Exotika 03 - On the Loose

by Tesni Morgan

  “What is it the Chinese say?” Carenza cut in. “‘If the gods want to punish you, they condemn you to interesting times.’”

  They walked ahead of the cameras, though there were others trigged up in the trees lining their route. Matt paused every now and again, pointing out plants that could or couldn’t be eaten in an emergency. He crushed one leaf in his fingers. “Smell before you feed. If, like this, it has an odor of bitter almonds or peaches, then chuck it. There are many that are okay. You’ll have to study the leaflets I’ve passed around.”

  As they pushed through the undergrowth, he explained how they could obtain water from unusual sources and Carenza’s respect deepened. He certainly knew his stuff! Clem took over, equally conversant, and Carenza found herself meandering along a path behind Matt, while the rest took another direction.

  “I wanted to show you this.” He dug around beneath a plant with yellow flowers. “You can cook tubers. Wild parsnip, Jerusalem artichoke, to name but a few. All roots should be thoroughly scrubbed, boiled until soft, then roasted on hot stones in embers.”

  “Why tell me especially?” She was trying to forget that she had been watching him all morning, all too aware of his lean hips and broad shoulders.

  “Because you seem to have more sense than the rest of them put together.” The sunlight was dimming now, filtering down through the leaves on to his strong features and those keen eyes. He glanced upward. “It’s going to rain. The forecast is bad.”

  At that moment a clap of thunder sent her shrieking and bumping into him. His arms came around her as lightning rent the sky. She had always been terrified of storms and her knees gave way. She clung to him, shaking. Rods of rain fell straight, as if a cistern had burst. Matt moved swiftly, dragging her along behind him and leaving the trees. They came to a meadow and a dilapidated hut. She was inside with him—dankness, dimness, but no longer the fear of a lightning strike or cameras spying on them.

  “Thank God for shelter.” She could hardly make herself heard over the tumult of the storm.

  He didn’t reply, simply fixed her with his eyes and she couldn’t look away, locked in their depths, helpless as he reached toward her. “You’re a mystery, Carenza.” There was a thread of bitter mockery in his voice.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You are intelligent, brave, willing to have a go at anything, yet you’ve got yourself mixed up with David Farlan.”

  “And what’s wrong with him?”

  He gave a harsh burst of laughter. “What’s right with him? He’s ruthless, someone who likes to control everyone within his range, especially women. I’m surprised that you can’t see through him. And you’ve been shafting him.”

  This angered her, but made her ashamed. “How dare you talk that way to me? It’s nothing to do with you. You don’t know anything about me. Back off!”

  “You keep a fence around you, lady. Won’t let anyone in.”

  “Not someone like you!” she cried above the roar of the heavens.

  “I don’t believe that. You know damn fine that there’s chemistry between us. Always has been from the off, when we met in the Barley Corn Club. And what about in the water? Was that nothing?”

  She wanted to deny it so very badly, but couldn’t. It was flowing now, that tide drawing them closer and closer together. Sexual, all-consuming, but containing another element—one that she dreaded. If she fell in love with him, then he would possess her, body, mind and soul. If she wasn’t very careful, he would hurt her more than Kelyn had ever done. Her lecturer boyfriend was a mouse compared to this man—or rather, a rat.

  “I want to go back to camp.”

  “Liar.” He reached down and unbuttoned his trousers. His erection sprang free.

  He pushed her back against a supporting beam, grabbed her wrists and held her arms above her head, his eyes raking over her breasts outlined by her wet top. She watched him, desire flaming in her, watched the progress of his mouth coming ever closer to hers.

  When his lips touched hers, every other consideration flew out of the window. As on those the other occasions, it was as if she had never been kissed before. Matt’s mouth was warm, his firm lips becoming soft and gentle as they prized hers apart. His tongue was wet, familiarizing itself with hers. His body, toned by physical use, not workouts, felt hot and overpowering. He freed one wrist and her hand dived down to hold his cock, closing her fist around it, sliding the foreskin back from the slippery helm.

  He gasped and muttered, “Over there.” And led her to where a heap of straw made a makeshift bed. Carenza hesitated, her conventional upbringing coming to the fore, but she couldn’t help it, allowing her newfound promiscuity to take over.

  Once she had dreamed of love and romance and still did, in her heart of hearts, but Matt was just too persuasive. He shucked off his weatherproof jacket and spread it for her to lie on. Then he stretched out beside her and took her in his arms. It seemed right, somehow, and she yielded as he pushed up her top and found her breasts, cupping and fondling them, his thumbs rolling over her stiff nipples. Her lace brassiere added to the friction. He eased her jeans down and found his way into her thong. Heaviness invaded her loins and she waited breathlessly, wanting him to touch her clitoris. He was as eager as she, his naked penis thrusting against her body as he masturbated her, silent as she dropped into the deep pool of sensation, deaf and blind to all else.

  Then he urged, “Do it for me, girl. Let me feel you come.”

  This was all she needed to topple her over the edge into a whirling vortex of passion. He brought her back to reality carefully, holding her wet mound in his palm, no longer touching her oversensitive nubbin. She pulled him closer, wanting to give him the same pleasure that he had just lavished on her.

  He stopped long enough to unlace his boots, tug off his socks and wriggle out of his pants. She loved the sight of his flat belly and flanks and that handsome cock rearing toward her from its nest of brown curls. He slipped on a condom, knelt over her, took it in his hand and ran the head over her swollen labia then he lowered himself. She watched it being absorbed into her, feeling the thickness of it stretching her and her vagina clenching around it. He held her hips up toward him, thrusting deeply so that she could no longer see their joining. She shut her eyes and held on to him while they surfed the crashing waves of ecstasy.

  She relished the feel of his skin stretched so smoothly over his sinews. Here was a man indeed. She ran her hands up and down his back, holding him tightly, rejoicing in the way his body surged against hers, his prick plunging deeply, filling her completely until she felt as if they were one person. She was still rocked with spasms from her climax and what he was doing to her made it feel complete.

  He was on his knees now, his hands under her buttocks, lifting her toward him. His face was distorted, his eyes half shut and she knew he was about to reach the zenith. To be held like that by such a powerful male was everything she had ever wanted. It made her feel puny, of no consequence against such passion, yet all powerful, for it was her beauty, her body and her sexuality that was rousing him to such a pitch.

  “Jesus God!” The oath was forced from him by the violence of their coupling.

  He was racing toward completion. Nothing would have stopped him at that vital moment. She hung on in there, riding the storm, and she had never been happier, hearing his gasps, feeling his penis jerk deep within her as he yielded up his tribute. She felt like the goddess of love, receiving libation from her worshipper.

  It was over. He slumped down, his face buried in her hair, his heart beating rapidly and his arms clasping her tightly. She could have stayed like that forever. But soon the hut returned to normality. The rain beat steadily on the leaky roof. Matt’s breathing became regular and he left her, removed the condom and pulled on his pants while Carenza retrieved her jeans. The magic was gone. It was as if nothing untoward had taken place between them. The thunder rolled away and the sky was getting lighter.

  “We’ll make it
back to camp soon.” He was very matter-of-fact. Then he gave a lopsided grin that said it all, their intimacy and their shared lust. It made her ashamed and angry. That was all it had been—opportunity and lust—nothing more. No choir singing, no orange blossom or “until death-us-do-part”. Just for a while there it had seemed that heaven had been within her grasp, but she must have been mistaken.

  “Okay.” She struggled with her laces, wondering, did he always carry condoms? Had she been nothing but a diversion, the same as many another girl that he’d made casual love to?

  “Are you all right?”

  “Fine.” She said it without thinking, then recalled that this spelled fucked-up, insecure, neurotic and egocentric. And, by all that was holy, this was very true.

  She looked around the hut, the scales stripped from her eyes or was it the rose-tinted spectacles? It was sordid, not the surroundings she would have chosen for sex, but then those things couldn’t be organized or they’d lose their spontaneity. Did she want it to happen again with Matt? Definitely not, she decided firmly, squashing that silly part of her that was silently weeping.

  The rain had stopped and the sun came out, bathing the meadow in sparkling green. Matt heaved up his pack and pushed open the rickety door. He smiled down at her from his impressive height. “We must do this again some time.”

  “We won’t. It was a one-off, a moment’s madness, an aberration, like the shag in the pool.”

  “Aberration? That’s the first time I’ve been called that.” His face darkened.

  Carenza was suddenly uneasy. He was a big man, a tough mercenary, practically a stranger, despite their intimacy. She was alone with him and the hut was isolated. He could snap her spine like a stick, if he had a mind to.

  “Let’s go,” she said and walked out.

  * * * * *

  “We’ve not had a girly chat for ages.” Vicky entered Carenza’s space without so much as a by-your-leave. Joanna followed and they settled themselves down on the inflatable mattress.

  “Neither have we.” Carenza hoped they weren’t about to probe. A false hope, as it turned out.

  “Spill the beans.” Vicky pulled out her cigarettes. “I haven’t been coy about screwing Clem, neither has Joanna tried to hide her dabblings with Eddie, so dish the dirt. What were you doing with Matt this afternoon? Sheltering from the rain? I don’t think so.”

  Here it came, the interrogation she had been expecting. Carenza didn’t even blush. “What else?”

  “Oh, give me a break!” Vicky raised her eyes to heaven. “Alone for at least an hour with the fittest piece of meat this side of Christendom and you’re making out that you didn’t fuck him? Pull the other leg, it’s got bells on it.”

  “We’re not all as cock-obsessed as you.” Carenza was feeling guilty as hell.

  “You’re winding me up, aren’t you?”

  “Leave her alone,” Joanna interrupted. “It’s her business who’s been plugging her, isn’t it?”

  “That’s right. It’s not carved in stone that we share everything. I’ve not asked you who you’re sleeping with and I don’t want to know about Joanna’s love life.” Carenza was putting up smoke screens all over the place, though unsure just why she was so reluctant to discuss Matt with them, or David for that matter.

  She was saved by Eddie poking his head in at the flap. “Cookery classes, girls. Everyone to attend. Chop, chop!” And he grinned at Joanna in a certain way that spoke volumes about their relationship.

  Despite all her inward protestations to the contrary, excitement prickled like nettles when Carenza saw Matt holding court around the campfire. He had the limp form of a rabbit in his hand, the very same hand that had fondled her. Another carcass lay on a stump. Her stomach heaved.

  “Now then.” He was as unconcerned as if this was a perfectly normal turn of events. “You saw how I set snares earlier. These are the results, two reasonably plump rabbits. Don’t worry, they died instantaneously. Unlike deer and larger kills, it isn’t necessary to bleed them and we shall be cooking them immediately anyway, ensuring that the meat is fresh. Everyone okay with that?”

  I’m not, Carenza thought. It’s enough to turn me into a vegan. Poor little animals.

  “D’you know what you get if you pour boiling water down a rabbit hole?” asked Tommy, always the comedian.

  Matt looked him straight in the eye. “No. What do you get?”

  “A hot cross bunny. Boom! Boom!”

  Everyone groaned. Matt continued his lecture, laying the kill on the rough trestle table. “First of all, skinning. While the flesh is warm, remove any scent glands, and the testicles if it is male.”

  “Ooh, makes your eyes water, doesn’t?” shrilled Phil.

  “Shouldn’t think it would worry you,” Laurette commented nastily.

  “Why ever not? I’m very fond of my balls.”

  “Am I wasting my time or are you going to listen?” Matt’s eyes flashed sternly. They became quiet and he continued, “Turn the carcass on its back, cut through the chest and belly, and the inner legs. Don’t slice into the stomach or digestive organs. Lift the skin as you go, like this.”

  Though disliking what he was doing, Carenza had to admire his skill. The rabbit’s overcoat came off neatly, the legs, the body, up over the head and, with a quick twist, he removed it.

  “Ugh!” said Laurette. “That’s disgusting!”

  “You wouldn’t think so if you hadn’t eaten for days.” Matt was concentrating on opening the belly, removing the stomach and intestines then inserting his fingers into the chest and pulling out the heart. Darrell leaned closer, his culinary self intrigued.

  “I don’t want to look.” Vicky turned pale.

  “It’s up to you.” Matt shrugged as if he didn’t much care. “I’m just showing you as part of your training.”

  The cameras were drinking in this scene, capturing the horrified looks of the women as they saw Matt jointing the animal ready for the pot. He was as unconcerned as Darrell, the cookery expert, demonstrating on TV. Carenza had to admire his cool, and she moved nearer. Though sickened by the thought of actually killing and gutting an animal, she realized that it might be a useful lesson to learn.

  The table looked amazingly clean, rather like a counter in a butcher’s shop. Matt had already washed it down and the pieces of meat were lying there with a heap of organic vegetables gathered from the forest. He scooped them up and went to the fire, where they were popped into bubbling water in the deep stew pan.

  “Supper will soon be ready.” He turned and scrubbed his hands. “Who is going to prepare the other rabbit?”

  “I’ll have a go.” Carenza couldn’t believe it. Had she really said that?

  “Fine.” A smile lit up his face. “Here is the knife. It’s sharp. Don’t cut yourself.”

  She concentrated hard, squashing any queasy feelings, trying to pretend that she really was a survivor preparing food for her hungry children. This made it less sickening. It wasn’t too bad. The carcass was warm and pliable and, following Matt’s instructions, she managed well, quite proud of the result when he lifted the joints and added them to those already stewing.

  “Was that all right?” she asked him, while Darrell looked on approvingly.

  “I’ll make a pioneer of you yet.” Matt used a husky tone that penetrated deeply, just as if he had entered her physically again.

  You’ve got to stop this before it is too late, she lectured herself and moved away.

  They sat around waiting for the food to cook. It struck Carenza just how much they were all accustomed to being entertained—the radio, CDs, television and mobile phones. People seemed to have lost the art of conversation. They could argue, disagree, try to score points, but debate like adults? Forget it! It was a selfish, greedy, opinionated era, certainly among the media people with whom she mixed. Matt had been like a breath of fresh air, but he had his faults. And so have I, she sighed, not sparing herself.

  The stew was ready, served
up on tin plates along with hunks of German bread renowned for its keeping qualities, hard and grainy. It was dusk now, the moon rising between the trees and birds going to roost. The cameramen were packing up and heading for the lodge and there was really little to do once they had all eaten and tidied the camp.

  “How bored our ancestors must have been.” Laurette slid down to sit by Kieran. “Sod all to do, once they’d finished hunting and gathering?”

  “Bet they had big families, though.” He put an arm ‘round her. “Look how the birth rate soared when England was in the grip of a power cut, a few years back.”

  “Are you suggesting that we only have sex because there’s nothing else to do?” Joanna was sitting close to Eddie, who had declined the crew’s invitation to ride back with them. Everyone knew he was married, but in the middle of an acrimonious divorce.

  “We should be recording this,” he said regretfully. “Could have a phone-in. You know…give us your views, Mr. and Mrs. General Public…is sex simply a way to pass the time?”

  “Oh God, not that too,” moaned Laurette. “The switchboard will be jammed with calls when this reality show goes on the air, let alone other issues.”

  Carenza was only half listening, piqued because Matt was ignoring her. After that closeness when he had encouraged her to skin the rabbit earlier, he had since acted as if she wasn’t there. She looked at him while pretending not to, but he seemed absorbed in scribbling notes, making diagrams and discussing future activities with Clem.

  She stood up at last. “I’m going to bed. Goodnight, all.”

  He didn’t acknowledge her, though the rest did, and she stalked off to her awning after visiting the latrine. God, I shall be thankful for a proper lavatory! she sighed, and a washing machine. I’m sick of rinsing out my panties and bras in the stream and hanging them up to drip-dry. One bonus about this kind of thing is that it makes you appreciate modern technology.

  It was nearly midnight and sleep evaded her. She relived the scene in the hut, getting wet between the thighs, putting her hand down there and caressing herself, pretending it was Matt. But even this brought little comfort. Eventually, she switched off the battery-operated lamp, hoping complete darkness would help her find oblivion.