Islands in the Sky by Colin Parry

    Is this book a romantic comedy or a psychological thriller? Only you can decide. Critically acclaimed as "the most beautiful but bizarre love story ever told", Islands in the Sky is a humorous story that puts everyday substance into relations.  It is an understanding of love.

Chapter One

        From her accent, I realised she was the new Operations Director. Feelings of shock surfaced within. I felt confused and different, unsure what my emotions were saying. We stood in the reception area to the production building. This briefest of interactions was simply embarrassing. I had given one of my charming seductive looks. This often tells a woman what exactly is on my mind. I had said “hello” in a slow drawl, ensuring she understood this was not just a usual greeting one said before coffee in the morning. No, this had been different and she knew it. So when I heard her southern accent, the penny dropped and I realised who indeed she was. I did not often behave like this, but sometimes emotions take over, especially when it seems safe to flirt with a stranger.
        Even though Annie was high up in the clouds of our corporate structure, I was still surprised. Did she not have a beautiful face, eyes, smile, lips, long hair and all the other usual features of a gorgeous woman? I was stunned.

        Obviously, her figure was noticeable as well but I can pretend I was a gentleman and had not concentrated on these primitive physical characteristics. If truth be told and obviously it should, the fact she had fantastic legs and breasts also did seem to influence my overall conclusion. Perhaps these are coarse words and it may seem appropriate to apologise for them, but they were the honest thoughts, albeit impure to polite transactions. It was a brief encounter but I remember it well.
        Yet, I reported into her! The previous Director was a mean old bastard, for who I had no feelings of affection. It would be fair to say I went through a stage of hating him, only then to descend to a further level, where I did not even care about him, one little bit. When he had finally decided to leave the business I had in fact, gone home and deliberately drank a bottle of wine. It was a Tuesday night and this caused me to suffer for the rest of the week, but I did not care, as I had to celebrate the celebration. Anyway, enough about that man. He was now history and I will not waste any more of our time eloquently describing him; he was a tosser and a shit, and that was about it.
        Annie Fitzgerald was in her late twenties and was obviously extremely talented to have risen to such a high position in the company, in her relatively short career. News of her appointment had been a shock to many people in the company. I too knew of her promotion and young age but had somehow expected a rather dowdy and academic looking person. Certainly not the formidable beauty I greeted that morning and now the thought of it, my lecherous manner must have seemed awful.
        Did this mean I was a bigot or prejudiced in some way? Why should I not have expected a gorgeous woman to take over the Production Operations? I suppose to my defence, I should say I did not expect this because nobody had told me. I had only heard of her appointment through the official channels and obviously, company newsletters do not normally mention physical appearance. I would hardly have expected the Human Resources department to mention in their email that Annie had started her job and oh yes, by the way, she is an absolute stunner as well.
        On the other hand and retrospectively, perhaps this would not be such a bad idea. After all, it might have encouraged more people in the company to read the usual and predicted corporate propaganda. So maybe my thoughts are prejudiced, as I was surprised by her appearance but all I can remember was my first introduction to the Operations Director and I had made an inappropriate gesture. Was this a mistake? I was unsure but I felt certain that things were about to change.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

                           Chapter Twelve

            There was a noise at the back door and I realised Beauty had returned from her adventures. Her feline eyes were full of affection, which was surprising because if she loved me that much she would have stayed last night. However, I was not angry because deep down I knew I was unable to fulfil her true needs.
            Guilt suddenly came upon me because I remembered there was only one egg in the house. Eggs were her favourite and although she had cat food and I had human food, it had become a bit of a problem because the distinction between our foods had blurred. I had found myself feeding her with human food as well as cat food. She now had an expectation that this should always be the case.
            Beauty was a rescue cat, abandoned at an early age for whatever reason cats are deserted and discarded. Cruelty I suppose is the real reason why humans behave inhumanely, showing our ultimate selfish nature by dumping animals as though they were a mere commodity.
            Looking into the larder, I became depressed, as there was only one huge bag of cat food, one loaf of bread, a bag of flour, a container of cooking oil and a few pot noodles nearing their expiry date. There was also the one egg left and I could either have egg on toast, share the egg or go hungry. Sharing the egg seemed to be the same as going hungry and so I proceeded with the thoughts radiating from my stomach, instead of my mind.
            As I sat down, again those eyes looked up at me. Her bowl stood full of cat food and my plate looked sparse with just one egg and one piece of bread. I tried to explain through my thoughts the fairness of the situation but my heart told me to stop lying and just eat my food.
            Reproach replaced my hunger. Beauty had even walked sulkily over to her bowl during my meal, looking back at me and then walking away to sit on her bed. If she were an actress, the dramatic effect would have been excellent but no, she was more than this. She meant the world to me, and so again, I looked into the cupboard and fridge, hoping for inspiration to keep the two of us happy. It came in the form of a piece of bread with butter, sliced up into small pieces and then mixed in with her cat food.
            Three minutes later, we were all friends again, bridges rebuilt, bonds deepened and the difference between cat and human food further blurred. She came and sat on my lap afterwards, wanting I suppose to be close and I felt grateful for that, as I was indeed lonely that evening. The fact that our hearts were physically close, as well as emotionally, comforted me.
            I moved my hand, stroking under her chin, down her long neck and then onto her shoulders. This was where she liked to be touched. Beauty lay her head down further, giving a deep purr as she relaxed into my hands. I massaged her skull, rolling her ears between my fingers and then kissed the top of her head. Now she wanted to sleep and hopefully, I had helped her pass into her dream world more easily. She could now look forward to pleasant dreams, further assured of my love.
 

 

                            Seventy Eight

            I lay still, looking at Annie. She now had her back to me so I could see her shoulders and hair. It still felt strange sleeping with her at this stage. She was the Operations Director but also she was just a person I did not know very well and therefore lying together during the night, sharing our sweat, farts and bad breath still seemed quite odd.
            Not that I had yet deliberately farted in her presence, although a couple had snuck out during the night due to a chronic need of pressure relief. When you are asleep, things just relax and things just kind of slip out. I know they do and I should not be surprised. Annie herself had emitted a couple of hissing noises between the sheets, as she lay deep asleep. I did not mind. I had done some wonderful, horny things to most of her other orifices and so this other hole reminded me of its presence and it was simply quite natural, showing how her body was relaxed with me.
            As I lay on, and the light came to shine on her, I felt an urge to hold, hug, stroke and caress her. It was still an hour before we needed to get up and so I did this knowing full well that if she were asleep and tired, then my forward behaviour would only be interpreted as fidgeting restlessness.
            Anyway, I had been awake for hours and so I started to kiss her neck and shoulders. She was broad here, quite muscular and large although I would not be brave enough to tell her these words, as like most women, she would not understand the natural shape she was and instead would look to the images of fashion for the shape she should be.
            I was far happier with her as she was because she looked beautiful. It was lovely for our two bodies to join with each other like this. She stirred slowly, seeming to appreciate my love.
            At that moment, things were so perfect that as I lay with her I wondered whether this was the pinnacle of my life and whether anything would ever be as good as this again.





                       Chapter one hundred and six

 

            The burning sun. The unforgiving sun and the relentless sun. The sun that burnt and forced shadows to hide where we sought coolness. The sun that allowed warmth and life but now seemed angry, feeling as though it could not stop as the heat continued on and on.
            The sky looked down as an observer, brighter than ever with wispy clouds. Tracks from planes’ exhaust fumes vaporised, vandalising the sunset. Yet, there was still something left of the day before the sunset took over. Still plenty of anger left in the sun’s rays before it would finally give up the ghost and be defeated for the day.
            There are times during the year when the sun shines for longer than ever and the daylight seems to go on and on. We long for these times of joy. Yet, these are also the times when sleep deprivation is most acute; logic evades us, with at times, tiresome creative paranoia stepping in.
            It is difficult to gauge what is going on and sometimes when the sun shines, we expect it to fill the day with happiness and laughter. Why do our heads lose themselves with the heat? Why do our eyes open too early with the brightness? Why can our bodies not rest at night due to the stillness of humidity? It is difficult to understand why we are not happy with the sun. Why do we struggle when for the rest of the year we looked forward to this moment? Why, oh why, oh why?
 

 

 

Published by Turner Maxwell Books

First published 2007.
Copyright © Colin Robert Parry 2006

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Warning: May contain explicit material, which is not intentionally offensive.
Warning: It may also contain nuts.

Not suitable for children

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental and may be more the work of your own imagination. Why not write a book yourself? Turner Maxwell Books are an alternative co-operative of new writers, working towards publishing inspirational literature.

Printed and bound in the United Kingdom for Turner Maxwell Books.