Gus gave out a ponderous belch and slapped the sweaty nape of his friend, grinning under the mustache. Making their way back to the village - the sun still scorching up on the horizon, yet a day was being called for these early risers, Gus a forester and Mort, one of the few shepherds scattered among these barren swathes of the country, where the central government subsidized folks to move into long- decaying hamlets. It had been a blistering day, and they were plodding their way past and through rank stubble and hay stacks, ignoring the country road winding eastwards and aiming straight for the village, as-the-crow-flies, hay- stalk planted between lips.
- Jesus, sweet Mary, burst out Mort, his gaze fixated upon the olive copice ahead, on top of the knoll, and snapped Gus's chest with the back of his palm motioning ahead with his bony claw. Gus squinted and leed his eyes with his furred bulky hoof, trying to adjust to the game of light and shadow thither. On the brink of the tuft of young olive trees gracing the crest ahead, a young woman was shooting poses of herself holding her phone aloft, while a few yards apart, a nerd was crouched in the grass maneuvering a hand held camera. She clad a jean short that was pulled down to her thighs, leaving her bottom fully exposed in the day light, flaunting her behind unabashedly; a jean jacket, or rather a slither of jeans hardly cupping her slender breasts and a pair of white Converse. Even from a distance, one could tell that she commanded the whole photo session, flouncing about, blurting out instructions to her amenable companion that appeared to be fixated on the unique task on capturing her at the peak of her snug poses.
She had also apprehended them, yet she feigned surprise when the two intruders burst onto the scene and equally so when Gus apprised her:
- Howdy. You folks need to get going. It's private property.
- Yeah, right. Please continue. Go on, psst psst. You're interrupting. And she held up her hands, waving just her dainty palms with their scintillating nails at them, hardly averting from her phone screen which seemed to be somehow threading an imaginary axis with her friend's camera and her exposed body. Said character had paused shooting and was currently starring at the two strangers, discomfited, unsure of what he should do next.
- Don't stop, Duncan! Why are you spoiling this? Just like everything else! What the fuuuck?!
- Kaleya. Maybe we should best postpone this? Please?!
- You heard your boyfriend, sweetie. He's right. And, please, cover those parts, will ya?
She seemed to have reached the end of her fleeting patience and eventually lowered her phone and beheld them, pivoting slightly. Her short kept hanging loose around her thighs, hardly covering the blonde blade sprouting south of her lean navel.
- Or what?! she sneered. First of all, he's not my boyfriend. Second, no one bosses me around. You've made a big mistake, mister. My two hundred and forty thousand followers will all want a piece of you for interrupting my Insta reels today. She was now jabbing her shiny phone to the uncouth pair, like menacing with an cocked pistol.
- Hi everyone, she followed on, pulling up a cajoling smile. I'm sorry to let you down today. I was just about to shoot the best of the week but life is full of surprises. Isn't it? Hihihi. And this wasn't a pleasant one. Our photo session was brutally interrupted by these two characters that... Her phone was now inches away from Gus's visage and Mort threw him a meaningful and somewhat prescient glance.
The phone landed with a faint swish in a prickly briar followed shortly by Mort's guffaw. His scare- crow frame was shaking with mirth.
- Fuck off now, said Gus to the impertinent brat in front of him. Or someone's gonna get a piece of you...
- How dare you, you, you jerk? And her tiny palm came to squash against his broad cheek. Could've swat a mosquito, but there weren't any. Mort stopped laughing. Gus spat his hay stick. His blow sent her reeling backwards and spinning; she went to the ground, lying prone, a gout of blood gushing from her swollen lip, his heavy hand having returned to his side, naturally, after slicing the air, his poise unruffled.
Duncan made for them, sprinting. Mort fenced out and walloped him short and hard right into the sternum. He warped like a sail catching a gust, his knees giving way, kneeling now in a plume of dust, his hands wrapped around his belly, trying hard to catch his breath.
Having made her way up on all fours, she wiped her mouth and gazed at the trail of blood smearing her palm web. Gus casually unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his already erect shaft. Next, he knelled down beside her, spreading her out with his knee against her thigh and then straddling his left over her other thigh, securing it against her midriff. Still groggy from the hit, she let out a whimper when he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her backwards. She tried to wrest herself away from him, pulling, squealing, shrilling, calling him all sorts, beckoning her knight Duncan to her rescue and batting the air with her long nails behind her; yet he was out of reach and she only stirred clouds of dust and hay stalks all around them. Duncan was sighting the whole scene, aloof. Gus's lock was too tight. He spat a fat goo in his palm and slavered his organ. Having pointed his bow, he wedged himself inside her with a short thrust. 'Nooooooooooo...' The vowels seemed to hover in the air eternally, but she had to draw her breath. Her shrieking subsided into sobs, the tear beads now mixing with her makeup and coursing down her rounded cheeks, while the forester behind her was settling into a steady ram, almost the pounding of a human heart.
- Well, she ain't spared the rod, now, ain't she? half- whispered Mort into his victim's ear clutching a tuft of his mane. That'll teach her... You, whats yo name?
- My name? He mustered some strength. It's, it's Duncan, he gibbered.
- Dun. Looks like a fine piece of ass ya got there, young man, he smirked gap- toothily. Whacha fine young people doing around here, anyhow? I'll tell you what, she might as well enjoy it, such proper funnelin'...
Having stopped crying, she had settled into whimpering while Mort, leniently, had let go of her hair and broke the lock, presently knelled behind her, going at it like a pair of hounds, doggedly, seemingly in no hurry to get over with it.
- I'll be damned, she is enjoying it...
- You're lying! He's forcing himself upon her! spurned Duncan.
- Look, you stupid fuck. He ain't fucking her. She is.
Gus had come to a halt. She kept on thrusting herself backwards, in long steady strides, her palms grasping the turf, her eyelids laden, whimpering, her tongue darting out over the pursed plum lips. It wasn't long before she picked up pace, to then suddenly warp out her back, froze, and then gasp out loudly, almost wheezing, her midriff rippling with tiny quivers.
