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Back Whirlwind Save as PDF
Chapters (95)
  1. Title Page
  2. 1
  3. 2
  4. 3
  5. 4
  6. 5
  7. 6
  8. 7
  9. 8
  10. 9
  11. 10
  12. 11
  13. 12
  14. 13
  15. 14
  16. 15
  17. 16
  18. 17
  19. 18
  20. 19
  21. 20
  22. 21
  23. 22
  24. 23
  25. 24
  26. 25
  27. 26
  28. 27
  29. 28
  30. 29
  31. 30
  32. 31
  33. 32
  34. 33
  35. 34
  36. 35
  37. 36
  38. 37
  39. 38
  40. 39
  41. 40
  42. 41
  43. 42
  44. 43
  45. 44
  46. 45
  47. 46
  48. 47
  49. 48
  50. 49
  51. 50
  52. 51
  53. 52
  54. 53
  55. 54
  56. 55
  57. 56
  58. 57
  59. 58
  60. 59
  61. 60
  62. 61
  63. 62
  64. 63
  65. 64
  66. 65
  67. 66
  68. 67
  69. 68
  70. 69
  71. 70
  72. 71
  73. 72
  74. 73
  75. 74
  76. 75
  77. 76
  78. 77
  79. 78
  80. 79
  81. 80
  82. 81
  83. 82
  84. 83
  85. 84
  86. 85
  87. 86
  88. 87
  89. 88
  90. 89
  91. 90
  92. 91
  93. 92
  94. Also by DAVID KLASS
  95. Copyright Page

I see her barely suppress vomiting with sheer willpower and instead force the muscles of her throat to swallow it down.

“She likes it,” I tell the tribe members, who don’t understand my English, but figure out my enthusiastic licking of lips and rubbing of belly and miming that they should send a second helping in Eko’s direction.

Children cheer and jump up and down and then selflessly scoop more grubs out of the fire and unwrap them for Eko, who soon has a daunting stack in front of her.

We can’t risk offending them, I remind her. Better finish them all.

I’ll get you for this, Beacon of Hope, Eko replies. Don’t think that I won’t.

72

72

The early bird gets the worm and I suppose the early tribesman must get the grub, because the People of the Forest go to sleep shortly after darkness falls.

They sleep in hammocks made from hemp, strung up inside the huts. I told them we were married, Eko informs me as we follow them into the dark hut. Otherwise, they’re very curious about both of us and things might get uncomfortable. They’re not at all inhibited about sex.

Posing as a married couple is probably a good idea, I agree.

But when Eko and I crawl into the hammock together, things become uncomfortable precisely because they are so comfortable. I try to keep a discreet distance from her, but soon tumble out onto the floor. Laughter erupts from hammocks on all sides. Helpful tribe members mime that we have to sleep in each other’s arms for stability.

I crawl back into the hammock, and Eko and I hold each other. “Good night, husband,” she whispers.

“Sweet dreams, wife,” I whisper back, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the heat and closeness of her body, not to mention the feel of her breasts against my chest.

“You don’t seem like you’re that tired,” Eko teases. “In fact, your body feels extremely awake.”

“I’m doing the best I can,” I mutter back. “Good night, Eko. Sleep tight. I don’t think the bedbugs are going to bite because our hosts have probably eaten them already.”

I shut my eyes and try to sleep, but it’s a sham and we both know it. A sound soon makes things even worse.

A couple is making love. We can hear their gasps, and see their hammock lurch in the moonlight that filters in from outside.

No one else seems to pay them any attention. All around us men, women, and children are starting to nod off, except for the amorous pair, who are panting loudly.

They’re doing well. It’s hard to make love in a hammock, Eko tells me, as if she’s had lots of experience.

I’ll take your word for it.

You don’t have to.

Meaning?