Pearced

by Ryder, H

  “Hello! Everyone.” A huge confident toothy white smile presents to us, “I’ve come to offer my help.” He swipes the air in front of his face to clear the dust away only now do we see his face clearly. Daniel rushes up to him, Stan noticeably relaxes his stance further and goes back to checking his equipment. I hear him exhale, how long was he holding his breath for I wondered? “Thought you could use someone to keep you out of trouble Danny.” A warm friendly smiling man.

  “Kurt!” Daniel approaches and gives the guy a massive hug and slap across his back, which must have hurt, boys! Kurt has an easy casual way about him with an almost permanent smile and creases around his grey/green eyes. He is tanned and outdoorsy looking. A working hunter-type, well built with good paces. Tall and muscular, with floppy unruly curly dark hair, which he makes no attempt to control. He is the antidote to Daniel, I think to myself.

  Daniel is neat and tight and obsessively organised. Everything in its place, like his hair and clothes, and his office desk. Daniel has an unnervingly stunning face, delicate features, full soft lips and smooth skin. In contrast Kurt is craggy, his skin is hard and hands callused like mine from manual labour. His face is very handsome, but unlike Daniel it’s been left outside long enough to and become weathered like patio furniture. Their eyes are the same, except Daniels are the colour of a stormy sky overlaying the green and Kurt’s are brighter, like antique jade, opalescent. Kurt’s clothes are worn and faded like himself, his cargo trousers have many pockets undoubtedly filled with survival tools and hand held useful equipment, a boy-scout type chap certainly. He has a huge utility penknife with many pull out gadgets and his wallet is a bulging scuffed canvas by Diesel.

  Daniel keeps a neat black folded wallet from Gucci In black.

  Daniel embraces the man and close by a comparison is unavoidable, remarkable similarities in their features, but this man is quarter a head taller that Daniel and much broader and wider with a muscular frame much easier with his body more relaxed. “My older Brother,” Daniel introduces him to me first, “We're all very happy to have you here Kurt,” and he hugs him in a massive rugby tackle. They growl and shout at each other like a two person scrum.

  “Kurt,” Stan shakes his hand, visibly relieved, “glad you could join us.”

  “You knew he might come?” Daniel asks Stan, with a grateful expression, Stan’s thoughtfulness is appreciated, not a surprised look, but one of you’ve done it again, above and beyond.

  “Stanley e-mailed me and told me about your expedition Danny, he thought I might like to join you.” Kurt pats Stan on the back like a puppy whose training has meant the learned new tricks are now perfect. Not a condescending gesture but one of respect. Stan is clearly embarrassed.

  “Took me an age to get here too.” he looks at his watch, it's a huge orange faced diving watch, then up at Liza, and there his gaze stops…

  “Well, we're glad you're here Kurt.” Kurt is not quite listening, he's still staring. Liza shakes her ponytail, and pretends she has something to attend to in the car.

  Snapped out of his momentary daze, Kurt speaks, “I was in Nova Scotia, so it took me a while to get here.” He smiles a great white friendly smile, “working.”

  “Working?” I ask.

  “Salvage Tharie, shipwrecks, are my expertise.” Sounds interesting. Looking around us, “so, now we are six.” he says.

  “Kurt, I’m Tharie, would you like something to eat or drink before we continue?” I offer, like a roadie, nothing is too much trouble. I could re-string his guitar too, but he doesn't have one. I glance over at Liza, she's thinking the exact same thing, metaphorically.

  “I know who you are Tharie”, he says warmly, “and yes, I’d love a shot of JD and a sandwich if you’ve got one.” half in joke.

  “We didn't bring any alcohol with us.” Liza steps in, her pupils dilated in obvious attraction, clearly glad there’s a new boy in our team, and a very handsome rugged one at that. So like Daniel and so unlike him too. Liza unties her ponytail, and swishes her long blonde hair in the sunshine to great shampoo-commercial effect, and reties it. Repositions her backpack and checks her reflection in the car window, a tiny boyish frame, well-toned and tanned too, this of course is code and Kurt knows the message is for him. Daniel rolls his eyes at me with a smile, he’s noticed too. Yes, I think to myself, we’d never be so gross in public, remembering with a huge grin.

  “I have some.” I pull an old hip-flask from my back pack, “for emergencies,” I declare laughing. Kurt takes a long swig appreciating I have provided the exact brew he asked for, and is happily biting into a Wensleydale cheese and carrot pickle sandwich on granary. I do make a mean sandwich even if I say so myself, I check myself from being too smug, I don’t do cooking, so I eat a lot of sandwiches, you make enough of them, you’re bound to get good at it.

  “Well?” Daniel asks to the group looking around at us all, “we all ready?” A growing cacophony of the affirmative emanates from the group and I surmise this means let’s go! There’s another wave of customers for my home made sandwiches and bananas, then we leave.

  Kurt grabs Liza by the hand in a friendly flirty manner “you’re with me gorgeous.” He says, introducing himself, and they walk to the standing stones to join the Professor which is to be our start point. Liza makes no fuss, she just merrily tags along beside him, trying to keep up. Not sure I’m hearing correctly but I’m almost certain she’s telling him she rides dressage and her core frame musculature is well defined. I imperceptibly shake my head…hopefully.

  Bloody hell.

  The Professor is already part way through a thorough examination and has taken hundreds more photographs with his digital camera. I take detailed shots of all the markings on my iPhone just in case we’ll need them further down the track, plus they are very attractive markings, and I’m looking for a new logo for Milk&Honey. Nobody asks him but Nigel begins explaining his findings like he’s in a lecture hall, so no interrupting, we are sure about that. “These three stones share some of their messages with the earlier one, they have definitely been left here as the second marker because it refers to the ‘starting stone.’ The one with the noise of falling water, and that’s where we found the first marker.”

  Liza is describing the waterfall to Kurt, and I’m guessing, judging by the look on his face, he’s disappointed he missed it, and remembering my own encounter, I couldn’t agree with him more. I feel a sudden flash of heat over me as I do indeed recall the waterfall.

  I check my Dad’s gold watch, its 11am.

  Is it too soon for more tea?

  Chapter twenty-six, Friday:1november2013, the team

  The sun is almost at its hottest as it approaches midday, satisfied that our provisions will last the night and into tomorrow. I head the Landrover toward the landmark the map describes to us: ‘a rocky outcropping in the vague shape of a bird in flight’ sits about four miles in front of us according to our heading. We get as close as we can to the mountain with the vehicle surrounded by rocks. Pausing briefly we pull over and we all pile out of the car grabbing our bags and backpacks as we go, well almost all. Liza and Kurt are now sitting in the back of the Landrover laughing with each other. She shoots me a happy look and I’m glad she’s found a man she can relate too, she likes them hands on and outdoorsy. Bet he could drive her horsebox too. I march, so I find myself ahead of our pack, I can’t dawdle or walk slowly, it’s not in my nature. Daniel walks beside me, his long legs easily keeping pace. “Getting hot,” he says, and just as I’m about to agree I catch his meaning and he looks at me in that way.

  Girls, you know exactly what I mean.

  And all of a sudden I feel a drenching inside, washing down from my brain to there. A heavy feeling drops inside me, a delicious feeling of little explosions within my body, I can’t hide I want this man. I glance behind me, we’re at least hundred metres in front of Liza and Kurt, chatting and laughing, approximately two kilometres an hour...stop thinking. They are not paying attention to
us, actually, they're only interested in each-other. “I forgot to ask you whether you liked your Birthday present Tharie?” His hand is on my arse and my breathing gets sharper.

  “My present?” I can’t think, or talk cohesively, this man. What he does to me.

  “Old Blackie.” he says smiling as his fingers stray inside the top of my waistband.

  “I love it, she drives like a dream, how did you manage it..?” And his hand is in my jeans and under my arse and his fingers are working their way forward and my brain stops dead. Daniel takes my hand and leads me behind a mesquite bush and rock, he kisses me hard, like a man whose thirst is suddenly quenched and he drinks mouthful after mouthful until he’s satisfied. “Stan lifted it for me from your driveway.” I am turned on. “I had a chap I know restore it.” he kisses me, running the tip of his tongue along my lips, “A labour of love he called it.” His fingers are in my hair. “Happy Birthday.” He whispers in my ear, so close his breath sends a shock wave through me and I tremble.

  I want to tell him my birthday is in September, but suddenly accuracy is not so important.

  ….............oh..my..god...

  Filling me with pleasure and his fingers are stroking me so softly my senses are alight. This incredibly gorgeous man, so beautiful, wants me: plain old me with bruises still blossoming to completion of healing all down my skinny body. His hand is under my black acne t-shirt, the tips of his fingers grasp the top edge of my bra roughly yanking it down to uncover my breasts, cupping and massaging, he is kissing my neck.

  I can hear the others getting closer, but Daniels fingers work faster and his clever little digits bring me up to the brink of climax. But before I can cum he kneels down opens my jeans and yanks them down pants and all. He finishes me off in a beautiful incredible climax with his mouth, sucking and licking at the same pace as before, and only in the nick of time do I get my clothes back on and presentable as we are caught up. Daniel winks at me conspiratorially, licks his fingers, I suddenly I feel heavy and need more, and takes my hand and off we go again, in the direction the markers have led us, behaving we hope like nothing had just happened, I am behaving like a teenager again, and loving it.

  The terrain is quite flat and barren, only hours from the forest, it's quite dry here despite the rain yesterday. The thin crust of sandy dusty earth which can sustain little life crunches beneath my feet. Short stubbly bushes with shallow root systems and dried small trees are all that can survive in this nutrient starved environment. The rocks give shelter from the sun to some small lizards, the same colour as the dirt, they move quickly and jerkily, and get out of our way into the damp and dark. White -tailed Kite's and Buzzards circle above, this must be their home, the hare and rats we have spotted will be their prey. The llamas are likely too big for birds of prey, so they can graze with some relaxation. The light here is incredible, a photographer from Vogue should get here, for the June Book.

  As we round the corner from the next marker I can see an opening in the ground hidden from view by mesquite and sage bushes. I move the stems aside and a low wide opening is revealed with some markings carved into the face of the rock where a doorbell would be located if the ancients had thought to install one. A cave. Bloody hell.

  TC: “Tell me something nice Jinni, I’m having one of my turns” please have your phone in your hand.

  JG: “Texting a photo that should do the trick” that was quick, she’s good.

  I wait, anxiously. I am filled with dread now, and a disappointment in myself that my phobia might end this quest for me right here.

  XC collected trot track right. Nope, not this time.

  A dark mysterious void is not an encouraging sight, and I stand there routed to the spot as my brain goes into overdrive, the terrified part of me at loggerheads with the rational. With a few punches from the adventurous side of me too. I snap the band, ouch! Daniel picks up on my turmoil and he comes up behind me, and kisses me gently on the lips, giving me a little courage and my brain something nice to think about. “I’ll go in and get a feel for the place, come straight out and give you an impression.” He takes my hand, “its freezing cold.” He tells me, looking at me sorrowfully, “and the air temp must be in excess of 35degrees.” Daniel turns to venture forward through the opening in the rock. “Then we can decide how to proceed.” He tells me looking back.

  HXF extended trot.

  I just nod, I can’t form any audible words, I am less concerned with being left out here alone, where I can breathe air, than going down inside a mountain with everyone else.

  FA collected trot.

  My phone alerts me to a photo message, it’s a picture of my horses, grazing in the frosty sunshine. It works, suddenly I’m connected to my real life, where I fearlessly event, I need to use some of that version of me here.

  TC: “That worked, thank you Tx” it really does too, I feel braver.

  Daniel disappears into the ‘slot’ in the surface of the mountain, he has to bend at the neck to get through. “Wow,“ I hear from inside, very echoic and it reverberates through my ears sending my feeling of dread into partial retreat, but not completely.

  FA collected trot, down the centre line.

  Daniels head pops out. “Tharie, take my hand I’m going to lead you in, close your eyes if you want to.” They are already closed, I hold my breath, it might be for the last time, is that too dramatic?

  DX shoulder-in right.

  My heart is thumping in my chest and I fight every natural instinct I have to stay attached to Daniel. I snap the band around my wrist and that helps a little.

  Note to self, get a new wristband.

  What did John Wayne say, ‘bravery is feeling fear and saddling up anyway” so that’s exactly what I decide to do. After a short crouched journey, I feel a cold waft of breathable air and open my eyes. Daniel sends up a flare, its flame bright orange phosphorescence spearing through the heavy black darkness like a comet. Its trail gives the gloom instant orangey hued illumination, soaring up to the roof of the cavern, at least seventy feet above our heads. I stand in amazement at the scale of the room, its massive height and width calm my nerves and I can breathe more easily. “Are you OK in here?” Daniel whispers the question.

  I nod and breathe a short easy word, “yes.” The acoustics would cheer a soprano, and even a whisper is clearly heard bouncing and magnifying from every surface. The intense blackness is returned at the fading flare, and I grab for my torch in my shaking hand, in my panic I fail the first few times to illuminate my space, because right now, me is all I can think about. Its then I decide it’s all very well for John Wayne, perhaps he wasn’t claustrophobic?

  X volte’s right.

  My world is suddenly much smaller and seemingly confined and I get a tight feeling return across my chest and my heart beats so hard it feels like it could escape my very flesh and bone. It’s not the dark that affects me, darkness is a wonderful velvety solitude, it’s the space, or lack of it, horses are claustrophobic too.

  XM half-pass to the right.

  Daniel holds my hand tighter sensing my fear, and tells me “it’s the same huge space with lots of fresh breathable air Tharie, I won’t leave you alone, will you be OK to continue?” I nod since my words have left me, and my brain goes into overdrive and if a single voice could be untangled from the many, it would be saying get the hell out of there right now! I hate feeling like this. And dressage problems aren't working this time. It's the Prix St George Liza is doing, it's really tough, it usually works...

  Bloody hell.

  Daniel knows exactly what to do, he nuzzles up behind me into my neck breathing hot air, “I can fuck you any-time I want to.” Bingo! Blimey.

  “I want you to.” true story.

  His hands are on my breasts, tweaking my erect nipples through the lace. Kissing me deeply and passionately, his hand rubs the front of my jeans, over and over, my orgasm begins, it's quick, because I need it, faster and faster, harder, rubbing the front of my sex through t
he denim. His lips are on my breasts, it’s amazing. His fingers are concentrating on a single point, rubbing and pushing, until I climax, I quite suddenly feel much better. “Thank you.” I manage breathily.

  “There's more where that came from baby.” He breathes into my neck, sending renewed shivers all over me. With something now to look forward to I am able to concentrate on my surroundings, it’s all about me when I feel like this, later, it’ll be our surroundings, and Daniel. Kurt and Liza appear suddenly out of breath, have they been running? Hmm… To break my spell of fear, and a little guilt too, as I try to cope and share this space with more people. I take several very deep breaths to calm my erratic heartbeat. “Wowza!” Kurt exclaims and lights up a very powerful torch. I feel a little better with more light. “This place is an incredible find, look at the stalactites,” and we all look at the sparkling damp protrusions some a man height in length, the space is huge. Dry outside, damp in here, wouldn’t my Mum warn me about draughts or some such thing?

  Stan follows the professor in and we all collect together in mutual awe at our discovery. Kurt begins to sing the ice cream commercial TV version of Nesum Dorma, to demonstrate the acoustic properties of the cave. And we all agree it sounds incredibly good, and Kurt can sing. Liza looks so impressed, she reties her pony again with a shampoo commercial swish.

  “The carvings on the doorway,” offers the professor rolling his eyes at Kurt, “are a welcome and a warning.” He adjusts his glasses as is his habit, “the sort of thing that goes hand in hand with sacred burials, religious temples or tombs of the long revered dead.” He seems frustrated, but as he looks around I judge that he’s wondering how Lonnie Donnigan would sound in here. “Often folklore prescribes a fear based myth” the professor continues, “which in addition to keeping the stories being told beyond living memory, creates the illusion of an Armageddon type catastrophe should the bonds of secrecy be broken and the important symbolic artefacts and places plundered. It's all quite normal, so scared by their gods, the tombs are left untouched for many centuries,” he lectures to no one in particular.