dwellings spaced here and there.
The heat became suffocating. She finally moved to sit under the roof of the boat, but the shade couldn't diminish the humidity.
The three Brazilians were talking quietly among themselves, while the Tukano sat on the deck a few feet away from Ben, completely silent but not missing anything. Her excitement had ebbed; the heat and the motion of the boat made her drowsy, but she didn't want to nap.
She pulled off her hat and fanned herself. After a while the slow, hypnotic motion of her own hand became so soporific that she had to stop.
Her sleepy gaze wandered to Ben. She couldn't find a single thing wrong with the view. He stood solidly at the wheel, his back to her, his feet planted apart to brace himself against the sway of the boat. Thick dark hair curled over his collar, unless he got his hair cut sometime during this expedition, it would be touching his shoulders by the time they got back. Broad shoulders strained the fabric of his sweat-dampened shirt. His khaki pants revealed powerfully muscled legs and clearly outlined his tight buttocks. She smiled a little to herself. She did so admire the sight of a nice, tight, muscled male derriere, and Ben's was perfect. Aesthetically speaking, of course. Beauty was where one found it.
As if he were clairvoyant, he turned and gave her a slow, knowing, lascivious wink.
----
Chapter 6
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Kates was furious that they were going up the "wrong" river, yelling his protests over the radio.
After a while Ben got tired of listening to him and took the microphone long enough to say, "Sorry, this is the way Ms. Sherwood says we have to go," neatly placing all the blame on Jillian's shoulders. After a while, accepting the uselessness of his protests, Kates shut up.
It was well before dusk when Ben steered the boat into the shelter of a cove. "Storm," he said briefly to Jillian. "This is a good place to tie up, so we might as well spend the night here. There won't be much light left by the time the storm is over."
It had rained almost every day they had been in Brazil, so the weather didn't come as a surprise. Jillian had been watching the purple clouds gather on the horizon and march steadily closer. Now that the boat engines were silent, she could hear thunder rumbling.
The Brazilians on both boats began unrolling the heavy tarps that were secured to the flat roofs. Neither boat had a closed cabin, just a simple roof over the cargo area, with all four sides left open except for a tiny, crude toilet area. She had noticed the tarps and thought they were meant to provide shade during the late afternoon when the angled sunlight could penetrate beneath the roof, but as the wind began to pick up she saw the real reason for them. When they were unrolled, they were tied down to rings on the deck to keep out the blowing rain. One side, away from the wind, was left open.
But the storm hadn't yet arrived, and Jillian didn't want to remain in the dim, close shelter. She moved out on the deck with the men. One of the Brazilians smiled shyly at her and she returned the smile. Ben had said that these men weren't top notch, not his regular helpers, but she couldn't help liking this one man. From listening to their conversation, she had learned that his name was Jorge. The other two were Floriano and Vicente; Ben had called the Indian Pepe, though she was certain that wasn't his real name. It didn't seem to matter to him, though. He replied to the name and kept to himself. The other Indian, Eulogio, was piloting the second boat, which carried Joaquim and Martim, the other two men Ben had hired.
Because of the heat, no one would take shelter behind the tarps until the storm was actually upon them. She looked at the other boat and saw that the preparations on it mirrored their own. Likewise, everyone was on deck. Rick's face was flushed and he was talking too loud. He had probably been drinking ever since they left Manaus.
Thunder began booming
The heat became suffocating. She finally moved to sit under the roof of the boat, but the shade couldn't diminish the humidity.
The three Brazilians were talking quietly among themselves, while the Tukano sat on the deck a few feet away from Ben, completely silent but not missing anything. Her excitement had ebbed; the heat and the motion of the boat made her drowsy, but she didn't want to nap.
She pulled off her hat and fanned herself. After a while the slow, hypnotic motion of her own hand became so soporific that she had to stop.
Her sleepy gaze wandered to Ben. She couldn't find a single thing wrong with the view. He stood solidly at the wheel, his back to her, his feet planted apart to brace himself against the sway of the boat. Thick dark hair curled over his collar, unless he got his hair cut sometime during this expedition, it would be touching his shoulders by the time they got back. Broad shoulders strained the fabric of his sweat-dampened shirt. His khaki pants revealed powerfully muscled legs and clearly outlined his tight buttocks. She smiled a little to herself. She did so admire the sight of a nice, tight, muscled male derriere, and Ben's was perfect. Aesthetically speaking, of course. Beauty was where one found it.
As if he were clairvoyant, he turned and gave her a slow, knowing, lascivious wink.
----
Chapter 6
Previous Top Next
Kates was furious that they were going up the "wrong" river, yelling his protests over the radio.
After a while Ben got tired of listening to him and took the microphone long enough to say, "Sorry, this is the way Ms. Sherwood says we have to go," neatly placing all the blame on Jillian's shoulders. After a while, accepting the uselessness of his protests, Kates shut up.
It was well before dusk when Ben steered the boat into the shelter of a cove. "Storm," he said briefly to Jillian. "This is a good place to tie up, so we might as well spend the night here. There won't be much light left by the time the storm is over."
It had rained almost every day they had been in Brazil, so the weather didn't come as a surprise. Jillian had been watching the purple clouds gather on the horizon and march steadily closer. Now that the boat engines were silent, she could hear thunder rumbling.
The Brazilians on both boats began unrolling the heavy tarps that were secured to the flat roofs. Neither boat had a closed cabin, just a simple roof over the cargo area, with all four sides left open except for a tiny, crude toilet area. She had noticed the tarps and thought they were meant to provide shade during the late afternoon when the angled sunlight could penetrate beneath the roof, but as the wind began to pick up she saw the real reason for them. When they were unrolled, they were tied down to rings on the deck to keep out the blowing rain. One side, away from the wind, was left open.
But the storm hadn't yet arrived, and Jillian didn't want to remain in the dim, close shelter. She moved out on the deck with the men. One of the Brazilians smiled shyly at her and she returned the smile. Ben had said that these men weren't top notch, not his regular helpers, but she couldn't help liking this one man. From listening to their conversation, she had learned that his name was Jorge. The other two were Floriano and Vicente; Ben had called the Indian Pepe, though she was certain that wasn't his real name. It didn't seem to matter to him, though. He replied to the name and kept to himself. The other Indian, Eulogio, was piloting the second boat, which carried Joaquim and Martim, the other two men Ben had hired.
Because of the heat, no one would take shelter behind the tarps until the storm was actually upon them. She looked at the other boat and saw that the preparations on it mirrored their own. Likewise, everyone was on deck. Rick's face was flushed and he was talking too loud. He had probably been drinking ever since they left Manaus.
Thunder began booming
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