing line, cloth sails, and nets for catching fish in the lagoon."

"Shark fins?" I said, cringing at the thought of sharks flapping helplessly in the sea without their essential means of navigation.

"Don't worry," Te' said. "We use every part of the fish we catch. Shark flesh is considered a delicacy in our tribe. We even use their teeth as cutting blades."

"Nothing goes to waste," I nodded, breathing a sigh of relief.

After another twenty more minutes of hiking, I began to hear the sound of a cataract in the distance, and before long we came upon a break in the forest with a small waterfall cascading into a shallow pool.


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