That Friday morning, after our first shared stealth explosion the night before, May Linh seemed to be in an excellent mood. Me, for some reason, I felt a bit somber because I could tell time was ticking. Now there was a deadline. May Linh was leaving in two days. I could tell it in the way she worked in her garden, in the languor in her walk, in the way I was ogling her like a maniac again, just like at the beginning, I could tell it in the way I couldn’t keep myself from touching her and smelling her.
I couldn’t believe where time had gone since I first met her and when she arrived a few days later and shook my hands as to say “we have a deal.” And that deal was all spelled out in a contract: for 4.000 coppers a month, she was to live nude in my secluded house by the beach and be fondled at times by old Mr. Me.
The brunt of Thursday night’s storm was gone but the ocean was still chomping and I didn’t like the look of it. To clear my mind, I dove anyway in the water, like usual. But soon I started to feel the pull. It was still high tide but going down. I was fighting the waves and it was hard so when I reached the 150m platform, I rested and decided to turn back, too fucking dangerous. I wasn’t happy to find May Linh on the sandbar.
She grabbed on to me, threw her legs around my waist and “Let’s go swim,” she said. By then, I was petting her anus a little, liking it, but “No,” I said, “no swimming today, we have to go back right now.” There was a bit of irritation in my voice. “But…” she started. “No, let’s go back,” I said and my tone didn’t suffer any contestation. “OK,” she said. Our contract stated we had no reason to ever argue but I could tell she didn’t like it. We swam back with no problem whatsoever.
She must have thought that I was angry at her for some reason – that she was leaving soon was a good one though – because, after the shower, she came to the porch. She was nude and I could see her body was a bit stiff. She had a cup of tea and sat in the armchair next to mine so we weren’t facing each other and I couldn’t gaze at her.
“I didn’t like the way you talked to me earlier,” she said calmly.
“Sorry,” I said and I meant it. I guess, I had to explain.
“Look,” I said, “I thought the water was dangerous today.”
So I told her about what in France we call ‘Baïne’, an unusual undercurrent close to the beach, which explained the channel before the sandbar, and how that current can pull you out at sea, even a seasoned swimmer, and how I remembered one of those. One day, I was getting back to shore with my small kids and we had done it a million times. My boy was swimming next to me, my girl was on my back, playing dolphin, when I realized a fucking current was trying to pull us all. Not only us! It was so unexpected, all of a sudden, people around us were freaking out, I could see a grand-Pa trying to get to shore with a little girl on a buoy and not succeeding, I could see everyone in the water panicking, I could see the life guards running everywhere, going berserk, and everyone on the beach screaming and jumping.
My son was starting to tire and wondering, my daughter too, and me too. So I decided to relax and I did, my muscle not so tense anymore. Then, with as much serenity in my voice that I could, I told my son to stay right next to me and I told my daughter to move her feet, like dolphins do – I could use any help I could get – and I stopped fighting the current. I relaxed and let ourselves derive while still swimming much more efficiently and inching our way to the beach. And, suddenly, we got out of the pull and, after a last effort, we were so happy to touch ground together. Then we had a long way to come back and we found more people like us, walking back. Once there, we learned that a mother and her son had drown and one person was still missing.
“I’m not a kid and you don’t have to save me,” May Linh said, still pissed. “All you had to do was to tell me that you thought this was dangerous.”
Yes, but this was not the whole point.
So I told her the story of that guy I had met in a bar in France long time ago. He was pounding on the drinks like there was no tomorrow. Later he told me how he lost his wife and kid. He was a military officer and was stationed in a French base in the Sahara desert, in Africa. One time, while on leave, he had taken his family in town for a few days of shopping and fun and civilization, some 150 miles away or so from base through the desert.
On the way back he came to an ‘oued’, a dried river bed. He was about to cross it, a 30 to 45 minutes ride he had done several times, when he saw rivulets of water. “We have to go back in town and come back tomorrow or the day after,” he said to his wife. But she got angry: “I’m tired of this dusty town and I’m tired of this dusty desert and I’m tired of it all, most importantly I’m tired of you always being so fucking precious and careful. Cross the goddam ‘oued’ and let us go home, else you’ll be the joke of the whole regiment,” she told him. He imagined going back in town having to spend 24 or 48 hours with her bitching in the hotel room. The mere thought of it tired him. “Fine,” he said, and he drove down the ‘oued’. He saw the wall of water coming on them and he tried to race it. His wife was screaming and his kid too but, before he knew it, his 4×4 car was swept like a wisp of straw. Because he was a trained military he survived. But he lost the wife and kid.
“I often thought about that story, a typical lose-lose situation for most men,” I said. “If he had listened to his instinct, all would be saved but he would have gotten hell from his wife for a couple of days – or more – and she would have made him pay for it and she would have never known he was right. Now she knows he was right but she is too dead to talk about it.”
So I told May Linh. “I didn’t know for sure this morning if it was that dangerous or not out there in the ocean but it felt like dangerous to me. And I didn’t want to take a chance at losing you and I didn’t want to have to argue with you. So I used that tone of voice to make sure you’d get out of there. And we did.”
“I see,” she said, mellowed.
We didn’t say anything for a while.
“You know, if I had drown, with such a contract, you could have easily replaced me,” she said.
“I don’t think so, and I don’t know if you could have replaced me,” I said.
Then we both smiled and resumed looking at the chompy water. Then she went to play piano. The sky was still outcast.
What the fuck is wrong with me? I hadn’t talk so much like that since the first day we met. In that apart-hotel, we had spent a whole day talking about ourselves and who we were. Since then, we didn’t need to talk that much, as if we had said plenty enough that first day and there was no need to say more. So what was it with me today, talking like that, telling her about my kids???
That one night was different too. When I came to bed, she was lying on her belly, her head turned to her right, away from me. I didn’t know what to think but I figured she was leaving soon so I took the time to look at her, her black hair, the small of her back, her buttocks. So I started to caress her and kissing her. Then I spread her buttocks and there was her round eye, splendid, true and fair. I started to lick it softly, feeling the entrance to the sky and the stars with the tip of my tongue. Then in one quick limber move, she threw her right leg over me and she was on her back and with both her strong legs she pulled me over to her.
I was surprised and puzzled. Maybe, all of this time, she was just tired of waiting, or maybe she couldn’t understand why, being the boss, I was hardly doing anything to her, not even trying really? Or maybe she felt something last night that she had really missed and wanted a bit more before leaving Sunday? Or she had realized that I am such a loser, that if I wanted to get lucky before she’d leave, she had better help me? I thought this last proposition was probably the closest to the truth and, in my head, I thanked her for her generosity.
Now I had to make sure that, after all of this stealth, there would indeed be an explosion. And there was one indeed, even better than I anticipated because now we felt more comfortable and we were looking for each other and reaching and giving.
No wonder religions forbid anal sex. All religions want people to have sex only to reproduce, and there’s sex only because they can’t help it. Even that is changing. With GPA and other insemination ways, soon, religions will be able to get away with sex all together. From small dick to no dick at all country. Anyway, for thousands of years, religions shepherded – yes, shepherded, that’s the word they use – people like cattle. Some fucks even believed you could select the next generations of human beings like other did with animals and vegetable. Natural selection or act of god, it doesn’t matter. As far as shepherds are concerned, sex is for reproduction only and, in fact, that goes for all animals.
What difference is there between a group of Taliban women and a herd of zebras? None. And between members of a group of American kids on a beach at spring break? None either. And I guarantee it is easier for the zebras to recognize themselves – they just have to smell each other ass and, at least, their selection is natural – than it is for humans!
So when gamahuching with May Linh, we are doing something animals don’t do. Only then do we have a chance to become real humans. And once you’re a free human being, even alone on this planet like everyone else, you don’t need no shepherds with their taboos, their morals, their violence, their racism, their sarcasm, their hypocrisy, their cynicism, their murdering habits, their balls and chains, their norms and all the shit only religious people are capable off.
And behind religions come all kinds of powers that be ready also to tell you how to live. And at the end there is no more good guys because one can never be a good guy good enough for those fuckers. Believe me, if those Taliban women were to find a way to have fun under their burqa, their fathers, brothers, and husbands would make sure to see an end to it, fast. And if these American kids on spring break would start to think, you know religions and their parents and powers that be would quickly get them back on track to the mall and the pharmacy and the gun shop.
Why do you think god – what a joke! – fried Sodom and Gomorrah? Because those people there tried to resist evil, thinking legitimately that they were doing perfectly fine before god showed up. And resistance is something any god cannot tolerate, especially when inquisitors are speaking in his name. Thus sodomy laws in almost all religions.
So maybe there was for May Linh and old Mr. Me an urgency to be alive a little bit more, still, when for all purposes we were already buried, retired here, in our secluded house by the beach, living like hermits. Yes we had lost all the other battles and that’s probably why we escaped far away from people but that gamahuching together, and her true squeezes on my finger, and those formidable stealth explosions we shared made it possible for us to lose all of them fucks. We were not animals anymore and that in itself was enough, but consent and willingness made the abandon all the more awesome. And, for all the assholes of the world, “Up yours,” I was thinking. Some stealth explosion indeed.
And May Linh was leaving Sunday and that made it even more urgent.
So we took our time. May Ling squeezed and squeezed and squeezed and I felt that tingle again.
It was just a glimpse but there was a big sky and million stars, where aliens live.
Next episode: Adam thinks there’s nothing better than a hot piece of tail
Previous episode: Adam knows May Linh doesn’t lie
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