the thought of being stalked and seduced and owned is terrifying, she also very, very turned on.
It is the most amazing feeling on the planet
to be wanted .
☼
The bus is empty when the driver stops on the
side of the highway. He just sits there, door open, and Ixazaluoh pulls Abby out into the warm night air.
"What was that?" Abby asks,
watching the bus vanish down the empty road.
"He thinks he was stopping for railroad
tracks."
"Did you do that?"
"Not me, no. It's not my…
area," Ixazaluoh admits with a glinting smile,
the more smile. "Come, this way." She leads them to a dense
row of trees and Abby realises that this is the boundary between the road and
the true wilds. There is a mature forest behind this line, dim and shadowy. A jungle, dark and packed and dangerous. Abby feels absurdly
foreign and very, very fragile.
"There's no path," Abby protests.
She's wearing sandals, she's going to trip on a rock
or get stabbed by a branch.
"Yes, there is. Trust me, Abigail," Ixazaluoh says, and Abby does. Because
she's been asked to.
They walk in silence for a long time. Abby
isn't sure if it's minutes, or hours, or days. She doesn't trip on anything,
and eventually she cranes her head back and watches the stars through the canopy.
Eventually she becomes aware that they are
being watched. She doesn't see the eyes in the shadows so
much as feels them. The way they look at her is like
caresses. They stroke up her exposed calves, down her naked arms. They slide
over her breasts, linger on her cheeks, dip into the
hollow between her thighs. The gazes are physical things and she sucks in air
through her teeth, shocked and so fucking turned on that her legs threaten to go out from under her.
"Patience!" Ixazaluoh snaps at the darkness, exasperation thick in her voice. "Brothers,
sisters, please. Patience."
The eyes blink closed. The touches recede.
Abby clings to Ixazaluoh ,
hands wrapped in her brown shirt, only when she opens her eyes, Ixazaluoh not dressed like a resort worker any more.
Instead she looks like she stepped straight from an
anthropology textbook. She is wearing a top of woven blues and greens.
The patterns look like waves, and it is squarish ,
sticking out from her shoulders, making her look large and powerful. She's got
a beautiful necklace on, thick and large, almost like a collar, and it is blue
too—blue stone, blue beads, and blue sparkles, like the sea at midday. Her
skirt reaches the ground, tubular, slightly stiff, woven as well. Her feet are bare and incongruously, her toenails are painted a
bright, beautiful sea-green.
"It's a nice pedicure," Ixazaluoh says, following her line of sight. "I want
to keep it."
Abby laughs, but it comes out small and
strangled sounding. It echoes in the open air around them and Abby looks up,
startled. They aren't in the middle of the forest any more. They are in a
clearing. Well, barely a clearing. It's less like it was man-made and more like
the trees are too scared to encroach. In the middle of
the clearing is a low stone bench. It looks nothing at all like a slaughter
stone from a ziggurat or Stone Henge , but all the
same, Abby feels like a sacrifice when Ixazaluoh leads her to it and encourages her to sit.
Abby clings to her fingers. "You promise
you won't hurt me?" Abby is trembling, sweating, her hands feel clammy and
her forehead itches with it, and god, she's never been so scared and so turned
on in her life.
"I promise, my love."
"I just... it's just that..."
"All those
stories of human sacrifice?" Ixazaluoh asks.
Abby nods.
"Some supplicants were slaughtered," Ixazaluoh admits. "But some only suffered what
the Europeans, in their ridiculous desperation for prudery, called the little
death ."
"Oh," Abby breathes.
"But if it will make you feel better, I
will give you three requests."
"Requests?"
"You may give me... rules, if you
like," Ixazaluoh says. "I will follow them
if I am able."
"But you won't if you can't," Abby
says. "Or...
It is the most amazing feeling on the planet
to be wanted .
☼
The bus is empty when the driver stops on the
side of the highway. He just sits there, door open, and Ixazaluoh pulls Abby out into the warm night air.
"What was that?" Abby asks,
watching the bus vanish down the empty road.
"He thinks he was stopping for railroad
tracks."
"Did you do that?"
"Not me, no. It's not my…
area," Ixazaluoh admits with a glinting smile,
the more smile. "Come, this way." She leads them to a dense
row of trees and Abby realises that this is the boundary between the road and
the true wilds. There is a mature forest behind this line, dim and shadowy. A jungle, dark and packed and dangerous. Abby feels absurdly
foreign and very, very fragile.
"There's no path," Abby protests.
She's wearing sandals, she's going to trip on a rock
or get stabbed by a branch.
"Yes, there is. Trust me, Abigail," Ixazaluoh says, and Abby does. Because
she's been asked to.
They walk in silence for a long time. Abby
isn't sure if it's minutes, or hours, or days. She doesn't trip on anything,
and eventually she cranes her head back and watches the stars through the canopy.
Eventually she becomes aware that they are
being watched. She doesn't see the eyes in the shadows so
much as feels them. The way they look at her is like
caresses. They stroke up her exposed calves, down her naked arms. They slide
over her breasts, linger on her cheeks, dip into the
hollow between her thighs. The gazes are physical things and she sucks in air
through her teeth, shocked and so fucking turned on that her legs threaten to go out from under her.
"Patience!" Ixazaluoh snaps at the darkness, exasperation thick in her voice. "Brothers,
sisters, please. Patience."
The eyes blink closed. The touches recede.
Abby clings to Ixazaluoh ,
hands wrapped in her brown shirt, only when she opens her eyes, Ixazaluoh not dressed like a resort worker any more.
Instead she looks like she stepped straight from an
anthropology textbook. She is wearing a top of woven blues and greens.
The patterns look like waves, and it is squarish ,
sticking out from her shoulders, making her look large and powerful. She's got
a beautiful necklace on, thick and large, almost like a collar, and it is blue
too—blue stone, blue beads, and blue sparkles, like the sea at midday. Her
skirt reaches the ground, tubular, slightly stiff, woven as well. Her feet are bare and incongruously, her toenails are painted a
bright, beautiful sea-green.
"It's a nice pedicure," Ixazaluoh says, following her line of sight. "I want
to keep it."
Abby laughs, but it comes out small and
strangled sounding. It echoes in the open air around them and Abby looks up,
startled. They aren't in the middle of the forest any more. They are in a
clearing. Well, barely a clearing. It's less like it was man-made and more like
the trees are too scared to encroach. In the middle of
the clearing is a low stone bench. It looks nothing at all like a slaughter
stone from a ziggurat or Stone Henge , but all the
same, Abby feels like a sacrifice when Ixazaluoh leads her to it and encourages her to sit.
Abby clings to her fingers. "You promise
you won't hurt me?" Abby is trembling, sweating, her hands feel clammy and
her forehead itches with it, and god, she's never been so scared and so turned
on in her life.
"I promise, my love."
"I just... it's just that..."
"All those
stories of human sacrifice?" Ixazaluoh asks.
Abby nods.
"Some supplicants were slaughtered," Ixazaluoh admits. "But some only suffered what
the Europeans, in their ridiculous desperation for prudery, called the little
death ."
"Oh," Abby breathes.
"But if it will make you feel better, I
will give you three requests."
"Requests?"
"You may give me... rules, if you
like," Ixazaluoh says. "I will follow them
if I am able."
"But you won't if you can't," Abby
says. "Or...
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