16 comments/ 121830 views/ 22 favorites Flesh: Prologue By: Flesh: Prologue The translator didn't bother repeating the question to Pachacamac. The two men had already angrily exchanged explanations. "Think of yourself as a llama...or as un gato, as a cat." Summer raised an eyebrow. "And you're being given to a new owner," Otoniel continued. "Your first owner, however, still maintains possession of your collar, your toys, and whatever else a cat may need." "But these are my clothes." "But how can a cat own its collar?" "I'm not a fucking cat!" Summer screamed, running her hands through her long hair in frustration. Tears were starting to build up behind her eyes. "I'm not a fucking cat!" "But you are," Otoniel said calmly, taking a step closer to her. He said something forcefully to Pachacamac as he took a hold of Summer's hand. "In this situation, you are. In his mind, you and your clothes are both property of Doctor Szalinski and the company that you work for. The deal that we agreed upon extends to nothing more than your body." The translator paused for a second, working up the courage to deliver a suggestion that he knew she wouldn't like. "I will be with you the entire time. You will be safe. And Dr. Szalinski will be back soon enough." "Is he giving me something else to wear? Is it back in the village?" Otoniel shook his head again. "You are a cat." Summer's whole body was shaking, not unlike Walter's had been before. The only difference was that the young doctor's shivers were caused by nerves, not venom. She looked up the translator, this mestizo that she, Russ, and Walter had met only eight weeks ago. She had trusted her life with him before, at various checkpoints along the roads from La Paz to Valle de los Reyes. He knew this country better than anyone else she had met here, with a deeper understanding of both modern and native customs. But what he was asking her do was too much for her. Summer looked to Pachacamac, who was waiting patiently. He didn't seem to be enjoying the cruelty of what he was doing, but he didn't seem particularly compassionate about Summer's strife. It was a deal, plain and simple - Russ and Walter got the truck to travel to Guayaramerin, and Pachacamac got a naked white girl to parade through his village. Summer cringed at the thought of being stared at by the villagers, all coming out of their huts and hovels to take a look at the denuded blonde. But what choice did she have? Was she really going to refuse to get naked, and cost Otoniel his life? "It's just getting naked, right?" Summer asked with hesitation. "Pachacamac is not going to sleep with you, if that's what you're asking," the translator replied. She could tell that he wasn't happy about any of this, either. "Like I said, he used the word for ownership more closely associated with animals than with prostitutes or slaves." "Well, let's just hope that our good chief here isn't interested in bestiality," Summer joked, trying to make light of the situation. She didn't want to do this. She didn't want to spend three days naked in Hanan Pacha. But Walter was in serious trouble, and her inhibitions about her body didn't seem to be any nearly as worrisome as the older scientist's snakebite. "And you're staying with me?" "I promise not to leave your side," Otoniel answered. Summer stared at Pachacamac again, her eyes showing off the animosity that she had for him. Pachacamac remained as stoic as he'd been. Summer was wearing little more than a white polo shirt and a pair of khaki shorts. Pulling the shirt up over her head, the blonde revealed a utilitarian white bra. She had packed for a life of functionality, not a life of sexual encounters. Russ had caught her changing once, and Walter had walked in on her during one of her bucket showers back at the camp, but the first man was married and the second was close to three times her age. Now, though, it seemed like her bra was being examined in detail by the small crowd of men behind Pachacamac. Trying her best to stay clinical and as unseductive as possible, she found the clasp to her shorts and undid it. She unzipped her fly, and, grabbing at both the waistband of the shorts and the elastic of her pink and white striped panties underneath, she slipped them down her legs. "What am I doing?" Summer asked herself under her breath. She shook her head, unsure of exactly how she'd gotten into this mess, and cursed herself for acquiescing as quickly as she had. As Summer stepped out of the shorts, she revealed an untamed patch of pubic hair. Though Summer kept her legs clamped together, it was impossible to hide the fact that she was a natural blonde. Her bra was the last article of clothing to be shed, joining the rest of her clothes in a pile by Otoniel's feet. "Happy?" she asked the chief. While the other men around him at grown silent and were gawking at Summer's naked body, Pachacamac maintained the same neutral expression he'd been wearing since the end of his angry conversation with Otoniel. He simply nodded towards Summer's feet, indicating the boots and socks that she was still wearing. "Wonderful," the biologist groaned. She was very careful about leaning down to untie her laces. If she squatted, the insides of her pussy were going to be on display for anyone there with her who cared to look. Instead, she bent over at the waist, consciously facing towards the men and leaving her exposed lower body away from the small group. Her breasts dangled down in front of her as she pulled at the boots, strangely free in a public place. She eventually kicked off the boots, and the socks along with them, and moved them closer to her clothes. Her panties and shirt were balled up and crammed as far as they could go into her left boot, eventually being placed back down in front of Otoniel. Pachacamac smiled for the first time since they had arrived in the village, his teeth surprisingly white for a life of rural poverty. He reached behind his own neck, unfastened a necklace that he was wearing, and took a step towards Summer. The necklace itself was not much more than a series of eight sharp animal teeth attached to a piece of twine, but it obviously meant something to Pachacamac, because he took great care in trying to put it on the blonde girl. "What is he doing?" Summer asked, annoyed at the intrusion into her personal space when she felt so vulnerable. "That's his collar for you," Otoniel explained, continuing the cat metaphor. "That will let people know that you belong to him." Summer was going to protest, but opted not to waste her breath. The chief, having placed the necklace on the young blonde girl, took a step back to marvel at the sight in front of him. Standing just a few inches shy of six feet, Summer was everything that Hollywood looked for - tall, blonde, and alluring. Though she had never been big into exercising back in the States, she was blessed with naturally flawless body. Her stomach was flat, her skin was unblemished, and her legs well toned from eight weeks of hiking around the valley. Her breasts were utterly perfect, not too large but not too small, and her nipples were situated so that they pointed upwards, and currently, outwards. Summer was a bit mystified as to why her nipples were hard the moment. She dismissed the idea that her strip show for Otoniel and the Huaca men had gotten her excited. "Jaguar's teeth?" Summer guessed, fingering the necklace. Otoniel repeated the question to Pachacamac, who replied in the affirmative. Though becoming more and more endangered throughout South America, the jaguar was still relatively prevalent in Bolivia's eastern borderlands. "So what now?" The two outsiders were led from the field back into the small village of Hanan Pacha. As they progressed between the huts and hovels that lined Hanan Pacha's main "street," Summer met the gazes of more and more Pachacamac's people. The chief himself strode right down the center of the village, a smile on his face indicating how proud he was of the exchange he had made. Hanan Pacha may have lost the use of their one and only truck for the next three days, but the naked blonde following Pachacamac back into town seemed to make everything all right. Summer did her best to keep her head up high, trying to seem as indifferent to her nudity as much as possibly. Throughout the morning, she'd bumped into more than one topless woman in Hanan Pacha, and she kept reminding herself of this fact as she met the stares of villager after villager. Somehow, her nudity seemed completely different, entirely sexual in nature. As she met the eyes of an elderly Indian woman, who was topless herself, the realities of her situation sunk in - Summer herself was different. The Huaca were dark-skinned people who had lived in the Oriente since before time began. And even Otoniel, though an outsider to Hanan Pacha, was still a mestizo whose native home was only a few dozen miles away. He was not Huaca, but his Quechua heritage made him more commonplace than Summer. Her nudity may have caused her to stand out, but her light skin and blonde hair would have attracted this much attention whether she was clad or not. Her audience was both men and women. The concept of the men staring at her naked flesh was something that she could write off as simple, testosterone-fueled heterosexual lust. But there were just as many sets of female eyes raking up and down her body, drinking in the white skin, tan lines and all. Were they looking at her sexually? Or were they just comparing themselves to her? The one thing that registered in Summer's mind, however, was the lack of children. If she were to walk down the center of the street back in suburban Babylon, she'd be exposed to just as many young kids as full-grown adults. But while there was the occasional set of young eyes on her, they were rare. As she reflected on this thought, it struck her as odd. Since the moment that they'd arrived in Hanan Pacha earlier that morning, Summer hadn't seen many young children. There were very few people that looked younger than thirteen or fourteen. Where were all the kids? Pachacamac's home, though one of the nicest in the village, was still little more than a mud hut with a tin roof. But it sat at the end of the main drag, adjacent to a beautiful, crystal-clear pool. The pool itself was fed by the Rio Clemente, dropping what Summer guessed to be forty-odd feet from the cliff above the village in a breathtaking waterfall. Yes, Pachacamac's house left much to be desired, but he backyard would be the envy of any American. There were women milling around the pool, where the water flowed onward down the Clemente, filling up jugs of water to take back to their own homes. Summer wasn't looking forward to spending time with Pachacamac in the chief's cramped home, but she was looking forward to getting out of eyesight for a while. She had put on a good face as she walked through Hanan Pacha, but her nerves were completely shot to hell. While Pachacamac's home certainly wouldn't allow her any privacy from the chief himself, it would allow her a respite from the rest of the village. Unfortunately, though, Pachacamac had other plans. Instead of leading her into his home, the Huaca chief led his newly acquired captive to the right side of the hut. Summer was confused, but as Pachacamac picked up a thick metal spike and long metal chain, the girl's confusion left her for a deep sense of fear and foreboding. "What is he planning to do with those?" Summer asked her translator. "Nooo," Otoniel moaned to himself, obviously understanding Pachacamac's intent. He ignored Summer for a few seconds, listening as the chief called for someone named Catequil. "What is he planning to do with those?" Summer repeated her question, noticeably more worried. "Livestock," Otoniel began. "Uywa." A large, strong man emerged from down the street, quickly joining his chief with a sledgehammer in his grasp. As Otoniel again explained the Huaca word for borrow that implied livestock and tools, the large villager began driving the metal spike into the ground. "You're going to be kept outside," the translator explained in English. "The same way that one would keep a llama, or a sheep." "I thought I was a cat!" the blonde screamed at her companion. She watched in horror as Catequil took a step back from the spike, which was now clearly embedded in the ground. Pachacamac was already securing one end of the chain around it, and Summer was sure that she knew what was going to be secured at the other end. "No!" The protest was made to Otoniel, and it went mostly unnoticed by Catequil, Pachacamac, or any of the other villagers standing around. Otoniel, though, had clearly tired of fighting with the chief. He could argue until he was blue in the face, but he knew that any complaint would only be met with same death threat that Pachacamac had offered up before. He didn't want to disappoint Summer, or let her be humiliated yet again, but he knew where the argument would go even before it began. Summer, thankfully, understood. She was usually all hellfire, but she had grown more and more resigned as the day wore on. Like Otoniel, there was little she could do, and rolling with the punches seemed like a much easier thing to do than fighting Pachacamac each step of the way. Was she happy about being chained to the ground like a llama or some other type of livestock? Of course not. But in current situation, this was the least of her problems. And sure enough, Summer was chained to the spike. Pachacamac beckoned her closer, securing the metal links around her left ankle with a cheap-looking combination lock. The lock reminded the girl of her old high school locker back in Rhode Island, and the continued humiliation of being stripped and chained up behind the chief's home was further aggravated by the fact that he had decided to lock her there. Completely naked, devoid of shoes, and lacking anything more than a vague sense of direction back to Ambrosia's camp, Summer hardly saw herself as a flight risk; Pachacamac either saw differently, or simply liked the fantasy-turned-reality that he had created for himself. Task completed, Pachacamac excused himself, leaving Summer and Otoniel alone behind his home. "Alone" may have been a stretch, however, as there were still quite a few Huaca just standing around, soaking in every detail of the naked American's body. Their attention soon began to wane, however, and eventually only a few women remained behind to get water, occasionally glancing in Summer's direction. *** It was close to an hour before Summer and Otoniel even said anything to each other. The naked girl had just taken a seat on the ground, clutching her knees to her chest, and staring off blankly into the waterfall in front of her. Otoniel, at first, had looked like he wanted to say something. But not finding the right words to comfort the girl, he dropped to the ground a few feet from her, staring in the opposite direction down the road. Otoniel was playing absentmindedly with a stick in the dirt when Summer finally turned to him. Her eyes were puffy, and she wiped a tear from underneath them. She had been crying silently for some time. "Do you have water?" Summer asked the translator. Otoniel hesitated for a second, unsure of how to respond. He felt horrible about not being able to keep her out of the situation that they now found themselves in. "No," he finally responded, "but I have iodine." "Do you have a cup?" Summer asked. She smiled gently as she added, "I think my chain here will probably let me reach the river." It was a joke, but it was a joke that made Otoniel wince. He crouched over his backpack, finding both his empty water bottle and a packet of iodine tablets. He wasn't going to make Summer get her own water - after all that she'd been through, this was the very least he could do. After filling the bottle up in the pool and inserted the tablets, Otoniel ventured closer to his companion. "I'm sorry for all this," Otoniel said gently. "These people....they just..." Summer shook her head. "That's not why I'm crying," she replied through a sniffle. Otoniel looked at her questioningly. "Walter," the blonde girl explained. "Here I am, feeling sorry for myself about a few dozen people seeing me naked. And meanwhile, Walter is still thirty hours away from any sort of medical attention." She looked up at the mestizo. "He could die, Otoniel. And I'm sitting here and feeling sorry for myself." The translator was quiet as he sat down alongside Summer, much closer than he'd been before. "It is very brave of you," he said, finally. "You've put Doctor Newcomb's life ahead of your dignity." Summer sniffled again, the tears finally stopping. She took a sip from Otoniel's water bottle. "When do you think they'll be passing through San Eduardo?" Otoniel glanced at his watch, seeing that it was already past four o'clock in the afternoon. "They should be going through San Eduardo around eight o'clock tomorrow morning. Doctor Castillo is there, and perhaps he will be able to help Walter. Perhaps Dr. Szalinski will be back by tomorrow night." The thought was comforting, but the reality of the situation was doubtful. They'd met the "doctor" in San Eduardo when they'd first arrived, and Summer doubted that the elderly Cuban man knew much more about medicine than she did. Otoniel knew this, as well, but he was just trying to comfort her. "Well," she began, "provided that everything goes smoothly for the rest of the night, I think you should probably be back in camp tomorrow morning to get Russ's call from town. He said that he'd radio from San Eduardo, so I think you should probably talk to him. See how Walter is doing. Explain what's going on here." "I'll leave tomorrow at five," Otoniel nodded. It was a two-hour hike back to the camp, and the translator figured he should be there early, in case Russ and Anqas had made better time than usual. Turning his attention back to the nude woman sitting alongside him, Otoniel asked, "Are you sure? Will you be okay?" Summer stared off into the waterfall. "Well, you said I'm a sheep, and not a sex slave. And I belong to the chief. So I should be okay, shouldn't I?" "Yes," Otoniel replied with certainty. Neither one of them was convinced by the response, but it made them both feel better. It was another few hours before the sun began setting. Around the village of Hanan Pacha, both Otoniel and Summer could smell dinner being cooked. There was idle conversation, and there were more than a few villagers who walked by Pachacamac's house, staring long and hard at the naked girl chained up by the pool. Summer didn't ask Otoniel to translate what they were saying about her, uninterested in hearing how the Huaca viewed her naked skin. Her knees were still tucked up against her chin, her arms wrapped around her legs; while the skin of her back was easily seen by those passing by, that was the only view that they were to get. Summer and Otoniel passed the time by chatting with each other. They had spent nearly eight weeks together, but Summer still didn't know all that much about Otoniel's childhood, or growing up in the outskirts of San Eduardo. He explained the many differences between the Quechua, the Huaca, and some of the other smaller tribes that inhabited the Oriente. Summer talked about growing up in Rhode Island, going to college and graduate school in California, and eventually coming to Bolivia with Ambrosia Pharmaceuticals. They could not have come from more different places, and yet there were still enough commonalities that they were able to share the perspectives. They both had overbearing mothers and fathers that tended to drink too much. Both had enjoyed reading as children, Summer about animals and plants, and Otoniel about far away places like London or New York or Babylon. Life was life, no matter where one grew up, and people tended to be faced with similar challenges and similar moments of happiness. Flesh: Prologue Eventually, Pachacamac returned to his new piece of property, sitting cross-legged on the ground alongside Summer and Otoniel. Summer was not fond of the proximity, crunching herself further into a ball to prevent the chief from seeing more of her body. Five others joined him, two men, and three women. Otoniel, after talking briefly with Pachacamac in Huaca, introduced Summer to Apotequil, Mancocapac, Chasca, and Yana. Apotequil was the village's priest, Mancocapac was the chief's brother, Chasca the chief's wife, Yana the chief's daughter, and Kulli a friend of Chasca. Mancocapac certainly let his eyes linger on Summer's body, but the rest of the Huaca treated Summer's nudity as a completely mundane thing. They ignored the fact that she was naked, interested in talking to her about America and what she thought of their little village. Yana handed bowls to both Otoniel and Summer, filled with a strong-smelling mixture of what looked to be rice and beans. The spices on the dish were strong enough to make Summer's eyes water, even without putting the food into her mouth. "Tacu tacu," Otoniel explained. "With llajhua. It's rice and beans with a spicy tomato and pepper sauce." The translator saw the skeptical look on the girl's face. "It's good." Summer wasn't quite so sure. When it came to foods, and spicy foods in particular, she had never been very adventurous. Even though she'd been in Bolivia for two months now, most of her meals had consisted of bland American food that they'd carted down from Babylon, or Otoniel's culinary concoctions that took Peruvian and Bolivian dishes and toned them down for the mild palettes of the biochemists. She had to admit, though, that she was hungry, and leaned forward to scoop some of the dish. It was nearly impossibly eat and keep from being exposed. Choosing the lesser of two evils, Summer let her legs drop from her chest, crossing them to hide her pussy. Mancocapac certainly noticed the now-evident breasts, but everyone else kept eating with little fuss made. The llajhua was excruciatingly spicy, and Summer immediately reached for the beverage that Chasca had set down in front of her. Though the liquid was not anything that Summer had ever tasted before, she swallowed it down quickly. "Slow down," Otoniel cautioned her. "That's aqha, corn beer. It has alcohol in it." The group around the naked American burst into laughter, finding the sight of Summer desperately trying to get the spices out of her mouth outrageously funny. Yana, however, fetched another dish for her guest, setting down another bowl in front of her. "No llajhua," she explained to the blonde. None of the hot spices. Dinner rolled on, Summer becoming less and less inhibited about her nudity as she drank more and more aqha. They talked about Hanan Pacha, Babylon, and every in between. Summer finally worked up the courage to ask the question she'd been thinking about since the afternoon. "Where are all the children?" Otoniel translated the question, and the entire group got quiet. Apotequil, in a serious tone, explained everything to Otoniel, meeting Summer's eyes every now and then. Apparently, the women of Hanan Pacha, as well other surrounding Huaca villages, had not been able to get pregnant for some time. There were exceptions, of course, but the Huaca lived their lives afraid that they were being punished by the fertility goddess Sipusiki. Summer, as a biologist, doubted that a native god had anything to do with infertility among the Huaca. Could it have been the water? Was the Clemente polluted with something? Was it their diet? She had a dozen different possible explanations, but there was little she good do but speculate. By the end of dinner, Summer had a pleasant buzz, though she was far from drunk. Every now and then, she would forget about her nudity, but her inhibitions always came back. Her breasts were out there for anyone to see, her pussy on view every time she shifted her legs. Mancocapac, in particular, seemed to follow every shift, every movement made by the girl. Pachacamac and Apotequil weren't immune from the lure of naked white flesh, but they were less obvious in their glances, pretending as if nothing was out of the ordinary at this little dinner party. Otoniel seemed to be having more difficulty, however. The translator made every effort to maintain eye contact with Summer, forcing himself to ignore the rest of her body. If Mancocapac was making her uncomfortable with his lascivious peeping, Otoniel was making her uncomfortable with his lack of such looks. Every time that he turned to talk to her, Summer was reminded that she was naked by his discomposure. Of all the men around the circle that night, Summer had to say that she felt the least awkward with the chief and the priest, both of whom were calm and casual. Eventually, dinner ended, and the small gathering around naked, captive biologist dispersed. Chasca and Yana took the dirty dishes down to the Clemente, and Mancocapac said goodnight and disappeared down the street. Otoniel, giving a few last minute words of encouragement to Summer, excused himself with Kulli. He and Summer, together, had decided over dinner that he didn't need to stay with her all night. Kulli had extended an invitation into her home, offering to let the mestizo a place to stay in exchange for a small price. What that price was, Summer didn't know. But Kulli's hut was only about seventy-five feet away, meaning that Otoniel would be within earshot the entire night. Apotequil and Pachacamac migrated a short distance away, settling down in a dark shadow not far from where Chasca and Yana were washing out bowls. Though Summer couldn't make out much more of them than their silhouettes, she could hear the low tones of the two men, murmuring back and forth to each other in their native tongue. Summer herself wasn't looking forward to sleeping outside that night. She moved closer to the waterfall pool, sat down and began to clutch her knees to her knees to her chest. Her more private areas were on display in the direction of the pool, but as there was no one currently out there, that thought didn't concern her all that much. No, what bothered her more than anything was the dark. The sun had long since set, but up to that point she'd been surrounded by her translator and the Huaca. Even being naked around them, awkward though it may have been, seemed preferable to the spooky shadows, the sounds of the surrounding jungle, and the over-imaginative mind of the biologist herself. A soft padding of footsteps began to approach Summer, and she readied herself to scream for Otoniel. But instead of Mancocapac coming back for a more physical examination of the blonde, Summer found herself staring up at Apotequil. For some reason, the priest's face seemed kind and trustworthy, and her racing heart began to calm. He showed her a big smile, and held out his hand. In it was a piece of twine, similar the one Pachacamac had given her earlier as a necklace. The piece of twine was significantly longer, however, and instead of jaguar teeth, there was a teardrop-shaped piece of metal attached as a pendant. "Do I have to wear this, too?" Summer asked, annoyance plainly evident in the tone of her voice. Apotequil didn't understand what she was saying, and she didn't understand the next few words that he spoke to her. But Summer managed to ascertain that he wanted her to stand so that he could put on the new piece of jewelry. Rather than fight him, Summer complied. Apotequil seemed honest enough; she didn't feel that she had much to worry about from him. The twine was longer, Summer soon found out, because it was meant as a belly-chain, and not a necklace. The Indian man fastened it at the base of the blonde's naked back, the string hanging loosely over her naked hips. The pendant hung a little too low for Summer's liking, finding itself mixed up in her wild patch of pubic hair. Apotequil came around her, gave her a once over, and then turned back to where he had come from. Summer was puzzled by what the belly-chain was for. The jaguar teeth necklace was to mark her as Pachacamac's property. She understood that. But the belly-chain and pendant were a mystery. She stood, staring down at the pendant for a few seconds, and puzzled over the possible meaning. Apotequil had rejoined his chief a few dozen yards from Summer's position. Unlike before, though, she could now make out their faces in the light being cast from Pachacamac's pipe. Summer sat herself back down in front of the pool, trying to act as normal as possible. But every casual glance down the shore of the pool towards the river was met by two sets of eyes staring back up at her. Apotequil and Pachacamac suddenly seemed more interested in their day's prize. Summer, oddly enough, experienced a dichotomy of emotions at the thought of the eyes on her body. She was at once disgusted by their perversion and embarrassed for herself, but also a little of some other emotion. Slightly shocked at herself, Summer had to admit that there was some part of her that felt a little turned on. She had never been the center of attention in high school, nor in college. She had always been the brain, the smart girl, and the good girl. It wasn't that Summer wasn't good looking - she was gorgeous - but she had always lacked that spark, that flirtiness and confidence in her body that attracted men to women not quite as attractive. Now, thousands of miles from home, she was the focus of most of this little village. Even now, the eyes of the two most important men in Hanan Pacha were concentrated on her body. On her smooth, naked skin. On her round tits, and perky little nipples. On her tanned legs. On the pendant, hanging so close to a place so forbidden. It was balmy in Hanan Pacha, warm enough that Summer wouldn't have to worry about being too cold to sleep. But her own body suddenly felt like it was radiating a significant amount of heat. She felt hot, even, as if the temperature along the pool had suddenly risen five or six degrees. She sat down in the dirt, her arms supporting her upper body behind her, and crossed her legs. Down the shore of the pool, four eyes focused on her body through the dark. Summer tried not to think about the chief and the priest. It had been a long, hard day. And it was going to be a few more long, hard days. Was Pachacamac hard? What about the priest? What was going through their minds at that moment? Were they thinking about being wrapped with Summer's body? Were they wondering what it was like to be with a white girl? These questions rang through Summer's mind, as she herself formed mental pictures to accompany them. She shook her head, wondering where all these thoughts were coming from. She leaned back, uncrossed her legs, and laid flat on her back, her knees still raised. Staring up at the stars, Summer began thinking about Walter and Russ, speeding along dirt roads and overgrown streets all the way to Guayaramerin. They would have been hard-pressed for time, even if the roads had been paved and clear, but things were hardly ever that easy in the far corner of Bolivia. But even as she thought of her friends, her mind drifted back upon everything that happened that day. She had undressed in a field. She had paraded naked through the center of this small, Indian town. Back down the shore, the two men's faces, lit from the pipe, were still staring in her direction. They exchanged a few words between them, and then Apotequil stood. He strolled casually back along the shoreline to where Summer was laying in the dirt. Summer's mind was still adrift, and she found herself absentmindedly fingering her necklace, running her hands beneath the twine and along the bare skin of her neck. She hadn't even realized that she was doing it, until she straightened up at the prospect of the priest reapproaching her. Apotequil grinned at the girl, crouched down along side her, and motioned for her to roll over. He wanted the belly-chain back. Summer complied, rolling onto her right hip and allowing the Huaca man to unfasten the piece of jewelry. After he had done so, she rolled back into her original position, staring up at Apotequil and the night sky beyond him. He smiled again, stood, and walked back to his chief with the pendant in his hand. Summer stared after him, the mental picture of his body wrapped with hers still fresh in her mind. *** Summer awoke the next morning with a shock, feeling a hand on her naked shoulder. She was lying on her right side, her legs curled up towards her body, with her back facing the village behind her. Despite not having a pillow, or a sleeping mat, or even clothes, Summer had slept relatively well. Throughout most her time in Bolivia, Summer had struggled to fall asleep each night, finding it difficult to rest in the heat and mugginess of Valle de los Reyes. But last night, whether it was because of the alcohol or the lack of covering, Summer had slipped easily into unconsciousness, and hadn't awoken until she felt the hand on her shoulder. Jerking away instinctively, Summer rolled to face whoever it was that was touching her. Her left leg was tangled in the chain, but the biologist put enough distance between herself and the unknown person to allow her to turn around and see who it was. Otoniel. "Relax, Doctor Monroe," the translator tried to calm her. "It is only me." Summer's heart was beating fast, her bare chest heaving in a panic. For a few seconds, all she had been able to concentrate on was that someone strange was touching her. Now, the realities of her nudity set in. Covering her tits with her forearm, Summer asked, "What time is it?" She was sitting on her ass in the dirt, her pale flesh covered with sand and dust. Her hair was a tangled mess, filled with more of the same. She brushed dirt from her right cheek as she looked to the mestizo, awaiting his answer. "It is five o'clock," Otoniel replied. "I am leaving for the camp, unless you want me to stay." It was dark out, the sun still beyond the horizon. Despite that, Summer could see a few people milling about in the street of the village, carrying pots full of water or various farming tools. Summer shook the cobwebs from her head, still more asleep than awake. "No, no. Check on Walter. I'll feel a lot better if I know that he's okay." Footsteps began to patter closer to the American and the translator, and Summer looked beyond Otoniel to a familiar face - Kulli. But Kulli was wearing something that was familiar as well - Summer's white polo shirt. There was an exchange between Otoniel and Kulli, the Huaca woman giving a small package of food to Otoniel for his hike back to the Ambrosia camp. She smiled politely at Summer, but left the two outsiders alone after she had finished her business with the man. Summer's eyes asked Otoniel what she wanted to know. "Your shirt," Otoniel answered without ever hearing the question. "Nothing with the Huaca is free. I traded your shirt for a sleeping mat in Kulli's home." The blonde stared after the Indian woman, dressed in an Ambrosia Pharmaceuticals polo shirt and a thin, native skirt. "I'll pick you up more clothes from camp," Otoniel assured her. "And a couple of other things that I can trade with, so I'm not relying on your clothes again." Summer nodded. Her mind drifted from the polo shirt back to her colleagues, who were racing toward Guayaramerin at that point. They'd probably been driving all night, afraid to go too fast in fear of slamming into a downed tree across the road, but afraid to go too slow in fear of losing Walter. Anqas, Punchau, and Russ were doing everything in their power to keep Walter alive, and Summer was back in Hanan Pacha, worried about a native woman wearing her shirt. "Don't tell Russ about this," Summer said slowly. "Que?" Otoniel asked, confused. "Don't tell him," Summer repeated. Her eyes locked with Otoniel's, and she repeated herself one more time, "don't tell him. He's got enough to worry about with Walter, and the last thing he needs right now is one more burden. He can't turn around. He can't send someone back. There's nothing he can do, and it's just one more thing to worry about." "But Doctor Monroe-" "I'm serious, Otoniel." Summer looked down at her naked body, and then back up at the translator. "My self-consciousness really doesn't seem that important, given Walter's situation." Otoniel nodded silently. "Besides," the blonde offered weakly, "everyone in town has already seen me naked, right? What difference does it make if they get a second or third look?" The translator was obviously conflicted, but Summer knew that deep down, he realized that she was right. They exchanged a few more words, Otoniel making sure that she would be okay with him gone, and then parted ways. As the first hints of sunshine began to appear beyond the eastern end of Hanan Pacha, the translator was already making his way into the jungle and back towards their camp. The sun eventually broke the horizon, and the village came alive. While early risers had already gotten water and set out into the fields, the rest of the Huaca were only now joining them. Women, some of them as naked as Summer from the waist up, trudged towards the pool with buckets and jugs. Many of them waded right in, some of them dipping their hair and washing parts of their body. As they passed Summer, many of the women shot her nervous smiles, as well as the word, "Raphi!" After a short while, Summer realized that "raphi" must have meant "hello," and began to respond in kind. This elicited a few giggles from the young women, and a few more complicated responses that Summer hadn't been expecting. Still sitting in the dirt next to Pachacamac's hut, the naked blonde watched the town come alive. Men, dressed in native robes or more Western clothes departed from their homes out in the direction of the fields. A few others went about work around their houses, casting occasional glances down the road towards the American girl by the pool. By that point, Summer had dropped her arm from her chest, knowing that modesty was simply impossible, and that confidence was really the only way to get through however long she was going to be stuck in Hanan Pacha. The odd blend of excitement and embarrassment from the previous night hadn't completely subsided. Though it seemed perverse, Summer had to come to grips with the fact that a part of her was somewhat excited about the nonchalant glimpses that the men took of her body. She, Summer Monroe, was not just a brain. She wasn't a biologist. She wasn't a college graduate, or PhD. She was a set of tits and pussy, to be looked upon with nothing but lust. These men didn't know her. They'd never talked to her. All they had to judge her on were her physical features. And the attraction that they showed gave Summer some bit of pride, made her feel sexier than usual. All this, of course, in addition to being mortified about sitting naked in a public place, moored to the ground with an old metal chain and a combination lock. No, this was not some sort of erotic dream; it was a shame-filled, uncomfortable situation that Summer wanted over. Going to the bathroom, for instance, left Summer divided on what to do. The simple - and least embarrassing - solution was to wade out into the pool, and to relieve herself under the cover of the water. But even though the women of Hanan Pacha were rinsing themselves off in the waterfall's pool, Summer didn't think that she could piss in the town's drinking water. Instead, she waited for the least amount of eyes upon her, walked as far away as she could from both the town and the pool, and squatted. A small group of giggling twenty-something year old girls caught her, but Summer escaped this time mostly unseen.