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Group of scientists in Massachussetts. At a local bistro. Private party. They have to plan. Scientific expedition.
“So, where is the big trip next month?” Admonished asked, dipping his fries in a mixture of ketchup and a local hot sauce. The sauce had a blend of various peppers, including jalapeno and the infamous Scotch bonnett. He knows the chef. A bit too well, and now the chef is George’s ex-brother-in-law. On his plate is part of a burger that was a few minutes previously the size of Congress. George never asks and always gets salad dressing on the burger. He eats every french fry, though.
“It’s a scientific expedition” Cassie Langra mildly rebukes George. We are going to Bora Bora. To study the indigenous wildlife.”
“Indigenous wildlife, yes. A different male voice. “I’m sure it’s there, even as we speak.”
Cassie is looking for her comb down inside her deep, dark handbag. Ed, I’m happy to know we all agree on something.
Marisol speaks. “It’s one of the few places that American corporation has not decided to make it’s nest”.
Colbert looks over at Marisol and speaks. “You don’t look anything like her.” Colbert scratches at his three-hour beard. Crazy bell ringer was right. There is money to be made on this trip. We could strip mine for volcanic deposits. We could start a park for prehistoric raptors, with me as manager of the secretarial pool.
“Yes, I know Edward. Marisol in the spaghetti western was much prettier. But she let the man with no name know there was a gun at his back.” Feel lucky, punk? she thought, a hand on one of her flats.
George the admonished speaks up again. So you are going to Bora Bora. We are scientists, yes! Why can’t I go.”
Colbert is studying George. Colbert did not ever doubt George was a good scientist. But now, Colbert. a rising scum of plankton and a member of Greenpeace, knows better than to go anywhere with George. Colbert has big balls and is a ladder stepper. I can have exposure, he muses. Edward Colbert thinking of banging women around top brass. A woman with a lemon blouse, strapless. Several rungs up the ladder, the assistant’s skirt flapping in the breeze. Sheer brown panties…
Cassie says “There’s nothing to do there. In Bora Bora. “The native habitat is not even worth studying. They’re all bartenders and entertainers.”
Marisol looks at Cassie a minute. “But it’s your fucking job, for Christ’s sake. I mean, damn!” Marisol’s face a mixture of alarm and laughing. Clarisse was a good friend. Sort of a friend, also who found her at a cantina, all alone. She was Colbert’s old lady, now.
Colbert is looking hard, but with some softening at Marisol. Her vanilla top is letting some cleavage show through, definitely. The entomologist is remembering a large palm tree. He was examining the tree, then he was hugging the tree. Marisol had long arms. She had Edward’s button down shirt half way off, biting his shoulders and his arms. While she was biting and sucking on his arms and shoulders, the research assistant was jerking the scientist off. It didn’t take long, and he exploded on the tree. They both fell pendik escort down on the ground. Colbert was a climber. He was a little vain, often arrogant. But he was fairly sensitive. If that’s what the woman wanted. He and Marisol lie there, looking up at the treetops. Then he took care of Marisol with a probing, hairy middle finger. Marisol’s Spanish half made her crazy mad, like she was having Two Fingers tequila. Or she was having the Don Patron. It took an afternoon to get the blood and dirt out of her fingernails. They never spoke of the shirt. It was an Izod.
The expedition will leave in just a week or less. Colbert will not get much done. But the expedition will study the screaming of tree species. It’s his job, for Christ sake.
””””
Cassie did the cataloguing on research field trips. This is more like a high school field trip, she thought, watching a grey squirrel bound across the rural connector. The phone rings. Cassie picked up the phone and pressed to answer. “Yes, George”.
“Cassie, hey. Will you bring me a shirt?”
“Aren’t you disappointed you can’t go to this vacation resort so you you can study summer fashions, George?”
“I’d just as soon not. I might get to see Ann again. Maybe not. My wife is to be in town.”
“Isn’t Denise your ex-wife, George?”. Cassie understood how it was for George. He could live a double life. And hate both lives. Cassie was George’s friend. He was short, kinda chubby. And didn’t act for Warner Brothers, or make his own antipasto. His last name was not DeVito.
“I have to, Cassie. If I’m gonna see Bobbie Sue again, or much, or ever.”
“Just wear something, George. What’s wrong with Ann? Your ex know that you have a job? Does your ex THINK you have a girlfriend? You could make one up.”
Cassie’s mother said to her a few years ago “Cassie, you have some thing about men who are shorter than most men, and don’t even make leather boots look good?
Cassie looked at her that day. She was quiet. Later, when Cassie still lived with her mother, George and her had both met at college. George gave Cassie a ride home on a Friday, after the last class. Cassie thought George was good looking, even if he was kind of short. They both got in Cassie’s bed, after Cassie made sure her mother was at the coast with Dennis. Cassie kissed George, and he was so sweet, she thought. Cassie lay George down and crawled over his stomach on the bed, kissed him here and there. George was very vocal. George was loud. “Cassie, you have to stop, and Cassie took George’s schlong out of her mouth. George made Cassie lay down, and eased her leg back. He kissed her on the softest part of her thigh, and Cassie started laughing because it tickled so much. Then George ate Cassie. Cassie was having lots of little orgasms. Then she fell asleep. When she woke, George was in bed beside her. George woke up and then was at full attention, while Cassie went down on George.
George broke the silence. One thing a cellular lacks, is the sound of silence between words. “I, uh, don’t tell Ann much, Cassie. There isn’t ever time. Well, don’t do anything maltepe escort I wouldn’t do. In Bora Bora.”
“I’ll get you a shirt, babe. I might send you some pictures.” You’ll love these pictures, Cassie thought. Marisol wouldn’t mind, much. Cassie knew her old boyfriend George wouldn’t mind, the little pervert.
====
The three scientists landed on Bora Bora in a commuter plane, and got out to meet a landing party of two. They were a special detachment of island staff who greeted special guests, like politicians, developers, scientists, and sometimes a lonely actor like George Clooney or Harrison Ford. The couple of island staff were smiling, but they seemed to have perma-grin. The guy was a little overweight but still had muscles. Cassie walked up to the the other attendant, who Cassie thought was perfect for her job. “Can you show me the way to the ladies’ room?” Cassie asked her. The attendant smiled and said she would. Cassie tapped on her shoulder as the two walked away. Cassie: “He’s a catch, don’t you think?”. They stopped for a moment, and the attendant pulled a small mirror from her pocket. She pretended to look at her lips, like one might be bleeding. She saw Marisol standing by Ed. She noticed Ed, in his white khaki shorts and the blue island shirt.
“Yeah, he’s alright. What’s up?”
“Can you say Ben Franklin three times real fast?” I’ll help you with your makeup. Guy’s really pretty good, at some things. But he’s an asshole, too. Do we have a deal?”
“Sounds like. Hope he’ll be gone before he turns into an asshole.”
——
The attendant, now a guide, was pretty and Cassie thought everything would come off fine. Cassie put on just the bottom part of her amber two-piece bikini. Then she put on a big shirt of her father’s. She was buttoning up when the cell played Marisol’s jingle. Cassie quickly answered. “Where are you?”
Marisol answered. “This is mean, Cassie. But I don’t mind. Edward left me at the bar last night, here with my daiquiri and a lonely VA Tech student.Edward wasn’t going to look at specimens.”
Cassie grinned. “Okay, Marisol. Now, are you over at the main drink and food stand? Good. If you face the stand, there’s a trail to your left. Walk down that trail about a quarter of a mile, and you can hear a small waterfall off to the left. You have the digital camera. Now when you see me walk into that clearing, get ready. Don’t get me in the pictures. In about fifteen.”
Ed Colbert found a rare and significant beetle crawling along the jungle floor. His guide was standing in front of him, was bending over also looking. Colbert was for once trying not to notice. The woman was wearing a tank top, and displaying a lot of cleavage. Colbert wanted to be a good egg, a highly respected environmentalist. He kept the brim of his cap over his eyes.
“Hey Eddie, how is it going?” said a cheerful voice. Cassie walked up, carrying a Wile E. Coyote lunch box.
Colbert looked up, a small look of terror in his eyes. “Cassie, Hi.”
Cassie walked up to him and put an arm around his neck. She kissed him on the lips. kartal escort The guide stood there smiling. Her hair was tied back, and she had a lot of make up on. Plus the guide had on costume earrings, so Cassie was sure Colbert did not know. Cassie wanted the plot to be seamless.
Cassie pulled her sunglasses down and looked at George. “Here is a little snack for you two. Before the main course. Uhh, George, the guide here will keep you on course.”
Colbert noticed Cassie did not have her bathing top on. He was warming up to this afternoon foray into sexual pleasure. “Cassie, you are funny. You’re not leaving right now, I hope?”
Cassie pulled her sunglasses up, and then she put a hand behind Colbert, slid her hand down his pants. “I have to, Eddie. I think your “guide” needs to show you more in the general area for your study.”
Colbert was thinking again, or trying. “Nothing’s going to happen here. I am a scientist. You are pretty friendly, today, Cassie. Must be the tropical weather.” He looked over at the guide, who had not a clue what the banter was about. She was near the small waterfall, investigating a turtle.
—-
“Cassie, damn!” George said out loud. He was at home. Cassie was in Bora, Bora at her modest little bungalow, sipping at a strawberry daiquiri. George had just gotten most of the photos Cassie had sent in a zip folder from her notebook.
“Marisol shoots pretty good porn”, Cassie said. Some was porn, some was Hollywood-style erotica. Ed was standing there, looking at his watch, taking notes, while the woman was sitting on a big rock and giving head, faithfully. Next shot: The two were lying in the sand, Colbert in missionary position and the guide looking straight up in the sky. In another shot, the guide was sitting on the edge of the waterfall while Ed Colbert had his head on her stomach and his arms around the woman. She leaned back into a large clump of grass, and was still wearing her sunglasses, gazing into the tropic blue.
“Her sunglasses are still on”, George admonished, looking at Ed taking the guide in doggy style fashion. “How is Marisol digesting all this, Cassie? What’s this?”.
George was looking at a picture of Colbert and the guide frolicking in the water. The sun had lit up part of the jungle behind the little pool. Marisol was not very far from Colbert and his lover, and George could barely make out two figures in red tee-shirts and cowboy hats. They both had canned drinks in their hands, and one was drinking. Marisol shot that perfect. Colbert was kissing and sucking on the breasts of the guide. Marisol wanted to throw the camera after all the shooting, but she didn’t. Marisol found the lonely college student at the main stand. She asked him to go for a swim. They went skinny dipping in the very same spot where she shot the pictures of Ed and the employee. Aferwards, Marisol slept soundlessly in the grass with the guy. She never did know his name.
“The two spectators.” Cassie ignored the other question. “They work for the staff there at Bora Bora, too. They work for the preserve. Wildlife officials.”
“You’re gonna try to get Ed fired?” George asked. He seemed indifferent.
“I don’t want to see Ed’s ass get fired, no. Know the perfect spot for him, on a little island eighty miles off Madagascar. They have mosquitos the size American cockroaches.”
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