Touch of a Chiseled Adonis in Bora Bora

Laetrile is the pits. It's a toxic brew of apricot pits and bitter disappointment.

But for me, it's the catalyst that brings me to the sun-kissed shores of Bora Bora, where the turquoise lagoon meets the warm, golden sand. It's here that I meet him, a chiseled Adonis with piercing blue eyes and a rugged jawline that could stop a clock.

His name is Kai, and he's a master of the ancient art of traditional Polynesian massage. As I lie on the massage table, Kai's skilled fingers work their magic, kneading out the knots and kinks in my muscles. His touch is like a gentle summer breeze, soothing and calming.

But as the massage progresses, his fingers begin to roam, tracing the contours of my body with a sensual intensity that makes my skin prickle with desire. I feel myself becoming aroused, my body responding to the subtle pressure of his fingers on my skin. As the massage comes to a close, Kai steps back and surveys his handiwork.

His eyes roam over my body, taking in the sight of me, splayed out on the massage table like a sacrificial offering to the gods. I feel a shiver run down my spine as he reaches out and gently brushes a strand of hair out of my face. His fingers graze my skin, sending a jolt of electricity through my body. "Are you ready for the next step?" he asks, his voice low and husky. I nod, my heart pounding in my chest. I'm ready for anything, as long as it's with him.