The Scarlet Cord

by Eliza Master

  An awkward silence fell between the two. Some jute was wrapped around the glass olive jar, and Renata subconsciously untied it and folded it into perfect little loops, the same way she did for storing her shibari ropes. Then she used it to circle her leg and tied it in a sweet bow. The twine looked like a Christmas bow around her thigh, just below her pencil skirt line. Erik’s long fingers reached over and slowly pulled the bow’s end. The jute fell away as he pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was wet and thoughtful, gentler than ones they had previously shared. After the kiss, Renata opened her eyes and gazed into the wide jasper of his. She saw vulnerability and a feeling of wildness there too.

  On the large sofa, Eric deftly unzipped Renata’s tight black skirt and lowered it to her knees. The skirt held her legs together like a rope. Erik used his finger to find Renata’s jewel. She moaned loudly and hoped no one heard her. She would be quiet, or try to be, but it felt too good. Erik felt too good.

  “Oh, Renata,” Erik crooned. He held both of her legs, rolled Renata onto her upper back, and pushed her legs toward her chest. “Wow,” he said running a finger inside her booty crack. Renata watched Erik open his belt with his free hand. Cold metal brushed her from behind, and then he was inside her.

  “That was fast,” thought Renata.

  “Uhh, Uhhg!” Now he was being loud. Renata was super wet, and she loved having him dominate her. Erik was all man, with long, lean muscles, and his member was a perfect fit. Renata forgot about yohimbe and Agri-Gen as her body raced to climax. She clenched her womanhood around his rod, breathing out a deep moan, and Erik answered her with a sharp intake of breath and a low bellow.

  Then Erik released her legs and laid a wet kiss on Renata’s lips. Renata pulled up the bunched skirt, straightening and spreading the little black panties around her curvy behind. She sat up in the same spot, like Erik hadn’t just fucked her. Awkwardly, Renata plopped an olive in her mouth and rolled the salty ball on her tongue. Erik had refastened his belt and was pressing his slacks with his palms. They sipped the wine quietly. A broad smile crossed Erik’s face, and Renata giggled.

  Then Erik said, “So, I invested in Fitzer’s yohimbe project. Fifty thousand bucks!”

  “Oh, wow,” Renata said. “So that’s what this meeting was about?”

  14

  Sildenafil

  Renata sat at her dining table, but her thoughts weren’t on dinner. The San Francisco breeze blew through the open window, but her mind was elsewhere. Food was not a priority at the moment. Her trip was on the calendar, and her spirits were high. Renata would arrive in Guatemala the day before the ship arrived at port. She was excited about the first delivery of yohimbe stumps. It felt like the stork was on its way.

  The stumps’ journey from Cameroon to Guatemala would take more than two weeks by sea. She hoped the shippers would treat the stumps carefully and kept them from freezing, salt water, and manhandling. Each stump was supposed to be wrapped in burlap, have its roots intact, be carefully upturned, and buried in sawdust. They couldn’t be stacked, so they would be spread out across the whole bottom of the ship’s holding tank. Renata had asked them to send photos of the loading to be sure. According to her manager in Cameroon, the vessel would be laden with over five thousand stumps that native people had gathered. “None of the stumps were cut more than four months ago,” he had assured Renata.

  Renata was amazed at the desperate work-to-pay ratio in Cameroon. Fitzer was paying a pitiful seven dollars per stump, and Renata figured the harvesters were probably getting less than half of that for their labor. She remembered the serious faces of the Cameroonians as they sat beside the road for the trucks to buy their bags of bark, and how they waited for days without complaint.

  While waiting for the stumps, Renata had orchestrated the planting of yohimbe seeds in the new Guatemalan farm, even though she hadn’t seen the place yet. Darwin, her overseer, had sent her a video and tons of photos to help. The small plants grown from seed were about two feet tall now and looked like dark green celery with leaves. They covered the rolling farm’s hillsides like corn. The rich Guatemalan soil was good for them. Renata hoped everything was going to fall into place.

  On her laptop, Renata looked over her calculations. “75 trees per acre will be 7,500 trees per one thousand acres. If I double that, the seed farm will be at capacity with all two thousand acres planted.” She mumbled the math out loud, and her voice alerted Kenny from his basement apartment across town.

  Then there was the 250 acres for the stump planting. Renata would need 18,500 stumps to cover the allotted acres. The plan was to give this 5,000-stump shipment a head start and see how viable the stump agri-plan was. Then she would get the remaining 13,500 stumps from Africa if all went well. Renata was curious to find out if the stumps would be productive faster than the seeds. Would the bark be more potent? Even the biologists didn’t have the answers yet.

  Renata looked at a digital map of the region. Several villages surrounded the Agri-Gen acreage. The farm itself was named Atitlana because it was near the famous Lake Atitlan. Renata noted the three volcanoes on the north side of the map. They didn’t look all that threatening from the screen. The past presence of lava in the area made the soil black and fertile. It was good that the crop wasn’t native to the area, and the Guatemalans didn’t recognize it or know its value. So far, they didn’t have any live security there – just an electric fence to keep out cattle, which ran around the fields in a double line.

  Renata wasn’t privy to the amount of sildenafil extract Fitzer was hoping for. Her only job was to grow and set up the yohimbe for harvest. That was Agri-Gen’s piece to complete. The extraction and marketing were internal operations of the pharmaceutical company.

  Renata did know that sildenafil was the most valuable drug extract in the U.S. now, and she was very proud to be the project manager. She just needed to come through with the agriculture portion. “I can do it for you, Fitzer!” she told herself aloud.

  Renata envisioned herself walking into an executive meeting with the board and shareholders of Agri-Gen all there; and Erik too, of course. She would look super hot in her sexy black dress. They would tell her how it was the biggest and best project ever and how no one else was qualified. She would smile confidently and nod her head.

  15

  Darwin

  Renata would fly through Houston with a two-hour layover. Kenny was to meet her the next day in Guatemala City. Apparently, Fitzer still felt she needed his protection. Since this was her project, Agri-Gen was footing the bill for first class, and she was looking forward to the flight.

  Renata boarded first and had a window seat towards the front. There was a bottle of water and silverware rolled in a white napkin on the seat table.

  “Hello.” Her seatmate arrived. He was an older gentleman, and as soon as he sat down, he took out his tablet and began to read. Renata busied herself with the menu, choosing the frittata with goat cheese. She decided to order a mimosa for a treat.

  This would be her first visit to Guatemala. She wasn’t going to look at her plan or notes, or worry about her farm until she arrived. It had worked out well; she had been able to start up the farm remotely from her San Francisco office at Agri-Gen. She hoped everything was being executed as she had planned.

  Renata slept through the majority of the flight in the comfy seat, and she felt refreshed upon her arrival to the big city. Dragging her suitcase through the run-down airport, she finally arrived at her pick-up location. A sign that said “Renata Alvarez” waved overhead from the crowd of shuttle drivers. “Hola, buenos dias,” Renata greeted the youth holding the sign in Spanish.

  “Good afternoon, I’m Darwin,” the man replied in a heavy accent. He met her eyes and then looked away humbly, like he was embarrassed. This was Darwin? Her organizer? Renata had mistaken him for a kid, but Darwin was a full-grown man, probably in his mid-thirties. He was a good five inches shorter than she was. Suddenly, she felt shy too.

  “I wil
l take you to your hotel?” Darwin asked. His question dangled, but it shouldn’t have.

  “Of course, yes. Thank you,” Renata answered formally. Darwin held the door to the jeep open, and she climbed in. Darwin drove fearlessly through horrendous traffic. The car’s air conditioner was set on the highest setting, making Renata shiver. She examined Darwin’s profile from the passenger seat. He was beautiful and looked like a Mayan petroglyph. The bridge of his nose was raised high. It pointed down like a noble beak and sat perfectly balanced between his brown eyes. This nose was vintage. Renata noticed Darwin’s skin was unblemished — it was a lovely ocher hue. Perhaps he was the descendent of an ancient king. He was incredibly miniature all over. Even his fingers on the steering wheel were small like a child’s. He was the first Mayan Renata had ever met; maybe even a cousin to her own ancestors.

  As they drove, Darwin told Renata some of his family history. He said he had grown up in a village adjacent to the Atitlana Farm, where he still lived with his mother in the same cottage. His father had been killed in the civil war, and his sisters had married and lived with their husbands’ families. They spoke in Spanglish, and Renata told him of her adoption from Brazil. “That is why you don’t look American?” Darwin inquired humbly.

  “Well, I am. I’m not white, though.” Her coffee skin was noticed sometimes in the US, but she was certainly American.

  “Yes, I know, many people live there together,” Darwin said. Renata saw that he had a smartphone. “Most who come here for business are white, unless they’re from Mexico,” Darwin continued. “There are lots of drugs, big problema for Guatemala.” Renata didn’t point out that she herself was part of the drug industry too; the legal drug industry. Perhaps Darwin knew that already. But Agri-Gen’s deal had been with the government, and Renata assumed everything was aboveboard.

  After she’d had a chance to get settled, Darwin met Renata for dinner at her hotel, The Barceló. They ate in the sports bar, and Darwin ordered a pitcher of Gallo, a Guatemalan beer, to go with the meal. Renata devoured her fish tacos, and they shared a bowl of bottomless guacamole. Its rich green flavor was sweet and limey, served with chips made from hand-pressed tortillas.

  Darwin was an earnest, upfront guy, and Renata was warming to him. They hadn’t discussed business at all yet. Instead, Darwin told her a local joke.

  “Did you hear they discovered a crop circle above lake Atitlan?” The Guatemalan looked like he was trying to keep a straight face.

  “No.” Renata didn’t know how seriously she should respond.

  “The scientists decoded it, and it said, ‘siesta time!’” Darwin burst out laughing.

  What a stupid joke, Renata thought to herself, but she laughed anyway. Darwin’s cheerful nature was contagious.

  In parting, Darwin said seriously, “My mother, she is a comadrona and a bruja. You must meet her, Renata.” He looked at Renata sternly. His mother was a midwife and a witch? Why would he want his boss to meet her?

  Maybe in Guatemala you always meet the family out of politeness? “Of course,” she answered. “See you tomorrow?”

  “Yes, tomorrow.”

  16

  The Farm

  They met Kenny early in the hotel lobby and drove straight to the farm. Darwin was behind the wheel of the blue jeep he’d used to pick up Renata the evening before. The easy vibe of last night’s dinner was different today, because Kenny and Renata were sitting in the back seat and a soldier occupied the front passenger seat. The soldier was dressed in heavy military garb and sat still and uncomfortable. He was young, and like a child among adults, he was shy and nervous. He kept his M16 rifle resting between his thighs, facing the floor. The machine gun seemed like overkill to Renata, although she had been warned that it was government order to have a military escort at all times. After about 45 minutes of driving, the solder relaxed into a slouch. He sank into in the soft seat and talked to Darwin.

  Darwin was speaking to the kid animatedly, but Renata couldn’t make out the conversation. Their voices pitched into the windshield, and the noise resounding between the jeep and the rough road filled the vehicle. Once they were waiting at a long intersection, Renata finally got to hear some of the conversation from the front. Their words were guttural and dotted with whistles, not at all like the smooth, romantic Spanish trill. Renata had learned that the Guatemalan Indians still spoke Mayan dialects. She wondered if perhaps both of these men were Indians, even though they dressed as Ladinos? Or maybe they didn’t make those distinctions here. Cocking her ear, she tried to understand the conversation.

  “La granja Atitlana.” The Spanish words bounced into the backseat. Renata understood them – the Atitlan farm – and she strained her ears to hear more, but the rest of the words were unfamiliar.

  “How you doing?” Kenny asked, breaking Renata’s reverie. “It’s hot here, and dirty,” he continued.

  Renata nodded. The air-conditioning was weak in the back seats, but neither had complained. They passed a bright brick factory that was spilling its white dust across the road, smearing the surface like dry chalk. Outside, diminutive people were walking about here and there. Children ran in groups, some with school uniforms of blue and white. The jeep was almost right up against a minivan in front of them. The traffic was slow, and getting out of the city seemed interminable. Sluggishly, they drove through clouds of car exhaust. The sidewalks finally turned to hard, baked dirt, and the women in the countryside were dressed in native clothes. No one in the jeep had said anything for a while.

  “We go to the farm right away?” Darwin asked, looking diagonally back toward Kenny.

  “Si, perfecto, señor,” Kenny replied in seamless Spanish.

  “Ayah, see? There’s Pacaya.” Darwin gestured toward the window. Above and to the left was a black cinder volcano with gray smoke billowing from its cleft. The mountain was majestic, and the smog looked like a mushroom cloud.

  They drove on. The soldier was now dozing, and Renata shut her eyes as well. The motion of the car was lulling her to sleep. It had been more than two hours when they finally cranked to a stop at the Agri-Gen plantation.

  Atitlana Farm was more beautiful than Renata had imagined. She had seen Darwin’s photos of her baby yohimbe plants and their lengthy green furrows, but never the big sky or the view of the volcanoes from where the farm took root. Lower in the panorama was a view of Lake Atitlan. Glimmering like a heavenly mirror, the water held the reflection of the two massive volcanoes on its black onyx surface. It was several moments before Renata could take her eyes off the vista. The others stood in reverence as well. Pulling herself back down to earth, she gazed over the immensity of the planted land.

  “Here are our newborns.” Darwin led the way down a long furrow, with Renata directly behind. Kenny followed, and the solder slunk in last place like a teenager. Renata was glad she had worn her Gore-Tex sneakers because it was wet and muddy. She placed one foot in front of the next like she was walking on a balance beam. The symmetry and alignment of the straight rows rolling across the gentle lifts in the topography comforted her. She felt proud of the successful farm. She saw Guatemalans nurturing the small plants. Their bright colored clothing was surreal, like they were part of a scene from a postcard. Renata paused for a moment to take some panoramas on her phone.

  The group had reached the end of the row. The field was edged by jungle; thick undergrowth connected into the trees and created a wall of green vegetation. Renata saw a green parrot looking down at them from a treetop.

  “Here we are. Soon we’ll plant this area too, as soon as you need it.” Darwin gestured with a sweep of his arm like a TV show host. He was pointing to the jungle. His familiar manner from the previous night had become more formal with Kenny and the soldier present. It was just as well. She had a lot to accomplish here.

  There was laughter from the inside the jungle, and the sound caught the attention of the group. Then they heard heavy breathing and a female moaning. Renata smiled, and Darwin looked
embarrassed.

  “Excuse me, I’m very sorry,” Darwin muttered as he stepped off the manicured field. Renata had seen the thicket as impenetrable, but Darwin moved into the jungle like it was his living room. He disappeared, and the group heard some hushed words and then the couple moving off. Darwin re-emerged. “Pardon me, they come here… they tell stories. They say it’s the plants. The kids eat some leaves, and then…” Darwin’s face was red, but Renata burst out laughing. Darwin and Kenny laughed too, and the air cleared.

  “We have lunch, and I can show you your hotel?” Darwin offered.

  The “hotel” was a new concrete cottage overlooking the Atitlana Farm. It was on a knoll with long rows of yohimbe surrounding the house. This view was even more amazing than from the field. Renata could see more of the lake and the two enormous volcanoes that touched the sky. The place had a fenced yard with a small guard shed, and the soldier waited there as Darwin took Renata and Kenny toward the house. There was another, identical blue jeep parked in front.

  The inside floor was a rectangle of fresh cement. On the rectangle were two small bedrooms, a kitchen dining area, and a bathroom. The place was filled with handmade furniture, including a table with six chairs. Renata could smell the piney sap from the fresh wood. Feeling the need, Renata went into the bathroom, but there was no toilet.

  “Oh sorry, outside. So sorry,” Darwin said as he pointed Renata to the toilet shed in the back.

  “I’m ready for a siesta,” Kenny said, as he dragged his suitcase into a bedroom. “Thanks for the ride.” He saluted Darwin.

  When Renata returned, Darwin presented his mother. The old woman was sitting in one of the dining chairs with her hands folded in her lap, gazing at the table.