by Nick Carter
Her eyes were closed. Her shiny black hair was spread fan-like under her head making a frame for it. Her body looked mahogany in color with the texture of finely polished wood. I let my fingers trace an imaginary line between her breasts, over the tiny belly-button, over the small mound of belly, and down through the downy softness of velvet between her legs.
I wanted to tell her how I'd been watching her move, that I approved of the way she moved and the way it looked.
Her hand was on me, guiding me toward her moistness. Her legs spread. Her lower lip was pulled between her teeth as I entered her. I looked down at the dark nipples pointing the firm smooth breasts. Small groaning sounds came from her throat as we moved together then apart. There were many things I wanted to tell her. But I told her nothing.
Our movements started to become irregular. I could feel myself climbing. Looking down at her, I saw that her lower lip was still between her teeth.
Then she became wild. Her knees came up, her mouth opened; she writhed and twisted under me. Her fingers grabbed my hair and pulled my mouth down to where hers was waiting open and eager.
When she reached the summit of completion it was like a car smashing into a brick wall. Her body came alive with shivers. I could feel her tongue darting in and out of my mouth.
And then I felt myself go. I clutched her tightly to me, ignoring her tiny cries of pain and feeble attempts to catch her breath.
I wanted to tell her a lot of things, but I said nothing. I took her just as she wanted to be taken.
Eight
I had felt her in my arms for most of the night. I had felt the sweetness of her breath against my cheek. Strands of her coal-colored hair tickled my nose. The warm softness of her naked body pressed against me. Her head rested in the pocket between my chest and shoulder. Yet when the bright heat of morning sunlight made me stir, she was not in bed with me.
I awoke to see her fully dressed in her dry clothes making a fire. As I watched her, I thought I liked her better in my peasant shirt. In fact I liked her best of all in nothing.
"Good morning," I called cheerfully. "Are you trying to impress me with your wood lore. I mean building the fire and all."
She said absolutely nothing.
I frowned at her. "Is something wrong, Sariki?"
"Nothing is wrong," she said.
I crept off my leaves and came up behind her. Slowly I let my hands circle her waist. "Gotcha!" I laughed.
She wriggled around in my arms then jerked herself free. She jumped away from me and bared her teeth at me. "Stop!" she shouted. "You will stop!"
I noticed the hair was back in a bun. I sat on a rock staring at her. Then I felt the anger oil in me.
"Forgive me, Sariki," I said cooly. "But when I have made love to a girl — to a woman I care about — it is my nature to get familiar. I tend to hold her whenever I can, pat her as she passes by and maybe kiss the back of her neck when she bends over. I keep putting my hands on her because I feel a kind of exclusive belonging. I feel there is a kind of mature responsibility afterward that says each should treat the other with kindness. I awoke feeling good because of last night. I wanted you to know."
"Last night was silly," she hurled at me. "A stupid mistake of gratitude because of the river."
"It was more than that to me, Sariki. But you can play it this way if you want. Your reputation won't be ruined by the jungle creatures who saw and heard us. I want you to remember one thing, though. You came to me last night. Call it a stupid mistake of gratitude if you want. If it meant nothing to you maybe you should. But remember, you came to me."
"We waste time," she snapped. "We will eat then go. There is still much distance to cover."
* * *
And that was how it stayed for the next two days and nights. We traveled in silence, and when we stopped for the night, she never came to me again. In the first village we came to, she outfitted herself with a new pack.
Faced with something like this, a man tends to question himself, and maybe even the ability of his performance. She had come to me in the night wanting pure sex. No matter what kind of label she put on it, like gratitude, it was still sex she wanted. Not that she had a wide range of choice out here in the jungle, but she could have let it pass, waited for somebody else more to her liking. Yet she had chosen to have sex with me. But why?
She seemed to turn it on and off like a faucet.
However, a man tends to question himself. She had come to me wanting something. I had given it to her. She had returned to her quiet moodiness the morning after. What did that tell me? I was losing my touch? I've never had any complaints before, and I sure didn't have any against her. In the most intimate relationship Sariki had become female primitive with complete abandon. She had become unglued like very few women I have known. In the act of love she had become a basic jungle female.
In the afternoon of the third day, we reached the village.
* * *
For me the novelty of foot travel had already worn thin. I was exhausted and I saw by the fatigue in Sariki's face that she was too. We entered the village with the sun at our backs, side by side. The children were the first to see us, and they shouted something and rushed off. Soon some middle-aged women came running behind the children. They huddled around Sariki as though she were royalty. Then two of them hustled her off away from me.
I eased my pack to the ground and fell beside it. The village looked like all the others we had passed through: thatched-roofed huts arranged in a circle with the bulk of activity done inside the circle. Beyond lay the eternal rice fields. The younger men were just now beginning to come in. To my left I saw a group of young men crouched on their haunches in a right circle. One of them, out of sight, was making noises familiar to me, familiar but out of place in this village.
"Coming out," he said. "All bets faded now. Come on, baby, speak to me. Talk to your daddy. Talk pretty." There was a slight pause. "Four," the voice said. "Gentlemen, the point is four. Lay your bets on me 'cause I'm making it two and two. Okay, you're faded. And you? Twenty francs? You're faded. That's it, gentlemen. Coming out. All bets down. Come on, baby. Speak to daddy."
The others were talking like all players in a good crap game, but they were jabbering in Cambodian, while the shooter rattled off in GI American. I may have been tired, but not that tired. I had to see this, so I ambled over to the group. I stood over them, but all I could see of the shooter was the porcupine head of a Cambodian in a crewcut.
"Four!" he shouted. "Sorry, gentlemen, you lose." The others started moving back. "Had enough already? Come on, now."
A woman entered the group at a fast trot. I recognized her as one of the women who had taken Sariki. As the other crap players drifted off, I got a better look at the shooter. He was tossing the dice up and down in his hand, listening while the woman spoke to him in Cambodian. Besides his hair being crewcut, he wore a loud red shirt. On his feet were Army shoes. He was chewing gum vigorously and looked to me like he had just stepped out of an American used car lot. He nodded curtly to the woman, then walked off with her. I had been standing to the side of him so I didn't think he had seen me. When he had gone in the hut where Sariki was, I picked up my pack. Two women came to me and motioned to me to follow them. They led me to another hut where I sat and was served a bowl of rice and another of mixed vegetables. The bowl of rice had chunks of boiled fish in it. I ate hungrily, then leaned against the pack and smoked with my eyes closed.
I didn't want to think, because my thoughts always returned to Sariki. I remembered how Sariki's young body had felt to my hands the night she came to me, and I shook the thought from my head. Think about the job, about the mission.
So I did. I figured I was within one or two days from the ruins at Angkor Thom. This village was as far as Sariki said she would take me. From here I would either have to hire somebody else or find a map of some land.
I was sure the Society existed. Whether it was good or bad I couldn't decide. Sariki had
one of the daggers with which Nam Kien's son was killed. But I had no proof. There are always two sides to every story. Maybe Nam Kien's son was a troublemaker who had to be dealt with. Maybe Sariki belonged to the Society or was friendly with one of the members. There was still a hell of a lot to find out.
Then my thoughts were interrupted.
He came through the door of the hut flashing a wide grin. "Hey, GI Joe," he said as he came toward me with his hand out. "Slip me some skin, man." When we had shaken hands he sat down next to me. That grin was still on his face. It was a young face, about 19. He had the look of a hustler. "Hey, you didn't think I noticed you watching the crap game, did you? I wanted to check you out before we talked."
He still had hold of my hand. "I'm Nick Carter," I said a little bewildered.
"Tough enough, Nick. I'm Chong, Sariki's cousin."
I nodded with understanding. "You were in the hut talking to her. Where did you pick up that American lingo?"
"Hey, how about that? I talk it pretty good, huh? Picked up a lot of stuff in Saigon," he said, puffing his cigar, "like craps. I'm trying to get the guys around here to dig the game, you know? Just so I can pick up a little extra bread,"
"Chong, I think you're a con man," I said with a wide grin.
He matched my grin. "Why, Nick, whatever gave you that idea?" He blew cigar smoke at the ceiling. "You're right, I've been talking to Sariki. She tells me you're here to check out the Society of the Silver Snake."
"Just check it out," I said. "I'm not doing anything about it until I do, then I still may do nothing. I heard they were in the ruins at Angkor Thorn. That shouldn't be too far from here."
"Right, it's about two days. You need a guide, and in that respect you are very lucky. I am the greatest guide, tracker and fighter in all of Cambodia — hell, maybe the world. I'll take you to Angkor Thorn, and if this Society needs dealing with, pow, we'll deal with them. Right, Nick?"
"Well…"
"Hell, man, I don't expect you to take me at my word. I'll show you I'm the best. Of course, taking you there means I'll have to postpone some of my enterprises here. I got a floating crap game started, and I'm setting it up to make contact in other villages for a cut of the trading." He squinted at me. "How long you figure we'll be gone?"
I shrugged. "Anywhere from two to five days. Look, Chong, if this is going to interfere with your hustling maye you ought to let me…"
Chong held up his hand. "No more, say no more, man. You and me, we'll make it to the Society together, right? I mean, I got to guide you; it's a matter of family honor. Sariki told me you saved her fife, plucked her right out of the river rapids. To guide you is the least I can do for rescuing my cute cousin."
"Okay, Chong," I said. "You're my guide. We'll see how good you are. I want to get a good night's rest. I thought we'd leave tomorrow morning."
"Tough enough." He hesitated, scratched his head, pulled his earlobe, sniffed and looked at me from an angle. "There's just one thing."
"What is that?"
He looked thoughtful and even a little troubled. "It's Sariki's brothers," he said. "About a week ago, the recruiters of the Society came through here. They spouted a lot of junk about needing soldiers to recapture the Mekong Delta for Cambodia. Sariki's two brothers were forced to join. The only reason they didn't get me is that I don't hang around for that kind of jazz, you know?
"As soon as I got wind they were coming, old Chong split like a thunderbolt cutting open a tree, dig? I was long gone. Nick, whatever you and I do about the Society, I mean if we leave them alone or blow the whistle on them, we got to get Sariki's brothers out of there and home. That's something we've just got to do. I promised her I'd ask."
I sat up frowning. "She wanted you to ask me? Why didn't she ask me herself? All the time we spent together, and she never once mentioned that her brothers had been recruited. She didn't talk about her family at all."
"Well, she didn't know until she got here." Chong leaned back and locked his hands behind his neck. "Sariki is one funny little chick. She never has been the gabby sort, you know? Anyway, she used to be kind of bubbly until the Society came through about two months ago. You see Sariki was going to be married to a cat named Lee Kien."
"Hold it!" I cut in. "Chong, you said Lee Kien. Do you mean the son of Nam Kien?"
"One and the same, man. Hey, I heard what happened to Nam Kien. That just about rounded it out for Sariki."
I was sitting straight up moving my head slowly from side to side. It explained a lot of things, like how Sariki got hold of that silver Society dagger. She probably got it after it was used on her betrothed. And why she was so grieved over the death of Nam Kien. He would have been her father in law, and they shared the loss of Lee Kien.
"She is one strange little chick, all right," Chong said. He turned to me. "But we got to get her brothers back to her, right?"
"We'll do what we can," I said.
Chong stood up. He was a small wiry sort and moved in quick easy gestures. He stuck his hand down to me. "I dig you, Nick. You're my kind of cat."
I took his hand. "Will you be ready to leave as soon as it's light?"
"Man, I'll be camped right in front of your door come sunup. I'll take care of the grub and stuff. You got things you want to do?"
"I've got dirty laundry and I'd like to clean up. You got a creek or body of water around here anywhere?"
* * *
For the second time since we met she came to me late at night. I was not asleep when she approached. I felt her presence in the small hut as soon as she stepped in. Then I lay on my mat and listened to the rustle of fabric. I could not see her clearly. Night jungle sounds filtered in, giving a background sound to her undressing. She was a silhouette against the open doorway of the hut, firm naked breasts protruding, hair shaken loose, body lithe and hourglass as she turned to come to me. I stayed motionless as she knelt near my side and a silly thought occurred to me. I wondered if she was smiling. I still had never seen her smile. I doubted it. Her hand touched the inside of my leg.
"Nick?" she whispered. "Nick?"
"I am awake," I said, keeping the whisper tone. "I watched you undress."
She moved to lie next to me. I felt her fingers groping for my hand. She found it and placed it gently against a breast where the hardened nipple brushed my palm.
Her lips touched my cheek then moved to my ear. "Nick, you will return my brothers to me?"
"I will if it is possible. But why must you always find an excuse for it? Why can't you see it as a need, a want?"
She silenced me with her partly open mouth over mine. We kissed, slow, and I held her slender body close to mine. There was no start, no tension, just a slow and dreamy sensuousness as she pressed gently against me with small urging pressures. And then I moved over her, raised her to my elbows to keep my weight from her.
It took a full 30 seconds for us to come completely together, then another 30 seconds to move apart. Our movements were languid, lazy. Our eyes were open, watching each other's body. There was a kind of gleam in Sariki's eyes. She stared at my lips, then at my mouth. Her hands moved from my shoulders to each side of my neck. Then her lips touched mine. The kiss was as long and lazy as our movements.
"You are a good lover," she whispered.
"Sariki, Sariki, Sariki," was all I could say.
Sariki and I were coupled. The closer we got to the surface the quicker we seemed to drift. But our movements continued to be lazy. Our lovemaking was not as intense and wild as it had been in the jungle.
I felt her give a small shivering jerk, then her smooth perfectly shaped body stiffened. Her eyes took on a filmed, dreamy look, then closed. It was very good.
When I felt her beginning to leave me, I reached out for her. I caught at her to hold her, but she kept moving away. My fingertips trailed off her shoulder and down her arm feeling spider-web strands of hair as she slipped out of the moonlight, and after dressing in darkness, out of the hut.
One
other time I called, "Sariki," in the night. There was no answer. In the morning when I awoke, there was no sign that she had ever been there.
Chong and I left the village, and I did not see her. In the harsh, humid sunlight, I wondered if it had been a dream. But I knew it hadn't; it was as real as the moonlight had been. I wondered if I would ever again have intimate whispered words with her. Marching beside a cheerful, talking Chong, with the heat and the wetness and the insects all around, I could agree with what Chong had told me. Sariki was indeed one very strange chick.
Nine
I couldn't say if Chong was the greatest guide in all Cambodia, but he sure was one of the most colorful. As the morning hours passed and we walked side by side, I knew that the more I got to know this young roguish vagabond, the better I liked him. So far this one morning had been one of the most pleasant parts of the whole trip.
"I got my whole philosophy of life from one GI in Saigon," Chong was saying. He had one of his thin unlit cigars between his teeth. While he spoke, he was in front of me, facing me and walking backward. "This GI Joe's name was Mike O'Leary, he continued. "He came from the old country, see? And pizza? Boy that guy loved pizza, and kept saying he couldn't wait to get to Brooklyn where he could sink his teeth in a good pizza."
I shook my head. "Chong, I think you're putting me on."
"Yeah," he said sheepishly. "Maybe just a little. I don't know what country Mike really came from. But there really was such a cat, see? And he gave me this great philosophy."
Chong paused long enough to put a lit match to the end of his cigar. I don't know how he did it, but he never faltered or tripped once while he was moving backward.
"Mike and I had a kind of partnership. He worked in the commissary on the base in Saigon and used to smuggle stuff out so we could sell it to whores.
