NATIVE SISTER

"The trick," I said, scraping my knife briskly against the flint, "is to make sure you have your larger twigs and pieces of wood near you once you get the tinder ignited. It's a little embarrassing to get your fire started and then remember you still need fuel to keep it going!"

The small group around me chuckled then offered their expected noises of delight and amazement when I finally got my sparks to ignite the small bundle of dried pine needles. I bent over and blew gently on the embers to bring them to a fine glow, then began placing some twigs and larger pieces of wood onto the small licks of flame.

"And voila," I said, "man makes fire. Now, it's your turn."

I stood and watched them disperse, three couples. It was my latest survivor school class. So far my A-students were, surprisingly, among the oldest students I'd ever had, both in their mid-sixties, but both absolute troopers in the harsh summer conditions. They got their fire going in about five minutes. The other two couples weren't quite as adept. There was a nerdy-bookish duo in their mid-forties, and a young silly pair of lovers in their early-20s. (I could say "young" and "silly" because I was comfortably in my 30s.) The young couple was somewhat quarrelsome, too, which was surprising. I was hoping it wouldn't get worse as the stress of the hike mounted. All of them, however, had good credit lines, and they'd all paid the healthy fee to hire me, their survival guide, for a seven-day trek through this particularly unpopulated section of the Sierra Nevada mountains.

Just to get here we'd had to hike over 10 miles. As everyone in my group was already in fairly good shape (it's a survival school, not a fat farm) and had left with full bellies, the hike had been quite pleasant. But now, several hours in, they'd had little food and few breaks. They would soon be in full survival mode, but this was what they'd paid for, so spirits were still somewhat high. It would be interesting to see how they digested their share of the large rattle snake I'd trapped, killed and skinned for dinner this evening. All of our meals on this trek were going to be only from what nature could provide. By the end of this journey we would each burning upwards of 4000 calories per day yet ingesting little more than 500. If they knew what was good for them, they'd enjoy—or at least appreciate—their snake supper.

Eventually, with only a little coaching from me, everyone got their fires going, each proud that not a single match or drop of lighter fluid had been used. And as I suspected, they ate their roasted snake meat with only minimal squeamishness. The evening was made all the more enjoyable when I produced my hidden canister of single malt Scotch whisky, just enough for the seven of us to have a couple of small shots. I told them that this was the last bit of booze they'd be enjoying for the next six nights.

Earlier in the afternoon I'd shown them all how to make simple lean-to shelters with pine branches, sticks and pine needles for padding, and eventually the couples began settling into their rudimentary shelters. Well, that one young couple had gone off somewhere. I'd assumed they'd just been eager to fuck each other in the wild outdoors and I certainly couldn't blame them. We were in pristine country: forest, lakes and mountains untouched by human industrialization. But I was wrong. I saw the girl, Karin, wander back into the camp area, alone.

I asked her, "Where's David?" Her husband.

"Who the fuck cares?" she replied.

I looked at her, surprised. She was a cute girl, about five-and-a-half feet tall, short brown hair, brown eyes, nice teeth. Though slightly chunky, Karin had a nice round ass and full, milky breasts, which I'd noticed right away. But she'd come here with her husband. Kind of hard to hit on a girl in a situation like this.

Catching my stare Karin said, "Oh, he's just over there, near the edge of the lake. He's okay."

"Good," I said. The safety of these six people was my absolute priority.

"It's just," she said in a whisper, "he can be such an asshole sometimes!"

I nodded. They'd had a fight. That wasn't exactly uncommon when couples were subjected to the stress of survival training. I was just surprised they were at each others' throats on the very first night, but their tepidly argumentative attitude toward each other earlier today had foreshadowed this.

"Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to vent."

"No worries."

She looked at me up and down. She said, "You're pretty easy-going, aren't you, Cal?"

"I suppose."

We locked eyes. Something connected there, I was sure. Admittedly, however, I was the first to look away. Having spent a lot of time often alone in the wilderness these last few years, I'd pretty much lost the ability to flirt or seduce. My "people skills" were very rusty. If something was going to happen here, I was shying away from it like a novice.

"Well," she said at last, "I'd better get back to my little shelter. You said we were moving on at dawn, right?"

I managed to glance back to her face. "Yeah."

Karin reached for my arm, turning my watch so she could see the time on its luminescent dial. It was a little after nine. Her fingers felt nice. Christ, I hadn't been laid in a long, long time.

She said, "We'd better get some sleep." Giving me a strange look.

"Yes." All I could stammer out.

She moved off and I watched her full round ass, trying to determine if she was wearing a thong despite being in the wild. I hoped so. Then again, what did it matter? She'd be settling down with her asshole husband, I'd be bedding down alone, as usual, as always....

* * *

With those thoughts being the last of my waking state, it was in a dreamy state that I'd been fantasizing about Karin settling down beside me, in my own shelter, reaching under my shirt, under my pants...then it became a waking dream, a highly erotic dream, because I knew I was aroused, fully erect, and feeling the most wonderful pressure from what I imagined to be Karin's hand....

"There you go," I heard a soft whispering voice say. "That's my hard mountain man."

I opened my eyes, realizing that the dream was a reality. In the pitch dark, under a moonless sky of twinkling stars, I could not actually see—but certainly feel—Karin squirming against me. She had one of her legs over mine as I lay there on my back. Her breasts were squished against my arm, her warm breath on my neck. Her hand was busy in my unzipped shorts, where she'd secured a firm grip on my hard cock. She began pumping more steadily when she sensed that I'd awoken.

"Karin..."

"Shh, Cal, shh," she cooed softly. "No words, baby, just enjoy it."

"But..."

"It's okay. He went to go sleep down by the lake. We're still mad at each other."

I digested this, all the while feeling my scrotum contract and my cock twitch in the sheer delight of having a woman's soft hand stroking me. If her husband was down by the lake, he was a good hundred yards away, well out of earshot. However, the next shelter closest to mine, the elderly couple, was only about fifteen yards. Silence was a necessity.

So I kept silent and allowed Karin to work on my cock. In return, I managed to get an arm around her and began to massage her back and feel her body as much as I could in my position. She was a little plump but she was also soft and warm—and female. I was as horny as hell now.

Eventually, Karin got my shorts and underwear undone and pulled down to my knees. Her stroking was smooth and steady, experienced.

"You've got a nice big cock, baby," she whispered. "Gonna be a nice tight fit."

My pine-needle bedding poked and itched my naked butt, but as long as this woman was manipulating my genitalia and talking like that I felt like I could tolerate a bed of nails. I frowned when I felt her hand temporarily pull away from my cock, but I soon realized it was only so she could remove her own shorts and panties. She began to straddle me. I began trembling with excitement. Here I'd been only childishly hoping for a simple hand job, but it turns out I was about to get laid!

As Karin slid her body on top of mine, I began to feel her up more aggressively. She still had a tank top on, but she'd removed her bra, and now her huge tits squished and swelled in my hungry grip. Her nipples were rock hard. Lower down, I felt her stomach brush against mine, and there was a further smoothness...she was fully shaved down there! Her baby-smooth pussy was now rubbing against my throbbing cock. How she had planned on keeping that thing shaved so nicely over the course of a hike through the wilderness was neither here nor there at the moment. What mattered is that it was smooth now, and it was grinding against my cock. She let the moisture of her slit lube my shaft as she slid up and down, letting out little quiet gasps as our privates heated with sexual friction against each other.

"Try not to cum too soon," she whispered in my ear.

Considering how horny I was, and how long it'd been since I'd last fucked a girl—months at least—there was no way I could guarantee how long I'd last, but soon we'd find out because I now felt Karin lift her hips slightly as she reached down for my cock. With the tips of her warm fingers, she angled me slightly. She began to lower herself down.

Thumping.

My heart, was it my heart? Thumping that hard? Who cared, I didn't care. I was ready to insert myself into a pussy. A wet, willing and equally horny pussy. I got a grip on her naked hips now, trying to force her on to me. But just as Karin lowered herself down so that the lips of her pussy only just began to split slightly against the tip of my penis, she paused.

Thumping. Louder. Thump, thump, thump...

We both cocked our heads. What the hell was that? We could feel it in the ground, in the air. It wasn't a stampede, there were no elk or horses or cattle around these parts. It wasn't someone running; it was too heavy and all-encompassing.

Jesus, the head of my penis was virtually inside this girl now, this wonderfully plump and squishy and warm and wet girl. If only she would lower those strong hips down on my—

Thumping became chopping, became loud, very distinctive chopping.

"Oh no," I uttered.

"What is it?" she asked.

Our answer was given in the form of a blast of wind and sound and light. But not from any natural phenomenon. It was a helicopter, which burst upon the scene with a hideous thumping and chopping noise as it came up over a nearby mountain and into the little valley where we were camping. It's search light was piercing the darkness, its strobes were winking, and of course the sound of the chopper blades cut through the peaceful night. As it approached, the search light became more precise in its arching back and forth, until it found our camp, until it found me.

"Oh fuck!" Karin gasped.

She scrambled off of me, clutching excitedly for her shorts. I lay there for a moment, my aching cock exposed to the world and this spotlight. But soon I covered up and stood. Karin had run back to her own shelter. I wasn't sure who in the camp had seen her with me, but I suspected the elderly couple had.

In a clearing about fifty yards away, the chopper set down and someone jumped out, immediately jogging directly in my direction. Before he said anything, I knew it was my business partner and fellow survivalist, Kevin.

"Hi, Cal," he shouted cheerfully over the sound of the chopper. He glanced toward the camp, then back to me, grinning. "Who was that?"

"No one," I grumbled. "What the hell—"

"Sorry, dude," Kevin shouted. "You got an emergency call, but I couldn't reach you on the SP."

I glared at him. In the event of a dire emergency—broken leg, food-born illness, bear attack, etc.—I kept a satellite phone in my pack. But there'd been no reason to turn it on. Kevin must have found me through the emergency GPS chip I also kept in my pack.

I shouted, "What the hell could be so important that it can't wait a few days?"

"Your sister," Kevin replied. "She's been trying to reach you urgently since shortly after you started out with this group."

I frowned. My sister was half a world away, conducting research in New Guinea. What would be so urgent that she'd leave the jungle to reach me in an equally remote location?

Kevin put a hand on my shoulder. "I'll take over here. Joe will fly you back." He jerked the thumb of his free hand toward the waiting helicopter.

I glanced around. Everyone in the camp, including Karin and David, were watching. I exchanged a brief glance with Karin in the dim light. She looked disappointed. I knew I was, but of course I was curious about my sister.

Kevin said, "Don't worry. I'll explain the situation and take good care of them." I nodded, shrugged a sort of apology to my group, then began trotting over to the helicopter, leaving my gear behind for Kevin's use.

I could just hear Kevin's parting words following me as I headed away, "Did you save any of the whisky?"

* * *

An amazing fact about living in the 21st century is that it is very realistically feasible to get from any random point on the planet to any other in about 24 hours. Sure it could cost a hell of a lot, between booking last-minute commercial and chartered flights, but as I stepped from the hatch of the small twin-turboprop onto a gravelly tarmac outside Papua, New Guinea, just over 23 hours from the moment I lifted off from my Northern California camp site, I was proving this theory sound. Ironically, I was even early! When I made my way to the little weather-beaten single-story building at one end of the runway—what passed for a terminal—I saw no sign of my sister.

Inside this building, there was no relief from the blast of heat and humidity that had pummeled me upon egress from the plane. It felt like about 90 degrees with easily 99% humidity. Pretty damned sticky after the more comfortable dry heat of the Sierra Nevada mountains.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, but I'm desperate," she had said last night—well, a day ago. Her soft voice had sounded stressed over the crackling of the satellite phones we had been using.

Miss Tara Staddon, soon to be Doctor of Anthropology Tara Staddon, was my 29-year-old younger sister. My only sibling. Being no less an adventurer than me, she'd found a post-graduate program that kept her in the field as much as possible, and her latest project was supposed to keep her in New Guinea for the better part of a year. She was only about six months in so far. All I knew about her project was that it required living with a particular group of natives and studying various aspects of their lives. I mused at the image my tall dirty-blond blue-eyed sister must have made mingling amongst what I imagined to be much shorter, much darker members of some backward tribe in the middle of the jungle.

In the "terminal," I dropped by duffle bag on the floor and stretched. After spending most of the last 23 hours in a seated position, I was happy to stretch to my full six feet and let the legs learn how to walk again. There were only a couple of other people here: an old Asian-looking man sleeping in a chair, his bag between his knees, and a middle-aged woman with a brown walnut-shaped face at the counter of what appeared to be a snack bar. I frowned. I only had American currency and I doubted a place like this would take credit cards. Nevertheless, I was hungry, having had little more than peanuts (and some snake) in the past day. Certainly she'd accept dollars, though I'd probably have to pay five times the normal asking price as an "exchange" rate. The next trick would be how to talk with her, since other than English I could get by tolerably well in Spanish but that was it.

"Calvin!"

I spun around, ignoring the fact that I hate my full name being used, and was very happy to see my sister already running toward me from the doorway.

"Hey, kid!" I said as we embraced. At five-nine, she did pretty well in keeping up with my height. Nevertheless I used my joy at seeing her as an excuse to lift her bodily against me and swing her around a bit. We kissed cheeks, hugged a long time, leaned back to look at each other, then hugged some more. The lady at the counter smiled. The old man never stirred.

We finally detached and I took a good look at her. She was still the tall and slender girl I remembered, wearing khaki shorts and a white tank top. Looking me up and down as much as I was examining her, she said, "You have no idea how happy I am to see you, Cal. You have saved me!"

I thought she was making it sound more melodramatic than it really was. Apparently, the project Tara was on required two researchers. Her fellow grad student and friend, John, had taken a turn for the worse, Tara explained, after a strange spider bite on his thigh had become infected, and he had to be invalided home a few days ago. Tara had gone on to clarify by phone that if she didn't get a new research partner by her side within a week she'd have to shut down the project and go home. No other students in her class were available—or reachable—and that's when she'd thought of me.

"But I'm no scientist," I had said through the phone static.

"You'll make up for it in other ways," she had countered. "You are an expert in survival techniques, Cal. You're used to any array of extreme conditions, and I need someone who's not afraid to go without running water and can handle getting dirty. Also, from all your excursions around the world, you've had all the necessary shots and can acclimatize to the jungle immediately, whereas anyone else would need to prepare for weeks, if not months! And you may not be an anthropologist but you have a good head on your shoulders and can still make good observations. As a former Navy SEAL—"

"I was never a SEAL," I had said quickly, my ears reddening. "I washed out in Hell Week, remember?"

"Close enough, Cal. You blew your knee out on the second to last day!"

"Well..." It was no use arguing that I hadn't been allowed to try again, my ACL reconstruction surgery having proven somewhat complicated. Instead, I finished my service in the regular Navy, resigning honorably as a lieutenant after six years. I had wanted to be a SEAL, in Special Operations, not driving a ship. If I couldn't do the former I was never going to be satisfied with the latter.

In any event, I was now here in one of the last remaining truly remote parts of Planet Earth with my sister who needed my help. Other than having to cancel future survivor school outings back home, this wasn't costing me anything. Tara's grant had covered every aspect of the amazingly expensive series of connecting flights to get me here so quickly.

She stepped back and looked at me. "You look tired, Cal, but you look good."

"You too, sis." I glanced at the snack bar, then back to her.

She smiled. "I have some food in the Jeep. Let's go."

A couple of hours later we were still speeding along a narrow muddy road, the jungle beginning to thicken around us. My lunch had consisted of a can of tuna and crackers. It was the fanciest, most Western type of meal Tara could provide from her camp supplies. She explained that she had long since switched to the native diet of the people she'd been studying, but she figured I'd want to ease myself into that unique diet slowly. I was still yet to learn about whatever that "native diet" consisted of.Tara's was an old open-top Jeep, beat to hell from weather and use but still solid on its chassis. She was an expert with the clutch and obviously knew this road like the back of her hand. Despite my would-be Special Forces toughness and survivalist profession I found myself gripping the "oh-shit" bar in front of me pretty firmly for a while. To distract myself, I glanced over at my sister, trying to see if anything had changed about her since the last time I'd seen her.

Her dirty-blond hair was longer, hanging well below her shoulder level in a simple pony tail. Her smooth skin was very bronzed, the tan giving her a very healthy glow. She was still slim but not too skinny, thankfully. Living out in the wilderness, well away from hamburgers and ice cream, people can lose muscle as well as fat. But I could see from Tara's toned arms, bare in her white tank top, that she was very healthy.

In looking at the shape of her arms, I suddenly found myself locking onto her breasts. For a tall slender girl, Tara's chest was pretty sizable. I couldn't begin to guess cup size or anything like that, but each breast had to be a good handful, no, a double handful each! They were firm and moved heavily with the motion of the Jeep. I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra....

Oh, my god, I was getting an erection. From my sister's tits!

I swallowed, shifted in my seat, and looked away. Just boobs, right? Perhaps I was still just a bit worked up over the serious case of blue-balls I got from not being able to fully penetrate Karin. The penis didn't know the difference, right? But the brain did, and I blushed in shame. Fortunately, Tara had been concentrating on her driving and hadn't noticed my stare. As we drove along, she caught me up on some key bits of information I'd need to know before we got to the village, and I refocused my attention on her words so as to get my mind out of the gutter.

"The people I'm living with and studying are called the Kasabai," she said, adding "not to be confused with the Kombai or the neighboring Korowai tribes."

"Oh, of course not."

She glanced at me, saw I was grinning. "Smart ass," she said. She looked straight ahead again, shrugging as we bounced over a large pothole. "Actually, you may have heard of the Kombai. These British guys did a documentary series on them a couple of years ago. They lived with the tribe and became adopted by them. They were able to gain incredible knowledge from the culture. I'm doing something sort of similar to that with the Kasabai."

"You're filming a documentary?"

"Oh no, nothing that fancy. They had a whole camera crew. I'm just doing my own humble research. But I'm pretty excited about it because this is the first time the Kasabai have allowed a Westerner to live with them."

"That's great, Tara! Your doctorate is assured." I watched her grin, white even teeth glowing in her tanned face. I then asked, "If they're such a closed society, won't they be a little apprehensive about me, an unknown outsider?"

Tara glanced at me again, then back at the road. She shrugged again. "Well..." She hesitated for some reason. Strange: I'd never known my sister to be shy about anything around me. But she continued, "It would normally be a little awkward, yes, and they will certainly be a bit timid around you at first. But I...I worked out an arrangement with the elders which will ensure that you are quite welcome." Turning to me and seeing the curiosity on my face she added, "Don't worry, Cal. There's nothing to be afraid of."

I sensed there was more to be said about this, that Tara was holding back, but since I couldn't even begin to guess about what I was truly getting myself into I decided to trust my sister and enjoy the ride with no further questions. It was a ride that was to eventually take four and a half hours.

I did my best to keep from staring at her bouncing breasts.

By the time Tara slowed and brought the Jeep to a halt, the track on which we'd been driving could hardly have been called a road. In fact, we'd been in full four-wheel-drive for the last 90 minutes. I glanced back when we stopped, and if I hadn't known where we'd just come from I would've had a hard time figuring out which way would take us back to civilization.

"This is as far as we can drive," Tara said, hopping out. "Grab your bag and give me a hand with this tarp, will you?"

I took in our immediate surroundings when I climbed out of the Jeep. We were in a camp site, complete with a heavy canvass tent, a table under mosquito netting, a place for a fire, and four stacks of huge cases made of heavy-duty plastic. Whatever was in those cases was sealed tightly against any kind of weather. I threw my bag near one stack and returned to help Tara drape a huge olive-drab plastic tarp completely over the Jeep.

She said, "Other than driving John out and picking you up, I haven't had to use the Jeep in months. I'm glad it started up right away when I needed it." She saw me glance around the camp again and said, "This is only a kind of base camp where I keep my extra supplies. John and I stayed here the first couple of weeks only. Once we were accepted into the tribe, we've been living with them ever since."

"Cool," I said. I was getting into this now, the upcoming challenge of living like a native.

"If you want any more Western food, look into that third stack of cases and help yourself to whatever you can carry. But just so you know, we have another few miles to go on foot."

I went near the cases to grab my bag again. I said, "Perhaps a couple of bottled waters if you have them. But if you've managed to survive off of whatever food they feed you in the tribe, I'm sure I can survive too."

"If you say so." She smiled, opening a case and tossing me a couple of waters. "In the village I have a supply of tablets for the water you'll drink there, though my tests show little risk of contamination, amazingly."

"Good to know." I opened my bag and pulled out my old beat-up canteen and belt. I poured the contents of the bottled water into the canteen, then clipped it onto my belt. Also on the belt was my Navy survival knife and a flint. I closed up the bag, which had only a few other odds and ends—nothing too heavy—and slung it over my shoulder. I was ready for a good hike. I was wearing very high-quality boots (the one thing you don't go cheap on, trust me), light-weight cargo pants and a loose long-sleeved button shirt, all of a light, breathable fabric. "After you, sis."

We didn't go up or down any steep hills or mountains, but the terrain was not for casual strolling. A couple of times I started wondering if we'd need a machete, but Tara always seemed to know just where to slightly alter her course to keep us from away from the thicker vines and jungle debris. Above us, tall beautiful trees towered upward into the sky, forming a classic jungle canopy. Pure striking sunlight beams penetrated only here and there, piercing through the steam of the humidity. I kept myself hydrated with frequent sips from my canteen. It would take a couple weeks for my system to acclimatize to the weather here. Unlike Tara, who was quite used to it, I was sweating buckets and would quickly become light-headed and dehydrated if I wasn't careful, even if I didn't feel thirsty.

At one point Tara steered us alongside a stream, and we both splashed around a bit, letting the cool water rinse off our sweat and bring our bodies' temperatures down. While I was bending over in one direction, Tara playfully splashed water on my ass, soaking me to the skin. I quickly turned and scooped water right back her way. She half turned and caught the blow on her right side, which got soaked. We were both laughing at our sudden return to childhood antics, but I suddenly got very serious and very adult again when I saw that the water had soaked through enough of Tara's shirt to give me a distinct impression of the dark nipple of her right breast. What's more, her nipple was noticeably hard.

I swallowed and turned away, moving myself from the water.

When I turned back, Tara was already resuming our journey, merely glancing back to make sure I was following. If she had noticed me noticing her...her boob, she didn't seem to show any concern. We walked in silence for several minutes, and I used this time to chide myself inwardly and profusely for actually allowing my pulse to start racing after seeing an intimate part of my own sister's anatomy. It was ridiculous, and I was acting like a pervert. I tried to tell myself I'd seen her boobs before, several times in fact. But it was one thing to share the bathtub as kids, or get an accidental glimpse of sibling nudity growing up and sharing a bathroom. But as an adult, with adult parts...and adult desires....

Tara broke my reverie by explaining a little more about the Kasabai. "They have a very structured hierarchy," she said. "They have followed incredibly unique and specific customs for generations, which is a considerable achievement since their language is not written. Only passed on through elaborate story-telling. They are very weary of outsiders, because they worry that outside influences can tarnish their strict practices and throw their people into chaos. Westerners have been trying to observe the Kasabai for over fifty years without success...until now."

I was impressed. I asked, "How did you succeed when all others failed?"

She stopped and turned toward me. I was actually relieved to see that her shirt had dried just enough so that her areola was no longer visible.

"All the other Westerners," she said, "were men."

I looked at her for a moment, trying to tell if she was messing with me. I could tell she was being very matter-of-fact, but I could also see that she was quite pleased with her little triumph.

"You see," she continued, "unlike the Kombai and the Korowai, the Kasabai are a female-dominant tribe. Those 'elders' I was referring to earlier? They're women."

"I see..."

Tara smiled. "The world of anthropology is overwhelmingly male-dominated, so, as you would imagine, every Western expert who tried getting this tribe to open up to him was a guy. The elders would have none of it. The fact that I'm a woman, a woman of what they perceived to be significant influence—they saw that I was John's superior—is what opened them up to me. As simple as that."

"Really?"

"Well, that and the fact that I was very patient and willing to learn their ways as much as possible while trying to not overly influence them with my own Western way of thinking. That's one of the reasons I leave ninety percent of my gear at the base camp when I live among the Kasabai. The most complicated piece of equipment I have with me here is a digital camera and digital sound recorder. I have to take all my notes by hand."

"Is that a problem?"

"For me, no. But anthropologists of the twenty-first century—most scientists who work in the field, really—have become addicted to gadgets. Laptops, satellite links, processed foods, designer sleeping bags from REI...all the comforts of home. I'm perfectly happy to without all that crap. Like you."

"Me?"

She nodded toward my waist, "Look, you've got your water can, a knife and—what is that, a flint? I'd be willing to guess the only other things you have in your bag are a couple of spare pieces of clothing, perhaps a book or two. Maybe a flashlight?" She saw from my expression that she was absolutely right. "See? Any other adventurer would probably want a huge backpack full of all kinds of toys. But not my big brother!" She smiled. "We're going to make a great team, Cal."

I smiled back. "Can't wait. So, how much further?"

"Oh, we're here." She paused. "Well, almost...."

There it was again, that strange aura of hesitancy that had come upon Tara earlier, on the drive through the jungle. Reflecting back, I'd sensed this timidity over the phone too, when she'd first begged me to help her. I felt that I was about to find out why this growing sense of awkwardness was hitting us. I watched Tara carefully as she stepped over to a nearby tree and knelt at its base, turning her back to me. She pulled aside a few vines and revealed another of those heavy-duty cases.

She undid the snaps on the lid and said, "The village is just through those trees, about a hundred yards. But...I need to...change first."

Curious. "Into what?"

"Well...not exactly into...." She stood and turned. She was holding something in her hand. It appeared to be a sort of belt with decorative beads woven with thinly split dried reeds. She crossed over to me and held the belt out. "Hold this for me, please."

Looking down at the belt, I said, "Impressive. Pretty detailed craftsmanship for a people who use no machines." I was trying to sound sophisticated, getting into anthropologist mode. I glanced up at her. "You have to wear this?"

"Yes. But...well, only that."

I blinked. "Come again?"

Tara glanced down and fiddled with her fingers in front of her. She said, "Listen, Cal, I know this is going to be a little weird at first, but the thing with the Kasabai tribe—actually with all of the tribes in this region—clothing does not exist."

I swallowed. What a concept: clothing does not exist. I could readily recall flipping through any random edition of National Geographic, or flipping around on channels like Discovery or History, and of course there would occasionally be some images of naked natives running around. For some reason, however, I just never thought of that being the case here. To be more specific, it never even remotely occurred to me that my sister would be buying into the concept.

She was staring at me now, probably expecting me to flip out. I took a breath. I had to be clear about this.

"Tara," I said, "are you telling me that you're going to be walking around—naked—wearing this?" I held up the belt.

"Yes, Cal."

"In front of me."

She nodded. "In front of everyone. Think of it as a nudist camp. Everyone's naked."

"I'm not everyone. I'm your brother."

"I know, Cal. Believe me, this isn't going to be any easier for me than it is for you. But I've come too far with this tribe. The work I'm doing here is going to make my career. I'm actually on the verge of a huge breakthrough into one of their secret traditional ceremonies. And if it means I have to let you see me naked, well...I can live with that."

Now I was getting angry. I paced around a little. Finally I stopped and glared at her. "You deliberately waited for me to travel ten thousand miles from home, then another six hours through a jungle to tell me that I would soon be staring at you naked."

Tara smirked. "You don't have to stare."

"Oh Jesus," I bellowed, walking away from her.

Tara caught up to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. "Cal, please." She nudged me to face her. I did. She said, "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for. I know this is terribly awkward for you, but I was afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"That you would say no. That you wouldn't help me."

"So you tricked me?"

"I didn't trick you, Cal" She glanced down again. "I just...didn't tell you all the details."

"Tara, this is a pretty fucking major detail!"

I'd let my voice go up in volume on that last outburst. It shut Tara up completely. She turned and walked slowly back toward the case. We stood away from each other in silence for a few minutes. I gave some serious thought to the situation. I considered what might have happened had Tara told me over the phone that I would have to look at her naked throughout my time in the jungle with her. Would I have said no? I certainly would have hesitated. I'm sure there were times, especially during puberty, that I was intrigued by my sister's body, and perhaps I had even thought of her in a sexual way from time to time. But I was a full-grown adult now, and I was supposed to have command over such unorthodox Freudian feelings.

But here it is: I am an adult. Tara is an adult. She is willing to strip nude in front of her brother for the sake of science and learning. Will it be really fucking awkward? Yes. Will the world come to an end? No.

I sighed and walked over to Tara. Hearing my footsteps, she turned to me and I said, "Look, I'm sorry about overreacting. But I hope you didn't think I was just going to shrug and be cool with it the instant I found this out, right?"

She shook her head. "No, of course not. I knew it would shock you." She shrugged, then offered a slight grin despite the situation. "I suppose it would've been stranger had you simply accepted the idea out of hand."

I had to chuckle at that too. "Come here." We stepped toward one another and hugged. Peace was made. When we parted I said, "Look, I'm willing to go along with this, but don't expect me to be very comfortable with it. At least not for a while."

She nodded, and I could tell she was trying to contain her relief that I was going to support her. She said, "That's why I picked this spot, near the village, to reveal this information—and myself, actually—to you. It's important that when we enter the village you do not act awkward about the fact that I'm not wearing clothes."

"Okay."

Suddenly it got very quiet, just the sounds of the jungle. We stared at each other. In a strangely comic way, we both simultaneously realized that the only thing left now was for Tara to strip. With a sheepish grin and a "here goes nothing" shrug, Tara bent over to begin unlacing her hiking boots. I watched her for a moment then turned my back to her. I knew I was going to see my sister naked very shortly, but I would at least be a gentlemen and not ogle her while she disrobed.

Behind me I heard the rustling of clothes. Tara, her voice a little hesitant, said, "It's funny, I actually feel somewhat constricted wearing Western clothes now. I've been going around in the buff for so long, it becomes quite comfortable."

"I guess it's liberating," I said uneasily. I heard a new sound now, like pieces of plastic bumping together, and I realized it was the belt of beads in my hand, which had begun trembling.

"Yeah," Tara was saying, "I think I'll have to join one of those naturist colonies when I get back to civilization." A pause. "Belt, please." I levered my arm backward for her to take it. I felt her lift it from my hand, then heard the jostling of the beads as she presumably put the thing on. This was followed by the sounds of her footsteps retreating slightly, then the clamping sound of the case; she was probably putting her Western clothes into it.

Finally, she said, "Okay, Cal."

"Okay, what?"

"You might as well turn around, silly. You're going to have to get a look sooner or later, and I want to get it over with before we go into the village."

"Okay," I said weakly. I suddenly flashed back to being 12 again, about to peak through my neighbor's window and see the naked form of a live full-grown woman for the first time: Mrs. Durham. She liked to vacuum in the nude, all five-foot-two, two-hundred pounds of her....

I turned. I gasped. Tara was no short, fat Mrs. Durham.

Tara was, in fact, the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

And she was my sister.

My head began swimming as I took in the sight. Being tall and slender, Tara was not exceptionally curvy, but she sported full rounded breasts that some might consider a bit too large for her frame, perhaps even fake. But I'd seen the way they'd bounced and jiggled with liquid perfection in the Jeep. They were indeed natural and they were mesmerizing. Her areolas looked dark despite her golden tan, and she sported pert stubby nipples. And Lord help me, they appeared to be erect.

Below those perfect breasts was an unusually long and completely flat stomach and torso. Whatever diet Tara enjoyed with the natives was low in fat but clearly rich in protein, and being active in the jungle meant virtually no excess meat on this incredibly toned woman.I suddenly realized why Tara's torso seemed to be longer than expected: she was perfectly shaved in the pelvic region, and where one would have expected a patch of pubic hair, there was only more golden skin. Just above her pussy was the belt of beads, but I very quickly skipped over that damned thing and went back to her pelvis. That is, what was between the pelvis: nothing but a naked little vagina with pretty pink labia right at her entrance.

At this point I didn't know if I was drooling or swaying or both. But somehow I kept upright, and I continued to take Tara's incredible body in right down to her toes. Her legs, like the rest of her, were long and amazingly toned. Like her pussy, her deeply-tanned legs were obviously smooth. I wondered, of all things, just how the hell a woman could find time to shave her legs—and her vagina—in the middle of the jungle.

I must have gone on staring for just a bit too long, for now Tara was beginning to fidget, leaning on one leg, then the other, clasping her hands in front of her, partially covering her pussy.

"Cal?"

The voice seemed to come from far away, a strange soft voice calling my name two or three times. After a moment I realized the voice was coming from directly ahead of me, directly from Tara. It was just that her tone seemed far away, and that was due to the sudden streak of self-conscious that must've been flooding through her. I suddenly felt bad and swallowed hard two or three times, regaining my composure.

Trying to keep my own voice from sounding distant and self-conscious, I finally looked down and said, "I'm sorry, Tara. It was just a little more, well, shocking than I'd prepared for."

"It's okay, Cal. I knew it would take some getting used to, which is why we're doing this now, here, alone." She paused. "Are you going to be okay with this?"

I glanced up at my sister again, and the wave of wonder that was this naked woman's utterly perfect body washed over me again. I felt my blood begin to heat up, my throat constricting, but the initial shock was over. It was definitely going to be weird for a while, very weird, but as long as I kept reminding myself that this was for the sake of Tara's project, for the sake of science, I would somehow get through it.

I took a deep breath, set no more than a typical crooked grin on my face and said, "I'm cool. Let's do this."

Tara smiled broadly, tears welling in her eyes, obviously relieved. She even made as if to step forward and hug me, but that would've been pushing it a bit too far at this point. We just grinned stupidly at each other.

"So how far to the village now?" I asked.

"Another mile or so, not far."

"Great." Trying to stay upbeat and proactive, I started marching off in the direction toward which she had been taking me all along. But after ten or fifteen paces I paused: Tara wasn't following. I turned and looked at her naked form, standing there back by the tree, near the case. "What's up?" I asked.

"Cal...we're not exactly, um, done here."

Frowning at her odd tone, I walked back up to her, and now I was standing just a pace or two from my naked sister. "What more do we have to do?" I asked.

She looked down. "Cal, people don't...well, people don't wear clothes in this village."

"Yeah, I know, that's why you're standing there naked and—" I stopped suddenly, realizing. "Oh shit."

Tara finally looked up at me.

"You mean you also want me to—"

She nodded ever so gently, her big brown eyes pleading again.

I grimaced. "My God, woman, you're really serious?" I could hem and haw about it all I wanted, sputtering phrases like "you must be joking" or "you've got to be kidding me," but there was no getting around the fact that my sister was 100% serious. It actually got my blood going again, but not from the animalistic reaction to seeing a naked woman this time and more from the fact that here was yet another massive detail my sister had omitted from her pleas to draw me out here in the first place.

"Goddammit, Tara," I bellowed. I think I may have even stomped a foot. It was just so frustrating. She remained silent. I huffed around for a minute, once again cycling through the logic of the situation. This time it didn't take long to come to pretty much the same conclusion.

Had Tara told me all of these details on the sat phone while I was still in California, I might not have agreed. It would've been, "Cal, I need you to come to this little isolated village in the jungle with me, halfway around the world, and oh by the way we will both have to be completely naked around each other. Is that okay?"

No, it would not be okay, I probably would've replied. But that was 10,000 miles ago. That was when I could have easily said no to a voice crackling over the weak signal bouncing off satellites in orbit. Now I was here, standing before my sister who was as nude as the day she was born, fully shaved, fully sensual. And I, her blood-related sibling, was going to have to get the same way.

"Okay," I said at last, "here's the deal. I'm going to do this. I'm going to strip down and just try to pretend this is some kind of hazing trick from Basic, but from here on out, there had better not be any more fucking surprises, you got it?"

I'd really laid it on thick by the time I'd gotten to "fucking surprises," and the words seemed to hit Tara like a slap. She actually winced. And I suddenly felt like shit because I was having a stupid temper tantrum, obviously a defensive mechanism against the incredible level of self-consciousness pressing on my psyche.

There was nothing to do now but strip, so that's what I started doing. I walked over and dropped my bag on the case, then started unbuttoning my shirt, my back turned to Tara. Under normal circumstances, I would have nothing to be ashamed of. When not out on a hike with a group of clients, I exercised regularly and aggressively. I maintained a strict diet and was in extremely good shape. I was by no means one of those freakishly body-building 'roid-ragers you might see at a 24-Hour Fitness, but I knew I could hold my own against someone like Daniel Craig or Jeffery Donovan.

But I was about to show all that to my sister!

Trying not to turn this into some kind of bazaar strip tease, I just shucked my clothes as quickly and as unceremoniously as possible. In just a couple of moments, I was now as naked as my sister, my back still to her. I could only assume that she was now staring at my naked butt. Fortunately, the skin tone of my ass more or less matched the rest of my tanned body. On days off from escorting hikers there was a great little secluded lake I loved to jog to, then skinny dip in, swimming the equivalent of a mile or two under the golden sun....

I realized I was stalling, reluctant to turn around and face—well, show—the truth. I knew that once I let my sister see my penis, my testicles, the final line would be crossed. With a shrug and a bit of held breath, I turned around slowly. And she was waiting, watching.

So there we were, brother and sister, fully naked and facing each other, just a few paces apart. Because of the stress of the situation, the complete awkwardness actually, it wasn't some raging erection I'd turned toward my sister. I was completely flaccid, and I was thankful for that. An awkward random erection at this moment might have freaked both of us out. Having said that, in its flaccid state my cock wasn't exactly a shriveled up little pecker. I have a good deal of meat down there. And Tara seemed to notice.

"Oh my," she said, bringing a hand up to her mouth. "Cal, you're...in very good shape."

"Thank you," I said, blushing. "So are you."

Another few minutes went past, and as our two heart rates slowly but surely worked back down to something below 100 beats per minute, we allowed each other to get some good looks. It had to be this way, otherwise we'd act totally weird around each other in the village, and that would probably hamper Tara's ability to do her job with the natives. Finally, Tara got back in charge.

"We'd better get going."

After sorting things out with the case and my bag, we were once again on the march. At first, out of what had been the previous routine, I trailed slightly behind Tara, letting her lead the way. We both realized at around the same moment, however, that whenever I looked up from where I was walking I was looking directly at my sister's beautiful and perfectly shaped ass. So we sort of fell into a side-by-side formation, with Tara indicating now and then where we needed to head. Trying to be modest, I avoided looking at anything in Tara's direction to my left, but out of the corner of my eye I could see her large breasts swaying, her long slim thighs flexing. I'm sure her equivalent field of vision afforded her glimpses of my penis flopping back and forth as I walked, unconstrained by any underwear.

Along the way I made a real effort to take in my surroundings and avoid looking at—or even thinking about—my naked sister. The jungle was thick, steamy and mesmerizing in its perfect blend of teaming life, vivid colors and faintly pungent decay. Birds called out, monkeys screamed in the distance, and a billion insects clicked and chirped and flapped from all directions. About a year ago I joined an adventure group on a six-week trek through the Amazon, so the environment around me was not a shock. Nevertheless it was a daunting thought that here I was, in the year 2014 AD, in a world filled with HDTVs, iPods, and stem cell cloning, yet I might as well have transported back in time to 2014 BC: it would have looked exactly like this.

During the rest of the hike Tara explained further details about her time with the Kasabai and how they had taken her in where other Westerners had been flatly denied. She told me that one incredible thing I would immediately notice when we got to the village was how remarkably clean everyone was. Unlike the other tribes, such as the nearby Kombai where constantly being covered in dirt was a normal thing, the female elders of the Kasabai believed in keeping the body and soul as literally clean as possible.

"They have their own version of that old saying, 'cleanliness is next to godliness,'" Tara said as we walked along. "They bathe regularly. Sometimes two or even three times per day! They always pick village locations very close to streams or rivers with fast-moving water, so it's easy for them to quickly jump in, rinse off, then jump back out and back to their routines."

"That's good to know I guess," I said. Already drenched in my own sticky sweat, I relished the thought of being able to regularly jump into a nice cool stream. Then I started imagining a bunch of naked people—including my sister—jumping into the water around me...and I realized I needed to think about something else quickly so as not to get aroused.

But Tara, not sensing my morbid thoughts, wasn't helping. She said, "They also like to keep themselves fully...trim, except for the hair on their heads, which they keep brushed out or braided neatly, also daily. To help fit in I do my best to match their style, hence the nakedness and the...well, being perfectly smooth everywhere."

I deliberately looked away because my eyes suddenly wanted to see Tara's "smoothness." She must've thought I was looking at a bird or something because she continued on this subject: "I realized, though, that shaving regularly out in the jungle was going to be difficult—just the thought of razor-burn in nearly one hundred percent humidity—well, so I sort of...cheated."

Without looking at her, I said, "What do you mean?"

"I have plenty of grant money for this project. And it's sort of a use-it-or-lose it thing. What I didn't spend would get folded back into the university foundation that's sponsoring this project. Now, I can honestly say that I did a very good job of staying well within our established budget." She paused, and when she continued her tone was a little more subdued, as if she was ready to confess something, which she did: "A few months before coming out here for the first time, while we were still planning and prepping and conditioning ourselves in the States, I realized I was going to be several thousand dollars under budget by the time I was here. So I indulged."

"Indulged?"

"Laser hair removal." She paused again, and I stole a glance at her, making an effort to stick to her eyes. She smiled. "For about five thousand dollars and a number of regular treatments, I went in for laser hair removal. Everywhere. And now I never have to shave my armpits or legs or—well, you know—again!"

She said this last bit with relish, as if she was thrilled to finally be able to confess this to someone. But all this did was get me to think about her perfectly shaved arm pits and legs and—well, you know. I said quickly, "Tell me about their diet."

Before I looked away again, I saw Tara pout a little. Had she been hoping for some sort of pat on the back or something? But she moved back into lecture mode quickly: "Their main food staple is sago. It's primarily a starch derived from the pith of the sago palm. They often form it into what you might call a pancake, and they eat it with fish."

"Hey, I can handle that," I said, genuinely encouraged. "Nothing healthier than fresh fish. I thought I was going to have to eat giant grub worms every day."

"Not every day, but they are an occasional treat for them."

I glanced at her again, and she was smiling and pretending to rub her tummy in content. I knew she was teasing me because I'd probably have to eat those grubs when offered and she was going to get a kick out of watching my reaction. But that thought suddenly left my mind when I found myself staring at Tara's tummy...and her breasts...and vagina.

I swallowed and looked ahead again, screaming in my head: SHE'S YOUR SISTER SHE'S YOUR SISTER SHE'S YOUR SISTER!

Tara continued in a slightly shaky voice, "Um, they also make a pretty potent drink out of the sago. Just a few sips will get your pretty drunk, but don't ask me to tell you how they make it until after you've tried it."

"Got it."

Trying to ignore the fact that her nipples were suddenly hard, poking out wonderfully. Hoping she wouldn't notice what felt like my penis beginning to swell ever so slightly as it flopped back and forth with our steady walking pace.

We fell into an awkward silence again, but fortunately it didn't last long. Before Tara told me, I could already hear other human voices, as well as the sound of rushing water nearby. We were at the village. I sensed that Tara was slowing her pace. I glanced at her.

She said, "Cal, there is just one more thing I need to tell you before I introduce you to the villagers."

The tone she used gave me warning that yet another bombshell was about to go off. This time, however, I didn't let myself get worried. I had already been duped into walking around the jungle naked with my own sister. What could possibly top that?

She said, "The tribe thinks that you are my new...mate, and we are engaged to be married by the village elders in three days."

As my stomach seemed to fall into my scrotum I had no chance to react to this statement, because two short dark naked men armed with bows and arrows suddenly pounced upon us from seeming invisibility. They grunted something stern and I instinctively raised my hands in submission, looking quickly at Tara. Though it would've been suicide I automatically began calculating how to take on the one guy closer to me while somehow shielding Tara from the inevitable arrow when, to my surprise, relief and admiration (despite still being in shock at being suddenly "engaged" to her) Tara quickly barked what sounded like a quick series of orders in what had to be the Kasabai language. Both men immediately lowered and relaxed their bows and turned, springing to step toward the sounds of the village. One of them glanced back and grinned, his white teeth flashing. I lowered my hands.

"Remember," Tara said to me in a low tone, "this is a female-dominant tribe."

Some moments later (just before I could think of a proper way to ask "What the fuck!" to my sister-now-fiancée) more villagers appeared. It was actually the two original bowmen, but they were preceded now by three dark women, all nude except for decorative reed belts hanging loosely on their hips, similar to but much more elaborate than Tara's. The women, presumably the "elders" my sister had described, were strikingly beautiful. They were somewhat short, like the men, but they were slender and honestly quite attractive for older women. I guessed their ages range somewhere at 40 to 50. As Tara had described, they were clean, perfectly trim and even elegant. I could clearly see their shapely breasts and the slits of their smooth dark vaginas.

The one closer to the five-oh mark, the one in the center, stepped away from the others, directly toward Tara. I was being very purposely ignored by the women. While I watched, Tara and this elder went through some kind of greeting ceremony. Tara bowed, uttered words in a very respectful tone, then waited. The elder reached out and placed her hands on Tara's shoulders, and Tara lifted her eyes. The elder uttered a few words of her own and then they both leaned toward one another until they touched foreheads. As they bent over toward each other I watched how their breasts hung down, Tara's perky round and firm, the elder's heavier and slightly saggy.

After the formal exchange of greetings, both Tara and the elder straightened and broke into wide grins. In a much louder voice the elder said a few things to Tara, who responded in the native tongue. While the bowmen remained where they were, the two other younger elders came forward, still ignoring me, and hugged and laughed with Tara, much more informally. The four naked women were like old chums now.

Finally, Tara turned toward me. With a gesture, she said something in Kasabai and I got the impression she was officially introducing me. In the middle of her phrases I heard her say my name, Cal. Only then did the three elders turn to look at me. Their smiles disappeared as, I surmised, they sized me up in their official capacity. It occurred to me that I was now engaged in some kind of approval process. Tara was clearly a well established and much beloved guest of this tribe, and here she was bringing a new "mate" into the mix. It was like I was being introduced to her mother...except there were three mothers...and we were all nude.

After being looked up and down from head to toe a few times by the women, the senior elder stepped toward me, coming so close that I could smell her, the faint scent of wild flowers. From behind her Tara softly said, "Cal, please defer politely to her. Cast your eyes down unless she bids you to look at her. Don't be afraid." Obeying Tara, I bowed my head slightly and kept my arms at my sides, though my lingering inhibitions made me want to fold my arms, or cover my genitals.

The elder was really looking at me now, even leaning forward and peering. She looked at my face, then reached up and pulled my bottom lip down. I felt her push on my teeth with her thumb, and she uttered something quietly. She took her hand from my face and moved it to my chest, poking into my pectorals, then squeezed my shoulders and triceps. More utterances. It was like I was being sized up like a prize goat or something. It was a little silly and despite the bizarre circumstances I felt a grin coming on.

But my grin turned instantly to a grimace of surprise and a little pain as the elder suddenly reached down and clutched my testicles! It was a good grip and by pure instinct I started to step back, but that only made the elder clutch tighter. I heard Tara say quickly, "Sorry, Cal, just hold still, it'll be over soon." Sure, over after what? After my balls were torn off? Thankfully, as quickly as the elder clutched my sack, she released them. But my sigh of relief jerked into a sharp intake of breath as the elder went right back down there gripped my penis!I remained absolutely frozen and stunned as she lifted it, let it flop back down, then grabbed it again. She shuffled around to my side, still fondling my penis; what she was doing now in full view of the other two elders and Tara, who was blushing scarlet red and giving me an I'm-so-sorry look. In truth I was beginning to get pretty pissed off again, but my emotional state simply went into a blender of feelings because now the elder was beginning to stroke me. Very gently, but it was definitely stroking.

I opened my mouth to say something to Tara, but again with a sudden movement the elder let go of my penis and stepped away, taking me in as a whole again with her eyes. After a moment, she nodded then said several things quickly in her language. I saw Tara calm down a bit, apparently relieved.

She said, "Elder Zami approves of you, Cal. She says you are, well, 'fine stock,' and will provide a large family."

"What?!" I blurted.

"Don't worry, Cal, we're not going to make a family! I know I have a lot to explain but this will only be a formality. It's only so I can witness and document the full Kasabai marriage ceremony, which is cloaked in secrecy. Just go along with me for now and I'll make it all clear soon."

The elders, led by the one called Zami, began gesturing for all of us to continue on to the village. The women led the group, with Tara and I following behind them, side-by-side, with the two silent bowmen bringing up the rear as honor guards. I don't know why, but in that moment I suddenly felt a flash of jealousy, even protectiveness, over the fact that those men now had a perfectly unobstructed view of my sister's ass. I tried to shake off this feeling.

And I distinctly avoided looking at, or talking to, my sister. I had some serious thinking to do.

After a few minutes of walking we came to a widening gap in the trees, then the Kasabai village itself. I took in the scene. It was as one might expect from a TV documentary: huge clearing, several seasoned and sturdy-looking grass huts in a more or less symmetrical circle, with a large open-walled hut in the center. On the far side of the village I could see a bit of the flowing river that I'd been hearing for some time now. True to Tara's word, I saw villagers coming and going to the river regularly, the ones returning glistening wet and refreshed, completely comfortable in their full nudity. In the village itself, others were milling about, and what was interesting to note was the fact that the men of the village tended to keep to one side of the clearing, the women to the other. They did interact from time to time, but always with a man approaching a women very, very respectfully, deeply bowed, until she appeared to give him permission to stand and exchange words with her.

When a couple of the villagers saw the elders and us entering the area they cried out and raised their hands. In the next moment we were surrounded by close to a hundred naked villagers, many of whom reached out to touch or hug Tara, who smiled and warmly greeted them back. I also felt dozens of pairs of eyes on me, sizing up the newcomer. But unlike the initially cool reaction from the elders, the main body of villagers were quite uninhibited about looking me up and down, occasionally poking at me. I noticed a number of the women look directly at my genitals, smile, then say something directly to Tara, who blushed and avoided eye-contact with me.

We were guided by the sea of people to the main open-sided hut in the center of the village. It was an oblong structure, perhaps forty feet long and twenty wide, supported by several strong poles, and large enough to accommodate the entire population of the village if necessary, if they all stood. Most of the villagers gathered around the outside of the hut, not stepping in under the thatched roof. But a number of others, all female, did come in and start doing things. A circle of low wooden stools was arranged, surrounding a suddenly growing pile of food: fruits, nuts, various platters of fish, both dried and fresh. Despite the emotional roller coaster of the day, I was absolutely ravenous after all the hiking and lack of proper meals over the last couple of days.

Making her way to one of he wooden stools, Zami raised her hands and the villagers fell silent. She uttered a few phrases in Kasabai. The villagers responded with a single unified word from time to time, like they were reciting a well-known hymn, perhaps giving thanks to the gods of the jungle or something. Tara didn't translate any of this for me, but it was clear that we were all to enjoy a ceremonial meal now, because Zami was gesturing Tara and me—the guests of honor, apparently—to be seated.

Tara and I were guided to sit side-by-side on nearby stools in the circle. Zami sat directly opposite of us, flanked by her junior elders. A few other women, possibly elders themselves, sat on the other stools so there were now about eight of us in a circle. A dozen or so other women, some of them extremely young (and of course naked) stood behind and outside the circle, evidently ready to act as servers. Most of the other villagers dispersed, going back about their daily routines. Others, mostly women but a few men, stood outside the hut and watched with interest.

As we all sat I couldn't help but notice that every one of the women, including Tara, sat in the same particular way: straight down, legs out front, knees slightly parted, hands on hips, back straight and chest out. It was as if they were all determined to maintain correct posture. The result of this, however, was that I could clearly peer between the legs of most of the women facing me, their vaginas in easy view. Because she was sitting next to me, I could not see Tara's pussy but her beautifully shaped and tanned naked legs and hips and buttocks were there to see, as well as her large prominent breasts. And as I adjusted my posture to match that of the women, I could feel my own exposed penis and testicles hanging down from the edge of my seat, giving a nice show to the women opposite me—and they were not shy about looking!

Presently we were each given what looked like large ti leaves for our laps, which would serve as plates. Then young naked assistants began serving out healthy portions of the food from the pile in the center, and after watching the others eat for a minute, including my sister, I finally dug in as well and somehow managed to forget about this peculiar situation just long enough to satiate my extreme hunger.

About halfway through the meal Zami had her "plate" removed, then stood and began speaking in a formal tone. Without being asked, Tara quietly translated, and quite fluently, her voice low and steady in my ear when not pausing to take a bite of her own food. Much of the speech was devoted to praising the gods of the river, the trees, the earth, so forth. But eventually Zami got to the heart of it:

"We the Kasabai are honored to have our daughter, Tara, return to us from the beyond the Great Rivers. We embrace her new mate, Cal, and prepare to join them as one. Three days hence we will begin the Great Ceremony of Joining. For three days shall Tara and Cal immerse themselves in preparation. In three days shall they be pure to become one."

At this point Zami went back into more recited chanting, to which the other elders and those nearby responded with long memorized replies. Tara didn't bother to translate this part, said only that they'd be at this for another 30 minutes or so. So we continued to eat in silence. The whole time I kept glancing at my sister, wondering if I could ever get used to the sight of her nudity. The fact that I was now actively trying to will away the start of an erection proved I was not handling this well. The result was, although I managed to keep from getting stiff down there, my dick was moderately engorged with blood and hung limply, and largely, between my legs.

And Tara was noticing.

As the chanting and the meal drew to a close, I leaned toward Tara and said, "We really, really need to talk."

"I know, Cal, I know. When we get a private moment I'll explain further."

"Something tells me we're not going to have many private moments over the next three days. And since they don't speak English, go ahead and tell me now. If you expect me to go through with some bullshit marriage ceremony with my own sis—"

"Shh!" Tara hissed. In a low voice she quickly added, "Sorry, but I have been teaching the elders and a few others English, and a couple of them already have a rudimentary understanding. And if not of your words, of your tone. Please careful what you say."

I glanced over at the elders. Zami was watching me though another elder was speaking directly to her. I sighed and looked back at Tara, trying to focus on just her eyes, which were pleading. I managed to subdue my growing anger.

"Okay," I said quietly. "I'll smile and pretend I'm having a ball. But you need to find an excuse to get us alone for a few minutes soon. And if I don't feel like you're giving me the completely whole story this time, I'm walking out of this jungle."

Her expression relaxed a little and she said, "That's fair enough. Let me explain something to Zami in her language. When I get up and walk out, follow me, head bowed."

Tara had her ti leaf plate taken away and stood, gesturing me to do the same. In a quick moment before I did I found that my eyes were on the same level as my sister's perfectly shaved pussy when she turned to speak to Zami. Mere inches from me I could make out the smooth texture of her skin, the soft perfectly symmetrical folds of her labia. I don't know why but I felt a sudden rush of saliva in my mouth, and I swallowed and quickly stood. Tara was speaking in a formal tone, no doubt thanking Zami and the others for their honorable hospitality. And when at last Zami bowed some kind of acknowledgement Tara turned again and began walking away from me, toward one side of the hut. I quickly followed her, head bowed as instructed, until we were outside and more or less back in the main circle of the village. Villagers looked at us as they passed, but none of them approached. Tara began pointing and gesturing to various huts and sections of the village. In doing so her breasts lifted and jutted out in ways that made my head begin to swim.

"I'm pretending to explain the layout of the village," she said, "I explained to Zami that you are a scientist, like me, and you are fascinated with how Kasabai live."

I did my best to remain firm in tone with her: "Great. So point and explain, but explain what I really want to know, not what kind of reeds these people use to thatch their roofs."

Tara said, "I know I have been tricking you this whole time, Cal, and I am so incredibly sorry. I was just desperate to complete my project, and you were the only person on Earth I could think of to safely travel here and help me do this when John had to leave."

"You explained that already."

"Yeah...sorry. Look, the thing is, the worst is over. I mean, we're now naked in front of each other, in a village full of naked people."

"Sure, but aren't you forgetting one minor detail? Like the fact that we're supposed to get married in three days?"

Tara said, "I know that sounds scary, Cal, especially as we're siblings. But in fact it's just a traditional native ceremony. Obviously by Western standards we will not be married! For the next three days you're going to be taken by the men to perform manly stuff, like jumping and throwing and running. And probably drinking," she added.

Drinking. A drink. I could really fucking use one now!

She touched my shoulder to gently turn me toward another direction to which she wanted to point. Although it was a simple touch this was the first time we'd had physical contact since getting naked together, and it had the effect of a Taser. My heart rate actually went up at least twenty beats a minute, and I cursed myself inwardly for the reaction.

Tara seemed to feel the energy too, or had felt me tense up, because her voice weakened slightly as she continued. "The activities are all designed to prove you are worthy. You're physically bigger and stronger than these men, and you're in...incredible shape, so I doubt you'll have any problems. I'll be doing similar activities, believe it or not. There will be more formal meals, a dance, offerings to the gods. Interesting things but not as shocking as nudity, which we're already used to."

Used to? I think not, sis! Aloud I said, "You seem to know everything these people are going to do for the next three days."

"I do."

"So why the hell—"

"Because it's after the three days of preparation, during the actual wedding ceremony itself, where I'm in the dark."

"What do you mean?"

"After three days of feasts and activities, when the ceremony itself takes place, only the head elder, two assistants, and the wedding couple are allowed to participate. It's all done in a special hut that is closed off to the outside."

"Really," I said. "That's weird."

"Yeah. They keep a real shroud over the details, which is quite unusual for a culture that's literally completely open with each other in all other aspects of life. Until you get married, you are kept out of the loop. And if you are unmarried, married members of the village or strictly forbidden to discuss it. I've been here long enough to see three marriages, but I'm clueless as to what takes place inside the hut."

"That's a bit scary. So what do you think happens?"

"Well," Tara explained, leaning in as if sharing secret gossip, "I know that the ceremony is broken itself into three parts—they like things in threes here—over three days. Three nights, actually. And each part takes about an hour or so. Everyone is told to stay away from the marriage hut when the ceremony is taking place, so I can't get close enough to hear anything."

I glanced at her skeptically. "An hour, eh? If you can't tell what's being said, can you conjecture at least sort of what happens? I mean, are we gonna walk out of there with matching tattoos or sticks through our noses or something?"

Tara chuckled at this, causing her large breasts to jiggle and sway. Trying not to stare I glanced away and noticed the sun beginning to recede below the tree line bordering the village. In this late afternoon light Tara's skin glowed. Jesus, this woman was unbelievably gorgeous. No, not woman, damn you. Sister. Remember that.

She said, "All I know is that the elder, her two young assistants, and the marriage couple are always in the hut the whole time together, and when they emerge, they seem calm and happy. No signs of pain, no trauma."

"Hmm. A true mystery. And after the third part of the ceremony?"

Tara shrugged. "Life." When I gave her a blank look she explained further, "I mean, they all come out, the new couple moves in with each other, and they go about the rest of their lives as mates. Pretty much like anywhere else, I guess."

I shrugged too. "Well, if they all hang out in there together, it must just be a bunch of boring words and prayers, like at the lunch we had. I guess I can survive that."

My sudden casual acceptance of the situation clearly struck Tara with a huge happy blow of relief, and forgetting herself she thrust herself forward and embraced me in a hug.

"Oh, thank you, Cal! I—"

She stopped short when she realized, as I realized, that we are now very closely and tightly embracing each other's naked bodies. We quickly broke away from each other, but it was long enough for me to feel the impression of Tara's large breasts flattening against my chest, her firm thigh against my pelvis, my thick cock squished into her flat stomach.

That night we were guided to sleep in separate huts. I was alone in mine, thankfully, and the excitement and stress of the day soon took their toll, allowing sleep to come quickly. But not quickly enough for me to keep from lying there, on my back, visualizing my own nude sister, while resisting the carnal temptation to stroke the raging erection that pestered me before getting to sleep, and again when I first woke up....

* * *

The next three days seemed to go by in a blur, and I rarely saw Tara. Each morning I was woken by several of the young men of the village, who took me down to the river to bathe and eat freshly caught fish. With no common words of language, they gestured and demonstrated all that I needed to know: where to go to the bathroom that wouldn't contaminate the water, how to spear fish, where to find the best grub worms, things like that. Being a survival expert and would-be Navy SEAL, I actually disappointed the village men by wolfing down those huge fat slimy grub worms like a hungry Bear Grylls. But they got their revenge in several of the physical activities, especially bow hunting (give me a good rifle any day of the week, please) and diving into a large natural pool in the river from a high rock, where I proceeded to cannon ball and slap my naked ass pretty hard.

The nights were spent prancing around large open fires, consuming large quantities of a naturally fermented drink made from what I would later learn is the sago tree. Through pantomime gestures, the men gave me the impression that the concoction was made by chewing the bark into a pulp and spitting it out and letting it ferment in giant pots. This sounded pretty disgusting, and it didn't taste much better, but I equated two or three swigs of the stuff to that of doing half a dozen shots—it was some powerful shit! So after that much inebriation, one tended to forget one was drinking someone else's wooden spit.

Periodically a group of female villagers, sometimes the elders themselves, would come to check on us, and this always meant stopping whatever we the men were doing to defer to their presence. Sometimes they'd ask me to demonstrate a task, as if making sure the other men were teaching me properly, that I was worthy of the mate I was about to join.

On one of these visits, around the middle of the second day, I was surprised to see Tara in the group of women. We blushed when we saw each other, because it had been almost two days. I had almost forgotten how amazingly beautiful and sexy her body was. And her face, just a pure loving and wonderful face. I always loved my sister, and I was always so proud of her and her academic achievements. But now when I saw her I felt the pang of something new in my heart. It was a feeling I actually recognized right away, but I immediately subdued it.

On this occasion Zami was there too, and while the women watched, the other men and I demonstrated how well we could lift heavy round logs and heave them to further and further distances as we challenged each other. It was an exhausting workout. I had gotten used to doing these exercises naked with the men, like the original Olympics or something, but I was quite self-conscious with the women now watching, they being naked themselves, which was distracting—especially my sister.

At one point one of the women pointed directly at me, at my midsection, and said something I took to be profound, because the other women gasped, smiled and put their hands to their mouths, and the men all laughed and slapped each other on the back. Tara turned beet-red.

"What?" I asked her. "What did she say?"

"I can't...I can't really translate it."

For the first time I heard Zami speak English. She pointed at me, at my midsection like the other girl, and said, "She say your thing more big than all other man in village. She ask how you fit in Tara when time for love come."

Tara buried her face in her hands at this. The men burst in to laughter again. Even Zami had to spread a wide grin and join the mirth. It was certainly an awkward moment, but it was so innocently said by Zami that it was almost charming, in an odd way. I glanced around at the other naked men and realized she was right. I was a pretty well-endowed guy in general, but compared to the generally short male villagers I was positively huge. And the other young women in the village were intrigued.Nice. It was nice to get someone else to feel awkward for a change. But my grin of manly triumph turned to a frown as I realized the implications of what Zami had just said. I tried not to worry about it, though. Yes, Tara and I were going to be "married" tomorrow, and it was natural to assume we'd then go off some where to consummate the marriage in private, at which point nothing could possibly happen. Not between brother and sister.

But Lord help me the thought of a consummation did cross my mind, and I felt instant shame.

Zami stepped forward and repeated the particularly startling gesture as she had when we'd first met: she grabbed my cock. Already conditioned to obey, I automatically looked down and waited tensely for the elder's next move. Continuing in her broken English, she turned to the others and said, "Tomorrow we unite this man and his seed of life to Tara. We make them one flesh."

That sounded strangely biblical, but the words were hardly registering because the woman was gripping my cock firmly in her warm hand, a hand that was surprisingly smooth. It actually felt good, but I daren't let myself start getting an erection. I fought like mad.

Then she let go and turned away. I let out a breath of relief and glanced at Tara. She'd been looking at me and glanced away when she sensed my eyes on her, but not quickly enough to hide the fact that she'd been watching Zami clutching my cock. I wanted to approach her and ask her a few things, at least see how she was doing, but Zami was already leading the women away, uttering something in her native tongue that caused the other women to giggle and Tara to look down and blush again.

Just once, as they moved away, did Tara glance back, meet my eyes, and smile.

The rest of the day and night involved a series of bathing rituals that seemed designed to get me cleaner than a surgeon in an OR. Throughout the three days of what I loosely referred to as my bachelor party, several of the male villagers took turns guiding me through exercises, rituals, meals and drinking. But there were four or five that always seemed to be around, and I'd come to think of them as my groomsmen. They took me from one stream to the next, guiding me to dunk under, scrub down, dunk again, then move to another stream or small pool. In an almost effeminate way, the groomsmen also washed my short hair in various "shampoos" of fruit nectars, scented oils and even some kind of powder. In the end my hair looked and felt normal, but it smelled as if I'd just come from a salon. I couldn't help but think that if I could bottle the stuff and sell it in Hollywood, people like Madonna or Brad Pitt would probably pay hundreds of dollars by the ounce!

* * *

Day 3: the Wedding Day. In the morning I was gently awoken by my groomsmen, all of whom seemed careful not to startle me or get me worked up in any way. They encouraged me to lounge lazily in my temporary bachelor's hut, while they brought me food: fresh fish, fruits, pure water. Other men stood outside my hut, chanting softly in unison, some kind of prayer, some kind of spiritual song. After a few hours I actually got bored and dozed. In fact I dozed for a number of hours, because when I stirred again and was allowed to step outside the hut, I found that it was already late-afternoon.

The sun was low on the artificially high horizon of the jungle canopy line that surrounded the village. The village itself was strangely quiet; that is, there was very little human activity, little commotion. I could clearly hear the steady and powerful flow of the river. It was serene, beautiful, carnal. I found myself experiencing a very Zen-like state of being.

After being allowed to take this in for several minutes, the groomsmen began guiding me gently, reverently to another part of the village. Along the way dozens of other villagers, both men and women, all nude, lined the path, bowing and smiling at me. I was the groom, the Man of Honor. Clearly the marriage of a man and woman in their culture was profound an highly revered occasion. I was touched, but I also felt a pang of guilt. These people were providing such unbridled hospitality toward me, and toward Tara, when the fact of the matter was we were fooling them, using them. The marriage would be a sham. Well, for Tara and I it would be. If it made these people feel good to believe it to be real, we would certainly let them.

Presently I found myself standing outside a moderate-sized hut, completely closed by walls of reeds, distinctly different than the other huts which were all mostly open-walled. (There was very little privacy here, not from walls, not from clothing.) Standing outside, wearing a fresh necklace of beautifully intertwined flowers, was Zami, the elder of the village. The necklace rested loosely on her prominent breasts. Surrounding the hut were small carefully placed fires, fueled by some sort of natural oil the villagers had extracted from some obscure plant, no doubt. They flickered and glowed against the sides of the hut.

Zami raised her arms and looked at the villagers gathered near us. She said something that sounded official and authoritative, yet kind and warm at the same time. She was smiling, too. Bowing in reverence, the villagers, including my groomsmen, backed away and melted into the further parts of the village, presenting privacy for the marriage hut.

In her heavily accented halting English Zami said, "Walk at me, Cal." I stepped forward and bowed. I saw her move her arms my way and I braced myself to have my cock squeezed again, but to my surprise (and relief) Zami reached for my hands this time. She clasped me warmly and said, "You enter. You enter." She was stepping back, through a draped entrance to the hut, pulling me gently with her. Following reverently, I ducked into the tent and blinked a few times. It was a lot darker in here and my eyes needed to adjust. There were a couple more of those crude oil dip lamps in here, which gave off surprisingly little smoke. What I smelled mainly was a mixture of fruit and spices an earth.

Outside, from somewhat of a distance, I heard the rhythm of a drum begin.

Zami stepped aside as I straightened to my full height in the hut (all the doorways were about eight inches shorter than the top of my head). As my eyes adjusted to the light I made out the two younger "junior" elders or attendants to Zami, both of whom were beautiful in their own respects: lovely curves, smooth skin, healthy breasts, bare pelvises. They stood next to each other, shoulder to shoulder, and they were smiling brightly at me, their white teeth stunning within their dark mouths. When they saw me looking directly at them, they glanced at each other, nodded, then stepped apart, one to the left, one to the right.

And there she was.

Revealed before me was one of the most stunning sights I have ever beheld: Tara. Nude, pure, innocent, beautiful. Her long soft blond hair was freshly washed, decorated and braided with small flowers. Like Zami she wore an elaborate necklace of intertwined flowers which collected into a long V between Tara's amazingly vivacious breasts. Her belt of beads and reeds had been removed, and there was now nothing whatsoever infringing on the purely naked and perfectly curved shape of her stomach, hips and vagina.

I swallowed. Twice, three times. The rhythm of the drum was slow and steady, in sharp contrast to my rapidly beating heart.

Everything in my being wanted me to tell Tara how beautiful she was, but this impulse was coming from a feeling that had welled up from deep within me, a feeling I still refused to acknowledge, refused to name. I forced myself to remain quiet.

Tara looked at me in a slow-moving arch from the floor, my feet, up my own completely naked body, and eventually up to my eyes. And when we locked eyes I could swear, or perhaps I was subconsciously hoping, that she was fighting to acknowledge the same feeling as me.

From another world, another reality, I heard a voice, Zami's: "Walk at each other."

For this special ceremony it seemed that Zami was going to try conducting it in English, obviously for my benefit. That was nice of her, but I almost wished she'd switch back to her native tongue so I could just go through the motions and not really know what was transpiring, just get it over with.

Tara and I obeyed, stepping toward one another. We never left each other's intense gaze.

"Take hands," Zami said softly.

Maintaining firm eye-contact, I let my hands reach out slightly from my sides, and Tara did the same and in the next moment our fingers were brushing against each other. I opened my hands a little wider and Tara put her small hands within mine. I grasped her lightly. The shoulder touch, the hug, and now this...this was the third time I was touching my naked sister. It was electric.

I gazed into her eyes, I drank them in. They were deep-blue, wide open, passionate, curious, mesmerizing. It melted my heart to sense that Tara, as she gazed right back up at me, was as entranced as I was. How much of her was still recording these proceedings as an anthropologist? How much was now just a woman getting caught up in an incredibly primal, intensely sensual experience of pure emotion?

Zami, with her beautiful attendants on either side of her, stepped forward, nearer to us, and began: "From time Great River bring life in jungle, life continue between woman and man. Woman and man must also flow together, like Great River. Life must flow, and woman and man must join like small rivers to the Great Water..."

For the next 20 minutes or so, Zami continued in a poetic fashion, her English broken but her tone solid, confident, official. Eventually she fell back to her Kasabai tongue. Perhaps she was repeating herself in her native language for the benefit of the attendants, who seemed to be acting as witnesses. At one point Tara adjusted her hands from being held within mine to where we interlaced our fingers and let them lock loosely together.

Periodically she would give me a reassuring squeeze, her eyes rarely leaving mine. And I would give her a light squeeze back, giving her a smile, letting her know that I was okay with this. Once she mouthed, Thank you, and I mouthed back, You're welcome. But what really started to get my attention, as Zami droned on, was when Tara began gently, ever so gently, rubbing her thumb along the length of mine. The movement was so slight at first I almost didn't notice, but when I did I felt my heart rate increase again.

What the hell was happening here?

Recalling what Tara had told me a few days ago, I knew this was going to be the first of three sessions like this. And each session was only for an hour or two. By my reckoning, Zami had been speaking for about a half hour or so, which meant that if I could survive just a little while longer this would be over for the night and we could get out of here. The longer I remained in Tara's presence, in this Zen-state, the harder it would be to contain an emotion in me that simply should not, should not be occurring for my own flesh-and-blood sister.

Suddenly Zami went silent.

The silence lasted long enough that both Tara and I turned from each other to look her way. Zami was whispering something to her attendants, both of whom nodded reverently and began moving about the hut. One of them moved to the center of the hut, where I noticed for the first time what appeared to be a long mat made of closely woven reeds and cushioned with several layers of animal fur. The other attendant was unfurling what seemed like a animal skin blanket. It was thick and had soft-looking fir on both sides, the hides sewn skin-to-skin.

Zami said something in Kasabai.

I glanced at Tara, hoping for a translation, but there was a look of sudden shock in Tara's eyes as she stared at me. "What's the matter?" I whispered.

"Cal, I...she wants us to...oh God."

Zami said something again, and from the tone and syllables I gathered she was repeating herself.

I clutched Tara's hands, "What's the matter?"

She said, "Cal...Zami is telling is to...to lie down together."

It was my turn to look shocked.

Swallowing, I said, "Just lie down?"

"Well—"

Zami spoke again, a little more firmly. And she added a few things, causing the blood to drain from Tara's face.

"Tara, talk to me."

She closed her eyes, lowered her head and sighed, then looked up at me again. "Okay, Zami is telling us it is time to lie down on that bed of firs there," inclining her head toward the center of the hut, "and...well, 'join' together under the ceremonial blanket they have made for us."

I tried not to overreact to what my sister had just told me. I simply stared at her and let my mind try to work the matter out. We now knew the secret of what happened in this marriage hut. Zami expected Tara and I, as newlyweds, to consummate our bonding right here in front of her, and apparently her attendants, rather than in the privacy of our own hut as one would expect. Correction: as a Westerner would expect. Up to this point Tara and I had been going through the motions so that she could witness the inner-workings of the super-secret marriage ceremony of the Kasabai. But to continue this charade...

The drum picked up its rhythm. Or was that the beating in my chest?

We had now reached the limit of our charade, Tara and I, and in the next moment Zami was going to start wondering why we were so hesitant, and either the truth would come out, that we were siblings, or Tara would find another way to explain why the two of us could not have sex. Once that revelation came, Zami would very likely feel betrayed, and if she felt betrayed it could utterly destroy everything Tara had worked for all these months. It could perhaps even become violent—the would-be SEAL in me had been very impressed with how the men handled their bows and arrows, not to mention spears, slings and heavy hardwood clubs. And as I looked deep into to the pleading, desperate and devastatingly beautiful eyes of my dear sister I knew that I simply could not let this happen.

I whispered to her, "Let's do it."

"Wha...what?" Tara could hardly find her voice.

"Look, they're going to cover us in that blanket, right?"

Tara looked over at one of the attendants and the blanket she was holding. The attendant smiled. Tara looked back at me. "Yes," she said.

"Okay," I said, still whispering, "we get down there, we get covered up, and I grunt and groan for a few minutes, do a few push ups over you, and Zami gets her consummation."

Tara glanced quickly at Zami, then back to me, whispering, "Be careful what you say, Cal. Her English is surprisingly good."

I nodded. "Got it. So what do you say?"

"You'd do that for me?"