Chapter Twelve
Sheba, Queen of the Camel Toe
Subtitle: Sex Wizard
“If you’re not uncomfortable, you’re not living.”
I don’t actually know who said that, or if it’s even a legitimate quote, but if it is, then I am most definitely living. I’m currently climbing a wooden ladder. A ladder that leads to a makeshift treehouse sitting atop a peak in a lush valley in the middle of the Hawaiian rainforest. The landscape is truly beyond gorgeous, and if I weren’t about to be hurled down a wire in the middle of said valley, I’d be appreciating my surroundings with a bit more enthusiasm. As I climb, I wonder just how I ended up in this predicament. I suppose it began how most uncomfortable situations begin…with a cinnamon raisin bagel.
Earlier this morning…
I smooth a layer of thick, fluffy cream cheese onto my toasted bagel, shoving half of it in my mouth as Amanda tells Kyle and his family about another one of her latest assignments.
“It was incredible,” she gushes. “I spent two weeks camping in a canvas tent in the Sahara Desert with nothing but my recorder, my camera, and my guide, Amare. We trailed behind a group of Swiss tourists who were big game hunting,” she continues. “The company that took them out had a notorious reputation for skirting the local hunting laws. By the time my article hit the stands, they were grovelling.”
“Look at you, honey,” Maureen says. “Travelling the world and taking down the bad guys.”
Pffft. It’s not like she’s Batman, I think to myself.
“I’m just doing what I love,” Amanda says.
I shove more of the obscenely coated bagel into my mouth and wash it down with a glass of papaya juice. I want to hate this woman so much I can taste it. But she’s so damn nice. And she exposes poachers. The only thing I’ve ever exposed is my nipples. By accident. It is completely illogical to want to hate her anyways, because basically it’s nothing more than INSANE jealousy. Speaking of, I look over at Will and see that he’s pretty much the only person sitting at the table not totally enthralled by Amanda and her do-gooder career highlights. I wonder if he still has feelings for her. I wonder if he wishes they were still together. I’m completely lost in my own head when I realize I’m answering a question that I didn’t even hear.
“Poppy?”
“Mmhm?”
“You sure you can handle it?” Kyle asks.
“Of course I can,” I say. Handle what?
“Then it’s settled,” Amanda says. “I’ll reach out to my contact and get us a deal.”
A deal on what?
“Y’all are gonna love zip lining,” she says.
“Huh?”
Before I can rewind the conversation and properly answer with a resounding N-O, everyone begins to stand from the table and I have no choice but to follow. I really need to stop talking to the voice in my head and start paying more attention.
Present moment…
So here I am, being strapped into a harness by a guy named Joe, visions of my own decapitation running rampant in my head. The only thing keeping me from completely losing my shit right now is the fact that this harness is currently riding up my crotch, providing anyone in the vicinity an up close and personal look at the outline of my vagina. I keep trying to maneuver myself in an attempt to lessen the obviousness of that outline, but my efforts are proving to be unsuccessful. I don’t even want to know how this getup would feel on a set of balls. Adding insult to injury is the fact that my boobs are currently being smooshed by some kind of medieval torture chamber. I glance over at Amanda’s crotch. Of course she doesn’t have a raging camel toe. She looks like Adventure Barbie.
“Are you nervous?” she asks.
Yes. “No, this is going to be fun,” I say. “Soo much fun.”
Of course I could have turned the hell around when we arrived and refused to do this, but dammit, my pride wouldn’t let me. If she can do it, so can I. Way to be mature, Poppy.
“I’m so happy we’re doing this together,” she says, as she’s being clipped to the thick cable.
I hate you. “Me too,” I say.
“I should confess, I don’t have many girlfriends,” she says. “I travel a lot and I don’t know,” she shrugs. “I guess I’m just glad to have met you.”
Why does she have to be so nice?
“All right, see you at the bottom,” she says, catapulting herself from the perch of the treehouse, cheering with masochistic joy as she goes.
I take a tentative step towards the metal railing off to the side and glance down at the valley below us. I stumble back and take a deep breath just as Joe gestures me forward. He clips my torture chamber to the cable and double checks the buckle on my helmet. I stand there, frozen but determined. I get sidetracked and briefly consider changing my name to Sheba, Queen of the Camel Toe, when Joe encourages me to take a step forward. I take a small step and I can tell by the look on his face that he’s already sick of my shit. I take another step, and another, until my toes reach the edge.
“You’re gonna have to push me, Joe,” I say.
“Ma’am, I’m not allowed to push you,” he says. “You gotta go if you’re going, there’s people behind you.”
Dammit, Joe.
I turn around but all I see are strangers. Amanda practically drug me ahead of the waiting crowd with an unnatural amount of enthusiasm and we lost Kyle and Will. Byron, Maureen and Rose opted to sit this one out and are waiting at the bottom for us young folks to get our thrills.
“I can’t,” I say.
Joe brings his hands up to the clip on the cable to unhook me. “Joe! You’re supposed to talk me out of quitting,” I say.
“Please, don’t quit,” he says, with as much emotion as a piece of driftwood.
“Okay, I can do this, right? I can do this.”
“Ma’am, you really need to decide. People are waiting,” Joe says.
I pinch my eyes shut and take the final step off the perch, no thanks to Joe, and in seconds I’m flying through the valley like a Goddamn bat out of hell, my lungs burning as a terrorized scream rips from my mouth. Open your eyes, Poppy. God dammit, open your eyes.
The valley passes by in a blur of colour and once I shut my mouth and calm the hell down, I feel like I’m flying. I use my back hand to tug on my rigging and slow down a bit, the way Joe told me to, and take in everything around me. I commit the details to my memory as best I can and release my hand, gaining full speed. I close my eyes and ignore the world. I ignore everything. The self-doubt, the part of me that always holds back just a little bit, and that’s when I truly begin to hear.
“Slow down!”
Wait, what?
“Slow down!”
I open my eyes and realize that me and my camel toe are coming in hard and fast and there’s no slowing down at this point. I brace for impact as my body smacks into the next guide, knocking him flat on his ass with me straddling his head. Of course.
Amanda rushes over and helps me peel my crotch off this poor guy’s face. “Are you okay?” she asks, brushing the dirt off my knees.
“I’m fine. Please stop,” I say, completely mortified as a small crowd of tourists gathers around. I hear the word YouTube somewhere in the crowd and pray for the Earth to swallow me whole.
You’re definitely living, Poppy.
Once I’ve helped my new gynecologist to his feet, I apologize profusely as the crowd begins to thin out around us.
“Poppy, are you okay?” Maureen asks as she rushes over.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say. “What’s life without a battered ego, right?”
Rose comes to the other side of me as I begin to unstrap the buckles on my harness. We stand off to the side as more people gradually make their way down the cable. Maureen steps back and takes a picture as Will glides down.
“Don’t worry, dear, you landed very gracefully on that young man’s face,” Rose says, patting my shoulder.
I turn when I hear laughing and realize that Will and Kyle have made their way down the cable and one of my bystanders is currently giving them a play by play of my epic brilliance. Kyle doubles over with laughter as Will’s gaze finds mine.
He’s not laughing at me. Not even cracking a smile at my expense. And as much as I appreciate it, I wish he’d look away. Because there’s no way in hell I can tactfully remove the fabric currently riding up my crotch, with him looking at me like that.
*
When I’m back in the safety of my room, I contemplate texting my sisters and telling them about my brief stint as Sheba. But I figure that’s a story that needs to be told in person, and with alcohol.
As I slip into a peach-coloured sundress, I try to focus on the positives regarding this afternoon’s adventure, rather than the negatives. Yes, I landed on some guy’s face. There were witnesses. I may or may not become a YouTube sensation. But, I also did something that I never even thought of doing before. That’s something. I did something.
I run my fingers through my hair and tousle it a bit before I slip on a pair of leather sandals. I’ve got a nice tan going on so I don’t bother with any makeup besides a swipe of mascara and some lip gloss. The living room is empty when I emerge from my bedroom so I knock lightly on Kyle’s door.
“You ready to go?” I call out.
“Go ahead without me,” he says through the door. “I’ll meet you down there.”
I snag my small purse off the kitchen counter and make my way down to the lobby. Our hotel is hosting an authentic luau tonight and Rose was adamant that we attend. I think she’s still hoping to see some half-naked fire breathing men.
I’m running a bit behind so I head straight outside and take the stone path beside the hotel leading all the way to the back of the property. When I round the corner I see tables of various sizes set up strategically on the neatly trimmed lawn, a vase of fresh flowers sitting in the centre of each. A long buffet runs along the one side of the set-up, and a stage is set up near the front. Music plays softly in the background and before I can navigate my way through the crowd, I’m greeted by a hostess wearing a beautiful floral crown and a brightly coloured sarong.
“Aloha ahiahi,” she says.
I return her greeting and spot Kyle’s family sitting in the far corner. I make my way around the other tables and when I take a seat beside Rose, she slides a large glass in front of me filled with white slush and garnished with a slice of fresh pineapple.
“Drink up, honey,” she says.
“Thanks,” I smile.
“Where’s Kyle?” Maureen asks.
“Oh he’ll be down soon. I think he was just getting in the shower,” I say. “He told me to go ahead.”
“It’s a shame Amanda couldn’t join us,” she says. “It was so nice running into her, wasn’t it, Will?”
She gives Will a warm smile and he nods along while sipping his own, much more masculine, drink. “It’s been a while,” he says.
“Leave the boy alone, Maureen,” Byron chides.
“Shush you,” she says, swatting his arm. “There’s nothing wrong with pointing out a gentle possibility.”
“The boy’s right, dear,” Rose says. “Some things are just meant to stay put, behind us.”
I watch Will for the slightest hint of what he might be thinking but he gives nothing away. His phone chimes and he excuses himself to take a call.
“Well, if y’all are gonna rain on my parade, the least you can do is treat me to a dance,” Maureen says, pulling Bryon up from the table. I didn’t notice the dance floor when I arrived but it’s set up near the stage and there are several other couples dancing along to the soft acoustic music.
He feigns annoyance at first but when she swats him again, he nuzzles her neck and his hand trails down just over her hip in a wide grasp.
“It’s about time those kids remembered what it’s like to be silly,” Rose says.
They reach the dance floor and he pulls her close. They sway along with the music, looking relaxed and content.
“They really love each other, don’t they?” I ask.
“Mmmhm, despite every bump in the road,” Rose says. “Which is the way it should be.”
“Cheers to that,” I say.
I’m so busy watching Maureen and Byron on the dance floor that I don’t even notice Will slip back into the seat across from me.
“Will, be a dear and take this girl for a spin,” Rose says. “At least until your brother gets here.”
“Oh, you don’t have to. It’s fine,” I say.
My protest dies as Will stands and reaches for my hand. He leads me to the small dance floor and places his palm on the small of my back, pulling me close and taking my hand in his. The smell of his cologne is crisp and cool and shoving my already wayward hormones into a frenzy.
“You, uh, really didn’t have to do this,” I say with a laugh.
“I wanted to,” he says.
Silence fills the space between us until my curiosity gets the better of me.
“So, Kyle mentioned that you and Amanda go back,” I hint. “Not that it’s any of my business and if you don’t want to talk about it I totally understand.”
“We were engaged,” he says.
Well, that was easy.
“What happened?”
Rather than guide us around the floor, weaving through the other couples, he holds us in place, swaying us gently to the melody.
“Our families have always been close and I think our parents just always assumed we’d end up together,” he says. “Which we did, eventually. I proposed, she accepted, but then she changed her mind.”
“Why did she change her mind?” I ask softly.
“She wanted to do what she’s doing now: explore the world, see new things, write about everything she could,” he says. “She wanted out of Savannah and, at one point, we planned on doing it together. But I guess in the end, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t leave my responsibilities,” he tells me. “We were both young and stubborn. Neither one of us wanted to budge, so, that was it.”
“Do you ever wish it had all turned out differently?” I ask.
“Sometimes,” he says honestly. “I regret not running away for a little bit.”
“I can understand that,” I say. “I used to have this list. I’m a big fan of lists by the way,” I add. “Anyways, all the things on my list were practical. Graduate from high school, get my degree, be my own boss, etc. Start at point A, then move to point B.”
“And what will you do when you get back home, Poppy?” he asks, tracing his fingertips lightly against my spine.
“I hadn’t thought that far ahead, honestly,” I say, tilting my head back. “The person I was three years ago would have never gone ziplining or baited a fish hook,” I laugh. “So I think I have some re-evaluating to do.”
It would take one small step for our lips to meet, but before brave new Poppy can make her move, logic kicks in.
“I should, uh, go check on Kyle,” I say, clearing my throat. “He should have been down by now.”
I take a step back on shaky legs and slide my hand from his, commanding my feet to take me away from Kyle’s brother and his intoxicating scent and A+ qualities. As I walk back to the hotel I shake my head in frustration.
Seriously, universe? You shove this guy into my life now? Of all times?
My whole body is thrumming and I swear I can still feel the heat from Will’s palm against my spine. I turn left off the lobby and head for the elevator when a strong hand grasps mine and spins me around.
“What are you doing?” I whisper harshly, as Will backs me up against the door marked Housekeeping. He reaches around behind me and pushes down the handle, backing me into the dark closet.
He flips the lock, the sound echoing in the pitch black confines of the room around us. I can’t see a Goddamn thing but I swear I can hear my heart galloping in my chest.
“Will?”
The dingy light flickers on above us and when my eyes meet his, the look I see on his face can only be described as predatory. He takes a step toward me and brushes his fingertips down my arm. Holy sweet Jesus, I am about to get banged in a closet.
“If I’ve got this whole thing wrong, Poppy, you’ve gotta tell me,” he says, reaching his hand up and gently tracing the pad of his thumb against my bottom lip.
I want to scream my consent. But I also want to keep some of my dignity, so I settle for an aggressively enthusiastic head nod. Yes, dear lord, YES.
He watches me curiously and I get the impression that he wants to take his time. I, however, recognize that we are in fact in a closet and there is not time for slow. Also, the throbbing between my legs is serving as an aggressive reminder that I have not had an orgasm in a very long time.
Dear vagina, please don’t murder Will’s penis.
Will brings his other hand up the length of my arm, brushing my shoulder along the way until his fingers are speared in my hair. He leans forward and presses his full lips firmly to mine. And unleashes a monster.
Everything surrounding us blurs into a background that I give zero shits about. George Clooney could be carving a Thanksgiving turkey three feet away and I would be oblivious. My fingers lace together behind Will’s neck as I hop up and wrap my legs firmly around his waist.
He grips my ass, thankfully, so that I don’t fall as he backs me up into a large stack of crisply folded sheets. My entire body feels like it’s on fire as our tongues dance together and our kiss deepens. He pulls his mouth from mine and brushes his lips down my neck until he reaches the swell of my heaving chest.
“Christ, Poppy,” he groans as he nips and sucks my skin.
“We probably shouldn’t be doing this,” I gasp.
“Probably not,” he growls against my throat.
“Please don’t stop,” I beg.
He backs up slightly and uses a firm hand to nudge me onto my back before he sinks to his knees and pulls my legs to the edge of the linen pile. He reaches under my dress and pulls my underwear down my legs, tossing them aside like the pesky little cock blockers that they are. It feels like slow motion, watching him lift my dress and lean forward. Until the moment he puts his mouth on me and everything - I kid you not, everything - around me disappears completely and I am thrust into tingle town.
He pulls his mouth from me, pausing as he pushes two of his fingers into my eager center. “You’re so smooth,” he says, before he places his mouth back on me.
“Christine did it,” I say. “It was super awk-awkward but she was really professional,” I moan. “God, why am I telling you this? I – I, oh God, Will, that’s so good, don’t stop,” I gasp.
He groans appreciatively, or what I assume is with appreciation. Who the hell knows. His mouth is obviously full.
My climax sneaks up on me like a ninja and before I know it, I’m rambling and thrashing like a harlot. Spots dance across my eyelids as my entire body goes lax. When I feel Will’s hands brushing up my calves, pulling my underwear back up my legs, I prop myself up and give him a questioning look.
“Aren’t we going to, I mean, that was incredible. But don’t you want t- “
He takes my hand and pulls me to stand, he leans down and bring his mouth close to my ear. “Of course I want to, but not in a closet,” he says.
He brushes his lips against my cheek and turns toward the door. He leaves me standing in the closet satisfied, confused and, for reasons I don’t even want to decipher, craving a bowl of New England clam chowder.