Free Write is NSFW

It's the first free-write. Holy crap, lock up your sons and daughters, here it comes.

Again, my original intention with this whole book was to make it... I guess as close to a "found film" story as literature could get. Different documents, different perspectives, etc. Just a way to have a massive character study in the midst of the weirdness that for the most part has already gone down, but should be ramping up again... soonish.

So, we have Lope and Elias here getting a little more attention. Lope, whose name literally translates into "wolf", was always meant to be the alpha male of his "pack". The whole soldier unit was always meant to have that pack mentality, so it was fun to finally flesh out the group and their leader. Did some studying of alpha behavior in wolf packs and among dogs, and tried to translate that into Lope.

Lope according to Up.

It's not all bravado, it's behavior, deliberate and calculated.

And there's Elias. I never wanted him to be a sweet, innocent character. I wanted him to be Lope's foil. He is strong in his own way, and behaves more like a challenging alpha than a full-on top dog. A lot of alphas will punish these challenges in numerous ways for various reasons.

None of us do, Dug.

So, Elias's fantasy and viewing of Pepita is meant to be one of those various challenges that gets under Lope's skin. Not only that, but it is meant to show that Elias is not as cookie cut as initially believed. We know he is a considerate person, after seeing his behavior with Nieve and Carmen, but he was never meant to be an altar boy. He was meant to possess empathy and passion, and Pepita has a way of bringing that out in people.

The "car wash" scene from Cool Hand Luke was the inspiration for this scene.

... Also, it gave me an excuse to write sexy sex fiction, too. ;) Keep your eyes peeled, some day (insert pen-name here) will be the best thing to hit romantic literature since Fabio started conditioning his hair.

Your grandma will thank me.

Also, "The NaNo Project" will be moving to WordPress over the next week or two. Once this is set up, we'll get the chapters rolling again. Thanks for your support, six people! :D You're awesome, and I will see you there.

***

The refectory was loud now that soldiers had come in for some wine and food. Others had gone back to the barracks for a smoke and some rest. As the afternoon began to edge closer to evening, the grueling exercises and tests of endurance had been called. The refectory was nice and cool compared to the rest of the jungle heat. Even at this height on Santa Marta, there was no escaping the summer. Those that had been stationed there a while and those that had just arrived in Santa Marta sat down to replenish their bellies and quench their thirst. They began playing a round of one and thirty, and soon enough the soldiers were knocking loudly on the table, but they did not dare bark at the dealer, not while Lope was dealing the cards.

He lived up to his name with his wolfish grin, big white teeth, and scruffy, dark hair around intelligent, probing light eyes. He was seated on the table, and had his foot propped on a chair. He leaned in as he dealt the cards, and like a magnet dropped into a scattered mass of needles, his platoon pressed in to see. Many of the new cadets were already involved with the group, they had taken to their new brothers instantly. But Elias was one of the hesitant few; something Lope had not missed.

“Get us some more wine, boy,” he nodded at Ludwig, the heavy cook joshing with the monks in the corner, and the soldiers shouldered Elias out before he could protest. Lope’s attention returned to the rest. His brow glistened from bearing the heat. “Good job today, for a bunch of women, that wasn’t too bad,” Lope’s face was cracked by his grin, like a brown egg ready to let out the yolk. His light eyes shone brightly. The crowd chuckled; a couple of his men playfully damned him.

“Go find yourself a woman, Lope, see how she compares!”

Lope barked with laughter. “We are here to spread our empire.”

Ludwig had shooed Elias off from the conversation, and the cadet dragged his feet into the kitchen. He plucked up a vessel of wine, and left the kitchen, nearly colliding with Ludwig. They side-stepped each other, and Elias returned with the wine.

Elias watched the cards flip, and listened to the soldiers as they tapped their knuckles on the table. He was ready to leave, when the young sub-prior, Padre Alvarelo, stepped out of the kitchen. The soldiers were uncomfortable around him, Elias noticed immediately. He was not an intimidating man, but he was the right hand of Padre Leoncio, the prior whose relationship with the Captain was shaky, at best. As he emerged, the soldiers fell into their routine of ignoring his presence. Unless Alvarelo addressed them, he was rarely acknowledged. Captain Alejandro advised them to keep any and all interaction to a minimum, to avoid any chance of altercation. Perhaps it was not the best strategy, but in the short term, it had secured a wary truce.

There were two nuns following him. They were young, probably initiates. The soldiers had settled down quickly enough to draw a curious suspicion from the nuns. Lope met their gaze, he even smiled, and his attention was accompanied by his platoon’s own fascination with their arrival. Elias followed their stares, and recognized the two nuns from his journey across the ocean. He was embarrassed once he realized his fellow soldiers were making the sisters uneasy. They scurried closer to Alvarelo’s heels, and stayed there until they had cleared the refectory.

Elias sighed as he watched them go.

“Boy!” Lope called, and Elias whipped his head about to see Lope’s arms open, his stature notched up in an impatient, demanding pose. “My wine’s getting cold!”

Elias cocked his head, and Lope pointed to an empty, wooden goblet. Unable to mask his contempt, Elias poured him a portion of wine, and took a seat with the recruits.

Jorge, the soldier with a patchy beard, turned back from watching the nuns and shook his head in mock sadness. “That’s a shame.”

“Shit,” said another soldier, the normally monosyllabic Fabian.

Lope’s doggish companion, Diego, piped up next as he poured some wine. “Wrapping up a pretty ass like that,” he said, full of regret.

“Pass me that wine,” Pietro swiped it from Diego, and the red stuff gushed into his waiting cup. “Why don't you find yourself a pretty Kogui and fuck her,” he grunted around a mouthful of wine. He had a jovial lilt to his cruelty, but viciousness lurked beneath that charming grin. The way he grabbed and guzzled the wine reminded Elias of a barbarian.

Fabian had fixed his hazel eyes on Lope across the table. “Always Pepita. If that fails.” He knew how possessive Lope could be, and considering the myriad of territorial reactions Lope had in his arsenal, such a possession always showed itself differently. It was like watching a play where the author’s style was unchanged, but the material was always new.

Lope, energized from bossing around the new recruits, had one of his more positive retorts. He snorted as he helped himself to more wine. “You wouldn’t even know what to do with her.”

A low tone oozed around the table as the soldiers smelled a challenge in the air.

Fabian was smiling. “And?” He crossed his feet on the table. His quiet demeanor, matched with this toying attitude, left Elias anxious. He did not like Fabian, not one bit.

“I come to you now,” Lope straightened, and hooked his hand at the lapel of his jacket, “as your ambassador,” he gave a dignified sniff. “If you want to explore a bitch like that, you need me. I found that pretty thing on her way to the laundry house only moments ago. Look at that kid,” he pointed at the staring Elias, who started now that he was the center of Lope’s narrative. “He doesn’t have a clue. None of these brats do. I could be talking about a dog for all they care.”

Elias shifted, and thumbed the rim of his wine cup. “I hope not.”

The table erupted, the blast of sound chased the tails of Elias’s remark, and momentarily wounded Lope’s grinning bravado.

Lope recovered. “See every couple of days the infirmary has their laundry day. Since the doctor’s got shit all to deal with, the chore usually falls on Pepita. Now see, she’s always there. She’s his nurse, so you always know where to go to find yourself an eyeful of Pepita. But to truly get a good glimpse of her, you got to find her on laundry day.” Lope had a disturbingly dreamy look to him, his cheeks were red, but Elias could not tell if this was from the wine or from the sun. The group had fallen silent, but those smiles shined from their hunched faces, and that said enough. “You get more than a checkup.

“You don’t want to get caught, she‘ll run off like a doe,” but there was nothing tender or gentle in his words, just a slimy subtext that made Elias mentally squirm. “You lay low enough though, and you’ll have something on your mind all day, all because she wears this little dress. She bends over that water, and her tits press against her dress, against this button ‘bout the size of a pearl. And I mean these are tits. They’re not breasts, it’s not some bosom. Tits.

“Then,” Lope lifted his fists, and pushed them up and down slowly. “She starts pumping her arms in the water. You know it’s just washing, but it’s Pepita doing it. So, those tits start bouncing and she gets into this rhythm. And the water’s coming up her arms, or lapping over the vat, so her dress is getting wet. You can almost see through it, and it gets better. She gets tired, because when she isn’t washing or nursing, she really is a lazy bitch, so it happens pretty quick.

“You’ll know she’s tired because she starts stretching, sweating, her skin’s shining, and she’s putting her whole body into it.”

Elias was not aware of his daze until the door to the refectory flew open to reveal Martin, another of the new recruits. He was bigger than Elias, but through all their training he boasted a beet red face. He needed only a little exertion to make his cheeks bloom red. Claudio, a fellow soldier and not the brightest in their unit, used to jeer, and accuse Martin of jerking off in the latrine. However, Martin’s secret weapon was his wit, and he was no pushover. Elias remembered an excellent retort Martin had exercised against Claudio, that Claudio’s mother had that effect on him. Even as Claudio beat him to a pulp, Martin’s bloody mouth was open and laughing. Now, he looked frightened as his new unit looked expectantly at him.

“Captain’s on mission,” he gibbered. “He just went into the cloister with that prior.”

“Hell,” Fabian grumbled, and his wine thumped onto the table. The rest of the unit was on the move. Fabian’s wine cup had tipped over, and steady burgundy stream swelled over the edge of the table, and dripped onto the ground. Lope looked Elias square in the eye through all the commotion.

“Guess you’ll just have to see for yourself someday.”

Elias stared. It was the way Lope spoke that caught him off-guard, like he had just issued a threat. Still, Elias followed the rest of the men out of the refectory. They moved through the mission, not like cattle, but like athletes on their way into an arena. Some of the crew branched off, only a few continued with Lope. Martin was one of them. Elias wondered, he hoped prematurely, if Martin was going to reduce himself to a pathetically loyal mess for Lope. Martin was witty, and he was strong, but his weakness was an ingratiating ambition. However, if he could make an impression on Lope, there was a chance he could make an impression on the Captain, and in turn, one of the Generals back in the Yucatan. Elias had a feeling that if Martin did decide to take that road, he would be leaping through hoops more than standing to receive honors.

There was a book on Elias’s bed in the barrack; there was also more training he could do. He could take a run, he could fence, and he could help in the stables. So long as the Captain did not catch him slacking as he toured the mission, there was plenty for Elias to do. But none of these options appealed to him, each met with a lackluster verve. Elias could not get the image of the woman from Lope’s story out of his head. It did not help that not far from here was the launder’s wing of the mission. The idea of spotting her nagged Elias, and he chewed the thought over with his lower lip before he decided.

He plunged through the corridors of the mission until he emerged into the cloister. The missionaries had maintained a lovely garden here, much like the doctor‘s back in the courtyard. Elias imagined they enjoyed studying the botanicals. Perhaps even the doctor helped; after all, his very vocation required him to be familiar with such vegetation, among many of his other medicinal talents. Elias reined his wandering mind in, and refocused on the launder house up ahead. Elias kept close to the ambulatory that stood with the dormitory against the afternoon sun. He had the perfect shadow, and soon found himself submerged in the cool blue umbra. Even if he could not catch a glimpse of this famous ‘Pepita’, he would at least have had the pleasure of a cool spot on a warm day.

The launder house was nothing too impressive; a wide building that squat at the end of the cloister. The windows were low enough for Elias to have a look. There were a few Tairona women gathered around a big vat of water. Their conversation was engaging and animated for those involved. As they spoke and laughed and gestured, the gold on their faces and around their wrists sparkled. There was not much light in the house, save for the sun tracing delicately through the dusty windows, but their ornaments still entranced Elias.

Such a spell did not last long. In fact, it was broken once he caught sight of another woman. She was wearing a grey dress, and there was an apron around her waist. Elias had a fantastic view of her ass. He could see where that waist ended, and where those rounds hips began. A green scarf kept her hair in a messy knot behind her head, but some curls had escaped and wound down her neck and between her shoulders. From this window, Elias only had a view of her back. Pleasant as that was, he wanted to see if Lope’s story was true. At least, that was what he kept telling himself.

Elias stepped back from the building, kept low, and moved a couple more windows down. As Elias peeked into the house, he saw the button from Lope’s story. That little, pearly sphere struggled to keep a linen neckline together as a sumptuous pair of breasts swelled against the fabric. Her arms were strong from having to pump the cloth up and down the rack in the gray water every few days. As the vat’s tide receded down her arms, her skin was laced with bubbles. Her head would cock occasionally, probably to relieve stiffness built up in the muscles of her slender neck. More curls were free, some of them traced her cheeks, and some hung low and brushed across the crest of her breast, and bobbed as her body heaved up and down on the linen. Her face was set with determination, her cheeks were rosy from the work, and her eyes were low. Elias could not see them, but he wondered what color they were.

The little things intrigued him. The petite button, the curve of her neck, the way her nose came to an attractive point, and the mystery of her eyes. Would they be big or small, wide on her face, or huddled close to her nose? Could he make her laugh? He found what attracted him.
A pang of homesickness cut him as he looked at her. She had a thick body with wide hips, like the farming girls from home. They always came into town during fairs. They boasted fleece, grains, and cattle, and they were always fleshy and tanned like Pepita. Elias swooned.

He imagined Pepita drawing him into a field,

fully aware of the swing of her hips,

and their hypnotism. She pulled him into the golden wheat; she rolled him onto his back,

unbuckled his belt,

and straddled my lap.

I pushed her skirt up, felt the soft hair of her thighs

on my fingertips.

and the warmth of her skin on my prick.

I went in slowly, and affected her, and she shivered as warmth spread through her.

She began to rock like the first time I saw her at the launder house.

Her head was bowed,

I put my hand on her cheek,

her mouth found my thumb,

And she finally showed me her eyes.

Elias’s feet flew out from under him, and his forehead hit the wall as he went down. His whole world spun, and the daydream of sweet lovemaking was gone. He groaned. A boot hooked under his shoulder and pushed. Elias thumped over; the blue sky of the wheat field was replaced with Lope, Diego, and Pietro. They were all smirking down at him.

Lope squatted next to Elias with his elbows on his knees. His tanned fingers dangled idly. “You want to know what happens next?”

Elias shook his head vehemently.

The doors to the launder house threw open, and the Tairona women expelled a shocked swoon. Lope marched in, Pietro and Diego brought up the rear. Pietro had his arms fastened around Elias’s legs, and Diego clasped the kid’s arms tightly. They were howling with laughter as they followed Lope. Much to Elias’s dread, Lope was leading them right to Pepita.
Elias struggled more.

“Pepita!” Lope called to her in a sing-song voice. “I have another peeping tom for you.”

Before she could say anything, Diego and Pietro hefted Elias high into the air, and swung him into the vat. Elias collided with the surface. His yell was swallowed with cloudy water. He kicked fitfully in the deep vat, and reached through the surface. Fingers flailed blindly until they found the wooden edge of the vessel. He tugged himself up, and when he tried to open his eyes, they were filled with a burning tingle that instantly obscured his vision. Elias grunted and his eyes brimmed with tears to combat the stinging soaps. As the tears washed his red eyes, Pepita was revealed. He had surfaced right in front of her. He looked up, horrified that his first impression was that of a wet, confused cat. Her laughter rang through the launder house.

Her eyes were light green.