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 ï>¿Flesh byWonderstormÂ(C)
Flesh: Prologue

   Bolivia, 1983

   Summer knew that something was wrong the second she saw Otoniel dash out
of the jungle towards her.  His eyes were as wide as dinner plates and the
color had completely gone out of his skin.  He was panting too hard to
shout anything at either Summer or Russ, but there was a sense of panic
that had completely engulfed him.

   "Walter," Summer guessed as Otoniel got closer.  "Something's wrong with
Walter."

   "Doctor Newcomb!" Otoniel finally yelled out over his panicked breaths.
"Doctor Newcomb has been bitten!"

   Russ took off towards Otoniel, meeting him halfway down Hanan Pacha's
main street.  The village was small, so it took little time for the two men
to collide, Russ grabbing the smaller man by the shoulders to calm him
down.

   "Where is he?" Russ asked quickly, shaking Otoniel.  "Where's Walter?"

   "In the fields," the translator panted, desperately trying to regain
composure.

   There were shouts coming from jungle behind them, as the Huaca villagers
caught up with Otoniel.  They were shouting in Huaca, but Summer at least
understood that they were calling for Punchau, Hanan Pacha's medicine man.

   "Let's go," Russ said to both Otoniel and Summer, following Punchau as
the Huaca raced off in the direction of the planting fields.  Otoniel took
a few deep breaths before falling in behind Summer and Russ, but he
dutifully followed them back out of the village.

   Hanan Pacha was little more than a dozen or so huts scattered alongside
the Rio Clemente in the Valle de los Reyes.  There were a few irrigation
ditches that ran from the river to the farmland that a Peace Corps
volunteer had helped dig nearly a decade earlier, but other than that,
Hanan Pacha looked as if it hadn't change in centuries.  To a certain
extent, it hadn't.

   The Huaca Indians, who called all of Valle de los Reyes in Bolivia their
home, had somehow managed to slip through the cracks of history.  They'd
coexisted relatively peacefully with Inca at the height of Incan
civilization, and had somehow managed to go unnoticed by Pizarro and the
Conquistadors as they carved up most of South America.  Antonio JosÃ(C) de
SucrÃ(C) had hidden from the Spanish in a Huaca village sometime in 1824,
but otherwise the Huaca had managed to sit out the War for Independence, as
well as the subsequent War of the Pacific and the Chaco War.  Even the
political movements, both the MNR and the MIR, tended to ignore the Huaca,
finding better support in the cities and other parts of the country than
they did in Bolivia's north-eastern corner.  Dr.  Hernán Siles Zuazo, who
had been swept back into power the previous year, had been in office for
seven months before he even mentioned the Huaca in public.

   When Summer, Russ, and Walter had first arrived in Bolivia eight weeks
earlier, they had cherished the idea that they were in a different world, a
forgotten corner of the globe that had remained unspoiled by
industrialization.  If Walter was now in trouble, however, the long trek
back to San Eduardo or Guayaramerin didn't seem to be so wondrous.

   Punchau reached the sixty-one-year-old chemist first, dropping alongside
side him to examine the teeth marks in Walter's ankle.  He chattered
hurriedly back and forth with the farmers in Huaca, and by the time that
Russ and Summer had caught up with him, he had a firm grasp on the
situation.  A runner was sent for both Pachacamac, the village chief, and
Pachacamac's son.

   If Otoniel had been pale, Walter was completely white.  He was howling
in agony, rolling on the ground as the Huaca farmers held him down.  Summer
wasn't even sure that the elderly man even realized that she and Russ were
there.  The medicine man looked up at Russ, quickly explaining the
situation in Spanish.

   "What did he say?" Summer asked after a few seconds of back-and-forth
between Russ and Punchau.  She spoke little Spanish and no Huaca, so she
was lost in shouts and verbal concerns that were floating around her.

   "Greensnake," Russ replied seriously.  "Andean greensnake.  Apparently
it had just been lying among the crops, and Walter accidentally stepped on
it." Walter had gone off with some of the farmers to see the fields while
Summer and Russ had remained behind, in the village.  The older man had
taken Otoniel with him to translate what the farmer was saying, leaving
Russ and Punchau to communicate back in the village in Spanish.  Walter had
been talking about Huaca crop growth since they'd first arrived in the
Valle de los Reyes, and the chance to see first-hand what the Huaca were
growing was too much of an opportunity for him to miss.

   "How bad is it?" Summer asked, brushing her long blonde hair from her
eyes.

   Russ shook his head.  "Punchau says the worst part is the pain." He
stopped, listening the medicine man's explanation in Spanish as Otoniel
finally dropped down with them.  "Punchau sent someone to get something for
the pain - some type of salve or something.  He's not in immediate danger,
but he's suffering pretty bad from the venom."

   "Walter!  Walter!  Can you hear me?" Russ asked the older man.  There
was no sense that Walter heard him, his eyes rolling back in his head.

   "Greensnake venom is hallucinogenic," Otoniel explained.  "But you
definitely still feel the burning all throughout your insides."

   Summer glanced over at their translator.  Otoniel hadn't grown up in the
Valle de los Reyes, but he had grown up in Bolivia.  "Have you been bitten
before?" she asked.

   He shook his head, solemnly replying, "mi hermano."

   From the look on Otoniel's face, Summer knew that Otoniel's brother had
not made it.  "How long do we have?"

   Before Otoniel could reply, Russ answered, "About twenty-four hours. 
That's what Punchau says."

   Otoniel and the medicine man had a short conversation, Punchau's Huaca
much better than his Spanish.  As they talked, a rusty pick-up truck
bounced across the fields, Pachacamac sitting in the passenger seat and his
son Anqas behind the wheel.  There were a few men in the bed of the truck,
which came to an abrupt halt a few feet from the hectic scene around Dr. 
Walter Newcomb.  Dust rose into the air as Pachacamac stepped out, stooping
down alongside Punchau.  As the chief and his medicine man talked soberly,
Otoniel turned to Russ and Summer.

   "I should have fixed our jeep," Otoniel cried, a worried look in his
eyes.  "I should have fixed out jeep."

   The jeep that Ambrosia Pharmaceuticals had purchased for the small team
of scientists had been broken for over a week and half.  Otoniel had been
pressing Walter about the need to fix it, in case an emergency arose, but
Walter had told Otoniel to focus on other tasks around the Ambrosia camp,
like the water, the radio, and so on and so on.  They weren't planning on
making a supply run into San Eduardo for another two weeks, and in Walter's
opinion, there were better things that the Bolivian could be doing with his
time.

   "Calm down, Oto," Russ consoled the other man.  "The Huaca have a truck
- I'm sure that they'll let us borrow it to take Walter to the hospital. 
Now, what else did Punchau say about Walter?"

   As Otoniel translated what the medicine man had said earlier, one of the
villagers from the back of Anqas's pick-up began rubbing a thick white
paste onto Walter's leg.  Almost immediately, the older man's shivering and
shaking had stopped, and he seemed to calm down.

   "What is that?" Summer asked, surprised that the cream was even having
an effect.  She had half-expected nothing to happen, thinking it was
nothing more than a superstitious herbal remedy.

   "Samincha.  It's a native blend of roots, leaves, and berries from
plants around the valley," Otoniel explained.  "It's not a cure, though; it
simply helps the pain go away."

   Pachacamac clapped to get Otoniel's attention, and began talking with
the team's translator.  As Summer ran her hand across Walter's forehead in
an effort to calm him down, she listened to an increasingly insistent
conversation on the part of both men involved.  Otoniel was clearly upset,
but Pachacamac seemed just as annoyed.

   "What?" Russ asked.  "What is he saying?"

   Otoniel gave one last angry glance towards the chief before turning to
two Americans in front of him.  "He says that his son will take us to the
hospital in Guayaramerin, but he doesn't trust us with the truck."

   "'Doesn't trust us?'" Russ asked, not believing what he had heard. 
"Anqas is going to be with us.  Doesn't he trust his truck with his own
son?"

   The translator shook his head.  "We need to give him some sort of
collateral, some sort of insurance that we will bring the truck back."

   "But Anqas is going to be with us, right?  He's driving us to
Guayaramerin, isn't he?"

   Calming himself down, Otoniel explained, "You have to understand that
this truck is the only vehicle for miles, Doctor Szalinski.  Hanan Pacha
relies on it day in and day out.  For Pachacamac to let us use the truck,
even to take Walter to Guayaramerin, requires a lot of trust on his part."

   "Russ, let's just give him something," Summer interjected.  "Whatever it
is, we can come back for it.  It's going to take us twenty-seven hours to
get to the hospital, and from what I understand, that's about three hours
longer than Walter has.  Whatever he wants, let's just leave it here,
because we need to go NOW.  Even if it's some of the expensive equipment,
we're going to be back for it.  We aren't planning to steal the truck."

   "Fine, fine," Russ replied.  "What does he want, Oto?"

   Otoniel swallowed hard, obviously nervous about the chief's demand.  "He
wants Summer."

   Summer and Russ both exchanged a look of concern.  The woman, in
disbelief, asked, "He wants me?"

   "Just as collateral, Doctor Monroe.  You said yourself that we will be
back after Walter gets to the hospital."

   Summer wasn't sure she liked the idea of remaining behind as collateral
for the truck.  For one thing, she thought she should be with Walter.  For
another, she was skeptical about what the chief wanted her for.

   Otoniel obviously sense the hesitation, and elaborated.  "There are two
things I need to explain first.  The Huaca concept of 'borrowing' something
essentially means a transfer of ownership.  Technically, we will 'own' the
village's truck, and the village with 'own' you, Doctor Monroe."

   "Own....?"

   "Yes, but while there is no difference to the Huaca when it comes to
owning and borrowing, there are two distinct words for the type of
ownership that is implied.  The chief used the one that signifies ownership
of a thing, like the truck, or a plow, or like livestock." He looked into
Summer's eyes reassuringly.  "The type of ownership that you're worried
about - slavery, prostitution - necessitates the use of different word. 
You're just an object, like the truck, and not a concubine or sexual slave,
Doctor Monroe."

   "I still don't like it," Summer replied.

   "Summer, what choice do we have?" Russ implored.  "Walter needs to get
to the hospital, and needs to leave RIGHT NOW.  Even if the jeep was
working back at the camp, it's a two-hour hike back there.  We need to get
Walter into this truck, and on the road to Guayaramerin immediately."

   Summer was still doubtful.

   More calmly, Russ reassured his colleague, "We'll be back as soon as we
can.  It's a day and half there, and then a day and half back.  I'll leave
Walter with the doctors in Guayaramerin, and be back for you as soon as
possible."

   "Yes!  Yes!" Summer finally gave in.  She didn't like the trade, didn't
like the idea that she was going to be like "livestock" for Pachacamac and
the village of Hanan Pacha.  But there was no other option.  Either she'd
stay behind in the Huaca village, or Walter would die.

   Still, something bothered her about the whole arrangement.

   "Good," Russ replied, ordering Punchau in Spanish to help him get Walter
up on to the truck.  Otoniel and some of the villagers milling around
helped as well, hefting the elderly man into the bed.  Walter's moaning and
squealing had stopped, and he was noticeably calmer than he'd been when
Summer and Russ had first found him.  Obviously, the salve had worked its
magic.

   "Otoniel," Russ said to the translator as he climbed up into the bed of
the truck himself, "stay behind with Summer and make sure that she's okay.
And if you get a chance, try to get the jeep going."

   "Yes, Doctor Szalinski."

   Punchau and a few other villagers joined Walter and Russ in the back of
the truck, as Anqas and another man slipped themselves into the cab.

   "I'll radio back to the camp and leave a message when we go through San
Eduardo, and then again once we get to the hospital in Guayaramerin." As
the truck started up, Russ turned his attention back to Summer.  "You'll be
fine," he assured her.  "You've got Otoniel with you, and I'll be back in
three days."

   With that, Anqas floored the gas and the truck disappeared in a cloud of
dirt, racing up the road from the fields and away from Hanan Pacha.  Only
Summer, Otoniel, Pachacamac, and two other men remained behind.

   "Well," Summer began, he heart still beating fast because of everything
that had just happened, "what now?"

   Otoniel translated her question to Pachacamac, and the middle-aged chief
simply laughed at first.  He then began to slowly answer Otoniel, and
Otoniel apparently didn't like the response.  They shouted back and forth
at each other, Pachacamac growing less and less patient each time he had to
counter the translator's argument.

   "What?" Summer asked.  "What is it?" She was already worried about the
full consequences of her deal with the chief.

   Otoniel shook his head, not wanting to let her now.  After she pushed
him, he finally said, "He wants you to remove your clothes."

   ***

   Bolivian tree frogs were to blame.  If it weren't for Bolivian tree
frogs, Walter wouldn't have been bitten by a greensnake, Russ wouldn't be
racing away towards the nearest hospital, and Summer wouldn't be faced with
the prospects of stripping for a Huaca chief.

   There were stories about Bolivian tree frogs in the northeastern region
of the country, nestled away in a single valley known as the Valle de los
Reyes, or the Valley of the Kings.  Apparently, Spanish scientists and
botanists who had scoured over most of Alta Peru had discovered an anomaly
among the frogs from that region.  While Bolivian tree frogs elsewhere were
little different from the many other species of tree frogs that populated
the continent, frogs in the Valle de los Reyes went through an accelerated
growth process.  They were hatched out of eyes and spent their early lives
as tadpoles, just like other frogs, before maturing to adulthood.  The only
difference was that these particular frogs did it in one-sixth the amount
of time.

   While the Spanish had abandoned any additional scientific study of the
anomalous frogs in favor of plundering the hillsides for silver and
enslaving the native Incan population for the mines, the first records of
these particular tree frogs survived, and piqued the curiosity of someone
at Ambrosia Pharmaceuticals in the American metropolis of Babylon.  The
drug company had put itself on the map with experimental new chemicals, and
as the biomedical boom continued in Babylon's downtown Leather District,
Ambrosia was looking for the "next big thing."

   If the stories were true, and the Bolivian tree frogs of the Valle de
los Reyes were truly able to go through an accelerated adolescence, the
hormones that caused the acceleration would be worth a small fortune back
in the US.  The eyes of Ambrosia's executives had only seen possible dollar
signs, even through the practical applications had yet to be imagined. 
Scientists, much like Summer Monroe, Russell Szalinski, and Walter Newcomb,
had imagined a vast potential of uses for such a theoretical compound,
called "accelerated growth hormone," or simply AGH for short.

   And so, Ambrosia had sent a small team down to South America on an
expedition.  Dr.  Walter Newcomb, a life-long employee of Ambrosia, had
been picked to lead the team.  He was getting old, but he still knew more
about drugs, hormones, and pharmaceuticals than many others in Babylon. 
And since he had no family, there was little to keep him from spending an
extended length of time down in Bolivia.

   Russ Szalinski, on the other hand, had both a wife and a seven-year-old
daughter back in the suburbs of Babylon.  But the search of AGH was so
compelling that Russ had begged his higher-ups to be put on the project. 
Even if he had to spend four months apart from his family, the discovery of
AGH would put him on the scientific map.

   The last scientist picked for the team was Dr.  Summer Monroe, who had
only just recently completed her PhD in biology.  Though she had applied
for grants in order to do her own studies into the mysteries of amphibian
biology in Boston, the National Science Foundation had passed her over, and
Summer found herself casting about for a paying job.  Ambrosia
Pharmaceuticals, luckily enough, was looking for a frog expert to send on
their expedition to northern Bolivia.  A few months later, Summer found
herself in the Valle de los Reyes, studying tree frogs, analyzing chemical
samples, and being order to strip out of her clothes by an Indian chief.

   Otoniel was there with her, of course, but he mostly looked powerless to
refute Pachacamac's orders.  Walter had hired Otoniel Sandoval in La Paz,
as the young man had grown up outside of San Eduardo and spoke fluent
Spanish, English, Quechua, and Huaca.  Otoniel was more than just a
translator, though, providing guidance to the cultures of the people they
met in rural Bolivia, protecting them from overzealous soldiers at
checkpoints, and otherwise acting as a general custodian for them at their
camp in Valle de los Reyes.

   While the three scientists had had little contact with the Huaca in
their weeks since arriving in the valley, all three had expressed interest
in visiting the local village of Hanan Pacha.  It was close to eight weeks,
however, before they made the two-hour hike through the Bolivian jungle to
meet Pachacamac and his people.  And then, in a little less than two hours,
everything had gone to hell.

   "Fuck you!" Summer swore at the chief, even if Pachacamac couldn't
understand her.  Turning her attention to Otoniel, she repeated the curse.
"And fuck you, too.  I'm not taking my clothes off for him."

   "I told him that, Doctor Monroe," Otoniel defended himself.  "But
Pachacamac is standing by the letter of the law.  You see, to expand upon
the custom of livestock ownership -"

   "No!" Summer insisted, glaring at the chief.  "I don't care what the
letter of law says.  I'm not taking off my clothes."

   "Summer-" the mestizo began.

   "No!  No!  No!  Look, we've already got the truck.  And it's not like
I'm going anywhere, like he needs to hold my clothes keep me from sneaking
off, if that's what this is about." She glanced at the translator.  "So
what's the worst he can do if I don't comply?"

   "If we were closer to La Paz?  Litigation.  Here in the Oriente, though,
breaking a contract carries more strict penalties."

   "Strict penalties like what?" Summer asked.  Surely, Otoniel didn't mean
that breaking a contract would be cause enough for taking someone's
life...did he?

   The grim look on Otoniel's face told her all she needed to know.

   "So let me get this straight," the blonde said nervously, backing away
from the Huaca chief and the translator both.  "Walter is bitten by a
snake, and is going to die.  But in order for the chief here to take him to
the hospital, I have to be 'given' to him like a shovel or a donkey.  And
then I have to strip naked, or else he'll kill me.  Am I getting that
right?"

   Otoniel shook his head.  "He'll kill me."

   A couple of heartbeats passed as Summer took in their situation.  There
had to be another way out of this, something that wouldn't end in her
completely au naturÃ(C)l or Otoniel walking around without his head. 
"Why?" she finally asked, breaking the silence.  "Why does he want me
naked?"

   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.

   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.

   The morning passed by slowly, and Summer spent most of it on the shore
of the pool, dangling her feet in the water and sharing smiles with the
women who came down to gather water.  She became more confident in calling
out hello ("Raphi!"), but most of the women kept their distance from the
chief's new pet.

   Chasca, dressed in nothing more than a blanket wrapped around her body,
finally joined Summer an hour or so after sun-up.  Neither woman could
understand what the other said, so they kept quiet, for the most part. 
Chasca made an effort to teach Summer a few words - qacha was dried fruit
and t'anta the bread that Summer had for breakfast.  She didn't drink the
water (yaku) directly from the pool, as she saw the Huaca do, but instead
dipped Otoniel's water bottle in, and then followed the water with iodine
tablets.

   The two women, one dressed in a blanket, the other completely nude, sat
on the shore of the waterfall's pool for some time.  They were mostly
silent, but every now and then Chasca would point at something and say its
name.  Summer kept up with the game as best she could, picking up the Huaca
vocabulary about seventy percent of the time.  "Alqo" was "dog." "Chaka"
was "leg." "Wasi" was "house." For a short while, Summer's concern about
her nudity faded away.  Until the word "raka."

   "Raka," Chasca repeated, pointing in the direction of Summer's naked
crotch.

   Summer, a bit concerned by the offhand way that the Indian woman was
pointing at her vagina, crossed her legs.

   "Raka," the chief's wife repeated, obviously waiting for Summer to
repeat the word.

   "Raka," Summer conceded, to Chasca's delight.  The word for "vagina."

   Chasca stood suddenly, as if the word had triggered something in her
memory.  Leaving the naked blonde by the shore of the pool, Chasca hurried
inside her home.  She returned a few seconds later with a pair of old
scissors and her daughter.  Yana was dressed in a similar fashion to her
mother, wearing nothing but a blanket wrapped around her body.  While Yana
went around the back of the hut, Chasca grabbed the blonde girl by the arm,
and pulled her up off her ass.

   Behind the hut, Yana disrobed.  Naked as Summer, the girl tossed her
blanket over a long pole that stuck out of the corner of the back wall at a
right angle, creating a screen to hide her nudity from the women further
down the shore of the pool.  There was a similar pole on near side of the
hut, and as Chasca and Summer joined the chief's bare daughter behind he
hut, Chasca similarly shed her blanket, hanging it as her daughter did over
the other pole.  The three women, all dressed in nothing more than a few
odd pieces of jewelry, were completely hidden from three sides.  Their
makeshift booth was open only towards the pool, and no one along the shore
of the pool, either towards the Clemente or away from it, could see inside.

   Summer was a bit nervous about what was to happen, cut off from the rest
of the village with the naked mother and daughter.  Both women were easily
the most attractive Huaca women in the village, with or without their
clothing.  Yana couldn't have been any older than eighteen - her small,
firm breasts gave away her youth.  Her body was pocked with a few
birthmarks here or there, in contrast to the plain white skin of the
American girl not far from her.

   Chasca herself was probably only thirty-four or thirty-five, Summer
guessed.  She'd likely given birth to Anqas when she was just a teenager
herself, younger than Yana was now.  Her body was still in its prime, and
the chief's wife could have passed for Yana's older sister, instead of her
mother.

   Both women had surprisingly smooth legs and well-groomed pubic areas,
Summer noted without meaning to.  Though Summer had shaved her legs only
the morning before, such grooming habits had mostly fallen by the wayside
in the months that she'd been in Bolivia.  She hadn't been trying to
impress any of her companions.  There were days at a time when Summer
hadn't even bothered shower back at the Ambrosia camp, getting more and
more ripe as the week went on.  Her legs had been shaved before coming up
to Hanan Pacha, but if her pubic hair was a bit unkempt, she hadn't planned
on it being on display for anyone.

   Behind the hut and inside the provisional privacy screens was a wide
array of pots, buckets, and jugs, some filled with water, some not.  Yana
took a seat on an overturned bucket, found herself a piece of cloth hanging
on a hook overhead, and began washing her body with water from a large
barrel.  There was a single bar of Western-looking soap in a dish next to
her, and it wasn't long before the girl had lathered up.

   Meanwhile, Chasca had guided Summer to a small, metal drum towards the
outer edges of the temporary shower stall.  Summer sat, as she seemed to be
expected to do, and was handed a cloth similar to Yana's, as well as a
small cup.

   To be fair, this particular "shower" wasn't much different to those that
she'd been taking back at the camp.  There was, of course, no running water
anywhere in the Valle de los Reyes, and bucket showers were the norm. 
Still, Summer wasn't quite at easy with the nonchalant nudity demonstrated
by the mother and daughter here with her, who were both calmly and casually
cleaning themselves.

   But the point of the shower, of course, was Summer's "raka." Obviously,
the American's ungroomed pussy had caught the eyes of the chief's wife, and
she intended to make Summer do away with it.  When the blonde girl was
handed the scissors halfway through the showering session, she knew what
Chasca wanted her to do.

   Had it been Pachacamac or Apotequil who had made the request, had it
been the day earlier, Summer would have refused.  She was here in Hanan
Pacha, after all, being held as livestock against her will.  What did she
care about how her snatch looked?  But Chasca was harder to refuse.  The
chief's wife had brought her breakfast, and then spent close to an hour
that morning with her, teaching her a few dozen words in Huaca.  Chasca had
spent time with Summer when the girl had felt isolated and embarrassed. 
And even now, as Chasca handed the scissors to Summer, she was only doing
so with the intent of being nice.  It wasn't an order.  It wasn't even a
request.  From the look in Chasca's eyes, she could tell that Chasca was
only handing her the scissors because she thought it might be what Summer
wanted.

   And so, perched precariously on the edge of the overturned drum, Summer
began snipping at that hair above her pussy, her "raka." She didn't go
right to the skin, but she did go far enough that the outline of her labia
could be seen through the light blonde hair.

   The shower and grooming session complete, Chasca was the first to take
her side of the screens down.  Still soaking wet, she dried herself with
the blanket, wrapping it around her body, and headed back around the hut
with a smile towards Summer.  Yana did the same, and Summer suddenly was on
display again, being peered at from down the shore of the pool, as a group
of old women did their laundry in the Clemente.

   For twenty minutes, Summer hadn't felt as awkward about being as naked
as she was.  For twenty minutes, she'd only been as naked as the two other
women, and only seen by the two other women.  But now, clean and trimmed,
she was again out in the open, livestock chained to the ground, owned by
the chief of Hanan Pacha.

   ***

   Most of the day was relatively uneventful, and less stomach turning than
Summer expected.  Most of the village's men were in the fields, or out
hunting, or off and out of Hanan Pacha for one reason or another.  Sure,
there were women everywhere, women who stared at Summer's naked body more
openly than many of the men had.  But while her nudity was embarrassing,
Summer wasn't as afraid of being approached in Otoniel's absence. 
Pachacamac and Apotequil both floated around town, but neither man gave
Summer the same perverted looks as Mancocapac had done the night before.

   There was young boy, probably only six or seven, that bothered her for
part of the day.  He'd run up to Pachacamac's house, pull on Summer's
chain, and then scamper away before Summer could do anything.  She was
livestock, all right.  After the boy, whose name was Oqe, had done this
seven or eight times, Apotequil finally caught him, gave him a spanking and
a stern warning, and sent him on his way.  Oqe left Summer alone for the
rest of the day.

   But Oqe was an exception in Hanan Pacha, and as Summer sat with Yana at
lunchtime, she remembered her questions the night before.  Where were all
the children?  Oqe was one of the very few children in the village, and he
had amused himself alone for the better part of an hour, running up and
teasing the naked American girl.

   Summer looked over at Yana, wondering why Yana didn't have children,
didn't have a husband.  Chasca, Summer guessed, had at this point in her
life given birth to two children, Anqas and Yana, but Yana was still
childless.  Yes, Yana was still young by American standards, but a lot of
women her age already had three or four-year-old children in San Eduardo
and Guayaramerin.

   Sipusiki, the goddess of fertility, had apparently laid a curse upon the
Huaca, preventing them from having many children.  Summer wondered if it
was just that way in Hanan Pacha, or if other Huaca villages in the Oriente
were suffering from the same "curse." From what Otoniel had told her, it
sounded as if the Huaca from all over Valle de los Resyes had been
afflicted with Sipusiki's anger.  Summer chewed her lunch, speaking up
every now and then to say the names of her food in Huaca, but let her mind
wander over the possibilities.

   Was it the water?  If so, then she or Russ would have found something
weeks ago, when they were looking for oddities in Valle de los Reyes that
could explain the tree frogs' extraordinary growth rates.

   Was it their diet?  Summer wasn't sure how different the Huaca diet was
from other tribes in Bolivia, but she doubted it could have been too
different.  And as she had noted earlier, there didn't seem to be a problem
with reproduction rates in the Quechua towns nearby.

   It puzzled her, because she couldn't think of or see anything that might
cause a drop-off in birth rates.  The vegetation was the same as in San
Eduardo, the diets were similar to those in San Eduardo.

   As the sun began to set to the west, the men of Hanan Pacha began to
drift back into town.  They carried fruits, vegetables, and tools with
them, out of the fields and down the main street to their houses.  Their
eyes found Summer's naked body down the street, still chained to where she
had been that morning.  The same mix of embarrassment and excitation that
had hit her the previous night hit Summer again, and though she felt a bit
perverted, Summer again had to admit that there was a part of her that was
getting turned on.

   She shifted her mind from all that, however.  Instead of focusing on the
eyes that were roaming her naked body, Summer walked out into the pool
behind Pachacamac's hut, letting the cool water wash away the sweat and
grit that she had accumulated that day from sitting in the dirt under the
hot Bolivian sun.  The chain dragged behind her, but was long enough to
allow Summer to walk right up to the cliff wall.  The pool was shallow,
never getting so deep that the surface of the water reached past the bottom
of Summer's rib cage.  The bottom of the pool was surprisingly soft, as
well, covered in a cushiony layer of silt.

   Summer stuck her head under the waterfall, allowing the water to run
down her back into the pool.  Despite the forty-foot drop from the cliff
above, the water didn't hurt as it contacted the blonde's body.  It was
slightly cold, but in comparison to the humidity that had dogged Summer all
day, it was a refreshing break.  She ran her hands through her long, blonde
hair, letting the water rinse it out, as she turned to face the village
from beneath the waterfall.

   At that point, she heard a whistle.  Not a catcall, but rather the
whistle of someone trying to get her attention.  Standing on the shore of
the pool was the priest, Apotequil, with the belly-chain from the night
before in his hands.  Summer wasn't eager to leave the waterfall behind,
but she followed her summons, wading her way back towards the priest.

   Seated on the shore of the Clemente, a few dozen yards away, was a group
of five or six young men, probably the same age as Yana.  They all
pretended to be rinsing their tools and talking casually among themselves,
but their gazes kept returning to the naked blonde in the pool.  Summer
gave them all a sheepish grin when she caught them looking, bashful once
again about her state of undress.

   Apotequil met her three-quarters of the way back from the falls, her
recently trimmed pussy just barely breaking the surface of the water.  He
smiled at her congenially, gently taking her by the left elbow and turning
her away from him, away from the young men, and away from Hanan Pacha.  His
arms carefully wrapped around her abdomen as he handed the twine to
himself, letting the silver pendant dangle down in front of Summer's cunt.
As Apotequil tied the belly-chain behind the blonde's back, the twine again
hung below her waistline, resting on her hips.

   Task completed, Apotequil patted the girl on the outside of her right
buttock, signaling to her that she was all set.  Summer was a little taken
aback by the unexpected contact, but not as bothered by it as she should
have been.  He was an old man, Summer told herself.  He's not a real
threat.

   As if to drive the point home, Summer turned to face the priest and
kissed him on the cheek.  Shooting a teasing glance towards the young men
on the shore of Clemente, Summer slowly fell back into the pool behind her,
submerging her body in its entirety below the water.

   "Why didn't I think of this earlier," Summer muttered to herself as she
swam backwards towards the waterfall.  Instead of parading around on the
shore, exposing herself to the entire Huaca village, she could hide here in
the pool, letting the water cover her naked body.

   As she kicked her legs, the silver pendant repeatedly bounced against
her vagina, rubbing up against the lips each time.  Summer toyed with the
idea of shifting it, but as it happened for the fifth or sixth time, she
decided against it.  The belly-chain, with the pendant hanging off of it,
was almost like clothing - like a loincloth that didn't really cover all
that much.  And, though she had battled against the occasional perverted
thought all day, Summer had to admit that it felt nice to have something
make contact with her pussy.  It was wrong.  It was deviant.  And it was
naughty.

   The young men by the Clemente still hadn't left, making Summer guess
that this must be the longest they'd ever spent cleaning their farming
tools after a day's work.  The thought made her laugh a little bit, though
she was far from comfortable with the staring.  Six young men were all
looking in her direction, waiting for her to break the plane of the water
again, waiting to get another glimpse of her tits.

   She wondered how many of their dicks were erect.

   Her long, blonde hair floated in a puddle around her as she swam into
the waterfall.  Cool water came down forcefully on her head, clouding her
vision but allowing her an escape from the eyes across the way.

   Shocking even herself, Summer rose out of the water suddenly, her
nipples completely erect as she stood under the cascading water.  This'll
give the little perverts a treat, she thought to herself as she guided her
hands down her naked skin, from her the base of her neck, across her
breasts, and down the front of her body.  They disappeared below the water,
and Summer let the men imagine where her hands went from there.

   She turned away from them, allowing them to only see two-thirds of her
naked back, and pulled her long hair in front of her.

   "What am I doing?" Summer asked herself, suddenly aware that she had
been putting on a pornographic show for the young Huaca.  The last thing
that she needed to do right now, alone and chained up in a Bolivian
village, was to tease a bunch of horny young men.  She glided backwards
into the water, preventing them from having another look at her breasts.

   The pendant again brushed against her pussy, and Summer was almost
overcome with the need to follow it with her fingers.  Masturbation had
always calmed her down, always let her relax.  Summer smiled as she
remembered Organic Chemistry 35 in college, and how stressed she'd been
throughout the semester.  At that point in her life, she was single,
dedicated to her courses and her grades, and the only way she knew to relax
herself was through masturbation.  She had been a fiend that term.

   Summer wondered if that was what she needed now, to calm herself from
the fact that she'd been naked for over twenty-four hours now, on exhibit
for the Huaca.  She had to admit that the idea sounded appealing, if more
than a little infeasible.  Nudity was one thing, but Summer certainly
wasn't going to go through the humiliation of getting herself off in front
of an audience.  Even out here, in the pool, it would be plainly evident
what she was doing.

   She spun around as she paddled around the pool.  The men were gone, but
they had been replaced by others, a little older, but no less curious about
the naked American.  The sun had set, but there were still lingering red
and orange hues overhead, casting long shadows across the Huaca that Summer
could see.

   The jostling silver pendant wouldn't let Summer forget its presence,
though.  It had probably been at least three weeks since the last time
Summer had brought herself to orgasm.  She'd only done it three or four
times during their stay in Valle de los Reyes, usually preferring to wait
until after dark, when she was in her own tent, before silently touching
her clit.

   But three weeks ago, Walter, Russ, and Otoniel had all taken a daylong
expedition off into the jungle, leaving Summer alone at the camp.  That
morning, taking advantage of her solitude, Summer slipped back to her tent,
slipped out of her skirt, and slipped her fingers into her pussy.  For
Summer, the best release had always been the loudest release, and for the
first time in months, she'd been allowed to make as much noise as she
wanted.  She held back some, however, afraid that her colleagues might be
near by and afraid for her safety.  Even still, Summer had the best orgasm
she'd had in Bolivia.

   That had been three weeks ago, though.  And while the fact that her
arousal now embarrassed her, Summer had to admit that she wanted an orgasm.
Bad.

   She moved to adjust the pendant, but used the motion to dig the silver
piece of jewelry into the top of slit, giving it one long, hard shove
against her clitoris.  Summer would have killed for more, and had even
begun convincing herself that, under the cover of night, she could have
gotten away with it.

   But she needed to control herself.  She needed to calm down.  She needed
to behave.

   "Doctor Monroe!"

   Summer's dreamy thoughts of self-pleasure melted away, as she flipped
around and saw that Otoniel had returned.  Apotequil, looking displeased
with the return of the translator, was standing a few feet behind him, and
gazing off towards the blonde girl.



   The arousal didn't disappear completely as Summer swam towards the edge
of the pool, but it gave way to stronger feelings of awkwardness.  She
could have stood and just walked towards Otoniel, but that would mean
exposing herself once again, and she wasn't entirely looking forward to
doing so just yet.  So, despite the fact that her knees grazed against the
soft dirt at the bottom of the pool with each kick, Summer kept swimming.

   By the time that she had come a few feet from the shore, however,
swimming had become a little ridiculous.  She pulled herself up in the
water, though she didn't get out.  Instead, she sat on her knees about
three feet out, the water just deep enough to cover up to the twine of her
belly-chain.  Her pussy, and the pendant that was set in front of it, were
both below water, but her breasts were plainly visible to Otoniel,
Apotequil, and anyone else that bothered to look in her direction.  Soaking
wet, water dribbled down her skin in the space between them, but also
dripped from her still-erect nipples.

   Otoniel had trouble speaking at first, losing his concentration due to
the scene in front of him.  But he coughed, regained his composure, and
found Summer's eyes.

   "Dr.  Newcomb has stabilized," the translator reported.  "I didn't get
to talk to Dr.  Szalinsky myself, because they have made better than they
expected.  But Dr.  Szalinksy left a message with Senor Castillo at the
post office."

   As Otoniel made his report, Apotequil waded into the water, towards the
blonde girl.  Summer paid him little attention, even has he bent down
behind her and began to remove the belly-chain once again.  It was odd, she
thought to herself, that he keeps putting it on me, and then taking it off.
But she didn't bother fixating on it, more concerned with what the
translator had to say.  "What else did he say?"

   "Not much," Otoniel continued as Apotequil sloshed away from them with
the pendant in his hand.  "Punchau and he have been applying more of that
salve to the bite, and Doctor Newcomb is in better condition than they
could have hoped for.  Anqas is speeding like a maniac towards
Guayaramerin. And the hospital there has been alerted to the fact that they
are coming in sometime soon."

   "They should already be there by now," Summer added.  She wasn't wearing
a watch - she wasn't wearing anything - but the sun had just set, and
therefore she guessed it to be sometime around seven.

   Otoniel nodded.  "The message was from seven o'clock this morning."

   Twelve hours ago.

   If Russ turned around as soon as Walter was safely in the care of the
people in the hospital, he could be back in Hanan Pacha by late afternoon
the following day.  She might only have to suffer this humiliation for
another twenty-plus hours.  The thought of Russ returning to Hanan Pacha,
and finding Summer naked and chained up wasn't terribly appealing, but the
thought of remaining naked and chained up for much longer was even less so.

   "Anything about me?"

   Otoniel nodded again.  "Doctor Szalinski expressed his sympathy for
having to leave you behind, and said that he hoped Pachacamac was treating
you well."

   "Fat chance of that," the biologist quipped as she fingered the chain
around her leg.

   "He said that he thinks they should be back for you by Thursday
morning."

   Summer's heart sank.  Not tomorrow.  But the next day.  Two more nights
of her naked body on exhibit for the Huaca.

   "Well," she stated glumly, "I guess that means I get another full day to
work on my tan."

   Otoniel ventured a weak smile, but he knew how disappointed the American
girl was.  Still, Summer told herself, at least Walter was doing better. 
His life and death situation was more important for Russ than Summer's
uncomfortable captivity in Hanan Pacha.  She took a deep breath, sighed,
and decided to not let the frustration show.

   Otoniel had picked up a varied assemblage of clothes, equipment, and
other items from the Ambrosia camp that day, carrying it back with him in a
newly repaired jeep.  Summer wasn't going to get her shirt back from Kulli,
but Otoniel made sure that she wasn't going to leave Hanan Pacha in just
her bra.  As Otoniel described the clothes that he had brought for her,
Summer couldn't help but wish for this ordeal to be over, for the
opportunity to put clothes back on.

   Otoniel had also brought equipment to trade with, expendable items like
extra flashlights and gas-lamps.  He was planning to sleep in the jeep that
night, but he made sure that there were enough items to secure something
from the Huaca if he needed to.  And though the mestizo didn't tell Summer,
there was a twenty-two-caliber pistol in the glove compartment, an
insurance policy against things taking a bad turn for the outsiders here in
Hanan Pacha.

   But Otoniel had brought two things that interested Summer the most.  The
first was a hair elastic, and the biologist immediately pulled her wet hair
back into a ponytail.  The second was a bottle of chicha, a Bolivian liquor
made from corn.  Summer and Walter, together, had discovered the joys of
chicha in La Paz - before Hanan Pacha, before Valle de los Reyes, before
the trek out to the Oriente.  It was strong, and Otoniel figured that,
given the way Summer had imbibed aqha the previous night, she'd want to
again get a little buzzed, and allow herself to be little less
self-conscious.  He figured correctly.

   Summer took a shot of chicha right away, eliciting smiles and laughter
from two old men smoking their pipes not far from where Summer and Otoniel
were sitting.  Obviously, they'd never seen a woman drink that way before,
swallowing down hard alcohol straight from the bottle.  And, given that the
woman was a young, pale-skinned, naked American blonde, Summer was sure the
sight was only that much funnier.

   Dinner came a short while later, though it was much more formal than it
had been the night before.  Pachacamac sat with Apotequil, Mancocapac,
Otoniel, and a good-looking young man introduced as Pariacaca, while Summer
was seated with a handful of women twenty feet away.  Judging by the looks
shared between Pariacaca and Yana, Summer guess that the man was Yana's
boyfriend, or suitor, or fiancÃ(C), or whatever the Huaca equivalent was.

   Kulli, still wearing Summer's polo shirt, was seated to the blonde's
right, and she was joined by Chasca, Yana, and others.  A girl named Puka,
probably Yana's age, couldn't keep her eyes off of Summer's body, and
Summer began to wonder if Puka might be gay.  Summer heard three words
repeated throughout dinner: calato, sumaq, and yuraq.  She made a note to
ask Otoniel what they meant after dinner.  Yuraq seemed to cause the most
laughs whenever it was spoken, and Summer was sure that they were laughing
at her.  She combated her sense of awkwardness, however, by taking a few
more gulps of chicha.  The warm feeling brought forth by the alcohol helped
fight the fact that she actually felt somewhat chilly, given her wet hair
and still damp skin.

   Dinner was a fish, called surubi, served with potatoes, or choqllo.  Not
nearly as spicy as the tacu tacu had been the night before, Summer was able
to eat without fear of burning her tongue.  She smiled and laughed along
with the women around her, not having the slightest idea of what they were
talking about.  Her limited vocabulary allowed her to understand certain
words, like "yaku" for "water," but she had no clue as to what the context
was, or why the Huaca women were discussing water.

   As it had the night before, dinner ended with Summer a bit tipsier than
she had intended.  Pachacamac's dinner guests began to depart, Mancocapac
soaking up as much of Summer's body as he could before leaving.  As Chasca
and Yana cleaned and put the food away, Summer got up and walked towards
Otoniel and the chief, cringing as she heard the chain dragging in the dirt
behind her.

   Summer sat down on the dirt Indian-style, without even thinking about
how visible that made her pussy.  She quickly changed her position,
stretching her legs and crossing them out in front of her.  But Otoniel had
noticed Summer's new haircut in that time, and was obviously shocked by it.
He locked eyes with Summer, desperately trying to hide both his
stupefaction and his lust.  His nervousness and obvious attempts at
self-control again got under Summer's skin, and she felt better looking at
the chief than her translator.

   It wasn't that Pachacamac didn't look at Summer's body.  He eyes ran
over her legs, her stomach, and her tits even as they were sitting there.
But he did so in such a casual manner that it made Summer feel like nothing
was odd.  Pachacamac would have looked at her like this if she were wearing
clothes or if she wasn't.  While Summer certainly appreciated this
(especially in contrast to the edgy mestizo across from her), deep down,
Summer wanted Pachacamac to be turned on.  She wanted him to be excited. 
She didn't want him to look at her and treat her as if her lack of clothing
was a mundane thing.

   Despite the conflicting emotions, Summer felt comfortable around
Pachacamac, the same way that she did around Apotequil.  Even with all that
the chief had put her through, he still generated a feeling of safety, and
Summer knew that he would never do anything to hurt her.  Humiliate her,
maybe, but nothing that would cause her harm.

   Fire flickering a few feet away, Otoniel shared a conversation with
Summer and Pachacamac, allowing Summer to ask the questions that had been
building up in her mind all day.

   "They're waiting for the curse to be lifted," Otoniel translated, after
Summer had inquired about Yana and Pariacaca.  "Marriage for the Huaca is
about more than just the man and woman - it's viewed as the seed from which
families grow.  Until they believe that Sipusiki's curse has been lifted,
they will hold on their marriage."

   "So they haven't even tried to have children?" Summer asked.  "Whatever
is causing the infertility in these people might not be afflicting Yana or
Pariacaca.  I mean, what about that little boy, Oqe?  Surely there must be
exceptions?"

   Summer waited for Otoniel as the translator communicated the question to
Pachacamac.  Behind Otoniel, fireflies were blinking against the dark black
backdrop of the jungle.

   "You are right," Otoniel translated once the chief stopped talking. 
"Oqe is an exception.  Pachacamac believes that these cases are rare,
however.  Years ago, the village was overrunning with children.  But today,
Oqe is one of a very few.  Married couples, without children, are viewed
with a stigma in the Huaca culture."

   "So they're just going to hold off, without even trying?" Summer shook
her head in disbelief.  Whatever it was in the Huaca environment that was
causing the impotency in the first place, there was no way to be sure that
it was affecting Pariacaca or Yana, not without trying.  "How many other
couples are holding off marriage?"

   "All of them," Otoniel translated after asking the chief.  "There hasn't
been a single wedding ceremony in Hanan Pacha for years now."

   "So what you're saying," Summer began to say, putting the pieces
together in her head, "is that no one, in the past however many years, has
even tried to have a child?  What about all the couples that were married
before the curse began?  Haven't they been able to have children?"

   "That's where the exceptions like Oqe have sprung from.  Pachacamac
believes that while the curse is cast over the Huaca people as a whole, but
it is especially potent over young couples.  Sipusiki is angry with Hanan
Pacha, Ch'umpi, Sumaq Wasi, Uca Pacha, and other Huaca tribes in the
valley."

   The water was fine, because Summer and her colleagues would have caught
abnormalities during their research.  The diets were fine, almost identical
to the diets of the Quechua in San Eduardo.  It seemed that the only thing
keeping children from being born to the Huaca was the Huaca culture itself.
They weren't having children because they weren't trying, and they weren't
trying because they didn't think they could have children.  It was idiotic.
It was insane.

   "Do you realize how crazy that is?" Summer asked Pachacamac directly. 
"Just how preposterous the whole thing is?"

   Otoniel translated, but the chief just laughed.

   "It's not funny!  If you'd just let Yana and Pariacaca get married, they
could have children!  The only thing standing in their way is the fact that
they're not having sex with each other!"

   Otoniel translated again, though he toned down the exasperation in
Summer's pleas.

   "Otoniel," the biologist said, turning to the translator, "They're going
to wipe themselves out, simply by believing in some backwards curse that
probably doesn't even exist!"

   Pachacamac stood as he responded to Otoniel, brushing dirt off his
pants. He walked away from the two outsiders when he had finished talking,
leaving the mestizo to tell Summer what he had said.

   "You are an American.  And you think like an American.  You are a
scientist.  And you think like a scientist.  But the world is more complex
than American science can explain.  This is a Huaca curse, affecting the
Huaca people, because of the displeasure of a Huaca deity.  Children will
come when Sipusiki forgives the Huaca, when Sipusiki has been appeased."

   Hanan Pacha got quiet after dinner.  Given that most of the villagers
got up with or before the sun, it wasn't all that surprising.  But the
silence of the small village stood in stark contrast with the squawks,
buzzes, and chattering that emanated from the jungle.  The previous night,
Summer had simply passed out in the dirt outside of Pachacamac's home. 
Though she had certainly gotten inebriated, she wasn't as drunk as she'd
been the previous night, and found herself struggling to fall asleep.

   The blonde girl, still as naked as she'd been all day, lay on her back
in the dirt, her hair tucked into a ponytail under her and her knees in the
air.  Her naked slit, now nearly devoid of the hair that had helped cover
it yesterday, was pointed away from the chief's hut, directed into the
shadowy jungle that lay beyond.  Water falling from the cliff above and
into the pool helped drown out some of the more frightening sounds of the
Bolivian jungle, but Summer was nonetheless unnerved by the occasional
growl far off in the night.

   They were the same sounds that she'd been hearing for months in Valle de
los Reyes, Summer told herself.  Nothing had ever tried to get her in her
tent back at the Ambrosia camp.  There wasn't any difference now.  Even if
she was outside.  And naked.  And chained to the ground.

   Summer thought about her daydreams that afternoon in the pool, about
masturbating herself to release and relaxation.  She wasn't quite sure what
had come over her, but part of it remained.  Could she get away with that
out here?  No one was walking around town.  Everyone was in his or her
home. And it was dark enough that even if someone were out, they probably
wouldn't know what Summer was doing.

   She shook the thought from her mind.  She may have been paraded through
Hanan Pacha without her clothes, and kept on display at the chief's house
for the village to come and stare at, but she wasn't a whore.  She wasn't
some slut, getting off on the thought of all these people, all these men,
all these women, looking at her body.

   Was she?

   Masturbation fantasies were pushed aside.  The stars gave off too much
light.  It was still too early in the night.  And no matter how much she
might have wanted to, she simply couldn't bring herself to do so in such a
public place.

   And so, Summer returned her thoughts to the stars overhead and to the
hopes of falling asleep.  Like the night before, it was still warm, even
with the sun down.  Though she had been a bit chilly as the water
dissipated off her body at dinnertime, Summer again found herself
surprisingly comfortable, dressed in nothing and outside.  If anything, it
was still a bit warm for her to sleep, though not as bad as it usually was
in her tent, dressed in the shorts and tank top that she wore as pajamas.
Maybe I need to start sleeping naked when I get back, Summer told herself.
That would be a few degrees cooler, in any case.

   When she got back.  Would they even continue with their research back at
the camp?  Walter was seriously sick, and in danger of dying.  Would
Ambrosia keep Russ and her there, even if Walter died?  Would they pull
them out, even if Walter lived?  Though studying the Bolivian tree frogs
hadn't been exactly what Summer wanted to do with her doctorate, the
thought of leaving the research unfinished was disheartening.  Now that she
was in Valle de los Reyes, now that she'd seen the astonishing growth
patterns of the amphibians, she was genuinely interested.

   Summer began to drift in and out of consciousness as her mind hovered
over frogs, her colleagues, and her own naked body.

   And then, she felt something against her neck.  Summer groggily opened
her eyes, and found herself staring into the eyes of a big, black cat.  A
jaguar.

   Any drowsiness that Summer had been feeling disappeared instantly.  She
was suddenly awake with absolute terror, unsure of what to do or how to
act. The warmth that she'd been feeling from the balmy Bolivian night
vanished, and her blood felt like ice in her veins.

   The biologist was still lying on her back, staring up towards the sky.
But now a jagaur was straddling her body, standing directly above her and
sniffing the necklace that she wore.  The necklace of jaguar's teeth.

   The cat pulled away from her again, once more locking eyes with the
naked blonde.  Summer was frozen with fear, locked in her sleeping
position, and feeling the jaguar stare her down.  This was a female, Summer
told herself.  She was unsure of how she knew, but she somehow just sensed
it.

   Seemingly satisfied with Summer, the jaguar gave her one last, brief
sniff and then turned towards the jungle.  She trotted away, leaving behind
a blonde girl that couldn't move, couldn't speak, and could barely breathe.

   Summer lay in the dirt, running through what had just transpired.  She
was sweating profusely, even if her body felt frigid up and down her spine.
She wanted to call out, but she wasn't sure for what, or for whom. 
Instead, she managed to roll onto her stomach, pushed herself off the
ground, and crawled on her hands and knees to the water's edge.

   Her reflection, as she stared down into the water, was barely visible in
the dark.  But if she had been able to make herself out better, Summer was
sure that she would have been pale white.  She let her blonde hair down,
pulling out the hair elastic, and splashed some of the water from the pool
on her face.  Her heart rate began to slow, and the shivering stopped.

   Though she was justifiably unnerved by her experience with the jaguar,
Summer knew she had to calm down.  In order to do so, she kept crawling
forward, down off the dirt and into the pool.  She crawled until the water
was deep enough to swim in, and then paddled herself towards the waterfall.
Steadying herself against the cliff wall, Summer stood up from the pool and
into the downrush of water from above.

   ***

   Summer awoke the following morning with a tug on the chain around her
left ankle.  The sun was up, and the village had begun to bustle, but
Summer had somehow slept through it all from the mud puddle she called a
bed.  She was lying only a few feet from where Catequil had driven the
spike into the ground, and she was caked in dried mud.  Sopping wet and
exhausted, Summer had come to shore the previous night and just dropped
herself onto the ground.  The water from her body and the earth beneath her
combined into a nice layer of mud on the naked blonde, finding its way onto
her face, into her hair, and even inside her right ear.

   But what woke her was Oqe, jerking roughly on the chain that bound her
in place.  Summer repeatedly blinked her eyes as she awoke, catching
glimpses of Otoniel chasing the little boy away.

   Summer sat up, brushing away some of the dirt from her besoiled face,
and smiled up at her translator.

   Otoniel gave the girl a once-over, but then made sure to maintain eye
contact.  Still, he couldn't help observing on her state of uncleanliness.
"You know, you probably should have dried off before you laid down and went
to sleep."

   "I was going to," the girl replied, "but I left my towel in the pool
house."

   Otoniel chuckled.

   "So what's it say on the day-planner for today?" Summer asked as she
stood up.  As she waited for a reply, she bushed the dried earth from her
body.

   "Same as yesterday, I guess."

   "Well, then," Summer began, "I can see that we are going to have a very
special day.  I've already had my mud bath, apparently, so perhaps I'll
clean myself off in this state-of-the-art tropical pool.  After my morning
shower in this luscious rainforest waterfall, I think I will have breakfast
brought to me - the finest breakfast this side of the Rio Clemente,
complete with the finest fruits and breads of Bolivia's enchanted Far East,
the Oriente.  Afterwards, I'll spend your day tanning myself in the nude,
all while commanding the attention of few dozen indigenous villagers."

   The translator couldn't help but laugh at Summer's spiel.  "Looking on
the bright side?"

   "It's all up here," the girl replied, point at her head.  But the
fantasy tropical vacation did have a few drawbacks.  "Can you turn around?"

   "Turn around?"

   "Yes, face the other way.  I need to use the 'facilities.'"

   Having Otoniel turn around while she squatted in the dirt away from the
hut was actually fairly ridiculous, being that there had to be a dozen
Huaca men and women watching her every move.  She had relieved herself
yesterday morning with only a small audience, but as the day had worn on,
she had realized that she was never going to be able to piss without
someone watching.  It was still mortifying, of course, but she had grown to
accept that she didn't have any alternatives.  But while the watchful eyes
of the Huaca didn't bother her as much as they had the day before, Summer
still didn't think she could let Otoniel see her squat like that, out in
the open.

   Under the waterfall, as Summer rinsed the dirt from her body and her
hair, she played back the scene that had unfolded the night before.  A
jaguar, a jungle cat, had found her half-asleep outside, sniffed her once
or twice, and then just sauntered back into the shadows.  Should she tell
Otoniel?  Should she have Otoniel tell Pachacamac?  What if the cat came
back that night?

   Ultimately, as Summer waded hip-deep in water back towards the
shoreline, she decided to keep her encounter to herself.  She had been
terror-stricken the night before, but with the encounter behind her, there
was something almost magical about it.  Sharing such a meeting would
somehow pollute the mysticism, and Summer couldn't see much harm with
keeping the jaguar a secret.  At least for now.

   Breakfast, as it had been the day before, consisted of fruits and bread,
with a few pieces of stale cheese that Summer wished she'd never put into
her mouth.  Unlike the day before, however, Otoniel was always hovering
around her.  Breakfast wasn't spent with Chasca and Yana, but with Chasca,
Yana, and Otoniel.  And though it was somewhat nice to know what Chasca and
Yana were saying, Summer was soon wishing that it had taken her translator
a day longer to fix the jeep.  Having him there, constantly averting his
eyes, constantly on guard against others coming too close to her, only
served to remind Summer how naked she really was.

   She put up with him, however.  He was looking out for her best
interests, and if he made her a little more uncomfortable than she already
was, perhaps it was worth it.  Perhaps it was worth having someone else
around to look out for her, to prevent something bad from happening. 
Perhaps.

   "Naked," Otoniel translated while Yana and Chasca were bathing behind
their curtains again.  Though Summer hadn't understood what the women had
been saying about her the previous night, she had remembered the words
themselves, and "calato" was the first she asked Otoniel to translate.

   "And 'sumaq'?"

   "Beautiful," Otoniel replied.

   Summer blushed.  She had thought Puka and the others had been making fun
of her, but instead they'd been commenting on how beautiful she was.  "What
about 'yuraq'?"

   The mestizo laughed a bit.  "White."

   Summer looked down at her body.  After spending the entirety of
yesterday in the Bolivian sun, she certainly wasn't as white as she'd been
two days ago.  But even with her body beginning to darken with an all-over
tan, Summer was pale white against the dark, brown skin of other women in
the village.

   She talked with Otoniel for a while longer, and had the translator teach
her more and more Huaca.  "Ari" was "yes." "Mana" was "no." She learned
body parts, from her "chaki nanu" ("ankle") to her "pupu" ("bellybutton")
to her "makis" (hands) to her "Ã+/-uÃ+/-us" (breasts).  And she tried
stressing to Yana that the curse afflicting the Huaca villages throughout
Valle de los Reyes was nothing more than superstition, and that Yana should
sleep with Pariacaca to prove it so.  But Yana was like her father, and sex
out of wedlock was completely unthinkable to the Huaca, and wedlock without
children was more of a disgrace than remaining single.

   The morning passed slowly, but without incident.  Summer passed most of
it continuing her Huaca lessons with Chasca and Otoniel, lying on her back
by the pool.  If she was going to be stuck outside, in the nude, then she
was going to leave Hanan Pacha with the best tan she'd ever had.

   Most of the men in the village had disappeared into the fields and the
jungle again that morning, but began to drift back around noon, carrying a
lot more food than they had the day before.  When Otoniel asked Chasca
about this at lunch, he was told that there was to be festival that
evening, what Chasca called "Phancha."

   "Phancha?" Summer asked, not quite sure that she liked the sound of a
party.  She had the feeling that, instead of passing the evening getting
drunk on chicha with Otoniel and Pachacamac's family, she was going to be
made the center of attention.

   Otoniel looked a bit baffled.  "It's like a spring festival, a
celebration of the start of the growing season." He paused, furrowing his
eyebrows in confusion.  "I don't know why they're celebrating so late in
the season, though."

   Summer knew, however.  "It's because of me, isn't it?  This was probably
decided upon since I got here, since I've been chained up here alongside
the chief's house."

   It was evident that Otoniel shared the same opinion, but he pretended as
if he didn't.  He shook his head, saying, "No.  Phancha has never been
about guests.  If this were a party for you, or a party because of you,
she'd be using a different word."

   He pressed Chasca for more information, but the chief's wife remained
tight-lipped.  She gathered up the bowls and the left over empanadas,
ignoring the translator's continued questions.

   The two outsiders watched as the festival was prepared.  Smoke from
cooking fires emanated from huts all over the village, flowers were picked
and strung together on long pieces of twine, and Catequil, Pariacaca, and a
number of other younger men hiked up and around the cliff above the
waterfall.  Summer wasn't happy about being stared at from a whole new
direction.

   Apotequil appeared an hour or two after lunch, as Summer and Otoniel
were watching a pair of teenaged girls perform a dance called the
auqui-auqui from afar.  And, as he had done the previous two days, he
produced the belly-chain, large silver pendant and all.  Summer didn't even
have to be directed to do anything - she simply stood up and turned around,
presenting her backside to the priest.

   Otoniel, though, had suddenly gone blank.  And after muttering something
to himself and telling Summer he'd be right back, he dashed away from the
pool, out to beyond Kulli's hut, where the jeep was parked.

   Neither Apotequil nor Summer had any clue what had just happened, but
the Indian man fastened the twine together at the top of Summer's buttocks,
and the pendant once again found its way to its resting place on top of her
pussy.

   Apotequil took a few steps a way, intending to return to whatever it was
that he'd been doing before adorning the biologist with the jewelry. 
Summer began to hunker back down on the dirt.  Neither of them, however,
completed their actions, due to the Ambrosia Pharmaceuticals jeep that was
barreling up the main road of Hanan Pacha.

   Otoniel, behind the wheel, slammed on the brakes just feet from where
Summer and Apotequil were parting ways.  He slid out of the vehicle
quickly, brandishing a handgun in one hand and a set of bolt-cutters in the
other.

   Barking at the elderly priest in Huaca, Otoniel put himself between
Summer and Apotequil, pointing the gun directly in his face.  Apotequil
backed away slowly, but the shouting and the roaring engine had brought
attention to the three people by the pool.  Catequil, Pariacaca, and some
of the other young men that had been up above the waterfall for most of the
afternoon reappeared on the far side of the Clemente, all with concerned
looks upon their face.  Mancocapac, joined by villagers from all over Hanan
Pacha, flowed down the street and towards the commotion.  Pachacamac and
Chasca emerged from their own hut, Pachacamac wasting no time in adding his
voice to the cacophony of shouting.

   Summer still had no clue what was going on.

   Pachacamac's progress towards the outsiders was halted when Otoniel
directed the gun at him, and as other Huaca came closer to the scene, the
translator kept redirecting the pistol, keeping them as far back as he
could.

   "Hold the gun!" he ordered Summer in English.  "Hold the gun!"

   Summer did as she was told, taking the weapon from the mestizo, and
swiveling her body to hold back the crowd that had begun to encircle them.
Otoniel, meanwhile, used the bolt-cutters to snip through the chain without
difficulty.  He tossed the tool towards the jeep, and snatched the gun back
from the naked blonde.

   Grabbing Summer's right wrist in his left, Otoniel yanked the girl
behind him as he walked towards the driver's side of the jeep.  In the
process of doing so, he made sure to direct his gun at anyone standing in
his way, clearing a path from Summer's broken chain to their getaway car.
Still screaming at Apotequil and Pachacamac, he pushed the girl into the
jeep, and, sans clothing, Summer crawled awkwardly into the passenger's
seat.  She understood very little of what Otoniel was saying, but she did
hear the name "Sipusiki" and the word "raka." Otoniel carefully backed in
behind her, sitting down without once shifting the gun from the people
closest to him.  And, in one fluid motion, the mestizo slammed the vehicle
into reverse, tearing backwards through Hanan Pacha.

   Looking back into the crowd, Summer noticed that there wasn't anger on
the faces of the Huaca, but rather disappointment.

   The translator didn't slow down until he finally reached the last in the
row of houses that lined the village's small street, and only then did he
quickly turn around and speed forwards out of Hanan Pacha.

   "That charm that you're wearing," Otoniel asked through clenched teeth
as they bounced along the dirt road, "that was the same one that you were
wearing yesterday?  The one that I saw the priest take off you?"

   "Yes," Summer replied, realizing that it was the first word she'd spoken
since the whole incident had begun.

   "Mierda!" Otoniel cursed, banging his fist against the steering wheel.
"I should have noticed yesterday!"

   Still naked, and gripping the arm rests of the passenger seat for dear
life as they bounced down the dirt road, Summer tried to get a grip on the
situation.  This was because of a piece of jewelry.

   "What just happened?" the blonde asked, grabbing at the seatbelt next to
her.  She pulled the shoulder strap down between her tits, somewhat shocked
to find that her nipples were rock-hard.

   "That charm that you are wearing around your waist?"

   "Yeah?"

   "It's a fertility charm."

   The pieces fell into place in Summer's head.  The women of Hanan Pacha
couldn't conceive children, but the Indians hoped that they'd be able to
have a baby with an outsider, a blonde, an American.  That must have been
what the festival was for - they were going to try to get her pregnant. 
Disgusted, Summer spat out, "They were going to fuck me after all.  They
were just waiting for a party."

   "No," Otoniel replied, contradicting Summer's theory.  "You are an
'uywa.' You are a domesticated animal."

   Summer's head was spinning, still trying to sort out everything.  On top
of that, her breasts were beginning to hurt as they bounced wildly around
on her chest, the jeep hitting pothole after pothole going full tilt.

   "You need to slow down," Summer told her translator.  "We must already
be a mile out of Hanan Pacha, and I seriously doubt that the Huaca can run
forty-five miles an hour."

   Otoniel complied, but only slightly.  The jeep continued its rapid
escape from the Indian village.

   "We'll stop at the camp, pack up everything that is necessary, and take
the road towards Guayaramerin," he told the girl.

   Summer nodded.  "Otoniel!  Otoniel!  You need to tell me what is going
on.  Why did we just run away?  What is this pendant that I'm wearing?  And
why were you shouting about Sipusiki and my cunt?"

   Though the translator was visibly shaken by the girl's choice of words,
he did his best to explain to her everything that had just transpired. 
"Phancha is more than a spring festival.  It is a fertility festival,
celebrating new life of plants, animals, and even children.  The word
"phancha" itself is derived from the Huaca term for "blossoming," the way a
flower opens up."

   "But if they're not going to sleep with me, then what am I wearing this
pendant for?  How am I involved?"

   "There is a ritual - I should have remembered this sooner!  - There is a
ritual, known as T'ojsiy.  In times when the Huaca believe that they owe an
apology to the fertility goddess, they make a sacrifice to her, using
livestock.  Uywa.  You."

   "They were going to sacrifice me?" Summer honestly couldn't picture
Apotequil killing her.  She had never felt in harm's way with him.

   "Not in the manner that you are thinking, Doctor Monroe.  The word
't'ojsiy' itself means explosion.  Like fireworks.  Or like an orgasm."

   Summer still wasn't quite sure what Otoniel meant.  Brow furrowed, she
began, "But if they weren't going to fuck me, then how..."

   "I don't know the English word for it," the mestizo replied.  "Like a
stick.  A fake penis."

   "Dildo."

   "Dildo," Otoniel repeated.

   The Huaca were going to have her dildo herself to orgasm, believing that
doing so would appease a native fertility goddess, who would then allow
children to be born to them once again.

   No, she wouldn't be the one using the dildo, Summer corrected herself.
She was livestock.  Uywa.  Someone was going to do it to her.

   "But why me?" Summer asked, staring blankly into the jungle that was
rushing past her window.  "Why not real livestock?  Why not a llama?  And
for that matter, why not one of the women in the village?  Yana?  Puka? 
Kulli?"

   "I don't know," Otoniel replied.  "They must have already tried. 
Perhaps this spring, at a Phancha they may have already held.  I don't
know."

   "Do you think they tried with another girl?"

   "I don't know.  I have never seen the T'ojsiy performed.  I had
forgotten all about it.  I haven't heard of it being performed since I was
a little boy."

   There was silence from both the biologist and the translator as Summer
came to grips with what the Huaca wanted her for, what Otoniel had
explained to her, and with what she was now considering.

   "Stop the jeep," Summer finally said, after spending almost five minutes
gazing silently at the glove compartment.

   "What?" Otoniel replied.  "No!"

   "Stop!"

   "No!"

   Summer was getting angry now that Otoniel, who was technically her
employee, was not listening to her.  "I said stop."

   The translator considered the order for a second, guessed the distance
he had put between them and Hanan Pacha, and slowed the vehicle.  He threw
up his hands in exasperation as they came to a full stop, and turned to the
blonde.  "What?"

   "I need to go back."

   Otoniel had heard enough.  He reached for the shifter, intending to put
the jeep back in gear and continue towards the camp.  But Summer reached
over and pulled his hand away.  She was serious.

   Otoniel could tell by looking in her eyes that her mind was made up.  He
couldn't mistake the determination there.  But she didn't know what she was
doing, she didn't understand the full implications of what she was saying.

   "No," he said firmly.

   "Yes," she countered.

   "No."

   "Otoniel, you were hired to help us.  You were hired to take us where we
wanted to go.  And right now, I want to go back to Hanan Pacha."

   "Doctor Newcomb hired me," Otoniel corrected her.  "And he hired me to
translate for you in Bolivia, to protect you out here in the Oriente, to
look out for your best interests when dealing with native Bolivians and
campesinos.  And this, Dr.  Monroe, is not in your best interest."

   "It's not," Summer agreed.  "But what are we down here doing?  Studying
frogs?  Otoniel, I've been studying amphibian biology for at least five
years now.  And what has come of it?  What has my research ever done for
other human beings?  Nothing.

   "You know, and I know, that this curse of Sipusiki is preposterous. 
These people have convinced themselves that they can't have children, and
therefore don't even try to have children.  And I can tell them again and
again that it's just a self-fulfilling prophecy, but they're not going to
believe me.

   "But for some reason, they seem to believe that me having an orgasm will
somehow appease their angry goddess, and that they'll be able to have
children after that.  And if I suffer a little more humiliation - okay, a
LOT more humiliation - then isn't it worth it?

   "I'm not going back there to get off.  I'm not going back there because
I'm some sort of exhibitionist slut.  I'm going back there to give people
like Yana and Pariacaca hope.  I'm going back there to convince them that
their curse is over, and that they should at least try to get pregnant."

   Summer looked over at Otoniel, believing that she'd persuaded him to
drive her back.

   But Otoniel hadn't been won over.  "No."

   "Fine," the blonde replied.  "Then I'll walk."

   She unclipped her seatbelt, opened the car door, and stepped out.  She
slammed the door behind her, and began padding barefoot back towards Hanan
Pacha along the muddy road.

   Otoniel let out an exacerbated breath.  Turning, he stared after her as
she began her long hike to the Huaca village.  Her blonde hair was tied in
a ponytail behind her.  The necklace full of jaguar teeth still hung around
her neck.  The belly-chain hung loosely over her hips.  And a good foot and
a half of chain, still locked around her left ankle with the combination
lock, dragged behind her.  Her bare back was facing him, her tight, tanned
ass wiggling back and forth as she walked away.

   ***

   "What am I doing?" Summer asked herself under her breath.  The long
speech she'd just given was as much about convincing Otoniel as it was
about convincing herself.  The last thing she wanted to do was what the
Huaca were essentially asking of her.  She had thought about masturbation
the previous night, in the dark.  She had thought about it during the day
yesterday, wondering to herself about whether or not the men on the shore
were erect.

   Well, she mused, if they weren't hard yesterday, they're sure as hell
going to be hard tonight.  Maybe they'd put their hard dicks to good use
and actually sleep with some of the women in the village.

   The thought of the entire village of Hanan Pacha returning to their
huts, all having sex at the same time, did amuse the naked blonde.  The
idea that they might be thinking about her as they did so excited part of
her, as well.

   Was she crazy?  Was she out of her mind?  Summer wasn't sure.  She knew
that once she was back in the village, once she was stretched out on some
altar, once Apotequil or Pachacamac picked up the dildo and began to
approach her - she wasn't going to feel quite as courageous as she felt
now. But as she had told Otoniel, if a little bit of degradation on her
part was enough to dispose of the idiotic curse in the minds of the Huaca,
then it was worth it.  If she didn't do this, then it was very possible
that the entire Huaca way of life might disappear in the near future.

   Summer heard the engine behind her roar back to life, and sensed Otoniel
coming up behind her.  When she turned to look at him, she found that he
had circled around, and that the jeep was now pointed back in the direction
of Hanan Pacha.

   "I don't like this," Otoniel said gruffly as Summer got back in the
jeep. "And Dr.  Szalinski won't like this, either."

   "Then don't tell him," the girl replied, equally abrupt.  God, please,
please don't tell him, she thought to herself.

   As they began their drive back towards the village, Otoniel told her,
"Your clothes, from the camp, are in the back."

   Summer considered this for a minute, but stayed facing forward, wearing
just the two pieces of jewelry that she had on.  "No, if I put something
on, it's just going to be harder to undress again."

   She'd been naked for almost forty-eight hours at that point.  Putting
clothes on for the ten-minute drive back seemed unnecessary, and parting
with the clothes again was more than Summer thought she could handle at
that point.

   "If I'm going to do this, I need you to do two things for me," Summer
said, looking at her translator.

   Otoniel grunted.  He'd do what she wanted.  He wasn't going to be happy
about it, but he'd do what she wanted.

   "The T'ojsiy is usually performed on animals, right?"

   A silent nod.

   "Just make sure that the...the...the dildo is boiled, okay?" Summer
shivered at the thought of what else it might have been used on.  She then
shivered at the thought of the dildo itself.  "For that matter, make sure
that I don't see it until it's time."

   "Yes."

   "And we still have a half bottle of chicha left, correct?"

   "Yes."

   "I don't know if that's going to be enough," the blonde stated.  She
certainly wasn't going to go through with this sober.  "See if you can
scare some more up.  Trade a flashlight, or more of my clothes, I don't
care."

   "Yes."

   As they got closer to the village, Summer began to feel a familiar
emotion.  Not fear.  Or shame.  But anticipation.  She had wanted to cum
last night, and now she was going to get her chance...in front of an
audience.

   The villagers were none too happy about seeing Otoniel again, but the
downtrodden expressions that Summer had noted as they had peeled out of
town vanished upon seeing the naked blonde.  The preparation for Phancha
had halted, and people were still milling around by Pachacamac's hut. 
Summer noted that it looked like some of the girls, Yana and Puka among
them, had been crying since she'd left.

   Summer and Otoniel, together, sat down with Pachacamac, Apotequil, and
Chasca inside of the chief's home.  The rest of the village waited
anxiously outside while Summer and Pachacamac hammered out details.  Summer
would take part in the T'ojsiy, as the chief wanted.  She'd do whatever he
wanted, behaving just like any other animal that they put through the
ritual.

   But afterwards, after Summer had orgasmed and appeased Sipusiki, the
arrangement made between her and Pachacamac was over.  She'd be allowed to
get dressed and go back to her own camp, even though Anqas and the truck
would not be back from Guayaramerin until the following morning.

   Terms agreed upon, Pachacamac stood and departed the hut, announcing the
good news to his villagers.  There were cheers and sighs of relief, and
Summer knew that she was doing the right thing.

   And so, the day continued on, with Otoniel keeping his promises to
Summer and the Huaca preparing for their big night.  The chief undid the
lock around the biologist's ankle, freeing her from the remaining length of
chain.  And Summer, for her own part, began taking shots of chicha almost
immediately, even though the T'ojsiy would not be performed until after the
feast.

   She calmed herself by taking another swim in the pool, standing and
showering herself under the cascading water from the cliff above.  Men and
women gathered on the shores to watch her, and Summer again couldn't shake
the feeling of excitement that had taken hold over her lower body.  She may
have been dreading what was coming up, she may have found the dozens of
eyes of her bare flesh embarrassing, but Summer could not deny the fact
that her vagina was wet.  And as the silver pendant rubbed up against her
her pussy lips, Summer began wishing that she could get the ritual over
with, that she could cum right then and there.

   Surprisingly, as people on the shore gathered to watch her run her hands
across her breasts and down the sides of her body, through her long blonde
hair, down under the water level and across her ass, Summer found that she
didn't mind them as much as she had earlier in the day.  People seeing her
naked was old news at that point - the real embarrassment was to come.  If
anything, Summer couldn't help but feel a bit sensuous.  Her body was
causing arousal in men all around her.  Her body was captivating an entire
village.  She was sex symbol.  She was a ravishing, steamy porn star, here
in Hanan Pacha to do one thing and one thing alone - orgasm.

   The notion of herself as a centerfold, as Marilyn Monroe instead of
Summer Monroe, only served to electrify Summer's twat even more.  Her
nipples were adamantine, and had been so for hours.  Her clit was throbbing
full of life, and begged to be touched.  Her whole body had turned into an
energized erogenous zone, as water trickled down her face, to her neck, and
to her chest.

   She risked a casual pinch of her right nipple as she rubbed her body
with her palms, sending a spasm of pleasure shooting down her spine.  She
wanted to do more, to touch herself here in the water, to get herself off
in the pool while the village looked on.  If she was going to cum for them
later, why not cum for them now, as well.  She wanted it now, so why not?

   But she held back.  She had only taken three shots of chicha at that
point, but she wasn't thinking clearly.  She needed to wait.  She needed to
tell herself that this wasn't about her release.

   And so, busting at the seams with lust and perhaps more aroused than
she'd ever been in her adult life, Summer waded back to shore, where
Chasca, Yana, and handful of other young women were waiting for her.

   Chasca had prepared a special meal just for her, and after Yana had
towel-dried Summer's hair with a blanket, Summer sat down on a flat rock at
the junction point of the pool and the Clemente to eat it.

   "Silpancho," Otoniel told her as she began to eat.  "A thin, spicy slice
of beef, served over rice, purple potatoes, and a fried chicken egg."

   "Wallpa egg," Summer corrected him, using the Huaca term.

   Otoniel was obviously not welcome among the gaggle of women, as
evidenced by the stares and fierce eyes that he was receiving.  In addition
to the bottle of chicha that sat in front of her, Otoniel had placed a jug
of aqha and another jug of a liquor called paceÃ+/-a down with Summer's
meal.

   "This is obviously a girl party," Summer said, reading the emotions of
the women around her.  She wasn't sure that Otoniel, given his actions
earlier in the day, would be welcome anywhere in Hanan Pacha.  But she
could get along without him here.  "A gash bash.  Thank you for the liquor,
though."

   Understanding, Otoniel began to step back.  "No problem."

   "How about my other favor?  Is everything clean and ready to go?"

   "Your qollqephichilu," Otoniel said, using the Huaca word and eliciting
a few giggles from the girls around Summer, "has been cleaned and boiled."

   He paused after Summer thanked him again, and asked, "Do you want me to
come up to the altar with you?  To keep you company?"

   Summer shook her head.  She was eating her dinner now, before everyone
else, because she wasn't going to be a part of the feast.  While the
festivities unfolded in the village below her, Summer would be alone at the
altar on the cliff.  Otoniel hadn't been happy when Pachacamac had
explained it to him, but Summer had rolled with it.  She'd get a chance to
be alone and prepare herself for what she was going to do.  Afterwards, she
could put some clothes on, head into the village, and stuff her face, if
she felt so inclined.

   "What about during the ceremony?"

   Summer shook her head again.  She didn't want Otoniel anywhere around,
making her more nervous than she already was.  She didn't want to know what
was going on during the ritual, or what was being said.  She just wanted to
close her eyes, fuck whatever it was that Apotequil was sticking in her
pussy, orgasm, and get it over with.  She'd feel better if the translator
was just out among the masses, instead of up close and talking her through
it.

   Taking the final few swigs of chicha left in the bottle, Summer turned
her back to the mestizo, and dug into her meal.

   After Summer had finished eating, Chasca, Kulli, and Yana led the
bare-skinned blonde through Hanan Pacha to Apotequil's hut on the edge of
the jungle.  They followed the blonde into the hut, as well, and after a
short back and forth, the priest told each of the Huaca women where to sit.

   Spread out on the floor of the hut was a mat unlike anything that Summer
had ever seen before.  She remembered a friend in college having a pair of
snakeskin boots, but the boots had nothing on Apotequil's mat.  Summer was
unsure of how many snakes had actually gone into making the priest's exotic
rug, but she guessed that there had been more than a few.

   Apotequil guided her onto it, laying her on her back.  She could feel
the cool scales against her naked skin as the priest guided her knees into
an upright position and placed her feet both flat on the ground.  From her
vantage point at the end of the mat, Chasca could now see right between
Summer's thighs, the blonde's still-saturated pussy open to her view. 
Apotequil carefully placed the pendant right at the top of Summer's slit,
touching her hard and tingling clitoris with the cool metal, and causing
Summer to gasp with a brief moment of pleasure.  He spread her arms away
from her body, straight out as if she were being crucified, and got to
work.

   There were two wooden bowls filled with some sort of strong-smelling
paint, one red, and one purple.  Apotequil wasted no time in applying it to
the blonde girl's body, following designs and patterns that only he knew.
Each of her nipples was given a different color, the right one red and the
left purple.  The aureoles around the nipples then got the opposite colors
- the right one purple, and the left red.  Apotequil then traced concentric
circles out from around the aureoles themselves, leaving patterns of white
skin, then purple, then white skin, then red, and so on.

   The skin between Summer's breasts and her navel remained mostly bare,
aside from a few dots that Apotequil deemed necessary on the sides of her
body.  From the belly button on down, all the designs and patterns painted
on were meant to call attention to her pussy, whether they were straight
lines, wiggly lines, or arrows.

   As the priest got to her hips, he clipped away the twine that had held
the pendant up, but left the teardrop piece of metal in its place.  As
Apotequil's fingers, covered in paint, moved through her pubic hair, or
down from her hips, or up from the insides of her thighs, it was everything
that Summer could do to keep from grinding against his hand.  She was sure
that her pussy must have been drenched at that point, that her juices must
have been ruining the paint job that the priest was applying.

   She concentrated on what was happening on the other end of her body. 
Yana and Kulli, acting together, were braiding her hair.  Not in one braid,
nor in two, but into dozens of thin strands that started halfway down the
length of her hair.  At the end of each strand, though, the women braided
in small, empty nuts.  Summer knew that as she moved, as her head shifted
at all, the nuts would creating a clinking sound as they bounced against
each other.

   Apotequil's fingers shifted away from Summer's nether regions and legs,
and found their way to her face.  As the priest began to apply the paint
liberally, Summer had to admit that a part of her wanted to see what she
looked like.  She hadn't seen a mirror in Hanan Pacha over the past few
days, and doubted that the Huaca had anything she could see her reflection
in, aside from the pool under the waterfall.

   Once Summer's entire face had been covered in paint, Apotequil seemed
satisfied with his work on her front, and he flipped her over, onto her
hands and knees.  She got a brief respite from the teasing of the fertility
charm as Apotequil painted around her oqoti - her asshole.  But the priest
quickly strung another piece of twine through the pendant, and secured it
this time backwards around Summer's body.  Instead of hanging down in front
of her pussy, a string of twine now ran down between her ass cheeks, across
her anus, and held the pendant in place against the outside of her lips. 
The humiliation didn't stop.

   It took some time for Apotequil to finish applying the body paint, but
when he had, Summer was covered nearly head to toe in red and purple, with
patches of her tanned skin in between.  She was guided down on her elbows,
and allowed to rest her ass on the back of her ankles, but the priest made
sure that she knew not to turn over.  He demonstrated that she could stay
down, as she was no, or get up on her hands and knees, as she been a few
seconds ago.  But she couldn't change her position aside from that.

   Her hair was braided.  Her body was painted.  And she was still adorned
with the silver pendant, hanging backwards down between her ass crack.  But
in her present position, her cunt had escaped contact with metal, and
Summer almost missed it.

   Throughout the whole ordeal, Yana kept bringing a small cup full of
alcohol to Summer's lips, and Summer gulped it down each and every time. 
By the time Apotequil had finished preparing Summer's body, the blonde's
head was spinning, and though she was still in control of herself, she had
begun to lose the few inhibitions she had left.

   Apotequil barked a few orders at the women around the mat, and Summer
watched them position themselves around her.  What she had noticed about
the priest's strange rug were the extra strips of animal skin that adorned
the corners.  Summer gulped as she realized what they were for: she was
going to be tied up.

   Instead of fighting it, though, Summer just rolled with the punches. 
It'd all be over soon.  She would soon achieve her orgasm, get untied, wash
the paint off, put clothes on, and then fall asleep in her own cot back at
the Ambrosia camp.  The thought of protesting the restraints seemed
ridiculous to her.  Okay, she joked to herself, you can strip me naked,
cover me in erotic painted designs, fuck me with dildo intended for animals
in front of an audience...but when you start securing my wrists, you've
gone too far!

   She chuckled to herself drunkenly, barely feeling the three women and
the medicine man secure her to the snakeskin mat.  What she hadn't realized
about the mat, up until that point, was that it was lying on top of a long,
flat, board.  She was going to be carried up to the cliff like this.

   Apotequil dismissed the women, but before Yana left, she leaned in
quickly and placed a kiss on the blonde's lips.  It wasn't an erotic kiss,
but rather a thank you, a show of appreciation for what Summer was putting
herself through.  Still, despite the nervous shivers that had begun to
engulf the biologist's body, her brain was charged up with nothing but
sexual energy.  And the kiss caused delight to spark in Summer's cunt, so
much so that she lifted her ass back up into the air in order to feel the
sensation of the pendant rub against her.

   The three women all left, and were soon replaced by four strong men from
the village, among them Catequil and Pariacaca.  With little effort, they
hoisted Summer, on her platform, up on their shoulders and out into the
Hanan Pacha night.

   ***

   It occurred to Summer that she had never seen all the people of Hanan
Pacha at the same time.  She'd been paraded through town during the
afternoon two days ago.  She'd been chained outside of Pachacamac's house
for a solid forty-eight hours.  But, until she was hefted out of
Apotequil's hut, Summer couldn't even have guessed that there were as many
people living in the village as there were.

   The biologist positioned herself proudly upright, her ass in the air,
and her upper body propped up on her hands instead of her elbows.  She had
made this decision, and she was not going to cower in front of these people
while following through.

   The sun had set while Summer was being decorated inside the priest's
hut. Hanan Pacha's main street was lit by torches and lined with floral
decorations.  In the firelight, the faces of the Huaca glowed orange, their
dark eyes all fixated on the colorful naked girl being carried over their
heads.  There were occasional sounds of awe, but there was little chatter
as Pariacaca and Catequil led the display towards the chief's hut and the
cliff behind it.

   Summer's head was spinning and her pussy tingling as she was jounced
down the street.  While her body might have appeared proud, her head was
hung and she stared mindlessly at the snakeskin mat beneath her, uneager to
make eye contact with Otoniel, or for that matter, anyone else that she had
come to know over the past two days.  The thin sheet of silver slapped
against her lips each time the men below her took a step, but despite the
inebriation and titillation, there was a nervous knot in her stomach.

   They passed Pachacamac's house, and Summer risked a glance in that
direction, to where she had been chained up all week.  She'd been mortified
by just being nude in front of the Huaca.  But she had been in the dark
about just how far she was going to be pushed, about just how far she
herself was going to be willing to go.

   Come for the frogs, Summer joked with herself as they rounded the pool,
and stay for the indigenous dildo parties.

   The four men, carrying the trivial weight of the painted blonde on their
shoulders, began their ascent up the side of the waterfall, by way of the
jungle.  With their sacrifice out of visual range, the village behind
Summer suddenly came to life once again.  She could hear them laughing,
talking, and playing music, easy and carefree while she was preparing to do
the most humiliating thing in her life.

   Just over the edge of the cliff, but beyond the eyesight of Summer's
previous vantage point below, sat an altar on the side of the Rio Clemente.
The jungle had been cleared behind it, away from the cliff, allowing enough
space for potentially a hundred people to gather and watch.  This area,
too, had been lit with torches, and the flickering orange light danced on
the purple, red, and natural tan sections of Summer's body.

   After being carried up a short set of stairs, Summer was finally set
down.  Board, mat, and girl were all placed upon the altar gently.  Her ass
was pointed away from the cliff, to where the Huaca would gather in the
clearing behind her.  Her position allowed her a view of the entirety of
Hanan Pacha below her, the fields in the distance, and the dark shapes of
the Bolivian countryside further out.  Somewhere out there, Walter Newcomb
was struggling to stay alive, if he hadn't passed on already.  Somewhere
out there, Russ Szalinksi was racing back to Hanan Pacha, unaware that his
colleague was naked, painted, and about to be a part of an Indian sex
ritual.

   Three of the men turned and left Summer alone, but she didn't even turn
to watch them leave.  Pariacaca, stayed behind for a few seconds longer,
allowing the girl one last swig of paceÃ+/-a to calm her nerves before he
joined his companions on the descent back into the village.

   Summer was now alone, left atop an altar atop a cliff while the village
below celebrated her upcoming good deed.  She could feel tears of shame and
humiliation welling up inside her, but she wouldn't let herself cry.  She'd
be strong.

   The sensation of the silver pendant against her pussy made everything
else seem like background noise, however.  Whatever was going through her
head, whatever fears bubbled up inside her, whatever doubt she still felt -
all of it was pushed aside as the charm slid along Summer's saturated slit.

   She was a scientist.  She believed in laws and theories, in elements and
interactions, in electrons and protons.  She believed that the curse of
Sipusiki was nothing more than self-fulfilling fears of an uneducated
Indian population.  But as she recounted the events of the past few days to
herself, Summer couldn't help but feel that the fertility charm now
juxtaposed along her naked vagina had a magical force over her.

   Two nights ago, when Apotequil had first placed it around her waist, she
hadn't been able to get the mental images of she and the priest, wrapped
naked together, out of her head.  Yesterday, she'd teased and tormented a
half-dozen young men on the edge of the Clemente, touching her tits and
rubbing her hands all over her body while allowing water to cascade down
upon her.  Even today, her nipples had become petrified the moment she felt
the charm against the top of her pussy, and they hadn't softened in the
hours since.

   She allowed herself a respite from the contact, lowering her ass onto
the back of her legs and letting the pendant swing free in the air behind
her.  Settling herself down onto her forearms, Summer decided that the
belly-chain was akin to a merry widow, or a garter belt, or some other type
of lingerie a woman might put on to seduce a man.  While seduction might
never have been Summer's intent, she felt sexier and more sexually
confident each time the twine was hung on her hips.  The way that the
pendant hung, kissing her pussy as it did so, made her feel naughty.  It
drew attention to her sex, eliciting excitement in the men around her, and
therefore eliciting excitement in Summer herself.

   Each time the pendant had been hung on her body, each time it had skated
across her pussy, Summer felt a wave of sexual energy, electricity shooting
through her body.  There was no magic to the fertility charm, she told
herself.  But it brought confidence and sensuality to someone wracked by
nervousness and humiliation.

   The feast in the village below went on for what felt like days to
Summer. She had been drunk when the four young men had set her down upon
the altar, but as the second hour passed on the cliff, Summer had begun to
sober up.

   On top of that, her legs, arms, and knees were all sore from the
position that they'd been in for hours at that point.  She shifted every
now and then, stretching her legs and adjusting her body to the few
postures allowed to her.  She could curl into a ball, scrunching her body
down in on itself.  She could get up on her hands and knees, configured
proudly in the solitude around her.  Or, she could be in a position that
she called "presenting" - down on her knees while her ass and her pussy
were both pushed up and out into the air.  In her isolation, she decided
that this was how she'd exhibit herself when she was joined on the cliff.

   Eventually, the music below her began to die down, and she watched
torches and villagers parade up Hanan Pacha's street, towards her, her
cliff, and her altar.  She was far too sober to be doing this, she told
herself, cringing at the thought of what was about to happen.  Part of her
felt the need to pee, but she wasn't sure how much of that urge was her
bladder, and how much was her nerves.

   As the Huaca streamed up the side of the cliff through the jungle, she
were presented with a wide-open view of Summer's most intimate areas,
blocked only by the teardrop-shaped pendant hanging down between her
buttocks.  She was "presenting," as she had intended, with her ass in the
air and her forehead pressed against the snakeskin mat.  Thanking whoever
had decided to position her face away from the growing crowd, Summer
breathed easier, knowing that she would not need to face any of the Huaca.
Otoniel would be out there.  Pariacaca would be out there.  Mancocapac
would be out there.  But Summer would never know who was where, or whose
eyes were tracing the pink outlines of her pussy at that moment.

   She was joined on the altar by two men.  A glimpse told her that they
were Apotequil and Pachacamac, as she'd been expecting.  Both men were all
dressed up, wearing a collection of teeth, rocks, furs, and jewelry that
reassured Summer just how important this was to them and their people. 
Either one of these men would be up here in her place if it were possible,
but neither one had the most integral body part to the T'ojsiy.

   As Pachacamac began addressing his people, Summer wondered again if the
Huaca had attempted this ceremony with one of their own women, and who that
woman had been.  Chasca?  Yana?  Puka?  Or was it deemed necessary that it
be an outsider, to appease Sipusiki with someone unafflicted by her curse,
but also to prevent a Huaca woman from spending the next few months walking
red-faced around the village after what she had done.  After what Summer
was about to do.

   Apotequil spoke now, starting in hushed tones and building to shouts and
whoops.  The Huaca responded to his invocations, offering up what Summer
was sure were "amens!" and "hallelujahs!" in response to the priest.  She'd
ask Otoniel later what had been said, the details of Hanan Pacha's
supplication to Sipusiki.  But she was glad that he wasn't here, standing
close by, and translating everything as it happened.

   Summer's mind wandered, but it inevitably was drawn back to her
moistened cunt.  Every time that her mind drifted to the entirety of what
she was going to do, she felt the silver glance against her.  It all came
down to getting off.

   Forget the people watching, Summer told herself.  Forget the priest and
the chief that were standing on either side of her.  Forget the translator
who'd been working with her and her colleagues for the past eight weeks. 
Forget the bigger picture, the self-fulfilling curse of Sipusiki and the
hope that she'd be bringing to the Huaca.  Forget the altar, the torches,
the cascading water alongside her.  All of this was secondary, ancillary to
what she was here to do.

   Everything came down to pussy, dildo, and orgasm.

   And Summer wanted to get off.

   Secure in that assurance, Summer risked a peep down under her body,
between her legs, and out into the crowd beyond.  At that moment, the
qollqephichilu came into full view.  The dildo.  The huge dildo.

   All the nervous sexual energy that Summer felt transformed into full-out
bewilderment at how something that big was going to fit inside her twat.

   It was a showstopper, all right.  It had to have been a foot and half
long, fashioned out of what Summer guessed to be the same silver hanging
against her pussy.  But it wasn't the length that disturbed her, but rather
the fact that it was wider than any dildo that Summer had ever seen her
entire life.

   Summer, of course, had never used a dildo before, let alone had someone
use one on her.  She'd been a good girl, content with regular old sex with
one partner, one penis, and one vagina.  Still, she'd been in a porn store
or two over the course of her life, to pick out embarrassing bachelorette
and birthday gifts.  And this dildo, this qollqephichilu, was bigger than
anything she'd set her eyes upon.  This was the Cock Colossus.  The
Polypheme Penis.  The Elephant Dick.  The King Dong.

   At the end of the qollqephichilu was a hilt, much akin to something that
Summer might have expected on a broadsword.  That was where whoever wielded
the monstrosity would hold on, dipping into Summer's box until she achieved
climax.  And, based on the moisture that had built up in her pussy, it
wouldn't be long.

   Apotequil tested her wetness with his finger, shocking the naked blonde
as his index immersed itself in pink.  Pachacamac was now addressing his
people again, but he would not miss the groan that escaped Summer's mouth.

   Apparently, Summer's pussy was not quite as wet as the priest might have
hoped, because he removed his finger, searched for her clit at the top of
her pussy, and began tracing circles around it.  Even though her pussy lips
were swollen and she thought she was more than ready for what was about to
happen, the priest had obviously decided that she needed to be as
lubricated as possible to take something the size of the qollqephichilu.

   What if I cum now?  The question ran through Summer's mind as she
stifled a moan.  Apotequil, despite being a little rough, was causing more
pleasure in Summer's clit than she thought possible.  Hundred of people
were watching the priest play with her trembling pussy, but all the blonde
could concentrate on was the finger.

   Summer could feel an orgasm building, and felt herself stuck with a
dilemma.  She wanted to cum badly, more than anything else.  She also
thought that if she climaxed, she might not need to be skewered on the end
of the monstrous dildo behind her.  She did want to be spared that, didn't
she?

   In the end, the decision wasn't up to the biologist at all, as little
had been over the past few days.  Apotequil stopped rubbing her seconds
before the first wave of her climax would have begun.  Summer moaned in
blissful agony.

   Satisfied that the blonde was ready, Apotequil removed the belly-chain
from around Summer's waist, the pendant from against Summer's slit.  A
surge of fresh air suddenly billowed into her pussy, and a chorus of
simultaneous inhalations came from the attentive crowd, as if Summer were a
stripper who'd just removed her last article of clothing.  Her slit - pink,
wet, and waiting - was now open and exposed to the Huaca in a way that it
hadn't been over the past few days.

   Embarrassment had gone by the wayside.  Summer was more aroused than
she'd ever been, and nothing mattered to her at that moment more than
climaxing.  She wanted to be fucked.

   And Pachacamac complied.

   Apotequil led the Huaca in a serious, monotone chant as Summer spread
her legs as far apart as her body, the altar, and the restraints would
allow.  As the tip of qollqephichilu touched her expectant pussy, she
pushed against it, forcing herself onto the dildo before the dildo had a
chance to force itself into her.

   Summer gasped in a combination of pleasure and good, good pain.  The
dildo was wide, but Summer's pussy accommodated it with only minor
resistance.

   "Fuuuck," she moaned out loud as the chief pushed further into her cunt.

   The metal was cold, but the biologist's pussy so hot that it warmed up
with each inch that it pressed further into her body.  It stretched her
lips further apart than they'd ever been, and forced itself deeper inside
her than she thought possible.  As Pachacamac completed his first thrust
into her, she could swear that she felt his hand on the hilt.

   The dildo slid back out of the deeper recesses of her cunt, more quickly
than it had gone in.  Summer wanted it harder.  Summer wanted it faster. 
And as the village behind her chanted and watched the sexual scene unfold
before them, Summer's embarrassment dissipated, her arousal tripled, and
moral depravity set in.

   She shrieked with pleasure.  It didn't matter if she made noise.  It
didn't matter if she were louder than she'd ever been before.  These people
wanted her to get off.  Summer wanted to get off.  And if she doing this,
there was no reason to hold back.  There was little humility left to be
saved, and she was going to enjoy what she could out of it.

   She grunted.  She moaned.  She cursed.  She squealed.  Her whole body
writhed on top of the altar as the chief began to assault her pussy more
rapidly than before.  In and out she felt the dildo slide, dipping again
and again inside her.  The priest, leading the chant to her left, placed a
hand upon her painted back.  Summer was sure now that her sweat was causing
the paint on her body to run, to drip onto the snakeskin mat beneath her.
But she paid it no heed, centering her concentration on the current that
was flowing from her crotch.

   "Fuck!  Fuck!  Fuck!" Summer screamed at the top of her lungs, knowing
that no one but Otoniel would understand her and not caring that he would,
either.  She bounced back and forth on the dildo, letting her body take her
wherever it felt best, and allowing the chief to do to her whatever he saw
fit.  She had no control over how fast or how hard he used the dildo; she
was completely at his mercy.

   Summer longed to reach back and play with her clit, but the restraints
around her wrists wouldn't allow it.  She pulled at them anyways, hoping
that they'd eventually tear free and that she could join Pachacamac in
playing with her pussy.  But they held, and Summer had to grind her teeth,
allowing herself to be passive in the fucking she was receiving from the
chief, while all of Hanan Pacha watched.

   It was unlike any sex that Summer had ever had before.  She'd done big
guys in the past.  She'd been fucked in the position that she was in now.
But never with anything the size of the qollqephichilu, never with the
intensity that the chief was plunging into her, never with the eyes of so
many people on her.

   And, in the end, it was the audience that put her over the edge.  An
entire village was watching her fuck.  An entire village was watching her
squirm in her restraints.  An entire village was watching as the dildo came
hypnotically in and out of the naked blonde on the altar.  Pachacamac. 
Apotequil.  Chasca.  Yana.  Pariacaca.  Mancocapac.  Puka.  Catequil. 
Kulli.  Otoniel.  Each one of them was fixated on her, on her body, on her
fucking.

   It was too much.  In just a few minutes from when the enormous silver
dildo had entered her slit, Summer began to cum.

   She shrieked as a wave of sexual fire enveloped her body, screaming out
into the Bolivian night with intensity that she'd never felt before.  She
continued to be fucked by the qollqephichilu, continued to be impaled upon
it, as her whole body began trembling.  The orgasm shot up her spine, down
her legs, and to the tips of her fingers, exacting a scream that Summer was
sure would cost her her voice in the morning.

   Applause and shouts went up from the people behind her, ecstatic about
the culmination of the T'ojsiy.  Their curse had been lifted.  Sipusiki had
been appeased.  They would be able to get pregnant again.

   Summer had climaxed.

   ***

   The next ten minutes or so were a blur to the blonde girl.  She
remembered the dildo being extracted.  She remembered being cut loose from
her restraints.  She remembered stepping down from the altar and limping
through a cheering crowd all around her.

   Eventually, Summer found Otoniel, standing with another man.  Her vision
was blurry, her mind unable to concentrate on anything but the residual
sparks of pleasure that were still shooting from her pussy, but she
recognized the man as Russ Szalinski.

   Walter was in Guayaramerin, receiving the treatment he needed, and would
be okay.  Russ had raced back to Hanan Pacha with Anqas and Punchau sooner
than he'd planned.  He'd arrived while Summer was waiting alone on the
cliff-face, assured by Otoniel that this was her doing, that this was what
she wanted.  He'd watched as she was toyed into orgasm by the chief.

   Summer should have been shocked and ashamed by having her colleague
watch her being fucked by the qollqephichilu while the Huaca looked on. 
She probably would be later.  But for now, as she hobbled silently away
from him, there was nothing that could bring her down from the ecstasy that
she felt.

   Otoniel was waiting patiently with clothes for Summer.  Panties.  Bra.
Skirt.  Tank top.  Shoes.  But she just brushed past him, grunting for him
to meet her after she'd washed all the paint off in the Clemente, after
she'd had a few minutes to be alone in the water, and indulge in the
post-T'ojsiy bliss that had overrun her body.

   ***

   A tall, strong-looking man stood at the window of his office, staring
out at the skyscraper being built in the Babylon skyline behind him.  His
skyscraper.

   It would be completed soon, all one hundred and twenty-three stories. 
It would stand as the tallest building on Earth, a testament to his empire.
A testament to Knox Industries.  A testament to Jupiter Knox himself.

   Knox listened as one of his vice presidents, Andrew Duncan, droned on
and on about the findings of one of Knox's subsidiaries, Ambrosia
Pharmaceuticals.  Something about tree frogs.  Something about a
miraculous, pain-relieving native cream.  Something about a type of
aberrant silver.

   Of course, Duncan was practically reading from the report, throwing out
seven-syllable scientific words as if they meant something to the
industrialist.  But he caught one or two words, and, interest piqued, he
turned to the younger man.

   "'Stimulus-enhancement?'" Knox quoted back at him.  "Are you saying that
the silver is like some sort of Spanish fly?  It's an aphrodisiac?"

   "No sir," Duncan ventured carefully, not wanting to contradict his boss.
"It's nothing like that.  The Huaca silver doesn't cause stimulation
itself, but rather magnifies stimulation that already exists.  The Ambrosia
team didn't even know about it, still don't know about it, I don't think.
The woman, er -" Duncan glanced down at the name on the report in front of
him, "Doctor Monroe, didn't even fully realize its effects.  She wrote them
off as her own emotions, her own stimulation, her own excitement.  It took
the labs back here, in Babylon, to fully discover its effects."

   "Hmm," Knox responded.  He was a quiet man, someone whose silence only
made him seem that much more powerful.  "And the team?"

   Duncan paused for a moment, wondering what his boss was thinking. 
Nonetheless, he continued to brief the other man.  "Doctor Szalinski and
Doctor Newcomb are both back in Babylon.  Doctor Szalinski has been working
with the amphibian DNA samples they collected for the six months since
returning from Bolivia.  And Doctor Newcomb has made a full recovery,
though he is now in the employ of Sussex University downtown in the
University District.  He's teaching next term, I believe."

   "And the girl?" Knox asked.  "Doctor Monroe?"

   "Bolivia.  She stayed behind in Valle de los Reyes, with the translator
and the Huaca.  Apparently, the Indians believe that she was blessed by
some sort of fertility goddess....some sort of fertility goddess that
travels in the form of a jaguar, I believe.

   "She does research now and then, and mails it back stateside.  But from
what I understand, her primary role has become traveling from village to
village to village, breaking a curse that the Huaca believe was inflicted
upon them by the goddess.  She goes in, performs some ritual, and then
suddenly the pregnancy rates begin to climb in whatever village it is. 
Hanan Pacha, Uca Pacha, Sumaq Wasi - they've all got pregnancy rates that
have that have just exploded over the past six months."

   "Intriguing," Knox mused.  He gazed back at the skyscraper that was
growing a few blocks away, juxtaposed next to his own reflection. 
"Intriguing."