Chapter 19
Zach
One week slides into
the next, and contrary to my initial misgivings about visiting with
Randall, I’m actually enjoying my time here in Georgia. I’ve
been extremely busy seeing all the sights. Moira has gone all out,
introducing me to all of the marvels I would have never known about
had I stayed back in Caraica.
She took me to see a
professional baseball game, which was interesting, and I discovered
the beauty and wonder of draft beer and hot dogs. We went to see a
theater production of Les Miserables, which wasn’t so fun, only
because Clint and Cara came with us, and I had to fend of Cara for
most of the night. She sat beside me and kept pressing toward me to
talk during the performance, laying her hand on my knee when she
would lean over or pushing her breasts against my arm. It wasn’t
all that unpleasant to have a soft woman’s touch, except it
wasn’t who I wanted touching me. When I wasn’t distracted
by her advances, my eyes kept cutting over to Clint, who was leaning
in a little too close to Moira for my comfort level. My fingers kept
involuntarily curling inward toward my palms, and I had to rein in my
desire to do violence to his overly tanned face.
My favorite thing
we’ve done by far—that didn’t involve fucking
Moira—was when she took me to hear a guest lecture by a
colleague of hers at Emory University. The subject was on uses of
medicinal plants among the indigenous shamans of the Amazon, and I
found it fascinating.
I also found it
touching that Moira would take the time to let me have something of
my culture and heritage while I was here. When the lecture was over,
I impulsively leaned over and kissed her on the neck, murmuring,
“Thank you for that. It was wonderful.”
She blushed and
reached over to squeeze my hand in acknowledgment, then we went back
to Randall’s house and fucked like crazed animals for the
entire afternoon.
As promised, Randall
had taken Moira and me to work with him at the Cannon’s
corporate headquarters in downtown Atlanta, but only after I had an
amazing sixty-nine session with Moira that I so enjoyed, I repeated
it that night when I stole into her room. I never would have imagined
that a woman’s mouth on my cock would feel so fucking good, or
that Moira’s sweet flesh would taste so delectable against my
tongue.
The day with Randall
was extremely interesting, but I kept getting the feeling that he was
putting on too much of a show for me. He went to great lengths to
describe his business, focusing on the company’s customer
service platform and well-made products for a moderate price. He
clearly has great pride in his work, but it was as if he were
desperate for me to feel that same pride. I paid diligent attention,
asking questions and letting my curiosity be satisfied. As we were
having dinner that night at the end of the workday, it all became
clear to me when Randall wistfully said, “I wish I had someone
like you, Zach, to take over for me one day.”
Those words right
there said it all. He was looking at me as if I were his heir, and
I’m so totally not that person.
Moira had cut a
side-glance at me, her eyes filled with apprehension. She didn’t
miss it either.
But I put a stop to
his notions, when I kindly but firmly said, “I appreciate the
sentiment, Randall, but it’s just not something that interests
me.”
How could it
interest me? Not when my heart and soul were back in the rainforest.
Still, I won’t
deny that I didn’t start thinking about what it would be like
to stay here… not for the opportunity to work for Randall, but
to have Moira by my side every day. What would it be like to commit
myself to one woman, and be able to indulge in the extreme pleasures
she’s given me every night, and sometimes during the day, since
we came to Atlanta?
I had no answer to
those thoughts.
Randall has no doubt
been kinder to me than I could have imagined. But his kindness brings
about a certain level of dissatisfaction to my soul. On the day he
took me to see my parents’ house, he advised me that he had set
up a bank account for my use while I was here. He then handed me a
small, square piece of plastic and then had to explain to me what a
credit card was.
I tried to hand it
back to him, adamantly refusing his charity. I had done nothing to
earn this money. But then he pointed out that I had already accepted
his “charity” by agreeing to come back to the States, by
agreeing to accept Moira’s help for which he was paying for,
and by eating his food and staying in his house.
He didn’t say
this with any animosity, only with a kind reminder that I was here as
his guest but, more importantly, as a family member. That caused a
weird stirring of emotion within me that I quickly tamped down.
Randall then told me he had more money than God, and that he would
take it as an insult if I didn’t take advantage of his
hospitality. He said it would be a means to help honor my parents for
all the wonderful joy they provided him throughout the years they
knew each other.
That made me feel
like shit, so I took the credit card and shoved it in my pocket, even
as I hated being dependent on Randall for my security. As someone who
devoted much of his life to helping to provide for the welfare of an
entire tribe, it galled me to be given something that wasn’t
earned.
The next day, Moira
took me to a mall, which had so many stores to shop in that my head
was spinning, and we purchased my very own laptop. I spent a lot of
my free time on it, looking up everything from music to books to yup…
more information on sex. If I was going to take advantage of my time
here, I was going to try everything I possibly could with Moira.
Speaking of Moira, I
sit up from my bed where I had been perusing the wonders of
Amazon—the online store, not the rainforest region—and
walk into her room. She said she had some work emails to catch up on,
and it’s getting late. I’m feeling the need to fuck her,
which is an almost constant craving I have when she’s in the
immediate vicinity.
And even when she’s
not.
I see her sitting at
a small desk near the east window of her room, reading something on
her screen.
“Still
working?” I ask as I walk up behind her.
She gives a little
jump but turns to me with a smile. “All done. Just reading an
email from my sister.”
“Sister?”
How did I not know she has a sister? Maybe because I never asked her.
“Yes…
Lisa. She lives in North Carolina, and we were trying to coordinate a
visit while I’m here.”
“Can I meet
her?” I ask, because now I find myself even more curious about
Moira. She spends all of her time devoted to me, yet I shamefully
haven’t shown much interest in her outside of getting her
naked.
She smiles at me as
she stands from her chair, arching her back, which pushes her breasts
out, and immediately… I want to fuck her harder than I had
planned. “Sure. Maybe we can go this weekend if Randall doesn’t
have any major plans.”
Reaching out, I pull
Moira into my arms and lean down to put my nose in her hair. It
smells like apples and sunshine. “Are you close to your
sister?”
Leaning in to rest
her cheek on my chest, in a move so unbelievably sweet it makes my
breath catch, she says, “Yes. Very close. She raised me after
our parents died.”
I jerk backward
slightly and look down at Moira, who turns her face up to me with
question in her eyes.
“Your parents
are dead?” I’m even more ashamed I didn’t know
that, particularly because it’s something we have in common.
“My dad died
when I was thirteen. A heart attack. And my mom just two years later
from cancer. Lisa’s five years older than me, so she became my
legal guardian.”
“I’m
sorry,” I tell her sincerely. “I had no idea.”
“It’s
okay,” she says as she squeezes me and steps back from my
embrace. “I guess we have something in common though, right?
Parents dead when we were children. Raised by someone else.”
I think of Paraila,
and the care and kindness he showed me when my parents died. I was
distraught, miserable, and had lost all hope. But he immediately took
me in and became a parent to me in every way. Much like I’m
guessing Lisa did for Moira.
I take stock of my
feelings… and try to remember the incessant rage I had felt
when learning I would be taken away from my tribe. How my world had
turned upside down because I was through with having that type of
upheaval in my life. I had been through it once, and I didn’t
want it again. I remember the day that Paraila told me I was to
leave.
The air was
oppressive… heavy… as I made my way through the jungle.
My feet were light on the rotted leaves, and I efficiently dodged
roots and vines that curled and wound their way across the narrow
path. The trail wasn’t much more than trampled vegetation and
broken palm fronds that hung limply from when I had hacked my way
through that area earlier in the day. I had made the three-hour trek
from our village to the Pesapan River where I’d hoped to hunt
some caiman, as the alligator meat would be sure to bring a smile to
Paraila’s old, wizened face. He was too old to hunt anymore and
depended on me or the other warriors to feed him protein. His wife,
the mean old goat that she was, fed him plenty of bread and
plantains, but he needed more than that as he grew weaker with age.
I didn’t
have any luck finding a lazy caiman, but my load returning was heavy.
My machete was strapped across my back to free my hands. In one, I
carried my bow, quiver, and arrows, and the other held a quick
palm-frond basket I wove after killing two snakes so I could
transport them back home. They would make a satisfying meal for
Paraila.
The walk back to
the village didn’t take as long since I had already cleared my
path on the way to the river. I stopped once to sip some water from a
standing puddle of rainwater and eat some bread that Paraila had