Here, we'll see M&R interacting alone at home, and their friends going on a fishing trip for a fierce species that Finn really wants to catch. (Yes, the Payara is a real fish species.)
The time is after the Third Season ended, and without regard to the cancelled Fourth Season. Nothing was set in stone for that season, anyway, so Fic writers are free to improvise.
As in all of my later Fics, there are three couples in the Treehouse: John and Marguerite, George and Finn, and Ned and Veronica. On the show, only M&R were an established couple, but Ned and V. were forming, after many shifts in their view of one another. George and Finn are my own idea, but they click very well together, although sharing guilt over what they believe is their adultery. For they cannot yet know what they will someday discover: that Jessie Challenger died of flu in London during the winter of 1921, leaving them free to marry. But they were already married in spirit within a year from the day that Finn was rescued from New Amazonia, and their union has opened them to a happiness that neither had ever really expected to encounter. Finn has also learned to read by the time of these Fics, having been in the Treehouse for some two years. She has blossomed, but remains ever aware of the need to remain vigilant, if she and her friends are to survive in a world as savage as that which she left behind. She has replaced her crossbow with guns taken from dead slavers and perished expeditions. And her full name, we now know, is Nicole Elizabeth Finnegan. (Although Brazilian, she is obviously of blonde Anglo ancestry, although she speaks Portuguese as well as any Latina Brazilian.)
The others are much as they would be, given the time that has passed in each others' company. Marguerite has largely left her secretive shell behind, emerging into the sunlight of her unbridled love for Lord John Roxton. And he likes that just fine!
As is usual with, "Lost World" Fics, I hold no rights to the basic theme of the Plateau or to the main characters. Those reside with the estate of the late Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, New Line Cinema, and other interested parties. The only profit from these Fics is in the form of charitable reviews from those who read them. And hopefully, enjoy them.
And now, it's Fic time! THIS FIC IS RATED "MATURE"! It contains deeply intimate scenes that may embarrass the shy or the very conservative reader!
A Tryst in the Treehouse, or, A Payara for Finn
by
Explorer
First, there was darkness, the deep inkiness of a tropical nocturne. Only the multitude of stars that crowded the primeval skies over the Plateau illuminated the scene below, for it was the time of the new moon. Only stellar light reached the jungle floor, where clearings in the forest allowed it to leak through the canopy of tall trees that shaded the land.
A jaguar coughed, and deer, tapir, agouti, capybara, and other prey species paused and trembled, wondering which way the spotted killer would walk. The distant rumble of a carnivorous dinosaur trumped even the snarl of the big cat, but it was far from the Treehouse, and Veronica paid it less attention than she did the jaguar. She started briefly as an owl floated past and another hooted to signal its location to its mate.
Then, the blonde jungle princess saw the first faint glimmer of the emerging dawn as rose light crept over the horizon. The height of the Treehouse, tall in the boughs that supported it, let her see the edge of the earth from her latitude.
She stood outside, leaning on the rail of the second story balcony, wearing only brief pink panties designed by her friend and surrogate sister, Nicole Finnegan, and sewn by her other close female friend and virtual family member, Marguerite Krux.
The night was chilly in this predawn hour, and Veronica shivered slightly. She hugged herself as she watched the glacially slow emergence of the day. Animals below slithered and crept as she stood in safe solace above the dangers that might otherwise terminate her life as it had just begun to fully blossom. She was 25 years old, but had lived so fully in some ways that she could have qualified as older in some senses. In others, she was just beginning to entirely embrace her future, reveling in the love that she had so recently acknowledged. Although not yet united in marriage, she and Ned Malone were a committed couple, their hearts joined in love and in a passion so hot that she was sometimes afraid of how much pleasure she took from his body and from the frequent, eloquent expressions of his devotion.
Chilled now, she decided to return to bed. Taking a last look around, she went in and secured the sturdy wooden door. A flashlight allowed her to make her way across the room to where her beloved still slept the rest of the weary. Ned had been away the day before, and when he returned, had sat up late listening to his companion John Roxton's tales of the African frontier. Only the blonde beauty they called Finn ever listened more raptly to Roxton's accounts of his days in Kenya before coming to this different continent for further adventures.
Veronica slipped between the covers and snuggled next to Ned, drawing both spiritual and physical warmth from his presence. She felt like purring in her bliss. Neddy had gotten to her finally, in a manner that she had tried to pretend wouldn't happen. He was like her brother at one time, she reflected. Not now! I'd better quit thinking of him as a brother, she mused, or I'll have guilt pangs over the "incestuous" things we do these days, to my utter delight.
Ned felt her move beside him, and rolled slightly to take her in his arms. Not fully awake, he mumbled, "I love you, Veronica", and her heart soared above the highest gyre of the eagles that hunted monkeys in the roof of the forest.
"I love you, too, Ned," she whispered back and stroked his hair gently before planting a kiss on his sleepy lips. Then, the Malones slept again. The day might bring new joys and dangers, but this hour before dawn nourished Veronica so thoroughly that she felt that she could endure any risk, accomplish any goal, and emerge happy and content.
She recalled Ned's description of her in one of his journals as an "untamed jungle beauty". Well, I guess I'm tamed now, she thought. Certainly, I'm mated. The irony of that is that I feel more fulfilled than I have ever before felt. I can't wait to see the look on this guy's face when I serve his breakfast later this morning. It's so sweet and so fulfilling to know how much he cares. If only I'd paid attention to what we could have had sooner...Better later than never. And we have decades ahead of us to be together...She held that thought as she slipped into full, dreamless, restoring sleep.
Ned Malone rose slightly, kissed her neck, and pulled the covers over them. Then, he, too, slept as the sun debated how long it would take to rise before the sleeping humans in this Treehouse did.
Marguerite Krux woke slowly, focusing gradually on the sunlight reaching her eyes.
She had been up late, listening to Roxton's stories of his African days, then up later still as she and he had done things in the privacy of their room that would have shocked many respectable people of their day.
She smiled deliciously at the recollection of that activity, and shuddered as she particularly recalled a thing that he had done that had melted her more than any other, leaving her screaming softly, hugging John so intensely that she feared that their bodies would meld from the heat of their lust and the pressure as she clung to him in the throes of their passion.
Remembering, she stretched slowly, then ran her hands down her body, tracing the route that his caresses had gone. She moaned softly, still not fully awake.
She registered Roxton's voice. "Penny for your thoughts, Marguerite." He sounded amused.
She woke fully, embarrassed that he had probably guessed what she was doing. The sheets were half off of her, and he would have seen the path of her hands, heard her moan.
"Price has gone up, John," she said primly. "To know my mind will now cost you a full shilling."
"I suspect that a shilling would be a bargain admission fee to what I think is in your sensual mind just now." He chuckled, adding to her embarrassment. "What would I get for a pound? A guinea?" He laughed outright.
"Oh, bloody hell!," she exclaimed. "Was I that transparent?"
Finn was up early. She had listened intently the night before to Roxton's adventures, determined to hunt in Africa someday, herself, if they ever got off of this forsaken Plateau...
She stood nude before the mirror on their dresser, brushing her hair as Challenger watched from bed, leaning on an elbow.
Finn felt his eyes on her, and preened a little, vain about men admiring her body. She took her time putting on gold loop earrings, and then added a slim gold chain necklace with a small emerald. Marguerite had mounted this for Challenger, who had given it to Finn as a token of his love.
Finn felt warmed by that love whenever she wore it, and she liked the way the necklace looked on her. She knew that wearing just the jewelry, perhaps her sandals, made her look even sexier than when she was nude, and she blushed a little as she thought of how she must look to her man, lounging as he rejoiced in her beauty.
"Which panties do you want me to wear?", she asked. "I want to look my best for you. As ever." She looked at him and grinned sheepishly, a little embarrassed in her nudity, but proud of it.
"Oh, white or pink, I suppose. Maybe black, to match your usual outfit. Are we still on for that fishing trip? Perhaps it would be best not to wear your nicest ones, if we are to trek so far in the jungle and be exercising."
Finn nodded, opened her lingerie drawer and took out a plain black bra, with just some lace trim, and bikini panties to match. She held them up for Challenger's approval. When it came, she slipped into her undergarments, and stood with her hands on her head as she turned, watching him watching her. She winked, and then put on her normal black top and matching shorts, very like what she had worn that day when they had met in New Amazonia. The new shorts now had pockets for a few coins, her Swiss Army knife (when she didn't carry it in a leather pouch on her gun belt) and very little else. The shorts were rather tight, and carrying much in the pockets showed.
"You getting up soon, Genius?" she asked. "I want to eat and get started toward the river. I want to catch one of those big Payara fish, with the long teeth that stick out of its nose when its mouth is shut."
"We shall also want some peacock 'bass', Darling, or other good food fish. Yes, I'll get up. Go and see if the Malones and the Roxtons are stirring."
"I heard Marguerite through the wall just before I got up, George. I think she and Johnny need a little more time to themselves. I'll see if Vee will help me make breakfast. Be ready when it is?"
He nodded, swung long legs over the edge of the bed and stood. He stretched, somewhat tired from the late hour when they had retired. But he had promised Finn that they would fish and avoid the lab for one day. He would feel more alert after breakfast and coffee.
Finn walked over and embraced him. He leaned down to kiss her, and she squeezed him before turning to leave the room. "I'll go see if Vee is up. Get dressed."
She had almost reached the door when his voice stopped her.
"Nicole, I do love you. Oh, so much. I quite look forward to spending today with you, doing something that we both enjoy."
She smiled and glowed, inside and out. She blew him a kiss and went to check on her friend and hostess.
Finn rapped on the Malones' door, stirring Veronica as she nuzzled against Ned, their lips seeking one another's mouths and their hands roving over bare bodies. Ned was nude, Veronica still in only the pink panties in which she had sought the first glimmer of day.
"That's Finny," murmured the jungle hostess. "I know her knock. Full of energy, even at this ungodly hour." She raised her voice. "Yes, Mrs. Challenger-to-Be: what's the matter?"
"Hey, Vee, are you decent? I need to ask you something." Finn seemed both shy and eager.
"Am I decent, Ned?" Veronica pulled his hands away as he tried to strip her of her sole brief garment.
"You're 'decent', Baby," he replied. "Trouble is, I want you to be thoroughly indecent for awhile. I could go for that." He leered at her blush.
"Down, Neddy!" she laughed. "I have to get up, anyway. It's time to make breakfast." She raised her voice, calling, "Finn, are you alone?"
"Yeah," said the black-clad vixen. "The Genius just got up. He's still in our room."
Veronica rolled out of bed, tripping softly to the door, Ned's eyes feasting on her as she moved. She tugged her panties back around to where they should be, Ned having disarranged them in his quest to reach what lay beneath.
Veronica opened the door to see Finn already dressed and armed. "Hey, Vee, George and I are going fishing today. I want to catch one of those Payara things, the ones with lower jaw teeth so long that they stick up through the nostrils when their mouths are closed. Is that, like, gross, or what? But they put up a good fight and I want one to mount here in the Treehouse. Maybe I can even take it to England with my jaguar and puma hides when we leave the Plateau. If ever… So, do you and Ned want to join us?"
Veronica thought and turned to her mate. "Ned, do we want to join the Girl Scout here and her genius lover on a fishing trip? Finny wants to catch a Payara. We could use some fish for the larder, anyway, and it does sound like fun."
"Sure," agreed the American journalist. He liked to fish, and if they did that, Veronica wouldn't find things for him to do around the Treehouse. "You girls pack some nice snacks for a picnic, not just biltong (dried meat) and fruit."
His girlfriend swung to face him, hands on her shapely hips. "Well, Neddy, you can just come help 'us girls' make breakfast and you can help pack that lunch, too, Buster. It's time you got out of bed, anyway."
Okay," Ned acquiesced. "Now that you're not in it anymore, bed is less appealing." He smiled and blew her a kiss.
Veronica blushed, and Ned heard Finn snicker.
Veronica turned back to her adventurous friend. "Okay, Finn. We're up, and we're 'on' for the fishing trip. Are the Roxtons coming, too?"
"Nope," answered Finn. "I asked Marguerite and Johnny last night, and they want to stay here. She wants to sew something, and they want to spend some time alone together. It's just you, me, George, and Ned."
"Well, that's enough. Take a rifle. No telling what we'll find, besides fish. Look, Ned and I will meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes. Go down and start making coffee. When he smells that, Mr. Malone will finish waking up, and I can get him down there." She stuck out her tongue playfully at her man, who managed a silly grin.
"I'm on it, Vee. See you then." And the athletic young blonde turned toward the stairs.
Veronica heard her as she passed her own room. "Lover! Hurry up! Meet me in the kitchen. I'm already lonely!" She giggled as she ran down the stairs.
The Malones looked at each other and grinned. That Finn...
Breakfast ready, the Malones and the Challengers planned their day. Veronica was mildly surprised when Finn offered to help her set out some tomato plants before they left.
"You're feeling energetic," she commented.
"Why not?" Finn rejoined. "I love making things grow. I used to be sarcastic about it, but now that I've had some experience with gardening, farming, whatever the hell we ought to call it, I like it. I did from the first, when you were gone. When I arrived from Puke City, otherwise known as New Amazonia, I was just a smart mouth. Maybe I lipped off some, but I think I said even then that I liked farming." She flushed; embarrassed now at some of the attitude that she had shown when she was new in the Treehouse.
"Indeed you did," concurred her man. "I recall you saying how farming appealed to you. It was one of the first things that I knew that you liked. I thought that it might serve to help you heal, given the horrid times that you had endured. Working with the earth, making things grow, seems therapeutic. Was it?"
Finn nodded. "Yes. It gave me peace, some. And a sense of achievement. And I could see where food comes from. Not like, from a can." Self conscious, she made a face. "Ugh. Some of the canned food that I'd had to eat was, let us say, past its prime. But I was often glad to get even that."
She looked at Challenger seriously, her usual impish grin absent. "George, thank you for rescuing me. I'm sorry I acted like a brat at the time. What you have given me, hope, love, a sense of belonging, has been a pearl beyond price." She turned to her virtual sister. "And, Vee, you've been the sister that I always wanted. If you hadn't let us live here, I shudder to think of what would have happened to all of us. The least that I can do is to help you in the garden. That's why I do it, that and the chance to just spend time together. And those tomato plants look pretty good. I want to get them in place. Marguerite really likes tomatoes. I want to see what she thinks of those we grow."
Veronica walked over and kissed Finn's cheek. She was slightly misty-eyed, thinking of what her friend must have undergone before she had come to this time, to this place. Veronica was glad that she was able to offer safe haven to Finn, and to the others. She had been lonely, and they had become family to her. Each had given to the others, benefiting them singly and as a group.
Finn, eager to change the subject, asked Malone whether he had read the five pages that she had given him as the opening scenes in an adventure book that she wanted to write.
"Eh?" demanded Challenger. "You have been writing? What, pray tell?"
"Genius, I wanted to surprise you," she said. "But I told you, I want to write novels and some true adventure books about our own lives. So, I gave Ned some pages to look over. He said it wasn't very good, so I made some changes. I hope it's better?" She looked wishfully at Ned.
He looked back, but at Challenger. "George, this girl is getting good. Her first draft had some run-on sentences and some subject-verb agreement issues. And I had to show her how to choose some better words to say what she wanted to. But she's a fast study. Finn, those last two pages were darned good. I can show you how to polish it a little, but you've got the basics down now, and just need to practice, and expand your vocabulary, which you're doing."
Finn brightened. "So, it's pretty good now? Like, do I have a real chance of getting published?"
Ned nodded. "Yes, stay with it. I'll help. We all will, but I probably know the most about commercial writing, and I think you have real talent. You see a lot here that most might not, and you record it well. You have a good imagination, too. I think you have a real chance, and I can introduce you to a couple of editors who'll probably look at your material. That should be a a big advantage."
Finn glowed, and Veronica said, "Watch it, Nicole. Ned is probably jiving you so that you'll bring coffee refills." But she was smiling. Ned had already told Veronica how well he thought Finn was doing, and she was proud of her friend. Less than two years ago, Finn had been all but illiterate.
"I'll get the coffee, anyway," Finn offered. "Genius, do you want more?" She rose to go to the kitchen
As she stood, they heard footsteps and John Roxton and Marguerite Krux walked to the table, hand-in-hand. Marguerite looked slightly flushed, some from recent activity, some from embarrassment, for she knew that others had guessed why they were late to breakfast. Roxton looked a trifle smug, as men frequently do when they have enjoyed the favors of a lady to the fullest extent.
"About time that you two showed up," commented Veronica dryly.
"I'm already up," noted Finn. "I'll help cook if you guys tell me what you want. Marguerite, will you help?"
The ladies joined one another in the kitchen, and Finn eagerly asked, "So, give, Marguerite! What is it that Johnny does when I can hear you through the wall to our room?"
Marguerite blushed scarlet, not having been aware that her cries of passion had been so audible. "You can hear us? Oh, I suppose that I must have seen a mouse and screamed." She tried not to smile, but failed.
Finn gave her a wry look and raised an eyebrow.
"Don't believe me, eh? Look, Finnykins, there are some things that are done in private, and not discussed in public."
Finn countered, "Marguerite, we aren't in public. It's just us girls, and we've spent time naked together in a slave cell. (See, "A Night in the Lost World", in the Mature fics on this board.) I don't guess any two women know one another much better than we do. So, give. Maybe I can get George to do that to me. It sounds like it's really hot." She looked expectantly at her older "sister".
"Oh, all right, damn it! But all that I'm going to say, even to you, is that Lord Roxton is very clever with his hands and he uses his tongue very well indeed for things other than talking. Especially when he goes south on me, if you take my meaning. He also uses his fingers down there very artfully, as well as his other obvious anatomy. Now, how do I cook his eggs scrambled, and mine 'over easy'?"
"We'll scramble his and I'll clean the pan a little before we cook yours. I want some scrambled ones, too. I've got a lot of walking to do today, and I need fuel for it." She grinned, and Marguerite, who had felt intruded upon by the utter intimacy of Finn's sex question, softened.
"Hey, guys!" called Finn. "Do you boys want ham and onion in the scrambled eggs? Like, an omelet? George, do you want more?"
Challenger replied in the affirmative, saying that he'd enjoy another egg, and Roxton agreed to the inclusions, grateful to sit and talk with the others. Finn had already poured his coffee.
"How do you get the scrambled ones to be so tasty and fluffy?" Marguerite wanted to know.
"We'll add a little milk, beat them up and cook them slowly, over low heat. I'll fold in the ham and onions as they cook." Finn broke eggs into a bowl, and showed her friend how to mix them right. Then she busied herself with a chef's knife, slicing tapir ham, onions, and parsley.
Ned walked in and made fresh coffee. "Sure that you and John won't join us on the fishing trip, Marguerite? The Girl Scout here may get bitten by that Payara she wants to catch. We may need you to sew her up." He smiled at the thought of the eager Finn getting into something over her head.
"No, thank you, Ned. But John and I want some time alone, and I need to finish some sewing. Finnykins had better be careful with her hands around the fish and the hooks."
"I'm always careful, "Finn asserted, and indeed, she was. Daring at times, but never incautious. Had this not been so, she would not now be among the living. Whatever else the slim blonde was, she was above all a survivor. She would risk all for her friends, and had, but she carefully plotted all the angles to give her any advantage that she could discover.
Ned went back to the table, where Roxton and Challenger were boring Veronica by discussing the design qualities of the ultimate rifle bullet for dangerous game. Roxton favored John Rigby's patented full metal jacketed ones for their integrity under all circumstances. Challenger thought that even those might be improved upon by devising a bonded core and jacket. Veronica devised a yawn, which she barely suppressed.
Soon, eggs ready, the other girls joined in the talk, and Veronica was able to introduce the idea of making new curtains for the bedroom windows. Now it was the men's turn to be bored. At least, the omelets were good, and the high grown coffee was exceptional, very similar to a Columbian Supremo blend. Perhaps the soil here or the Plateau's altitude made it unlike the less refined Brazilian Santos coffee. Or, perhaps the fine Arabica beans planted decades ago by someone unknown made the difference.
Following breakfast, the men readied the fishing tackle and cleaned the kitchen while Veronica and Finn planted tomatoes. Marguerite critically scanned Finn's rough manuscript, sniffing as she realized just how good it was. She made some minor corrections. An avid reader, she knew what was needed, and admitted to herself that Finn had made great progress in literacy. She now wrote better than many high school graduates, with a flair for drama that would attract readers of this sort of adventure. Marguerite, impressed, went down to needle the other ladies, who soon told her to quit teasing and learn to garden.
At last, the foursome heading out to the river had their lunch packed and their gear ready. They took leave of the future Roxtons, who wished them luck, cautioning them to be wary.
Marguerite hugged Finn and whispered to her that she had made some alterations in her work, but that she thought it was very talented. "I'd buy a book written by you, I fancy, if you learn just a little more, and can complete a whole volume."
Finn was pleased, but miffed that Marguerite had made corrections without discussing it with her. "I could write a whole volume of just your peccadilloes, Marguerite."
"There? You see?" countered Marguerite. "Would you have known a word like 'peccadilloes' when you arrived?"
"No, but I didn't know you then, either, so I didn't need to describe someone who does stuff like you have."
"Touché," admitted Marguerite. "Well, you girls look after George and Ned. Don't let their male egos lead them into anything that I wouldn't do. That especially goes for George, if he sees something that excites his scientific curiosity."
And the anglers were off for the day. Finn felt like laughing with joy as she rode the elevator down, the trip always arousing her, giving her a heady thrill. She did a little dance of happiness, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
Challenger chuckled, hugged her, and told her to behave.
CHAPTER TWO:
Marguerite turned to Roxton. "What shall we do, John? Other than each other, later, if you get lucky and catch me in a weak moment?"
Roxton smiled smugly. "You have had a taste of my skills, Madam, and you and I both know that you cannot resist more. I don't have to get lucky. I need only beware of your unbridled lusts exhausting even me."
"Some days, you make even George Challenger seem modest, Lord Roxton. What is it with men that all of you think that you are God's gift to women?"
Roxton looked at her more seriously. "I suppose it is that male arrogance that enables us to reproduce, from ancient times. If we weren't swaggeringly confident, you ladies might find us less appealing than the next chap. But I no longer have to be God's gift to women, although I enjoyed that work while it came my way, I promise you. Now, I need be His gift to only one woman, the finest of your sex, I might add, and therefore truly worthy of my admittedly consummate lovemaking skills." He smirked, arousing both resentment and excitement in Marguerite.
He took her face in his large hands and cupped it tenderly, planting a kiss between her eyes. "There, I've kissed away that frown that you were trying to form. I love you, Marguerite, and I hope that our life together will give you no more causes to frown again, ever."
She went weak in the knees, but pretended to be unaffected. "Well, we'll see. Help me make lunch? Or, do you trust me alone in the kitchen?" She smiled ruefully, aware that she had yet to attain the culinary competence of either of her Treehouse sisters. "You need to eat soon, if you are to manage the performance that I plan to coax out of you, with the others gone." She told him about Finn hearing them through the wall of the adjoining rooms. "Make me scream like that again, John, while we need fear no one but us hearing!"
He reddened. "Blast that nosy girl and her hearing! Has she told Challenger? Or, did he hear us, too?"
She shrugged. "I hear them occasionally. It is faint, but audible, if one listens carefully on a quiet night. I just wrote it off to the enthusiasm with which Nicole does most other things. She lives life with zest, as I'm sure that you've noted."
"If we had had her previous life, I suppose that we should also embrace the better days that she has known here," he mused. "Still, I think she would have loved life even if she had not begun it so precariously. Knowing her gives me new energy, I must admit. It's like looking at the world anew, through less jaded eyes."
Marguerite laughed. "She is almost a child; she loves it here so much. Look, about lunch, do we want to begin that now, or wait? It is almost noon. We may as well eat, and then I really must sew. You can sit at my feet and clean guns while you gaze longingly into my eyes." She smiled and kissed him to let him know that she was teasing.
"Lets' eat first," the Earl of Avebury decided. "I'll help in the kitchen, if only to keep you from blowing up the stove, or something equally grave. Then, I do need to clean guns. My usual ones don't need it now, but I have to bring up several from the spare gun room and maintain them. This tropical climate demands that they get new oil and wipe downs fairly often. But I will not sit at your feet. It makes gazing into your huge green eyes simpler if I sit on the same level as you do. Marguerite, I have traveled trackless wastelands and jungles, here and in Africa. But I have never come so close to getting lost as I do in your wonderful eyes."
She flushed, a warm glow starting in her heart and spreading all through her body. Marguerite came into his arms and played with his hair and neck. "John, you are the sweetest talker! You needn't spread it on so thickly. You have conquered me, sir, and can have your way with me without having to fish with such compliments." But she smiled before leaning her head on his chest, loving the muted sound of his increasing heartbeats.
Roxton played with her body, running his hands down her back, lingering at her butt, teasing her flesh through the cloth of her skirt. He lifted it from behind, sliding the hem tingling up the back of her legs, his fingernails then trailing paths of electricity across her shapely behind through the thin satin fabric of her panties. He felt goosebumps on her bare arms (for she had rolled up the sleeves of her blouse) as she reacted to his caresses. He lifted her chin and kissed her slowly, lingeringly, igniting her very veins with the liquid fire of his lust and of his love. She moaned softly, her fingers clawing at his shirt.
Moving his lips to her ears and the sides of her neck, he murmured softly, "Marguerite, I never create sweet things to say just to arouse you. I can do that this way, and do not deny that you are reacting. We both know that if I keep this up, you will be putty in my hands. I tell you those endearments entirely because I mean them, not to seduce you. Although that is a wonderful side effect...I love you, Darling. And as you can feel from the front of my trousers, we had better break this off and head for the kitchen and cook lunch, or I'll be unable to get anything at all accomplished today, other than enjoying every delicious inch of you, over and over, all afternoon long!' He kissed her lips again, and Marguerite held onto him for dear life, for she feared that she might faint from desire if he released her now.
"Lunch?" she managed. "What's that?" She sighed, grinding herself against his prominent erection.
"It's beginning to look as if we had better go upstairs and get you ravished, if I am to get any good out of you in the kitchen," he chuckled. "Marguerite, if it matters to you, you ignite my desires at least as much as I seem to stoke the fires of your own lust."
"Lust?" she queried. "More like the Bessemer furnace of my loins, Lord Roxton. Undress me here, now, and take me on the couch and on that big flat, round leather table that we used the last time that we had this place to ourselves." She flushed at the memory of herself kneeling with her head low on that table, him behind her, thrusting into her female shaft with raw animal passion. The position and the results that John got from her in it made Marguerite feel fully female and very "taken" by a strong male. She knew very well that it was one of Roxton's favorite ways to have her, and she loved being had in that manner. So independent in other ways, she had learned the thrill of total surrender to him in sex.
"Well, if you insist," he said, and began unbuttoning her blouse, first rolling down the sleeves, that he might slip the garment off of her arms more easily. Marguerite tugged the shirttails out of her skirt to help him disrobe her, unfastening her gun belt and dropping it on a chair. She was glad that she had not donned her boots. It was simpler to step out of the sandals that she usually wore in the Treehouse. Which she did, as he pulled the blouse free of her unresisting, eager body…
As Roxton helped his love to step out of her long skirt, he said, "Look here, Marguerite, let's actually go up to our room and do this right. Not that I don't deeply cherish the memory of enjoying you while you were kneeling ala doggie on that table, but it'll be more comfortable in bed, and I want to give you my full attention, without us being cramped on the couch."
"Cramped on the couch?" she echoed. "That sounds almost poetic, or like the title of some awful story that Ned or Finn might write. But, you're right. Lead me upstairs and ravish me, John. We have so few occasions to enjoy this sort of thing alone, in the daytime. She kissed his cheek, and dropped her bra atop her other clothes in a chair. Roxton took her hand and they ascended the stairs, side-by-side, talking softly, leaning into one another.
CHAPTER THREE
Meanwhile, the fishing party had reached a patch of swampy ground fed by an underground stream that overflowed here. An area of over a hundred yards diameter was filled with water to some three feet deep in places, and the ground surrounding this was marshy. It was a favored hunting place near the Treehouse, where game came to drink without venturing the additional distance to the river. Waterfowl and pheasants also drank here, and provided good wing shooting when the explorers brought their shotguns rather than fishing tackle. Ocellated turkeys sometimes found their way down from the forests above, having been brought to the Plateau by the fierce Tecamaya tribe as they came down from Central America.
It also harbored certain dangers. Big cats and predatory dinosaurs hunted here, too, and drank their fill as they passed en route to ambush some hapless creature for a meal Thus, the group wasn't terribly surprised when a puma jumped from under a huge fern bush and ran as they approached.
Finn swung up her Winchester M-92 .44/40 carbine, but Challenger called to her to hold her fire. "We don't need to announce our presence to anyone or anything that might be listening, and the cat was fleeing."
Finn uncocked the Winchester's hammer, shrugged, and agreed. She already had several puma and jaguar hides in the Treehouse, and wasn't set on killing just for the sake of killing. And her man was right: in the jungle, it was best to walk softly, unless real need occasioned shooting.
They continued on for another 50 yards, and then rounded a bend in the trail. Ahead was a big anaconda, one of the yellow phase of the species. It was struggling to reach cover, its body distended by the shape of something that it had recently eaten, probably a deer.
"Just look at that thing!" exclaimed Ned Malone. "Can you imagine having that grab you while you were swimming?"
"It'd come under the heading of a major nightmare," his mate agreed, nocking an arrow in her bow.
They let the monster snake pass in peace before walking by, eager now to reach the river and begin fishing. Still, the big constrictor provided conversation as they went. The Lost World had its good side and its bad. One of the "good" things was that there was always something dreadful to discuss, if one could avoid being eaten by it.
Finn told the others that she was glad that they had seen the snake, its meal fresh in its stomach. "I want to include that in my book. It'll totally gross people out!"
"And this is good, how?" asked Veronica.
"Makes them want to buy books that tell them what's eating them," the young huntress punned. "People don't want to spend money to read about butterflies."
They pressed on, finally reaching the river at about 1:00PM, with several hours of daylight left to eat and to fish.
"Who wants to eat and who wants to fish?" asked Ned.
As eager as Finn was to hook a Payara, she agreed with the others that lunch should come first. "If I eat first, I can exercise to work off the calories," noted Veronica. She retained a body as wonderful as ever and took pride in doing so, but was mildly jealous that she had to watch what she ate more than the other women in the Treehouse. They had been blessed by metabolisms that let them largely dine on what they wished. To be sure, their lifestyle helped to keep all three girls trim and in top condition.
They set the tackle aside and spread out a blanket and a tablecloth. Challenger and Ned gathered sticks and some heavier wood and built a campfire as the ladies laid out lunch. Ned split some of the larger sticks with a Collins axe, a Hudson's Bay pattern that was lighter than a full timberman's axe, but more efficient than a hatchet and only somewhat harder to carry around. And it would deal with wood better than a machete, which they used for lighter chopping. They all had machetes strapped to their packs when they went any great distance from home. It was imprudent to wander around a jungle without one, and they had been delighted to get new ones from supplies recovered from Avery Burton's dead slavers and other perished expeditions. (See, "A Night in the Lost World" on this board and such TV episodes as, "Suspicion.")
Soon, they had a kettle boiling, and Challenger commented on how good a cup of tea would taste.
"That sounds like you Limeys," Ned ribbed. "You actually like drinking hot tea in weather like this."
"Hey!" spoke Finn. "Leave the Genius alone. I've tried tea, and I like it. I'm having some, too. If I'm going to be British someday, I guess that I'd better get used to it.. It really is pretty good, and I feel refreshed when I drink it, even in Brazil, on a sunny afternoon."
"There are sound scientific reasons for that," began her man, only to catch a cautionary look from Veronica. "Um, perhaps we should discuss that at some other time."
Ned was slightly embarrassed, although he, like his woman, wasn't eager for a scientific lecture. At least not about tea... "We could discuss that big anaconda instead. How long do they take to digest a meal like that one had had, George?"
Veronica rolled her eyes, and Finn looked at her, trying to suppress a grin. She was actually interested in hearing about the snake, and Veronica shrugged, as if to say, go ahead. I'll just try to listen to the jungle sounds, instead.
They passed around turkey sandwiches, with excellent mustard that Challenger had learned to make in the country Dijon style. Besides the tea, the girls had packed bottles of fruit juice, and they had pickles, oranges, and other items to delight their palates.
Soon, even Veronica had become curious about the anaconda and found herself listening to the lecture and asking questions. Challenger was in his element and basked in the joy of having an attentive audience. Finn looked at him with pride, and leaned against his shoulder, the affection between them obvious. Ned reflected that she was both daughter and lover to him, as well as his lab protege and his being her psychological counselor. That probably explained why their relationship functioned so well despite the age difference. Each filled the emotional needs of the other, as well as being physically compatible. Finn no doubt felt protected by the big scientist, as well as knowing that she was cherished beyond what most women ever experience. Ned felt a tinge of jealousy, and wished that he had Challenger's or Roxton's physique. He brightened as he saw Veronica looking fondly at him, and realized that she had decided that being large and powerful wasn't all that made a man in her eyes. She went out of her way to make him feel like her hero, and Ned was glad of it. Still, if he was larger, would she not feel even happier to submit to him as her lord? And yielded her heart to him sooner? He fretted a little, trying to listen to what George was saying about differences between boas and pythons.
Nearby, under cover of the ferns that made this small jungle clearing so beautiful, a pair of beady eyes watched the foursome. The smell of their food reached the nostrils of an unwelcome visitor, and it ran its forked tongue in and out, tasting the air as it planned its next move.
CHAPTER FOUR
In the Treehouse, Marguerite Krux lay on her back in bed as her lover administered to her needs, his head between her open thighs. His hands moved skillfully along her body, and she arched her back in a spasm of ecstasy.
She moaned as his tongue worked wonders down there, and at one point, she screamed softly, the sort of sound that Finn had heard through the wall between the bedrooms.
"You like that, I fancy?" asked a smug Roxton, moving his mouth to her distended nipples. The middle two fingers of his right hand probed her nether lips, sliding within, finding her moist and eager. Her legs jerked in a spasm that expressed what she was feeling and he heard her breathe heavily, her eyes closed as her passion raged.
Marguerite tried to retain her dignity and make a sarcastic response to his query. Instead, she murmured, "Oh, John. That is divine. Please don't stop! Faster, and a bit higher with the fingers, please."
"As you wish, milady," he concurred, changing the thrust of his efforts to comply with her pleas.
She held him tightly, shaking as she neared orgasm. She never failed to marvel at the skill of his touch, how he played women like a virtuoso violinist played a Stradivarius. She had told him this once, and he had laughed, saying that she was the instrument that he wished to play so well that her moans of pleasure became musical notes.
If he keeps this up, my "musical notes" will sound like a complete orchestra, she mused. She squirmed as his hands lit fires within her that consumed the last of her attempts at restraint, and Roxton heard her wail, thrashing beneath him as she called his name repeatedly, interspersed with mews and cries, of, "Yes, John, Oh, please yes, like that! Ahhh...John!"
As she bucked beneath him, it crossed Roxton's mind that this was really quite a nice way to spend an afternoon. In a while, he would hold her and let her come down gently before he began the more serious aspects of bedding his future bride. Marguerite is going to be a very satisfied woman today, he determined, and that is before I have her attend to my own needs. Which, having once been the favored, trained slave of an Arab despot, she would do very well. (See, "A Prisoner of the Sultan, or How Marguerite Learned to Dance" here in the "Mature" Lost World fics.)
At least, I retain my dignity better than Marguerite does, he thought, and smiled. If I was that vocal, it would be a wonder if Finn and Challenger ever got any sleep on the nights that we make love late. That wall really should be thicker, though...
He kissed Marguerite on her closed eyes, and along her jaw and behind the ears. His hands tugged gently at her nipples, rolling them carefully between thumbs and forefingers, making her moan softly and squirm beneath his talented hands.
She opened her legs wider, using her hand to guide his fully tumescent manhood into her, and then held him tightly, as if she feared drowning if they parted. Her legs came up and she crossed her ankles behind his back and began moving her hips. Now, it was Roxton's turn to feel excited, and he rode her with skill and careful control, until neither of them could restrain their passion any further and they cried out in unison as they rocked back and forth in mutual climax.
Yes, there was something special about having the Treehouse to themselves for an afternoon...
CHAPTER FIVE
It sat under the fern, beneath the branches of a banana tree, the land and the humid vegetation verdant with the lust for life of the tropics, where a clearing is soon overgrown if left long untended.
The scales were warmed by the afternoon sun, transferring energy to the tensed muscles beneath the leathery hide. The scales were dull green with darker mottled markings, tinted in places with a coppery sheen, made almost iridescent where the sunlight played on them the right way.
It focused its gaze on a chicken leg near Veronica's right leg, just 40 or so quick paces away for a creature with the speed of this one. It tensed its tendons, flicked the heavy, tapered tail and yawned briefly, the razor like teeth lining the jaws eager to seize its quarry...that chicken leg. Its claws dug into the soft earth beneath the fern and it rose slightly, poised to launch itself. The mouth emitted a hiss as it poised for action.
Ned Malone heard a faint sound in the leaves as the reptile began its rush for the chicken leg. The scrabble through the leaves drew his gaze, and he sensed, rather than saw, something coming. A premonition of dread seized him and he stood abruptly, taking Veronica's arm and jerking her upright.
"Hey!" the girl exclaimed, "Neddy, what the..." That was as far as she got before the big lizard was in the open, charging the foursome.
"Good Lord!" bellowed Challenger. He reached for his Colt .45 with one hand and for Finn with the other. She stood with him, scrabbling for her Smith & Wesson .38 as the lizard reached them, traveling almost faster than their eyes could register its movement and tell them what it was.
The jaws snapped at the chicken leg, scarfing it down in a flash. It saw Veronica move her leg and lashed out, stinging her with a whip of its powerful tail.
Instinctively, she kicked back, her soft boot striking the animal in the neck. Moving like lightning, the reptile slashed sideways, the teeth grazing her ankle as two shots rang out The lizard jerked as she heard bullets slam into flesh, driving the animal to thrash violently. It struck out at her again as her own man's gun joined those of her friends.
Rolling, the big lizard, for it was five feet long, slithered rapidly toward the river some fifty yards distant. Another .45 bullet from Ned chased it, the 230 grain jacketed weight of it throwing up a clod of dirt a foot to the left of the animal A second shot also went wide, then he hit it, well back, breaking the pelvic girdle.
Finn stood coolly, aligning her sights on the fleeing reptile, and loosed a lead bullet into its left shoulder as it ran, skewed now by inability to maneuver well.
Challenger swiveled back to look where it had emerged from the jungle, checking to see that only one of the animals was a threat. He had released Finn's hand as she reached for her gun, and now, satisfied that nothing more was coming at them, glanced quickly her way, ensuring that she was well.
When he looked back to the lizard, it had reached the water and sprung into it, swimming as best it could with its ruined pelvic bone.
At first, it made good headway, considering the extent of the damage done by the bullets. Then, it paused, swirling as blood surged around it, a churning in the water agitating the scene. The lizard sank, then surfaced, swimming desperately, the far shore some 40 yards beyond. It was a distance that the stricken animal would never traverse.
Finn looked at the boiling in the water and the thrashing, desperate beast. She turned to Challenger, a question on her face.
"Piranha," said Veronica. "Sometimes, they come this far up the river from below, where they're common." She winced as she started forward, then sat down and pulled off her right boot.
Ned looked at the struggle in the water, and then knelt by his mate, putting away his Colt .45 automatic. "Are you all right, Baby? That looks pretty bad. Get the boot all the way off, and I'll wash that."
Finn reloaded and holstered her .38, an awestruck look on her face as she and Challenger exchanged glances. Then, she joined Ned at Veronica's side.
CHAPTER SIX
Marguerite stretched luxuriously, and shuddered with remembered exquisite pleasure. "You do seem to have your uses, Lord Roxton! And I once thought that you were on this trip only to irritate and bore me!"
"It did take you rather a long while to determine that I was here to adore you and to molest you," he admitted, smiling, propped on his elbow next to her.
"Oh, I had the 'molest' part figured out early on. You do have a reputation for that with women, John. I didn't want to be just the next figurative notch on your bedpost. Mind you, I'm sure that you have very nice beds at both Avebury and in your London rooms."
He leaned over and kissed her abdomen, tickling it with his tongue until she quivered. He moved lower, and she trembled, shuddering at the touch of his flickering tongue and nibbling lips.
"Stop that, John! We must dress and eat. I really do have to sew, and some of that is mending two of your own shirts."
"I'll wear a torn shirt, if you'll let me make love to you again," he offered.
"John! Men! Your lot are absolutely insatiable! If I didn't know how obsessed you are with fine guns, hunting, fishing, and eating, I'd say that you have a one-track mind, like most men. If I don't mend those shirts and some other items, everyone will guess what we have been up to. And Veronica does want some new bikini style knickers with my hand sewn lace on them. If she doesn't get them, she'll make me dust the Treehouse or some other form of heavy, heartless, industrial labor. You know how I dread that!"
But she did sit up and kiss him...
"I suppose that we should eat," he admitted. "My stomach was going to growl when we came up here, and I think that now, it's on the verge of snarling, for want of food."
"Well, we certainly can't have that, can we?" She went to the basin on the stand by the dresser, took a rag, wet it, and washed herself.
She rinsed the rag, wet it again and tossed it to Roxton, who had come over to watch her as she refreshed herself. "There, John. Clean up and lets' go downstairs and see if I can manage to make lunch without any explosions in the kitchen. I'm as dangerous in there as George is in his beloved lab!"
She took her hairbrush and ran it though her sable tresses as Roxton stood, transfixed, admiring her every motion. "What are you staring at?" she demanded. "Do I have a wart, or something?"
"No, Marguerite, no warts. Just absolute perfection. Animate sculpture, as fine as any marble piece in the Louvre."
She blushed, appreciative of his praise, yet self conscious. "Thank you, John. That's lovely to hear. I have longed to hear such things from a man and believe them. Especially from one with whom I would wish to spend the rest of my life."
"I'm that man," he noted, "and you had better remember it, Madam. You are Mrs. Roxton, Lady Roxton, in all but name. And if you continue to perform in bed as well as you just did, that isn't likely to change anytime soon!" He grinned broadly, and she flushed.
"Let's see if if I can manage to feed you as well as to slake your other lusts, then," she commented.
He took her hands, drew her next to him, and kissed her brow. "Marguerite, as much as I thrill to the use of your magnificent body, I want you to know that I worship you in other ways, too. Your wry, sometimes caustic wit, your tenacity in the face of adversity, your ingenuity, your exquisite knowledge of art and jewelry, are all part of you, and I adore the entire woman. Know that, and believe it. For me, you are the totality of all that I have ever dreamed of having as my wife, and I love the having of you in all ways, not just in bed alone. But that is quite nice..."
He ran his hands down her back, lingering on her buttocks, tracing lines on her flesh as she pressed close to him, goose bumps and a pink flush temporarily marring the perfection of her skin as she began to breathe deeply and kissed him like there was no tomorrow.
They reluctantly parted, and she donned teal green panties, so "her", Roxton thought. He admired her as she stepped into them and pulled on the brief garment and adjusted the fit. He was very pleased with the women's underwear styles from the 21st Century that Finn had brought out of New Amazonia. She and Marguerite did a fine job of conceiving and making the garments. And thank goodness for Veronica's mother's sewing machine, which also made new clothes for all of them! He put on his trousers, and carrying his shirt, reached for her hand.
Roxton led his woman downstairs, and took her bra from her as she paused by the chair where she had left all but the panties "Just wear those for now, and your sandals," he insisted. "I want to drink in your beauty for as long as I can."
She kissed his cheek, and caressed his shoulder with a gentle touch that warmed his heart more than it roused his groin.
"Darling John! Oh, very well. Let's compromise. Let me wear the bra, too, and you have a deal. I rather like the idea of your eyes on me. I am a vain woman, as are most of my sex, I'm afraid. I just try to hide it better than Finn does, or even Veronica. Finnykins is a bit of an exhibitionist, and even her pal Vee is getting to like being openly admired. She was quite daring the last time we danced for you fellows, wasn't she?"
Roxton smiled. "Yes, she was definitely worth watching, as were all of you stunning ladies. But you still dance the best, Marguerite."
"But why the bra?" he continued. His gaze rested on the objects of his adoration. "Those are splendid. National treasures! Breasts needn't be especially large to be memorable and visually delightful. I could stare at yours all day."
"And I fancy that you would, too, if you could, "she noted. "I am tempted to go bare breasted and enjoy your gaze, but there are practical reasons not to. If I get splattered by something on the stove, and it hits a strategic spot, all I'll have is a stained bra. I can dye it, or make another. But if something hot hits my 'girls', I might be injured. I'd certainly yelp loudly enough to scare even a certain brave hunter of my intimate acquaintance."
"Good point," he admitted." Here." He handed her the lacy white bra. "Here's your booby trap."
He waited while she put it on and adjusted the fit. Then, "Let's get to the kitchen, Marguerite. I need to see your other talents at work, in cooking. I'll help." He smacked her bottom, fairly hard, she thought. Why did men like doing that so much?
"Ow!" she cried, and pinched his ribs. Then Marguerite ran laughing toward the kitchen, her man in hot pursuit.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Ned eased Veronica's boot off, and they examined the wound left by the teeth of the big lizard. First, they cleaned it out with water and flushed it with tea, Challenger commenting that the tannins in the tea would kill at least some germs.
"That may need a few stitches", noted Malone. He looked worried, stroking his love's arm, trying to reassure her.
Finn brought a cotton bandage from the first aid kit, and trimmed it with her Bowie knife, a present from Roxton, who had made it the previous Christmas.
"Shouldn't we put something on this, Genius?" she asked Challenger.
He rummaged in the picnic basket and got the jar of honey. "We'll dab on some of this, enough to liberally coat the wound. Then, we'll add the sterile bandage. The honey will protect the wound and kill germs. It's been used for that for thousands of years, since at least the time of ancient Egypt."
"How did they know to do it back then, George?" needled Malone. "What led you and the pharaoh's other physicians to think of that?" He grinned at the older man.
"Hmpf!," replied Challenger. "Young whippersnapper! No respect for age and the knowledge that comes with it." He was used to Ned's teasing, and usually tolerated it well. Now, he was glad to be the butt of the younger man's attempt at humor, if it made Veronica laugh and eased her fear.
"Hush, Ned," their hostess said. "George is trying to help. Speaking of which...George, what was that lizard? I don't see many like it here. When I do, they're usually swimming, and I've never seen one that big so close up."
"It looked for all the world like a Nile monitor lizard," the distinguished scientist answered. "Perhaps it's one of the closely related varanid lizards from Asia or Australia. The genus Varanus encompasses a number of similar species. The largest is the so-called Komodo dragon, from the Dutch East Indies. It lives only on a few islands there, and they are regarded as being quite dangerous, As big as some crocodiles! There is another really large one from New Guinea and thereabouts called a crocodile lizard. Generally, the average monitor doesn't attack humans, although I wouldn't put it past one to carry off a small child if it saw the chance. But healthy adults are bigger prey than it normally seeks."
"It's not like the iguanas here, is it?" asked Finn. "It looked differently built, and there was a longer head and I didn't see any dewlap under its jaw. And the neck was longer."
"You are quite observant, Nicole, " beamed Challenger, always proud of his love when she did something well. "No, it and the iguana are quite different. The iguana mostly eats plants. These water monitors are highly carnivorous. That means, Ned, that they eat meat." He deadpanned, pretending that he was telling Malone something that he didn't know. He'd fix that American fellow for acting as if he was old enough to have practiced medicine in ancient Egypt! Why, he was just in his fifties!
Finn snickered, and Veronica told them to stop clowning and tell her if the wound was likely to become infected. "Those things aren't venomous are they?"
"No," said Challenger. "As far as science knows, there are only two venomous lizards. Those are the Gila Monster and the closely related Mexican Beaded Lizard. They live in the southwestern United States and nearby Mexico, much farther north than the Plateau. But the teeth of these monitor lizards do cause infection, probably due to rotting meat and bacteria in their mouths getting into the bites. By the by, there shouldn't be any of them here. This is an African species. Most curious... They grow much larger than this one, incidentally, to at least seven or eight feet, maybe longer."
Oh, swell!" commented Malone. " Infections from germs in their mouths! Don't worry, Baby. We washed out that cut really well, and maybe the honey will help."
"It should," confirmed Challenger. "When we get home, I'll use some red wine on it, and Xma'Klee's medicinal salve. If it doesn't seem to be healing, Marguerite can sew the edges closed. And I want you to take some of my antibiotic pills. That should prevent any harm from occurring."
After a while, Veronica cleaned off her bloody boot and was helped to where she could sit on the bank and cast a line. Ned hovered nearby, keeping a close watch over her.
Everyone was concerned that the presence of the piranhas might keep other fish from biting, but Veronica said that unless there was blood in the water, they often didn't attack. Many other fish swam nearby, the monitor lizard's body now fully consumed by the voracious piranhas.
Finn rigged a line with a wire leader, so that the teeth of a piranha wouldn't slice through, and baited her hook with a grasshopper. She soon had four piranha and the others had caught some. Challenger also caught a catfish.
They landed all of these with care, for the razor-sharp teeth of the piranha and the spine on a catfish fin could do great harm to humans.
Challenger told her that the scientific name for the genus of piranhas was Serrasalmus, and that these red-bellied ones were the most dangerous to humans. Most people who lived near piranha-infested waters would not swim or wade and cattle being driven across streams sometimes were attacked and eaten by schools of the fish. Some ranchers off of the Plateau deliberately injured a cow and drove it into the river, where it would be attacked and consumed by the savage fish, while other stock were driven across the river farther upstream.
In time, they went upriver, Veronica using a crutch made by chopping a pole and tying a crosspiece to the top, covered with a cloth, as padding. She limped only somewhat, but didn't want to put much pressure on the wounded ankle, lest the wound open and bleeding start again.
In the new spot, Finn did hook a Payara, and had a thrill as she fought and landed the ferocious fish. It was 30 inches long, and probably weighed some 15 pounds. The two fangs in the lower jaw were very impressive. They looked like something out of a nightmare. Finn was very familiar with nightmares, most arising from her time in New Amazonia.
She showed her prize proudly to her friends, and Challenger told her that he would mount it for her when they got home. As a scientist, he knew taxidermy techniques. Finn wanted to mount the fish on the wall of the living room, but Veronica said that she would have to use the den or her own room. "Or, put that thing in the spare gun room, where you and Roxton can see it when you clean guns." But she congratulated her friend on the nice catch, knowing how much it meant to the young sportswoman to have hooked and landed a Payara.
With two big pavon (peacock bass; sometimes also called tucanare in Brazil) added to their catch, they had all that they could carry, and headed for home. They traveled carefully so that Veronica wouldn't have to go faster than necessary. Still, they needed to get the fish on ice in the Treehouse.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Roxton and his love found cold chicken in the refrigerator, and heated that up with corn, spinach, and rice for lunch. Marguerite did much of the work, and she commented that she felt rather proud that she had had no mishaps in the kitchen.
"The secret to that is that you must make love to me at least daily.," razzed Roxton. "That gives you good karma in the kitchen." He knew that she was familiar with the Hindu concept of karma.
"Spoken like a typical male," she drolly noted. "Sex on the brain, 24 hours a day! Look, John, if you were telling that to a blonde, maybe she'd believe it. Do I look blonde to you?" She smiled at his being momentarily taken aback.
"No," he admitted. "I don't really expect you to believe it. I just wanted you to know that I can't live without you in bed, at least daily. It's better for me than vitamin pills. And a lot more fun!"
"Sit. Eat," she commanded. "If nothing else, you'll need your strength for the next time you manage to get me on my back, in private." She ruffled his hair gently, and then sat next to him at the table, pouring hot tea into their cups.
Roxton was surprised and pleased when Marguerite took a slice of their whole wheat bread and buttered it for him. She passed it to him with a twinkle in her eye. He knew that she often teased Finn for doing just that for Challenger. He smiled and took it from her, holding her hand briefly, squeezing it to let her know how he appreciated her gesture of nurturing him.
They talked as they ate, their hands often straying to touch, and he laid his hand on her bare leg twice, just to enjoy her being beside him. They were sitting much closer than was normally the case, their shoulders nearly meeting. Once, she leaned over slightly and kissed his cheek.
"I love you, John, with all of my heart and soul. If I have a soul, that is." She smiled, but looked a trifle nervous, as if uncertain that she did have a soul. She fretted these days about her colorful past, and was glad that he continually encouraged her, assuring her that he loved her as much as if she had been born in a palace and raised as a princess. "You are, after all, my dream princess," he'd tell her, and she glowed and blushed as she comprehended just how much he loved her.
After, they cleaned up and sat on the balcony outside the living room. Marguerite had made lemonade, and they had some cookies made earlier by Veronica and Finn.
"What time is it?" she asked. When he told her, she insisted that they dress, on the off chance that their friends might come home early.
"Finnykins likes to play entirely too much with that binocular that she dotes on, and if she sees me out here with you in my underwear, I'll never hear the end of it. She and Veronica would love to have that little scene to torture me with." She put her hands on her head and turned slowly, telling John to take a last look, before she covered herself with her normal clothing.
He pulled her to him and ran his hand over her bottom, loving the way that she felt through the teal green panties. He caressed her shoulders and kissed her deeply, at length, before he released her and told her to dress, if she must. And he ran his eyes longingly, admiringly, over her as she went for the clothes.
When she returned, dressed, she brought his shirt and boots, with the sewing kit and the items that she needed to mend.
They sat comfortably near one another, at a table that they brought out, Marguerite commenting that the sun was ideal for seeing her stitches and the eyes of the needles that she threaded. "Doubtless, you can see all the screw heads on those guns, too, as you clean them," she teased.
"Yes," Roxton agreed. "And I can see all the way into your soul, which you DO have, through those big green eyes. Yes, I love this sunlight."
They talked as they worked, and Marguerite realized how much fun it was just to spend time with this man, enjoying his quiet company, hearing his stories of the war and of the African bush. And she loved his occasional flirting, rejoicing in the knowledge that he was truthfully in love with her and cared so much for her, and for just being together. She was amazed at his depth and his eloquent descriptions, and knew that his telling her some things about the war and about his brother's death were items that he had shared with no one else. She felt very special to have his trust and his love, and time passed far too quickly.
When they saw the figures of their friends emerge from the jungle and walk toward the Treehouse, Marguerite rued that the time that they had alone was gone. She said so.
Roxton smiled and held her hand. "No, Marguerite. Not gone, except for the moment, as we greet our friends, who are all but family. For we have one another for all eternity now. You and I belong together, and I am glad that you have seen the light about that, and accepted my marriage proposal. Had you not, I would have felt hollow, for all of my days."
"We certainly can't have you feeling hollow, can we?" she teased. And Marguerite put down her sewing and made Roxton set aside the rifle that he was cleaning. She sat on his lap, kissing him, not caring who saw.
Let Finn brag about her damned Payara fish, she thought. It's really me who has the best catch of the day, and for all the days to come...and I don't care who hears me making love through the wall tonight!
The End