Requested Story # 1 – the campout

So it’s been quite a while, but, I’m finally able to post the story based on the very detailed and interesting scenario requested by my first visitor – namesi. So namesi, just for you, (and hopefully the pleasure of all other visitors) here is my very first requested story which I have entitled: the campout… I hope you enjoy the reading of it as much as I enjoyed the writing.

~~REQUEST:
hello reinawords, this sounds like a really interesting idea. i have a story for you. it has to be comical. a young man, X, who has a strong phobia about insects. however he has never revealed to this to friends. they would only know that his house is always immaculately clean and he has no lawn or house plants. they never figured anything into this. on a long weekend, these friends decide to go camping and they invite X who would have declined except a particular woman, Y, whose attention he has been trying to get for some time, will also be there. Somewhere in all this, there must be an old man with arthritis. His arthritis must play a significant role in the story. i would like to see where this could go…
~~

~THE CAMPOUT~

ONE

Ysandra sat at her grandfather’s feet, as she had for the twenty years since she was three, listening to him weave yet another fabrication of his favourite theme – How I Met Your Granny – while her grandmother sat doing her crossword and intermittently steupsing (with a secretly pleased smile) at her husband’s whimsy. In this version grandpa swore that his heart was gone the first time granny walked past his office, swinging her hips and swaying her backside and bouncing, he said, every straight male heart on the street. Then , he went on, she had turned his way, a smile about her lips, her dreadlocks flowing down her spine (he was poetic, her grandpa), and as he heard, in his mind, Maxi Priest singing “just a little bit longer, baby” she opened her beautiful full lips and said…

“What de ass yuh watchin mih so for, preppy boy? Fix yuh tie an mine yuh business!”

Somehow this version seemed to Ysandra to be the most probable yet.

She wondered, as she often did lately after grandpa’s stories, if a man would ever long for her as her grandpa did her granny.

TWO

Grandpa: Ysandra, where you say you going?

Granny: Solomon, yuh brain is a sieve? De gyurl tell yuh twenty time dey campin up in Matelot.

Grandpa: Is your fault, woman, distractin me with yuh sexy dress…

Granny: -steups-

Grandpa: (to Ysandra) But why allyuh choose to go on a weeken it goan rain so bad? Yuh know how dem road is…

“Is dry season grandpa, de reports say is sun till nex Friday”, she said.

Grandpa: Chile, dem fools ever know anyting? Lemme tell you sumting… You know how long I have artritis?

Ysandra sighed.

Grandpa: Is tirty years now. I was still young and strong and I ups and get artritis, couldn bend to plant good on a evening again. And I use to wonder why… You know why it happen chile? (Voice lowered with reverence and solemnity now.)

And while Ysandra mimed he continued.

Grandpa: Because it was time for my power… every weakness brings a power… and mine was to know the mood of the skies.

Granny: -steups-

Ysandra sighed and just said “Okay grandpa.”

Grandpa: (continuing as if uninterrupted) And I tellin you, my bones say we goan get bad, bad rain…

“Well Matelot far, so we go be good grandpa.”

Grandpa: I doh tink so…

“I’ll be careful grandpa.” she promised.

Grandpa: (ominously) Famous last words…

Granny: -steups-

THREE

The sun was stingingly hot, the air blowing alternately dry and humid.

It was going to be a squeeze; a torturous, three-hour-that-would-feel-never-ending squeeze. Especially if this Xavier fella was the tall, strapping one from the lab she thought he was – the one who seemed to not like her at all. Ysandra sighed mentally, almost amused at the lengths she would go to for a good four days and three nights of camping…

Sleeping under the stars, breathing real air and hearing… only the sounds the earth had made before people spoilt the symphony. (Clearly she was getting as poetic as her grandpa.)

What was so bad about being sandwiched between two fairly attractive fellas for a few hours anyway?

And, as Xavier finally walked through his ugly, sterile concrete front yard, Ysandra smiled. The poor man might be stuck in a horrible concrete cage… but he really was good-looking. Maybe close contact, good conversation and a smile would warm him up. Although, she mused, with the steaming weather he would probably be more than just warm considering his long-sleeved jersey and long khaki pants stuffed into tightly-laced, heavy duty boots.

Xavier: Hey! Sorry I take so long eh, I… uh… forgot to turn off the gas and… uh… pack a few things.

(Ysandra thought “Nice voice too…”)

Alex: It’s cool, we have a good enough start.

Abeo: Yeah, dat and she does drive like she drag racing anyway.

Ysandra laughed, “Abeo, you should talk…”

He just sat still next to her with a comical expression of faux innocence.

Alex: Thank you eh! I doh know who he tink he fooling. De trunk open Xav, jus find a spot for your stuff.

Denise: (Hanging her head out the front passenger window) It should have space nex to de big green bag…

Xavier: Okay… … … Awright, let’s go.

And with Denise on co-pilot duty, Alex drove off as Xavier and Ysandra negotiated their bodies into a semi-comfortable compromise.

FOUR

It took her an hour to realise that she had been wrong. Xavier was indeed the fella from the lab. He was indeed tall and strapping. And it was indeed a tight squeeze in the backseat.

But he liked her. Plenty.

As Ysandra thought back, she realised she must have been misreading his silences in her presence; he just wasn’t a talker. His words were always measured, as though he had learnt to be as careful with the power in them as with the power of his body – and his hands – his hands which were enticing to her: strong, clean and large with short, neat fingernails; hands which had been deliberately gentle, but not weak, when shaking her own. She wondered why he had never approached her. They worked in the same building and even had a mutual friend in Alex. It seemed strange that only an hour before she hadn’t even been sure she could fit his name to his face. Especially since she was now considering seducing him. She wondered if he was so measured and composed in sex.

They talked about work. He spoke of the lab and she of marketing. They talked about meeting Alex. He of their first joint experiments in a UWI lab as partners, which, of course, had been close to flawless; she of their days in secondary school and the unlikeliness of the friendship – languages people and science people were supposed to be enemies. They laughed and they flirted too, just a little, but enough to make Alex peek into her eyes in the rear-view mirror, a clear question in her eyebrow. To which Ysandra replied with their coded nose scratch – I liking it so far, I want to see where it goes, what do you think? Alex’s broad smile didn’t need a premeditated code for translation and Ysandra was comforted. Alex had known him a while and she was more meticulous in her choices for Ysandra than Ysandra was herself. She smiled. A small smile, but one that held volumes of sexual intent.

FIVE

The last stop before the last lap was a small specialty camping store in Grande Riviere. Abeo said they sold the best coal and the best homemade pumpkin wine. They also had a little outdoor terrace for a last lime before you drove off to your favourite spot behind god back in Matelot.

The terrace was simple and sumptuous, secluded by lush bougainvillea that seemed untamed and reminded Ysandra of her own. The round tables speckling the terrace seemed like little booths unto themselves each surrounded by a different combination of plants and trellises, the whole setup giving semi-seclusion within semi-seclusion, yet still open to the air and sky. It looked to her like everything beautiful in the world.

For some inexplicable reason, Xavier hated it.

The man screwed his face as soon as they arrived and proceeded to squirm and complain for the entire hour they stayed – even though Abeo had scheduled the stop for two. The only thing that redeemed his surliness was that even in his mysterious discomfort, he still tried to flirt with her, the result an almost comical mix of smiles and grimaces, subtle touches and sudden winces. He wouldn’t say what was wrong but she got the feeling it had to do with the profusion of plants… which made it all the more inexplicable to her.

Piled back into the stuffy, cramped confines of the car he relaxed. Denise took the wheel and set a cautious pace on the labyrinthine asphalt. The conversation flowed easily again, jokes and teasing flying every which way carrying the last two hours on light wings. As the sun dwindled away, carrying with it the heavy heat, she began to feel the tender loosening of tension that came with escaping concrete and crowds. She breathed in freedom. It smelled of leaves and earth and lady of the night. She felt it seeping sweetly into her system, both calming and invigorating. Her smiles spread wider, her laughter came more often and her eyes sang siren songs Xavier’s way. And he was happy, ready and willing to dance her tune. By the time Abeo told Denise where to park, Xavier seemed ready to melt at her feet.

But as they unpacked the car and arranged their site, she saw the ease drip away from his quickly tightening shoulders and the laugh lines disappear from a mouth that seemed to become an increasingly salty prune. He tried to maintain the levity in his tone and the others were too excited and engrossed to notice the discrepancy but it was glaring to her. More than once she could have sworn she saw him forcing himself to breathe. And more than once she saw him restrain his progressively jumpy muscles. She pondered the mystery as she set up her barbecue pit, glancing in his direction often.

Abeo and Alex set up their tent with the ease of two experts and then helped Xavier with his. She and Denise, as usual preferring a bed under the sky, opted for padded sleeping bags, so by the time Abeo, Alex and Xavier were done, the two of them had already started flaming the stuffed potato in skin and chicken drumsticks that she had brought in her cooler for their first night dinner. The butter and seasonings and the sweet barbecue sauce flavoured the air and the energy around their little campsite. Xavier, sitting beside her, laughed and chatted easily, but she could feel the tension in his body, in the way his thigh muscles remained bunched next to hers. Sitting so close she could turn his way and smell a faint tinge of masculine deodorant, tangy and pleasant but almost lost beneath the pungent, oily bug repellent that he seemed to have lathered on both his skin and clothes. She was glad the smell of the food and smoke was stronger and wondered how she would stand it later if she decided to make a move. But when he turned to her to smile at something she had said, and she saw the genuine affection so clear in his expression, she estimated it would be worth it.

SIX

Dusk was long gone before she realised the electricity in the air was not just her wakened hormones buzzing along her skin. The sky, earlier a velvet indigo skirt studded with diamonds, was now red and bright, clouds hanging heavy and huge. Her mind, of course, replayed her grandfather’s words, no longer with patronizing amusement but with a swirling sense of unease she felt in her stomach.

They were still out around the barbecue pit, the vibes too engaging to abandon for sleep. The little cups of citronella candles that Xavier had brought sat in the shallow wells that perforated the circumference of their site screening mosquitoes and creating a gentle halo in the earth. From time to time one or the other of them would cast their eyes up, but, as if not acknowledging the shift in the sky would somehow hinder the rain, not one uttered a word.

Soon enough though, the wind spoke loud enough that they could no longer ignore her.

Ysandra sighed. “Denise, I pitchin my tent, you brought yours just in case ent?”

Denise: Yeah… I was just tinking de same ting…

Alex: Good ting we find dis spot oui, cuz I know some places we woulda have to worry bout flood.

Abeo: True. Talking bout dat babe, help me take out the candles nah, no sense in them getting soak and spoil.

Xavier: (looking at Ysandra) You need help with your tent?

“Sure.” She said. “We can do mine then help Denise finish hers. Save some time.”

They pulled out her tent and started the setup.

Xavier: (whispering to her confidentially) How bad you think it goan rain?

Ysandra, seeing the now-familiar anxiety clouding his face, sensed the chance to work out the source.

“With how red those clouds looking, I think it goan be real heavy. Like Alex said though, dis area shouldn flood. Xavier… tell me someting… I realise you not big on de whole camping and outdoors scene… but what exactly have you so tense?” she asked.

He stared at her for a moment, looked away and then back at her, seeming to debate telling the truth.

She smiled and asked gently “If you doh like outdoors, what make yuh come camping of all things?

He stayed silent.

His eyebrows hitched as his lips curved into a wry, almost self-deprecating smile that teamed with his direct gaze to say that he knew she knew the answer.

She blinked.

Then she let out a little laugh and said “Wow… I doh remember de last time I feel to blush so.”

He laughed; a gentle genuine sound.

Xavier: Maybe I’ll tell you why I hate camping so much, but only after our first date…

At that she laughed, loud and clear, amused at the audacity of the words paired with the shyness of his expression. She shook her head then she looked him straight in the eye.

Bold and confident and not a little seductive, she leaned forward, put her hand on his chest and, in a low voice, smiled “We’ll see.”

He blinked.

He remained in stasis as she sauntered away to help Denise.

She smiled to herself when she finally heard him laugh out loud behind her as she and Denise finished up.

SEVEN

By the time the deluge actually began, they had already been huddled against the cold in their respective tents, faces poking comically through gaps they left in the zippers so they could keep up the conversation. Xavier’s talking hole was by far the smallest, his lips and one eye alternatively featured depending, ironically, on whether he was talking or listening. Ever so often Ysandra was sure she heard a spray of compressed air coming from his tent next to hers. The rain ensured she got no whiff of what he was spraying but her libido whispered the hope of musky cologne. On the third spray though, her mind reminded her of the strong smell of bug repellent on his skin. And just like that her brain screamed the answer to his tension, his dislike for outdoors, his discomfort by the plants in Grande Riviere, the uneasiness about the rain, his fully covered outfit in the hot sun, the excessive bug repellent, his sterile yard, his job in a lab… all of these and more, little blinking arrows…

THE MAN FRAID INSECTS.

She sat stunned. She gaped in his direction through her talk/peephole. The conversation washed down the leather of her tent along with the rain, unheard and unnoticed as she stared at his one eye tennis-balling between Denise and Abeo. He put his lips to the hole and said something that made Denise and Alex laugh, Alex pushing Abeo aside to shout something equally hilarious through their port. When Xavier’s eye came back to his hole, gaze directed jovially at her, she was still gawking blank-faced. Immediately he tensed, his eye becoming wary, eyelashes unmoving. A question flickered across the brown flecks of his iris and then, as if he knew that she knew, his eyelid lowered as if to hide his shame from her scrutiny. She felt the disconnection severely. His withdrawal stung her skin and she realised her misstep. She had not meant to shame him at all, phobias being no alien to her. She, who had an irrational fear of flying (pteromerhanophobia, as she had learnt it was called). It was just such a surprise to her, what with his size and general command of himself – and of course her inherent bias with her lust for nature – she had fallen into the easy trap of stereotypical surprise that this man had a fear… she was ashamed of herself. She heard the bass of his voice rumble.

Xavier: Okay people, I tink I finally feeling sleep creepin up on me. And I rather be awake when de sun up dan to be sweating inside dis tent.

Denise: Good point… I ain feelin de sleepiness yet but we have de perfect weather for sleepin… I might knock out as soon as I close my eyes.

Alex: Denise you does do dat anyway…

Abeo: (chuckling) She could sleep standin up if she eye close long enough.

Denise: -steups- (laughing) Whatever… I notice is perfect weather for twenty toes too, so allyuh could hush… I goin in. Night everybody!

The goodnight chorus went in a round. Ysandra plotted her time and ten minutes later, at Denise’s first customary snore, she slipped out into the rain. Her boots waded on the mud and her naked body shivered under her huge black plastic coat. For a moment she closed her eyes and bent her head back letting the rain massage her face with wet fingers. Her mind flitted across her grandfather’s prophetic arthritic joints and she thought that, for all the excess of drama, the man had been right about the rain. She slopped across to Xavier’s tent and shook it gently, whispering his name, to no response. She couldn’t hear much over the rain pounding on every surface, her hood included, but she sensed he was still awake.

She shook again and whispered to where she gauged his head would be, “Xavier, I’m standing naked in the rain… Open your tent before I catch a cold.”

She saw the tent shake as he bolted up, heard the entrance zip whoosh and then saw his eye looking up at her. His eyebrow lifted.

Xavier: You’re not naked.

“I am, underneath this coat,” she retorted quickly. “And it cold out here. And just a little bit wet too. Just open the flap a little more. I’ll leave my boots outside and step in.”

She could see his attraction for her building desire in his eyes, not quite chasing away the wisps of shame and reticence, but overpowering them enough that he did as she asked. She slipped barefoot into his tent, graceful as a wood nymph.

“I’m sorry,” she said simply. “It just took me by surprise when I realised.”

He sat quietly, looked at her and then looked away, not bothering to feign ignorance.

“I have pteromerhanophobia.” she blurted.

Xavier: What? I know it’s a fear of something… but… uh… … … no… never heard of it… What is it?

“I have a phobia of flying,” she answered.

She rushed on, “I hyperventilated once just standing in de airport watching my aunt walk into the tunnel to her plane. It’s absolutely irrational. The statistics for death by plane accidents are a minute fraction of death by car accidents. I won’t bore you with the numbers; the point is I know them. Logically, I know the odds of something bad happening is tiny, and it still doh matter.”

She took a breath, sighed and continued, “The point is if anyone understands… I do… and barely anybody knows about my thing. I don’t like anyone knowing. Not even Alex knows and she’s been my best friend for about, what… twelve years. I’ve never told anyone because I had no one to tell who would understand.”

Her eyes lit up, excited.

Xavier: Wow…

He said the word on a breath of wonder and a tinge of relief. He touched her face.

Xavier: You always so… bold… so in control… I woulda never thought… (voice trailing away as he realised he was making the same presumption she had.)

He shook his head and his low chuckle rolled quietly between them.

“Dis trip must have been… must be a nightmare for you. I’m beyond flattered now… I’m… in awe…” she said softly. “I doh think I could go on a plane for anybody, especially somebody I doh really know yet. I’m… in awe.”

He smiled shy but happy, with a humble pride.

Xavier: I’ve been… doin exercises to deal wit it and… well it’s been gettin a little better… in a way… sometimes. In any case, it was worth a try to get de chance to know you.

His hand stroked lightly, gentle and sensual across the contours of her cheeks as she smiled with mischief and sweetness twining in her eyes.

“You don’t know me yet, Mr X.” She smirked.

He laughed softly and she leaned forward to meld her smile to his.

EIGHT

As dawn slinked through the cloth of his tent and the music of the rain and the forest mingled with the cadence of his breathing, Ysandra felt pure harmony lying there pillowed on his chest.

She murmured into his dreams, “I’d get on a plane for you.”

The barest smile whispered tenderly across his lips and his hand came up to lightly stroke her hair.

THE END

Copyright © 2013 Reina Rodriguez-Cupid. All Rights Reserved.