Group of scientists in Massachussetts. At a local bistro. Private party. They have to plan. Scientific expedition.
"So, where is the big trip next month?" Admonished asked, dipping his fries in a mixture of ketchup and a local hot sauce. The sauce had a blend of various peppers, including jalapeno and the infamous Scotch bonnett. He knows the chef. A bit too well, and now the chef is George's ex-brother-in-law. On his plate is part of a burger that was a few minutes previously the size of Congress. George never asks and always gets salad dressing on the burger. He eats every french fry, though.
"It's a scientific expedition" Cassie Langra mildly rebukes George. We are going to Bora Bora. To study the indigenous wildlife."
"Indigenous wildlife, yes. A different male voice. "I'm sure it's there, even as we speak."
Cassie is looking for her comb down inside her deep, dark handbag. Ed, I'm happy to know we all agree on something.
Marisol speaks. "It's one of the few places that American corporation has not decided to make it's nest".
Colbert looks over at Marisol and speaks. "You don't look anything like her." Colbert scratches at his three-hour beard. Crazy bell ringer was right. There is money to be made on this trip. We could strip mine for volcanic deposits. We could start a park for prehistoric raptors, with me as manager of the secretarial pool.
"Yes, I know Edward. Marisol in the spaghetti western was much prettier. But she let the man with no name know there was a gun at his back." Feel lucky, punk? she thought, a hand on one of her flats.
George the admonished speaks up again. So you are going to Bora Bora. We are scientists, yes! Why can't I go."
Colbert is studying George. Colbert did not ever doubt George was a good scientist. But now, Colbert. a rising scum of plankton and a member of Greenpeace, knows better than to go anywhere with George. Colbert has big balls and is a ladder stepper. I can have exposure, he muses. Edward Colbert thinking of banging women around top brass. A woman with a lemon blouse, strapless. Several rungs up the ladder, the assistant's skirt flapping in the breeze. Sheer brown panties...
Cassie says "There's nothing to do there. In Bora Bora. "The native habitat is not even worth studying. They're all bartenders and entertainers."
Marisol looks at Cassie a minute. "But it's your fucking job, for Christ's sake. I mean, damn!" Marisol's face a mixture of alarm and laughing. Clarisse was a good friend. Sort of a friend, also who found her at a cantina, all alone. She was Colbert's old lady, now.
Colbert is looking hard, but with some softening at Marisol. Her vanilla top is letting some cleavage show through, definitely. The entomologist is remembering a large palm tree. He was examining the tree, then he was hugging the tree. Marisol had long arms. She had Edward's button down shirt half way off, biting his shoulders and his arms. While she was biting and sucking on his arms and shoulders, the research assistant was jerking the scientist off. It didn't take long, and he exploded on the tree. They both fell down on the ground. Colbert was a climber. He was a little vain, often arrogant. But he was fairly sensitive. If that's what the woman wanted. He and Marisol lie there, looking up at the treetops. Then he took care of Marisol with a probing, hairy middle finger. Marisol's Spanish half made her crazy mad, like she was having Two Fingers tequila. Or she was having the Don Patron. It took an afternoon to get the blood and dirt out of her fingernails. They never spoke of the shirt. It was an Izod.
The expedition will leave in just a week or less. Colbert will not get much done. But the expedition will study the screaming of tree species. It's his job, for Christ sake.
''''''''
Cassie did the cataloguing on research field trips. This is more like a high school field trip, she thought, watching a grey squirrel bound across the rural connector. The phone rings. Cassie picked up the phone and pressed to answer. "Yes, George".
"Cassie, hey. Will you bring me a shirt?"
"Aren't you disappointed you can't go to this vacation resort so you you can study summer fashions, George?"
"I'd just as soon not. I might get to see Ann again. Maybe not. My wife is to be in town."
"Isn't Denise your ex-wife, George?". Cassie understood how it was for George. He could live a double life. And hate both lives. Cassie was George's friend. He was short, kinda chubby. And didn't act for Warner Brothers, or make his own antipasto. His last name was not DeVito.
"I have to, Cassie. If I'm gonna see Bobbie Sue again, or much, or ever."
"Just wear something, George. What's wrong with Ann? Your ex know that you have a job? Does your ex THINK you have a girlfriend? You could make one up."
Cassie's mother said to her a few years ago "Cassie, you have some thing about men who are shorter than most men, and don't even make leather boots look good?
Cassie looked at her that day. She was quiet. Later, when Cassie still lived with her mother, George and her had both met at college. George gave Cassie a ride home on a Friday, after the last class. Cassie thought George was good looking, even if he was kind of short. They both got in Cassie's bed, after Cassie made sure her mother was at the coast with Dennis. Cassie kissed George, and he was so sweet, she thought. Cassie lay George down and crawled over his stomach on the bed, kissed him here and there. George was very vocal. George was loud. "Cassie, you have to stop, and Cassie took George's schlong out of her mouth. George made Cassie lay down, and eased her leg back. He kissed her on the softest part of her thigh, and Cassie started laughing because it tickled so much. Then George ate Cassie. Cassie was having lots of little orgasms. Then she fell asleep. When she woke, George was in bed beside her. George woke up and then was at full attention, while Cassie went down on George.
George broke the silence. One thing a cellular lacks, is the sound of silence between words. "I, uh, don't tell Ann much, Cassie. There isn't ever time. Well, don't do anything I wouldn't do. In Bora Bora."
