Fast and Furious Feet

"You are pissing me off!" roared Keza with an emotional intensity that made Boris' hair curl with goosebumps.

Boris took together all his courage, "Seriously, you need a plan."

"I don't know how to get there," pouted Keza with anger. "I'm a stupid bitch that will never get anywhere! Why do you even spend time with me?"

"Listen, there is a long distance school in London. We could go to Kigali to an internet cafe and apply there. Then we could both pick up every month our learning packets in Kigali and study in school together," suggested Boris. He worried that he was doing a terrible thing of being from Mars when he should be from Venus. That is he was offering solutions when he should be supportive.

"You would do that with me?" asked Keza, perking up with curiosity.

"Yes, I would," replied Boris.

"You are the sweetest thing!" replied Keza.

Both of them laid back so much heavier on the rock as they let go of muscle tension from their mini-fight. Even his penis relaxed and cozied down to his belly to lay languidly there. They let their thoughts drift, taking in the balmy air and the free feeling of their skin. He watched the clouds pass overhead, an ever engrossing activity of barely being able to see them move but so quickly are they gone out of sight. He held onto her hand and savored the sweet feeling of being near her, having her presence, and the musk scent of her body. She made him feel whole.

When the clay was thoroughly dry and every movement caused it to crack and pull on a body hair that it encased, he got up to the willow like bush on the right side of the water whole. He ripped off a few branches. They were soft, bendy branches with fingernail sized leaves. He dunked them into the water to get them wet all over. Then he guided Keza to turn over. He whipped her back with the willow branches to break off the baked clay. She told him to hit her harder. He wasn't doing it right. She needed to feel a bit of a sting. He lashed her back, her lower back. He particularly liked lashing her butt and getting it from all angles. Then he worked his way down her legs. He had her flip over. He lashed her belly and her breasts. He could see her wince but not say anything when he hit her nipples. He got immense enjoyment out of paying attention to every part of her body where everything was taut and in the right places. The clay was either whipped off or the water had started melting the clay to run down her body.

The next part was going to be dangerous. He went back outside the hedge that circled the waterhole. He went up the hillside to where the ground was dry while carefully looking around so that nobody would spot him naked. There was a tree that had been struck by lightning. It was split in the middle. The part that hadn't burned from lighting was dried up bone dry. He broke up a couple branches with curled up leaves. Then he snuck back to the watering hole.

This time, he went to the other side after getting Mihigo's lighter from his pocket. He lit the first branch and held it under the tree there. The leaves started flickering flames and blowing thick smoke. The smoke rose up along the trees. There was a buzzing that grew louder and louder. The branch was close to finishing its burn. So he lit up the next branch to reinvigorate the smoke. The bees started swarming around him. They were scared of the smoke. He dispersed them carefully. Then he reached up to break a piece off the beehive. It was a gray clump. He was so scared of having a hundred angry bees in his hand. However, the smoke had worked. He had big cheese slice shaped clump in his hand that was oozing honey. He dropped the last branch to the ground and swiftly got away from the sacked beehive.

Back with Keeza, he let the honey drip on her belly, then on her breasts, and down her thighs. He spread the honey all over her body. The golden, thick substance made her body shine. It was sticky to his fingers. It was hard to distribute. He had to press it. The clump didn't have too much. He made a special enjoyment of circling her nipples. She hissed at him with joy, "You bad boy!" when he did that. He could tell that it wasn't from his enjoyment but because the nipples apparently weren't meant for honey.

Knowing that she would want him to join, he laid back and squeezed the honey clump tightly to get every last drop out and smeared it over his belly, chest, arms, and legs. When he laid back, she squeezed his hand a little harder to the point where it made him worried a little about what would happen next. It only took a minute and he could feel the first tickle at his butt. The tickle slowly crawled up the side of his hip. Then there was a second tickle at his calves crawling up to his knee. Another tickle moved over his thighs. It started to become hard to keep track of the tickles moving over his body. From the tension in Keza's hand, he could tell that the same was happening for her as well.

The real thing was going to start happening soon. He knew that the first tickles were only scouts that were calling in the workers. Right on his hip bone was the first sting, relatively light and quickly fading. Then another sting lit up on the middle of his thigh. From there on, mild to middle hard stings lit up all over his body. The tingles swarmed everywhere. He heard little whines lighting up in Keza's throat. Now he realized that nipples were very sensitive and probably stinging like hell, but Keza had submitted to the whole pampering treatment.

For a moment, Boris opened his eyes to look down his body and watch the ants crawling all over him. Their injections were supposed to invigorate the skin to become more radiant. He closed his eyes again and waited for the tingle to lessen and the splattering of spiking burn sensations to become less frenzied. Now he knew that most of the honey was gone, and the remaining workers were looking for any missed spots. The bees and ants in this ecosystem were enemies. Keza also seemed to be almost cleaned up because the grip in her hand was relaxing.

Waiting an extra five minutes, Boris knew that the spa trip was almost over. He helped Keza to stand up and then guided her in the water. The water was only hip deep at the deepest. So he pushed her torso back so that she would fall into his embrace. He lowered both of them into the water and cradled her in his arms like a babe. Her legs were over his left arm. Her back was over his right arm and resting against her shoulder. He swayed her around in the water to make the water glide over her skin and wash the clay and honey off.

Her face was so close to his that he almost got dizzy looking at her. Closeup, her face looked differently. Her cheeks seemed to have thick skin that gave her almost an oversized appearance. Her mouth wasn't perfectly symmetric, but her upper lip was turned up and outside more. It has the weight of a wood carving. He took in all that made Keza be Keza. He adored her. He savored those lips so close to his and wished to kiss them.

Then he rested her naked butt on his left knee so that his left hand was free to wash her whole body and rub off all the clay. He felt up her naked body. His boner raged as hard as it could. He was so careful to keep her hip away from her boner but also to keep her from slipping way from his knee. Yet, Keza squeezed his penis again with a precision like she knew where it was, "Don't make me wait too long!" she said before surrendering to his intimate bathing of her again.

Outside the water, he haphazardly wrapped the fabric around her body. She helped him. They did a much simpler pattern to make it easy on him and keep him covered. He got dressed. They walked back to the school.

Before they reached the school, she asked, "What's your favorite food?"

He said, "ice cream."

"There is too much boy in you," she stated.

"Mine is apple," she said with a tone that suggested that she meant that more in a biblical meaning than in a culinary meaning, like she really enjoyed sin and deviousness. With that she let go of his hand, lifted her blindfold, and adjusted her dress. They were close enough to the school anyway. And it made sense for her to fix her dress before people could see her.

"A prelude is when things are too good, when things are a little too steady, and when things go in one direction too much. That's the gut-wrenching silence before the blow lands, the icy prison that makes you watch the good things in your life from afar, and the mark that your blood was cursed from the start. Bow your head to the decapitation!"

Boris settled into the routine to get up with the rising to run for an hour. The bathing golden sun, the red dirt paths winding, and the song of the birds became familiar to him. The sweat running down his temples, the steady heartbeat when he pushed 80% of his PR pace, and the good feeling of exercise gave him the energy to start the day strong. Then, he'd channel those good vibes into making breakfast for Mikhail and himself while putting on a tune like Bob Marley's Three Little Birds to rouse Mikhail from sleep.

That particular day was no school. Mikhail took Boris on an adventure trip. The dirt bike had a very high seat to give the springs a wide range to collapse. High up behind Mikhail, Boris was sitting on the bike, his arms slung around the big chested Mikhail. Mikhail kicked the engine in the gut with a couple wrist flicks to make it whine. Nothing gets the adrenaline going like the dzdzdzdzhhhhh of a high pitched dirt bike. Then they took off without helmets because they were Russians in Rwanda!

Going 40mph was fast for cross country with little bushes, rocks, and holes. Mikhail pressed the bike down left and right to make it do a fluid s-curve through all the debris lying around. Then he full throttled it straight over a hilltop to make it catch a little air even with two men on the little dirt bike. Boris felt his stomach lifting like in a roller coaster before his head was pressed down onto Mikhail's shoulder with the impact of the landing. They ruled the open savannah. The heart beats faster and freer at speed. Two boys bonding.

After half hour of close cuddling, they drove onto the airport compound. The runway was a dirt patch lined with lights. All the small airplanes were tied down with strings outdoors. There was a large shed or small hangar that functioned as the mechanics bay. There wasn't even a tower, only a small shed for passengers to wait for their flight. Everyone waved at Mikhail. Mikhail loved being the big man. His face was glowing. This was a good day for him. He got to show off his son to the admiration of "his" people.

Bisangwa was the kerosene truck driver. He already pulled the truck around to the Cessna 340A with the red stripes. He was a man of normal height. However, his slender proportioned figure made him appear taller than he was. He was about five years Mikhail's senior, but he was very trim from exercise, giving his body a compact and ready to go feeling. Compared to the other men, he had more flair. A purple handkerchief was tied around his throat in a tight way. His black hair was shaved real close on the sides but styled elegantly like a jazz sax player in an underground club. The overall was fitted to his body dimensions to give him a suave look. The outfit was finished by tiny, round, and black sunglasses that made him seem like a Beatles inspired poet.

The flight plan filing was a breeze. Mikhail simply slit a folded in quarters paper into a box in the passenger shed. Boris helped Mikhail with the pre-flight check by letting a little kerosene into a little glass to check for water in the tank. Mikhail checked the mechanics of the landing flare, tire pressure, and aluminum fatigue signs. Boris moved on to flip the switches for the oil pump to check the pressure and pinged the electrical system for responsiveness.

"We are taking her to Kaduha," explained Mikhail. "The national park at the border called in for assistance. I told the pilot that I'd take the call because it would be fun to spend a day checking out the gorgeous landscape with you. We are going to pick up a sick gorilla to get surgery in a proper veterinary facility. Maybe, we can see some rhinos or lions on the way. That would be rad!"

They climbed into the cabin. Mikhail threw a box of cheetos on Boris' lap: "I got us some real snacks from Kigali delivered!" They both wore their aviator glasses. Boris had the flight plan on his lap and was busy dialing in the nav radio frequencies. They'd double ping onto two radio beacons to calculate a ratio for the perfect flight path rather than flying directly towards a single radio beacon. Mikhail taxied the Cessna to the end of the runway with the door still flapping open to let in air and the beautiful vroooooom of the single propeller in front of them. When they reached the end of the runway, Mikhail set the parking brake and revved the engine to 1,500 RPMs for a static test. The little plane was bouncing on the parking brakes because the propeller tried to tear it forward. Then Mikhail eased the engine back to idle around 600 RPM. The engine sound relaxed.

"Alpha Kenny One - ready for takeoff," announced Mikhail on the radio.

"I'll fuck anyone - you are cleared for takeoff," repeated the tower back. There was a short pause when the tower realized what he had said. "Fuck you, Mikhail," cursed a Russian voice back. Mikhail giggled to himself for having tricked the tower guy into saying that. Mikhail was in really good humor.

Mikhail gently pulled on the gas with his finger along the stick until the RPMs went up to 2,000. He let the plane shiver a little bit with the parking brake on before he clicked the parking brake out and the plane started pulling forward. He eased the power stick all the way out. The familiar, loud booming of the prop sounded. With a pull on the yoke, he made the Cessna take to the air. Now reality was gone behind them. They gained a new perspective. They were above it all.

"Heading 165," yelled Boris over the loud air cutouts allowing cooling air to flow into the cabin.

"Roger that," replied Mikhail, banking the Cessna left in a wide arc. They quickly reached an altitude where the horizon was blurry from the morning haze. Mikhail could see their home, his school, and the creek running towards the racing place Ruhango. Following the creek deeper into tribal land, the landscape turned wilder and more exotic. Both got excited like little kids when they saw the first rhino rolling on its side for a bath in a waterhole. They disappeared into the cloud layer, which obscured the view.

"How was jail, sunny?" asked Mikhail.

"The cell was packed with so many people. The biggest, baddest guy told me to sit with him on the bed. He told me a wild story. But when I woke up, he was gone. He simply disappeared. Do you believe in voodoo?" asked Boris.

"Nah, what you experienced is normal. My first time in prison, I thought I saw pink elephants. The mind gets overwhelmed and sees all kinds of things. You simply had a stress response. It's good to get it out of your system. You are pretty vulnerable during stress responses," lectured Mikhail.

"Dad, did you ever love mom?" asked Boris.

Mikhail was quiet for a long time, "Of course, I loved mom. I loved her a lot. My fault is that I love wild cats. I could never fall for boring women, no matter how much I tried. I still remember when I saw her the first time. She had green hair, a leather jacket, and a pink mini skirt. She was squatting on the bar counter and peeing over eight shot glasses for some fancy bankers, who had dared coming into our club. Their faces were terrified. She even made them drink it all before the bouncer threw out the suit guys. You should have seen their pained faces. That's when I knew that she was my kind of girl. Such a fireball that one!"

"The problem was that she was high on three different kinds of drugs. I was naive. I only found out two weeks after we lived together that she was constantly high. I simply thought she was a wildcat by nature. We had a lot of fun. We drove in a convertible from Main to Florida and slept every night at another beach in our couples sleeping bag. Ain't no other woman wild enough to do that with me. We both quit our jobs to do that by flipping off our bosses."

"When we reached Key West, I told her that she needed to lay off the drugs. For a couple days, she did. She was an emotional mess. She cried half the time. She picked fights with the cupcake sales person because she felt slighted. She believed that she was fat and that I hated her. I held her in my hands and told her to listen to me, but I couldn't reach her. She was so deeply in what she believed to happen and emotions going through her. I took her to a hospital. They said that she had a psychotic episode. They committed her. I wouldn't be allowed to visit her."

"So I got a job in Key West. You know that I'm good with planes. They hired me right away. When my old boss called them to tell them that I had flipped him off, my new boss only laughed. It's beautiful in Key West. There is the beach. The islands within reach of a boat are gorgeous. Life is easy. I had a cheap place above a club. My landlord was the club owner. He liked having a Russian like me around. It made the black kids more nervous to mess with his bouncer. It's not PC, but that's how it was."

"After five weeks, the hospital called me to pick her up. All the beauty was gone from her. They had cut her hair. She had black, short hair. They had put her into JC Penny pants. She looked like a mall woman. She no longer swung her hips when she walked. She walked slowly and steadily. Her eyes looked tired with all the life drained out of them. They told me that she was pregnant."

"I took her home. I put her to bed because she was tired. I looked at all the pill bottles that they wanted me to give her. She was sleeping in the bed. I left for work the next morning. When I came back, there were drugs all over the kitchen table. She was smoking weed. She looked at me. No, she couldn't even look at me straight, and told me, 'I made myself again how you liked me.' I told her that I didn't like her high like that. But she believed that she was boring without being high. She had seen my face. She was right, but I denied it. I pleaded with her to stop doing drugs while she was pregnant with you. But she kept going. After three days, I dragged her back to the hospital and told them about the drugs and the pregnancy."

"They committed her again until you were born. When she was ready to leave the hospital, I came with a crib and a stuffed giraffe. She told me, 'Give me $200. I'll give you the boy. And we are square.' I did so. I've never seen her again. That's the story of your mom," Mikhail seemed longing when he finished. The piloting seemed to give Mikhail a steady focus to take his mind off the emotional heaviness of the story.

"There is a girl that I like," said Boris. "Her name is Keza. I'm afraid that she might be a wild one as well."

"It's in our blood," said Mikhail with sad resignation and a loving, bonding feeling.

When they neared Kaduha, the tall mountains were covered by mist clouds. Because they didn't have radar, they decided to fly below the cloud cover to avoid colliding with a mountain. Pushed so low, it felt like they were flying over trees. The trees were much larger here. They had beautifully dark leaves. They had a richness to them that only a very moist place gives plants. Everything was covered by rich plant coverage of the national park. There was no place to land for an emergency.

The park rangers had shut down a street for them. Mikhail did a radio check with them. The roadblock was in place. They did a flyover to check for potholes and to ensure enough width for the wings. Then they flew back parallel to the round and did a probably approach with a slow 180 degree banking before setting down with the landing flares fully extended at the minimum landing speed with the nose pointing high into the sky to have the shortest landing distance possible to minimize the risk of a tire getting ripped off by a problem in the road.