Chapter 41
STRANGLER FIG
Don’t worry about logical things when you summon magic. When you head into darkness to cast a spell, cast aside all rationality.
Ronnie rode her mare Dreadnought a few horse-lengths behind Nev’s white stallion that Rainbow had re-named Unicorn, following her friend downhill along bush trails between low-hanging lantana vines at dusk.
Nearby, in the rainforest, a lyrebird mimicked the sounds of a chainsaw and a whipbird, alternating between low and high-pitched sounds.
October, springtime, ripe for new beginnings.
Despite the gathering gloom, Nev didn’t seem to be in a rush.
Nev hadn’t said much since they left the barn at Upsend half an hour ago.
Two large barn brooms lay tucked where Nev had strapped them to Uni’s saddle like hunting rifles.
Ronnie had no idea what they might be for but was eager to find out.
Nev had silently taken charge of organizing this when she consented to it, which was a relief to Ronnie, because it took the pressure off her and decreased the chance that she would accidentally mess it up.
If Nev felt as excited as she did, she hid it better. Nev kept Uni to a leisurely pace. No moon tonight, too cloudy. It might rain on them. Rain would be good for the grass. It felt good to be outside, in the bush, at the mercy of the weather. If there was a god, it must be weather.
Within the hour it would be slow dark, torch dark.
Nev turned Uni down the trail that led to the giant strangler fig. Ronnie sat up straighter, hoping that was where Nev was taking her—someplace dignified and old.
Next to the towering wooden waterfall, Nev dismounted and tied Uni to a gum tree. Smiling, Ronnie followed suit. The hollow behind the vines looked black as a tomb.
This is exactly where I wanted this to happen, Ronnie realized.
Ancient vines had fused together in a tree-shaped lattice, engulfing a giant tree, weaving a living basket around it and then strangling it to death.
A fatal, parasitic hug. The original tree had rotted away to nothing, leaving a hollow chamber as wide across as Ronnie was tall that extended up to the sky.
As a kid she used to climb it like a ladder and eat a bagged lunch among the high branches.
She followed Nev inside, discovering that it was harder to squeeze through now, and knelt in front of her on the wet leaves. Nev threaded a broom through both sides of the tree above her head, then played Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” on her phone.
Several times since coming home from the hospital, alone and bored, Ronnie had daydreamed about unbuttoning Nev’s trousers and pulling them down over narrow hips. Nev stopped her.
“Get up,” Nev said. “There’s leeches.”
In the heat of anticipation, Ronnie had forgotten that the forest floor crawled with the little bloodsuckers. She unbuttoned her work shirt.
Her phone buzzed. She ignored it. The vibration in her pocket felt nice. Cool night air became warm and sticky, subtropical. She watched Nev thread the second broom through the tree at knee height.
Nev pointed at the low bar.
Ronnie stepped onto the lower broom, which bowed slightly but held her weight. That brought her shoulders up to the higher broom. Moonlight filtered through wet leaves, dappling them like a disco ball that jiggled instead of spun.
She laughed. “I’m glad we’re doing this.” She hadn’t trusted someone to do this to her in a long time. “I hope this will be kinky.”
“You like it?”
Ronnie perched on the lower broom. “It’s headed in the right direction.”
She wrapped her arms around the broom behind her shoulders and watched Nev take off the Akubra. Nev had brought a rope. Ronnie grinned, watching her unroll it.
Nev remained fully dressed. “I call this the Strangler Fig Special.”
Ronnie would take whatever Nev was willing to give her at this point. Nev didn’t jump into new things willy nilly—she would take it slow and be a perfectionist. She approached this the way she approached everything else around the farm when she was sober—frowning in concentration.
Maybe Nev was a virgin.
Ronnie wished she had loosened her up beforehand with shots. Probably too late now—she hadn’t brought any alcohol.
Ronnie stepped down off the broom, resting her hands on Nev’s narrow shoulders, then leaned down to nuzzle her cheek and breathe against her ear.
“Go on,” Nev said. “Get back up there facing me and grab hold of the tree behind you.”
Ronnie did. Reaching behind her head, she found fused vines that fit her palms like the handles of her motorcycle. Snake-trunks tangled upwards in a wall of knots. Fig bark was smooth and cool. The broom pressed her upper back.
Nev stepped up into the tree and reached around Ronnie to tie her wrists.
Ronnie’s cheeks hurt from smiling. “You got me excited when I saw the brooms, mate. There’s other things you can do with them, you know, just saying. I wouldn’t mind. This is nice, though. Relaxing.”
Rope tightened around her wrists. Near her cheek, Nev snorted. “I knew you would be hard to please. What you want is more than a reasonable person can give.” Nev was probably right.
“I appreciate that you’re willing to try to meet me halfway, babe. No one’s done this for me, like, ever.”
“I believe that,” Nev said. Ronnie watched Nev drop the coil of excess rope, heard it hit the ground.
“Abuse isn’t consensual power play. In a minute you’ll step down off the bar.
Your feet won’t touch the ground. The broom will stay there the whole time.
I’m not going to take it out. If you start losing feeling in your hands, or if you want to stop, step back up onto the broom.
You can pull your hands free from up there. I didn’t tie you tight.”
Ronnie looked down at her Blundstones on the lower bar. She still had her jeans and workboots on. “Got it.” The feeling she wanted would come from her own weight when she stepped down off the lower bar. That would be a yummy stretch.
Nev stepped closer, hair silver in the moonlight. Cool hands slid down Ronnie’s sides and rested on her lower back. “Comfortable?”
Ronnie’s smile widened further.
Nev’s eyes were dark. “You like being uncomfortable.”
Her friend’s face was annoyingly far below hers, handsome and kissable. Ronnie licked her lips. “I want to snog you.”
Nev exhaled in a snort, palms warming on Ronnie’s lower back. “After.” Moonlight confetti mottled Nev’s flushed neck and ears.
Ronnie grinned. She wanted to watch Nev turn into a little Napoleon, drunk on her own power. Wanted to go on that haunted house ride with her, to watch Nev lose control, to create space for Nev to feel limitless. “Go on, then. Do whatever you’ve been fantasizing about.”
Nev ran her hands down Ronnie’s back again, which felt amazing on her bare skin, then frowned.
Ronnie sighed, impatient. “Babe…” She wiggled her elbows on either side of her ears.
“I don’t have all night. I’ve let you tie me up inside a tree and I’ve indicated that I’m keen.
This is all very vanilla for me. Cut to the good part.
The cat is out of the bag. We’ve already crossed the big scary bridge of no return.
I understand that you want to talk about everything first, but that’s not necessary for me.
You are the sweetest fucking loon and whatever it is you’ve been fantasizing about can’t hurt me.
I love that we’re doing this. I have a high pain tolerance.
The only thing that I wouldn’t like is poop stuff. ”
“That hadn’t crossed my mind.”
“See? That’s why I trust you. You don’t know about poop stuff.”
Nev touched her.
Ronnie’s body responded involuntarily. As a bored adolescent, she used to touch electric fences for fun. Whatever kind of bogan that made her, she was still that. She drew a shaky breath, willing herself to relax. Electricity lit a small fire in her belly. Touch awakened her skin.
She slipped her right foot off the bar then dropped, tension starting in her wrists and shoulders. She slipped her left foot off the bar, hung in midair.
As more muscles engaged, breathing became difficult. Warmth spread through her shoulders and migrated between her shoulder blades. She imagined a burning ball of light on her trapezius where the bar left little red kisses when she went for a PR in squats.
She hung there, letting her body get used to the tension in her shoulders and the burn in her belly and glutes.
Nev looked up at her. “Does that feel nice?”
“You have no idea.”
Ronnie inhaled, expanding her chest, rocking her hips to see what that added. Moving felt good. She closed her eyes.
“Still all right?” Nev asked.
Ronnie’s breath caught. She couldn’t speak, so she nodded.
She felt hands unbuttoning her jeans and opened her eyes to watch Nev unzip the zipper and tug the loose denim down a few inches, stopping at her hips.
Nev froze.
Panting from the strain of holding herself up with her arms, Ronnie wondered what was taking her friend so long. She needed to be touched.
Nev stared at the newly exposed skin.
Nev was beautiful—not feminine or masculine, but herself. If Ronnie’s hands had been free, she would have sunk them into Nev’s short hair, would have given her something tangible to bring her back and keep her tied to the present.
She wasn’t offended that Nev appeared to be having doubts. Nev’s idiosyncrasies were part of her, part of the package. There was no button to press to return to factory settings for either of them. If there had been, she wasn’t sure she would have pushed it.
Whatever this was felt real. Nev wouldn’t judge her and wouldn’t leave—Nev couldn’t leave Upsend Downs. She might second guess shagging Ronnie and decide she wanted to be friends without benefits, but she would still be there in the morning.
Ronnie leaned forward and looked down to see what had made Nev stop. Ronnie’s abs looked shredded from this angle.
Nev was kneeling, staring at the scar.