Author of Swinging Couples

A man has a terrifying dream in which he is being sawn in half. He wakes to find himself in the Indian Ocean, naked and clinging to a door; a hotel keycard is clenched in his teeth. He thinks to himself, how in the world? The water is relatively warm next to his bare skin. There wasn’t a breeze; in fact there was no breeze. It’s hotter than 89 degrees outside, no clouds and around 1:00 p.m. Previously; the man was on a flight bound for the Maldives Islands to give a lecture on his new book, Animals Behave Similar to Humans. It was a non-fiction book about swinging couples and the similarities to animal relationships.

Based on the prune-like texture of his fingers, he assumed he had been in the water for some time. He retraced his steps. He thought back as far back as he could remember, he left for the airport on Friday morning, Pacific time. He boarded a plane and it took off like it normally would, but the plane had to make an emergency landing do to severe weather! He looked at the hotel key card in his mouth. "The Tropical Hilton." Yes, okay this is sounding more familiar. His lips were dry and cracked with salt water, his tongue became dry and parched, burning like wasabi and his throat like a cloth. There was a four hour layover on a teeny island. He remembered thinking he should just relax and take advantage of the time he had while he waited for the storm to die out.

The last thing he remembered was getting a massage in his hotel room, trying to relax before his speech about swinging couples to a room full of experts and novices gathered in the Maldives Islands for the Swinging Couples Convention. The speech, if continuing on schedule, would start 20 minutes after landing at the right island in a couple hours. But something went terribly wrong. Besides bad weather, an earthquake ruptured just underneath the teeny island, big enough for a tsunami to come crashing into the hotel and send him and his masseuse adrift.

Now, birds circled around the door he was holding onto in the middle of the Indian Ocean. It was a solid wood door. It was painted maroon with a hotel room number 9 on the opposite side, the side of the door that was submerged in the ocean. The side that he saw now was a light pink, with a torn chain lock glimmering in the bright sun. Now, pale as dried shells, he began to blush with sunburn. His skin hadn’t seen this much sun-let alone his bare ass, since before he started writing his book.

Before this trip, he often stayed glued to his old plush rocker chair typing like a mad man in his house for weeks at a time. Never really leaving the house unless to do research. When he did research- he went to clubs where he met with swinging couples who would tell him their story and how they meet other swinging couples. Other times, he would go to the zoo and record the findings of swinging animal relationships. He would find swinging couples in some species and none in others. More often than not, there were life partners in species.

As he was wondering how far out to sea he was, what time it was and how he might be found, a sea plane spotted him from up above. His heart leapt for joy! The seaplane landed a couple hundred yards away and slowly putted up next to the floating door with the naked man on top. "You okay?" the pilot shouted through the seaplane window. "Yes! Thanks! The man panted. The pilot helped him into the plane and gave him food and water. "You wouldn’t happen to be that missing author who is suppose to give a speech are you?" the pilot asked. "Actually, yes!" the man said, in disbelief, "how did you know?" Well- I was on my way to go to the convention to hear you speak, when they announced you had been in a terrible tsunami- I got into my seaplane and decided to search for you, and here you are!! "How can I ever repay you?" the man asked. Could you sign my book for me? The pilot asked? "I’m part of a swinging couple myself!"

About the author: Melissa Peterman is a web content specialist from Innuity. For more information about swinging couples , go to www.intimatecollection.net.