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Angie looked out the plane window and down at the island of Trinibogo. It was a serene sight, an island about the size of Key West in the Southern Caribbean. A new resort had just opened on this tropical paradise and was getting rave reviews in all the travel books and magazines. The island was virtually undeveloped except for the resort and had been inhabited only by a small fishing village that had been tragically wiped out by a hurricane several years back. The survivors had built this resort with the help of a wealthy American investor. The resort was run by just the two dozen or so islanders and some imported help. They only allowed three hundred guests at the resort at a time. Angie didn't care about that, she only cared that she wouldn't have to think about work for the next week. She was an anthropologist at a major university and put in long hours helping her husband, the professor, with his classes. She looked over at James. At fifty, he was twenty years older then she was. His head was buried in a Caribbean fishing magazine and he planned on going out fishing several days during the vacation. Angie planned on soaking up some rays while he was gone during the day and hopefully rekindling some of their stagnant sex life during the night. The sea plane turned towards the resort and came down for a landing. They left the dock and were greeted by three of the largest black men Angie had ever seen. Each was bigger than the quarterback at her university. 'Welcome to Trinibogo. I am Devon, the islands Governor and manager of the resort. These men will take you to your rooms. Guests staying at the hotel can take the left bus and the beach bungalows take the bus on the right.' Angie and Jim were staying in a bungalow and followed a few people to the bus on the right. The bungalows were on the western end of the island and supposedly featured spectacular views of the sunset. They featured running water and electricity, but no TVs and phones. MoperTs were provided for traveling back to the resort with it's restaurants, pool, bars, and casino. The island was very beautiful. The dirt road the bus traveled along followed the dear blue sea. The island was surrounded by beaches and hidden coves allowing privacy. All the beaches were clothing optional. Here and there, Angie could still see signs of the destruction caused by the hurricane. Within minutes, the bus pulled up at their secluded bungalow.