“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit.
Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing.
People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous.
How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel?
Pain is meant to wake us up.
People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong.
Pain is something to carry, like a radio.
You feel your strength in the experience of pain.
It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling.
Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality.
If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them,
you’re letting society destroy your reality.
You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.”
― Jim Morrison
He opened the cabin hatch on the driver’s side of the small bush plane. He winked at Her as She lifted Her head past the threshold. “Did you spot the place all right?” She reached Her hand in to His. He clasped Her under Her shoulder and behind Her elbow, helping Her out of the airplane. As She stepped onto solid ground He pulled Her into His body, locking His hips with Hers and falling deeply into Her dazzling green eyes. He shielded Her body from sight of the plane windows and his eyes blazed with the intensity of the afternoon heat. “Hey Gorgeous,” He cooed to Her as His fingertipss gently approached Her lips. He coaxed Her mouth open with His index finger before slipping it past the gates and under Her tongue, massaging the underside of Her sublingus as Her lips wrapped around His finger. “Did you miss me?” That spark in His eye. She had seen that spark before, somewhere, long ago, sometime far away…
And then She realized what He had done to Her. His intentions were all too transparent — She could taste bitter anticipation and the three hits of blotter acid He had slipped under Her tongue. Her eyes danced in the waning sunlight.
Rhodes, J.D., & Vincent piled out of the passenger door. She pulled Herself away and attempted to regain Her composure as Her husband rounded the tail tip of the plane. He raised His eyes to meet His old companions.
“Gentlemen! I trust you had a smooth flight?”
Rhodes approached Him with a jubilant smile; “The smoothest, thanks to this Bombshell over here, am I right? So how are you, my good Sir? Any dreams lately?”
“Just one; a strange one,” He replied as He stepped in to meet His old friend,
“I dreamt that you Fucked my Wife.”
There was a brief pause until He broke the silence with a loud scoff, and His eyes danced in the sunlight. Rhodes was taken aback – he cocked his head to one side and looked at Him with a puzzled expression. “But, aren’t you still single?”
“You could call it that,” He winked at him as they locked eyes. Rhodes looked away and snorted loudly, stamping the heel of his foot into the ground – they locked eyes again, softened, and shared a chuckle.
“Are you boys almost finished?” She called to Her men from the opposite side of the plane where J.D. and Vincent were already removing equipment from the cargo hatch and stacking it on the jungle floor. “We’ve got a lot of work to do!” Her voice was swallowed up by the sounds of the forest canopy over-head, drowned out by the chirping of tropical birds and hidden rustles of the South American jungle. “Time to get busy!”
He and Rhodes led the party down the dirt road to His main settlement, the rest trailing behind them. The travellers had never been to this place before, but extended correspondence through the electronic postal service had already made them feel at home. Rhodes looked up at the trees around them, and He looked to Rhodes:
“So — how’s life on the Northern front?”
“Bleak, except when it’s close to home! We are trying to have a baby.”
His eyes grew wide. “Really?? Congratulations!! Have you had any luck yet?”
Rhodes’ gaze shifted down to the ground. “Nope, none yet, but it wouldn’t surprise me if I got the news any day now,” he looked up and to His eyes with a burning sincerity, “I really appreciate that you have arranged for us to stay here. Thank you.”
The jungle began to wake as the sun sank into the horizon. He raised His eyes to meet his long-time partner’s: “No-no, thank you: The pleasure is mine.”
Cabins were already prepared for the visitors – seven guest huts were strewn along the main arc of the compound. “There are two common buildings at each end of the ‘Bow’, with the Main Hall slightly West of its intersection with the runway ‘Arm’. There are 20 lookout stations total across the constellation and clear-cut lines through the brush creating a web between each one. If you get bored, feel free to step out on your roofs – there should be quite a phenomenal view of the stars from your observation decks.”
She yelled up to the men ahead of Her: “I thought the stars on the ground were equally as brilliant – how do you keep the trails so clear??”
“Praise from Cleo! With a flamethrower, my Dear. And thank you Rose, but it’s nothing like seeing them at night from above, when they are all lit up, Together!” He smiled coyly and winked at Her. “The property has a few big cats that we know well but will rarely see: they do not usually come by the beaten path, so I wouldn’t worry about them. You also shouldn’t have to worry about being walked in on in the night — The high fence around the perimeter keeps most traffic, foreign predators, and riff-raff out of the compound, and keeps all the best meat inside. Just stick to the trails,” His voice tapered as he turned and winked to His friends trailing behind Him, “And you should all be fine.”
Each traveller had been asked to stay in their own huts to prepare for the coming sacraments over the course of the next few days and weeks. The huts were spaced at least a few hundred meters apart from one another and linked by wide gravel paths cut through the jungle. They knew this trip meant a lot to Him, so they gave their full compliance.
The group made its way to the largest community building built nearest to the runway. He pulled a heavy iron skeleton key from a chain around His neck and unlatched the deadbolt on the massive mahogany doors. They stepped inside and He lit seven candles atop a candelabra. They drew keys in the dancing light, each numbered one through seven, out of a fishbowl on a table in the center of the room just as the last dregs of the sun began to slip past the horizon, still seeping in to the hall through the skylights. He looked to His flock adoringly as they stood with the keys in their hands expectantly:
“Phenomenal. Now let’s get you out of those Gringo clothes.”
He stood just South of the center of the circle of twelve stumps with the campfire ring at His back. They had all changed into something more comfortable; they wore an assortment of Ghanian-styled shirts, shorts, and robes that split down the middle. They each wore a robe over the rest of their clothes, or so the men had thought — She smiled to Herself: She had a secret that none of the men could see. “Now, if you would each please sit at your appropriate spots – at the numbers for your rooms.” Each seat was positioned at a different hour of the clock, and a seven-foot tall metal flagpole rose from the center of the fire pit. He built the bonfire pit around the polse, so that the bottom of it was already completely charred and blackened by ash. They had lit the new wood pile just a few minutes ago, but the cap of the pole was already inches within reach of the fire, licked gently by the tips of the highest flames. The dome at the top was just beginning to glow red as night fell and the sun finally sunk behind the furthest edge of the horizon.
Rhodes took the stern, sitting at 6 o’clock behind Him. She took the 5 at his side. J.D. and Vincent took the 2 and 3 o’clock positions, giggling and giddy, sitting side by side. “Gentlemen,” He addressed His esteemed guests as he sat at the 7, “will you please join me in prayer?”
They held their hands in their laps and bowed their heads in silence, listening to the careening winds of the bonfire behind them. After a few moments of this peace He pulled His hands apart from each other, and slowly began to speak:
“Can’t we all – just pretend – that death is not the end?” She rustled in Her seat. The men remained stoic. He repeated Himself, much louder this time; “Can’t we all – just pretend – that death is not the end?”
They called back to Him in unison; “Let us all – just pretend – that death is not the end.” “Let us all – just pretend – that death is not the end.” His voice rose to meet the sound of the crowd as the fire raged before them. The hymn grew louder in the night:
“Can’t we all – just pretend – that death is not the end?”
“Let us all – just pretend – that death is not the end.”
“Can’t we all – just pretend – that death is not the end?”
“Let us all – just pretend – that death is not the end!”
“Can’t We All – Just Pretend – that Death is Not the End?!”
“Let Us All – Just Pretend – that Death is Not the End!!”
Silence fell across the tribe as the fire between them blazed on. He smiled and relaxed, letting His head droop and His gaze swing low. He took a moment away from Himself, letting the silence seep through His people as the logs crackled in the fire before Him and He stored this perfect moment in the catacombs of His mind.
After a few more seconds of life in the absolute present, He spoke once more:
“Thank you for that. And now, my best and brightest friends up from the far North — without further ado — I am very excited to say… I come bearing gifts!”
He reached behind Him and snatched a large burlap sack from the ground at his feet. The bag was nearly empty, and the few meager contents swam around the bottom of the fabric, bustling and bumping into each other with the dull sound of impacts on wood and the occasional chink of glass on glass:
“First!” He turned to wink at the Woman behind Him, “For the Lovely Lady –“ He reached into the burlap sack at His feet and produced an unmarked jar. He stepped over the bag and handed it to Her. Her hands lingered at His fingertips His before She took the jar from Him and examined it inquisitively:
It was filled to the brim with a colorless liquid, but if it weren’t for its weight She may not have noticed, thinking quickly to tip it upside-down and watch a small, trapped pocket of air swim from the lid to the base of the jar above it. He smiled at Her curiosity.
“It may not mean much back in the States, but that is some of the finest home-brewed moonshine I’ve ever had the pleasure of making. And believe me – around here, strong drink like this is most certainly NOT a common thing.” Her eyes sparkled and danced in the firelight. She bowed Her head to Him in appreciation, unscrewed the lid atop the jar, and drank deeply from Her new treasure.
“And to you, Mr. Rhodes,” He reached into the bag and removed a slender wooden case from the floor of the sack. “I gift one of the most premium, hand-crafted, livin’ life to the fullest, biggest baddest mother-fuckin’ best B-Lunts I have ever rolled; chock full of all the finest herbs and spices South America has to offer,” His eyes glowed in the firelight, “The shell is Dominican with a red hue and a Northern origin – they called it ‘Red Man’s Tobacco’ back up where I got the seeds. The filler is my own select strain of cannabis; a heavy indica I have been calling “Slim Reaper”, after where it was grown. The blunt glue was spiced with Columbian cocaine, you know, to help keep you awake,” He winked at His companion devilishly, “the outside is lathered in honey, and the inside has been coated with a strong opium tar. All in all, this truly is one of my most beautiful pieces of artwork, and I would be Honored if you would chief it tonight.”
The broad smile on Rhodes’ face started to crack. “My God… Is it safe?”
He smiled and His teeth flickered in the firelight. “But of course! I smoke one every evening on the Sabbath! (and, sometimes, at breakfast with coffee.) Try puffing on it like a cigar, and, if you are feeling adventurous, feel free to take as much as you desire into your lungs: you may find yourself… incapacitated at times, but you will never be in danger.” She nodded along to His voice and gave Her husband a reassuring glance. This seemed to put him somewhat at ease, and he let his body relaxed into his seat. He stole glances at Her until He caught Her eyes — They winked at Each Other, and He beamed. He reached into His robe and produced a reflective object from deep inside His pocket:
“Here Babe,” He tossed the small metal brick to Her — His zippo lighter, covered in a jet-black grip and embossed with a gold-colored Mayan sun disk. “You really have to start these things up in style. But now! I have to go get these guys set up with their own gifts inside – do You think You can take care of yourselves out here?”
“It would be My pleasure, Sir.” She smiled coyly at Him, “And don’t worry about us — we can handle ourselves. Go; Go! Go take care of your boys,” Rhodes shuffled on his stump then lifted his eyes to meet Him: “Yeah, we’ll be fine out here.”
He smiled and tipped His tan safari hat at the couple. “I’ll see you shortly.”
The two men rose to follow Him as He stepped out of the fire ring and towards the Community Hall. Rhodes watched them until they walked out of sight, the blunt resting gently between his forefingers.
He heard the flick of lighter flint at his side. She lifted his hand to his lips and brought the flame to the tip of his blunt. He looked Her in the eyes nervously as She rolled the blunt in circles above the flame; “Aren’t you going to share this with me?”
“Of course not, dear,” She rolled Her eyes at him, “You wouldn’t be able to pry me off the floor! But I know you’ll have lots of fun with it,” She smiled at him devilishly, “Go ahead, dear – you’ve earned it.”
He averted his eyes and dipped his head to meet the butt of the cigar. He puffed the flame into the body of the cigar a few times. He took a breath away from the blunt and inhaled the smoke into his lungs. The cloud was thick and sat heavily in his chest, yet tasted remarkably smooth – like a chocolate tobacco leaf wrapped soaked warm milk. He held the smoke inside himself until She was satisfied, finally withdrawing the flame.
He was gone by the time the men had returned to the fire. The two boys in the back were giggling more uncontrollably than before. He led the pack with a folding chair tucked under His left arm, chuckling with His stoned companions as He showed them back to their seats. The potion was beginning to cast its’ spell over them as they began to awaken into their dreams. He plopped the folding chair next to them and opened it in between the two of their seats. He turned around to see Rhodes’ eyes watching Him intently from a lonely beach, miles way.
“Hey Mike! How would you like to get off those elbows? You look like you’re thinking! Here, this chair will be much nicer than a lousy old stump –“ He stepped over to Rhodes and put His arm under the shoulder of the hand he supported himself on. “Come here buddy, let’s stand up –” He lifted him to walk across the fire ring, “Easy now, almost there – we’re almost at 1:30, just a few more steps.” His legs felt like some sailor’s rather than his own as He hobbled past the bonfire pit.
At last they had found themselves before the seat. He rolled His doped companion across his shoulder and into the chair. The weak man sunk deeper and deeper into the fabric. He maintained his composure, but his blank expression wasn’t good enough to fool Him: He watched the cigar, still burning in his hand, but He knew the damage had already been done. The blunt had taken hold of him entirely: he was past gone, further than faded — a marionette with abandoned strings.
The fire blazed on before them.
“Yo, Rhodes! How’s our main man at the one-thirty doing? Still hanging in there?” His eyes were glossy and His voice was long-gone.
“One Thirty? Wow — Well then, I better take my leave.”
He cocked His head as if to correct Her, then caught Himself. He sat fixed in thought as He chose His words delicately — they fell like honey from His lips, dripping down Her ears and sticking to the insides of Her head:
“Oh Beautiful? – won’t you please take a torch with you?” She shot Him a look:
“That’s all right, Sexy, I don’t need one – it’s a full moon out tonight. Goodnight sweetheart!“ She stepped over to Her husband and planted a wet kiss on his forehead. It sizzled for a second then melted on his brow like butter on rye in the heat of the bonfire.
“That’s right! The Harvest Moon, if I am not mistaken,” His eyes danced across the fire with Hers, “Will you at least take a pistol? Pretty please? For Me?”
She winked at Him across the fire.
“I would have taken one anyways. They’re still inside, right? In the corner cabinet?”
He winked back at Her.
“Right – and it should be unlocked. Take whichever one you desire.”
She turned Her right cheek to Him and tilted Her head down, ever-so-slightly. She brushed the hair away from Her face and brought Her eyes back up to His:
“Actually, I had my eye on the wicked Seven-Shooter in the bottom drawer… would it be alright if I took It out for a spin? Pretty please? … It would just for tonight.”
Momentary silence. He turned to obscure Hinself as He licked His lips and brought his hands to His collar to let the heat escape from beneath it. After He had collected Himself He turned His attention back to center, and His eyes drifted slowly back to Hers. They sparked as He parted His lips, and then, softly, He began to speak:
“Sure, Babe, no problem — just don’t plan on shooting anything off into an Animal that you aren’t serious about killing.”
The words foamed past his lips in monotone like the head of bitter Ale seeping from the mouthpiece of a stricken bottle — they had already soaked deeply into Her soul seconds before She had grasped their meaning in full effect:
She stood motionless against the gentile sounds of the tamed forest. Her eyes remained affixed to His for quite some time. Finally She glanced away, bowed Her head to Him, and turned silently to make Her leave.
She stopped dead in Her tracks. She pivoted on Her right foot and looked back to Him. He immediately regretted His decision:
“I — … walk safe.” His voice wavered and fell faltering at Her feet. She narrowed Her eyes at Him as His grew wider. He was aghast, shocked by the foreign nature of His own voice – That doesn’t sound like me… does it? Taken back momentarily, He shook the doubt from His rusty locks and brought Himself back to the moment: “And stay on the trail! Nothing should bother you there… But I can’t make any promises.”
She looked at Him coldly. “I certainly hope not.”
There was a brief pause. Neither of Them said anything.
After a few seconds, He cracked a smile at Her stoic expression.
He couldn’t help it, and then, neither could She.
She turned, heading back towards the main hall and shaking Her head and hips as She walked away — further and further from sight, but never far from mind.
Crickets chirped as the moon passed its apex, and the waking world had settled into dreams around the fire. The two time-travellers were long gone – they were lay on the carpet of gravel motionless with empty eyes, staring blankly up at the stars. Rhodes was deeply asleep, and the blunt between his fingertips had finally stopped burning.
He stood quietly and turned to leave the campfire ring.
He took an eighth of penis envies with tea at sunrise. The heap tasted earthy in His cheek but He coupled the flavor it quite well, wrapping it as a quid in a dark tobacco leaf.
At noon he rejuvenated himself with hashish and phoenix tears,
Waiting for his friends to fall from the sky.
He ran to His cooler once he spotted Her plane rolling in.
He pocketed three tabs of blotter acid stored inside a thimble
and swallowed seven hand-packed pills of ground head-caps,
weighing about a quarter of a gram each.
His friends had ventured by themselves tonight,
alone in their heads with the DoMinaTrix,
but they had goaded Him into a third dose.
A quarter eighth was all he needed this time:
His mind was Booming.
The gravel sifted beneath the soles of his feet as He walked down the main Ark of Orion’s Bow. He held His torch behind His head so He could look up at the swirling patterns in the stars above: The night was alive, and the jungle danced around Him – leaves on the trees billowed and swelled towards Him as He passed, and His footsteps sent waves through the liquid floor as tiny stones pulsed from the tips of His toes. He felt the plants along the unkempt edge of the rocks licking at His ankles as a voice He did not recognize cooed into the thick depths of the jungle: “Here, Kitty Kitty Kitty Kitty…”
He passed the first and second cottages in a trance. He stepped past their gravel paths without even glancing up at each tributary from the main vein. He had almost convinced Himself to turn around to check them by the time He realized His Mistake.
He ran past the third and fourth cabins in a fervor, glancing up their paths at their windows and front doors. He saw no reason to stop by – He knew there was no fire behind their walls. He was getting more nervous and less patient: He did not feel quite Himself in the thick heat of this steamy jungle night.
He stood in front of the path that led up to the fifth cabin for quite some time before He crouched to the ground and planted His torch at the river’s intersection with the tributary. He left the flame burning behind Him as He made His way up the gravel drive:
The driveway was long and well-lit by the massive orange moon hovering in the sky above. He walked at the disk until He found Himself standing alone in front of the small cabin — His heart raced, beating like a jackhammer pounding against His chest.
He bent to the gravel floor and carefully selected three stones. The first was black. The second was grey, and the third was blue. He stared at them in His palm for a long time, and then rose to face the hut:
He took the first stone between his fore-fingers and tossed it. It bounced off the glass windowpane by the front door with a warbling chink! and fell to the wood deck below with a light pitter then patter.
There was no answer.
He took the second stone between His fingers and tossed it at the window again, then threw the third in succession. Still, He felt no stirs from inside the building.
He ran to a ladder on the side of the building and climbed to the roof. There was a flat observation deck atop the single-roomed bedchamber. He bent down and tugged at a hatch built into the floor – another ladder came down from the ceiling hatch to a rest on the floor within the small structure. “It must still be locked from inside,” He spoke as thoughts raced through His mind. He hopped from the roof and ran back to His torch, still burning in the middle of the abandoned gravel trail.
He approached the door of the sixth cabin more cautiously. He thought longer and harder before bending down, selecting three more rocks from the sea of stones below, and turning His sights on the entry window. He tossed the first stone, striking the glass:
There was no answer.
He lifted His arm, released the second stone, and struck the glass yet again.
There was no answer.
His heart beat faster as He waited for a few more seconds to confirm:
There was still no movement inside.
He felt warm pools of optimism in His chest. He caught Himself: Maybe She went to one of the right cabins, He reasoned, rather than the Wrong one.
He dropped the third stone and ran up to the window. He cupped His hands against the glass and peered through. There was no light coming from inside. He whipped around to the side of the building and climbed up the ladder, sticking Himself to the tarpaper deck as He rapped his knuckles gently on the metal ceiling door.
The Moon glowed a brilliant orange before Him. At last, He had arrived: at last He would be with Her again. A flame in the window called His name, beckoning Him to come and stay a while inside, shelter from the warm jungle storm. Dark Clouds billowed around the moon above as an emerald blue haze crept over the drive. He had heard the siren’s song, and there was no turning back. He started down the thin gravel corridor cut through the thick of the jungle. The world buzzed electric blue around Him and He seemed drawn to Her – a captive to Her spell. He felt Her magnetic pull calling to His belt buckle through the charged air as the hairs all over His body started creeping up to attention: He felt the power building in His soft machine as His feet carried Him down the wild blue drive towards Her, miles away from any other soul.
He bent down and selected three stones from the gravel floor. He raised and flicked the first stone at the four-paned window at the Front Door.
A rustle inside. A figure obscures the flame, standing before the lit window.
The remaining two stones drop from His hand. He approaches Her sheepishly, stepping up the deck gingerly and to the front windowsill. His left hand slinks up to Her chest and sits against the glass open-palmed while the knuckles on His right lightly rap the window at His beltline. She blows a kiss to Him through the glass, then steps to the door, turning the bolt. He hops over to the door eagerly – His hand jostles the locked handle before He realizes what She just did. He steps away from the door and back to the window and She meets His eyes with a devilish glare: She raises a finger to Her lips and licks it playfully, beckoning to Him through the glass. He crosses His arms, cocks His head, raises His eyebrows, and taps His foot on the wooden ground – He isn’t going to let Her off the hook this easily. He shoots Her His horniest glance, and it’s on:
She drops Her robe to reveal a satin under-lace number 7 in black. God Damn. He licks His lips, and feels like His pants won’t fit Him soon. She undoes Her black lace bra, holding the cups against Her breasts and pouting Her lips for a split second before they fell to the floor, and She stands nude with Her head turned down and Her eyes looking up at Him, menacingly.
The fingernails on His left hand claw down the glass. He leans in and waves His right hand, motioning for Her to come over. Her hips swing in time with the beating of His heart as She approaches the glass. He cocks His head to the door at His left and mouths to Her through the pale blue glass: Let Me In.
She shakes Her head at Him, Her eyes still glowing — still menacingly playful. She points to the hatch at the roof. His heart skips a beat.
She stood alone in the bedchamber hut, wearing nothing but two black Stiletto pumps and Her garter. She heard a scamper up the wall to Her left, followed soon after by a gentle rapping at the ceiling hatch: “Come In,” She cooed to Him through the thin metal door. The hatch parted slowly, and He slipped inside.
“Here, Kitty Kitty Kitty Kitty Kitty …” He called back to Her as He rappelled Himself slowly down the railings of the ladder, headfirst. His voice was deep and raspy, yet somehow still smooth, slick — more words began to slither out of His mouth: “I’ve been waiting, just for You, for a long, long time, Gorgeous…” She felt like He was already licking Her ears. God Damn — He had truly been gifted with a Serpent’s tongue.
“You have no idea, Sexy.”
She grabbed His head and They locked Embrace. Their tongues turned to Yin and Yang inside of Him as She swirled Herself around His mouth, stroking inside Him from top to bottom. His head was spinning. Her pushed Her away with His core and flipped Himself from the ladder onto His feet, standing right-side up on the cabin floor. He shoved Her onto the bed as She pulled Him on top of Her. She tore His clothes off before He could make it back to all fours, crawling across the bed and all over top of Her.
He slid Himself inside of Her and immediately thrusted as deeply as He could. She squealed softly as Her anticipation melted away. She had been waiting for Him. Her insides were steaming, and He could feel Her opening to meet Him. He became lost as She clutched Him close, keeping Him deeply inside of Her as He pumped harder and harder, Her legs wrapped tightly around Him. Breath expanded deeply into His lower abdomen as His core expanded to meet the soft skin Her above Her belly button and Her chest withdrew from His, comforted by the shelter from the storm. Things were heating up in the small Cabin — He could no longer tell where His body stopped and Hers began.
She lost Her concept of time. She knew only Him and only Her in This moment, Together; Forever. She could feel Her body give way as Their carnal desire accelerated inside of Her, creating a space within, just for Them, Alone, to share. She was lost in the dream. Their hearts beat in Unison as She feels the coming passion throws of burning lust and forlorn desires. She calls to Him from the depths of the tremors: Ah! Ah! Aeh!
He answered Her with a rumbling growl. He pumped faster as He parted His lips on Her neck and bit down. She yelped at Him, bringing Her Hands to His head and shoulders as if to stop Him. They hovered for a second before falling around His neck as She devoted all the strength in Her body to clutching His hips into Hers, pulling Him in as closely as She could with Her legs wrapped tight around the back of his pelvis.
Her vision faded to stars as He came hot passion inside of Her. Her legs couldn’t handle the pressure and fell to either side of Him as He collapsed on top of Her — She shuddered beneath Him, sending shimmers through the tip of His cock and up His spine. He lay on top of Her, steaming, as She shook beneath Him in the heat of the muggy jungle night. She lifted His head from Her shoulder, tilted it in front of Her, and let it droop slowly as His lips met Hers in the Embrace of waking dreams.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, He pulled Himself up and away from Her as She lifted Her knees to meet together in the center of Her chest.
He was already nude, save the two worn and weathered sandals strapped to the soles of His feet, as He Slid His fingers across Her shoulders and down Her arms and slipped the robe over Her shoulder blades, falling softly to the ceiling floor. His right hand slid to the center of Her chest, laying flat across Her ribs with Her breast perched atop it. His thumb sat gently on the skin between Her titties and His palm helped absorb the blows from Her every heartbeat. His left hand stopped midway as it traced down Her arm, and His thumb and forefinger closed firmly around the notch above Her elbow. His palm fell into place as He pulled Her in closer to Him, locked in a one-way embrace.
She leaned back into Him with all of Her weight and rolled Her head up onto His shoulder. Her left hand rose to meet His right and She placed it over top of His scars. It curled over His as She slipped Her forefingers and thumb under his palm. He let Her take hold and slide it to the center of Her core, ever-so-gently, laying it to rest at a spot above Her belly button. She pressed His hand into Her body until She felt the pressure back, and the warmth spread through Her as She let Her hand slip away from His. He held Her firmly in place, incubating the fire within Her. Dreams came to Her eyes as She folded into His arms. He supported Her body completely as they looked up Together at the heavens in awe, sharing a kaleidoscope of passion.
They heard a rustle in the bushes below. They turned to catch the gaze of a white Bengal tiger on the forest floor. He stood frozen for a moment with wide eyes and broad shoulders, looked them square in the eyes, then turned his back, lopping silently off into the jungle. They watched the patch of trees in his wake intently until a spark on the horizon down the road drew their attention – a torch was heading directly towards them:
“Fuck.” He was not amused, “Who the Fuck do You think that could be??”
Her face was turning pale. “That Jerk – Shit! Who does He think He is, I don’t even… doesn’t he trust Me at all around You?” Aggravation seeped through Her words as She bounced nervously from foot to foot.
“Well I’m not going to stick around to find out – you’re on your own, Gorgeous,” He shot Her a dirty look and lifted the ceiling hatch.
“Aren’t you going to hide Me too?!” She asked incredulously.
“Na, I don’t Fuckin’ think so — He is YOUR husband, after all,” He said in a smug tone, “why don’t You figure it out?” He shut the hatch behind Him and locked it. She bent down to the hatch and banged on the metal door. She waited and listened to the impending silence before snatching Her robe from the rooftop floor and wrapping it around Her body as the flame bobbed ever closer.
J.D. had made it to the corner of the driveway by the time She heard his shouts through the muggy vapors of the warm Peruvian night:
“HELP! HELP! HELP! HEELLPPP! Scott – Please!! We Need You! Come Quick, We Need HELP!!!” He raced up the driveway towards the very last cabin in the Bow. He leapt up the steps without even noticing Her standing like a gargoyle atop the roof to pound on the door: “SCOTT — SCOTTT!!! Please! WE NEEEED YOOUU!!!”
“J.D! What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” He sprung back once he heard Her voice, stepping off and away from the deck to see Her standing above him on His tarpaper rooftop. His eyes watered and he turned away, still shaking his head at Her:
“It’s Mike! He — he isn’t breathing. We woke up and thought we would smoke the rest of that blunt he was holding in his hand, but then he woke up, and, he looked like he wanted to smoke it with us, so we handed it to him, and, he took it, and, he breathed it in….” J.D’s face was twisted into a grimace and his eyes were pinched shut and still leaking tears, “And … he never really, breathed back out again.”
Suddenly the cabin door blew open — A dark figure barreled out the black chasm and bowled J.D over as it leapt over the steps of the deck and into the gravel road. The two of them watched from the roof above and floor below as He ran down the drive at full tilt, His skin glowing pale in the blue moonlight, careening at a dead sprint towards the fire ring far-off into the unseen distance.