In the Jungle Ch. 01

Once he handed the woman her bag back, he turned and walked away. He wasn't looking for more, or trying to hold her in his debt. He was just being nice. Annabeth realized that she was infatuated with him.

Annabeth had never had trouble with men. Skinny, blonde and beautiful, she could rock a burlap sack, and still get a dozen requests for her phone number. She knew that she intimidated most men, but had been on her fair share of dates with attractive men.

She had several short-term boyfriends, but most of the men who were interested in her were looking for hook-ups or trophy wives. They didn't understand or care about her PhD or her work. She had never pursued a man before, because she never had to. Her heart raced as she tried to think of ways to get Bret to notice her, to ask her out.

That night, she caught a cab to the restaurant, and found Bret already deep in conversation with an attractive Hispanic woman. They bounced back and forth from English to Spanish, and Annabeth sat close enough to catch the English parts, though she didn't speak enough Spanish to follow.

Michel was there. He gave Annabeth a little space, but was still acting too familiar for her taste. Finally, he seemed to get the hint and moved on to another woman. He again tried the French 'dirty talk' game with the new target, and Annabeth had to restrain herself from announcing what a pig he was.

After the meal, Annabeth went out to the first bar with the single people, but couldn't stand seeing Bret with his date. She caught a taxi with the woman who Michel had tried to hit on. She also turned out to secretly speak French, and they stayed up in the courtyard sipping guava juice and making small talk about men and which low animal they most closely resembled.

Annabeth voted pig, since dogs were too loyal. The Brazilian woman laughed, and told her in French that Americans castrate their dogs to guarantee loyalty, and maybe that would be a good policy for some men.

Brett came back an hour later, shirtless and sucking face with his date. As angry as Annabeth was, she couldn't help but stare at Bret with his shirt off. Her companion had noticed too, and they watched as the two lovers climbed the stairs and walked into the hotel room right next to Annabeth's.

The bartender announced that the bar was closing for the night, and Annabeth's companion excused herself to bed. Annabeth ordered one more drink a beer this time, and went up to her room. She arrived just in time to hear Bret and his date reach a mutual crescendo. There was silence for several minutes before she could hear the heavy breathing and moans start back up.

The woman wasn't acting. Annabeth could tell that right away. She lay back on her bed listening to the two lovers grunting, moaning and breathing, and began touching herself through her panties, imagining that it was her with Bret.

With her eyes closed, Annabeth could picture Bret with his shirt off, and that was enough to bring a surprisingly strong orgasm to the soft flesh under her fingertips. Once she came back down, though, Annabeth thought she heard less of Bret and more of the screaming animal he was fucking. They finally finished again, and Annabeth tried doing a little reading. When the neighbors started up for a third time, Annabeth grew angry again.

She pulled pants back on, and drug a chair outside to finish her drink where the moans were a little less audible over the sounds of the jungle. She was angry, but somehow it just made Annabeth want him more.

Annabeth was shocked out of her revelry by the sound of the door opening, and Bret walked past, noticing her as he passed the potted plant she was sitting by. He said goodnight, but Annabeth was too shocked to respond. The potted plant hid her door, and Bret must have thought she was eavesdropping on the two lovers. Her anger grew, and she finished her beer.

She returned to the room furious. She fumed while brushing her teeth and showering the sweat and cigarette smoke off her skin in the cold water. Exhausted, she curled up in bed and fell asleep gently rubbing herself through her pajama bottoms. A gentle orgasm ushered her into unconsciousness.

***Bret***

Six in the morning came way too quickly, but my mind was buzzing with the excitement of the trip. The two groups would get into 2 separate boats, and our boat would spend 12 hours motoring through tributaries and small channels to the field research station where the real work would begin.

My graduate program hinged on successful collection of enough different species of mayfly nymphs that I could paint an accurate picture of the evolution of these bugs. It would mean flipping over stones in the smaller pools and streams, and grabbing whatever was underneath them. I didn't actually care much about my project, but it was funded, and I was getting a free doctorate just for putting in the work.

I decided to take in a quick breakfast at the hotel courtyard before checkout. Annabeth was sitting at a table with Samuel, and they were conversing in English. Her eyes followed me as I walked through the restaurant, but I thought I could see anger in her gaze, and I didn't want to deal with it this morning.

I found Marisol sitting at a table with two other Mexicans, speaking Spanish, and I asked to join them. They had already ordered, so they were almost done eating before my food came. When they walked away, I took a little satisfaction at Marisol's gait as she left. She realized she was walking funny, and turned around and winked at me.

I ate alone for a time in silence before a shadow fell across my table. I looked up and saw Annabeth standing there.

"Did you have fun last night?" She asked me with a touch of anger in her Texas accent.

"Sure." I replied. "Did you?"

"Not as much as you did, apparently." She rolled her eyes, and began walking away.

"It's Annabeth, right?" I asked her. She turned back to face me.

"Annie to my friends, but you can call me Annabeth." She said defiantly. "And you're Bret, right?"

"Yeah." I confirmed. "You're going to be at the west station with me, right? You're a primatologist?"

By her reaction, I could tell that she was impressed by my knowledge of her identity and her work.

"Yeah, So?" She asked.

"So you and Samuel are going to be the only two native English speakers in my life for the next two months. If you have a problem with me, let's get it out in the open." I replied.

"What makes you think I have a problem with you?" She snapped.

"Tone of voice, body language, the way you didn't respond when I said 'goodnight' last night... should I go on?"

"Fine, Bret, yeah! I don't like you. I don't like men who trick women into bed and engage in meaningless sex! I don't like Americans who give the rest of us a bad name running around like dogs in heat!" There was fire in her eyes, but she stopped herself from saying any more.

"Annabeth, you're from Texas, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, Austin." She snapped.

"I'm guessing southern Baptist? Your parents made you take a purity pledge?" I guessed.

"NO! I was raised secular, and I've had boyfriends before... I'm just not a slut like you!" She was shouting now, and people were starting to notice. Annabeth didn't care.

"Fair enough." I replied. "As for giving Americans a bad name, I speak Spanish. I'm friendly without being overbearing, I discuss the weather in Celsius, the days travel in Kilometers, and I made several friends last night. What happened between me and Marisol was consensual, beautiful and none of your business. If that's the only reason you have for not liking me, then you're an asshole and the next 2 months together are going to be hard on both of us. If you have a problem with me that doesn't involve who I have sex with, I will try to work on it."

"Fuck you, asshole!" Annabeth screamed and stormed off.

I watched her leave. She had a really cute face- very symmetrical, with soft and delicate features. Even when she was upset, she was a joy to watch. As she had spun away, her honey blonde hair had whipped around her head, and I could feel a twinge of arousal. Her tall, slender body swayed beautifully as she stormed out into the courtyard. I guessed from her blonde hair and long lean build that her ancestors had been Nordic, then I remembered that her last name was Eriksen, which confirmed that.

As she reached the stairs to go up, Annabeth turned back to face me. Her mask of anger dropped for just a moment, and I saw what our fight had really been about. Annabeth wasn't mad at me, she was jealous. She wanted it to be her that I shamelessly flirted with, seduced and made scream so that the whole hotel could hear.

She was skinny, blonde, beautiful and smart. She had never had to work hard to get the attention of a guy she liked, and it was vexing her that I had pursued a woman she hadn't even considered as competition. She had my attention now, though, and I needed to figure out what I wanted from her.

I had intentionally pursued a one-night-stand with Marisol because I knew that she would be at the South research station, and I would be at the western station. Our paths would not cross, and we would not have to decide where our relationship was going. Annabeth would be different. I guessed that she was looking for commitment, and maybe even a boyfriend when she got back to the states. I was just looking for fun and adventure in one of the last truly wild places on earth.

I was broken from my revelry by the sight of my fellow researchers heading to the vans for transportation to the river boats. They were lugging their packs full of clothes and equipment along, which meant I needed to go too. I paid for breakfast and returned to my room for my gear.

The boats were shiny and new, owned and operated by the Brazilian government's national parks department, they had an open upper and enclosed lower deck with benches for seating. I stowed my backpack below deck, and returned to the top deck with my camera and notebook. I found an empty seat on the edge of the boat where I could do some sightseeing, and settled in for a long ride.

The other American man, Samuel, sat down beside me. We had talked briefly before, and I liked him, despite my first impressions of him.

Samuel Davis (Sam to his friends) was 60-70 pounds overweight. Most of his clothes were t-shirts and shorts, and today he was wearing a t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and an offensive slogan on the front ('Speak English or GTFO' which was ironic considering our location and his inability to speak Portuguese.). He spoke in a high voice, and a thick Tennessee accent. He had started sweating upon arriving in Brazil, and hadn't stopped. He already had a Farmer's tan/sunburn, and I could tell that he would have an even worse sunburn by the end of the boat ride.

On his right arm, Sam had a tattoo of the confederate flag, with a banner underneath reading "We shall rise again!" Paradoxically on his left arm was an American flag reading "Live free or die."

I had no tattoos. I had never liked a design enough, or felt strongly enough about a cause to immortalize it on my skin. I had once thought that if I lost a close friend or family member, or did something life altering like competing in the Olympics, that would merit an ink spot, but I didn't want one just to have it.

Sam was a botanist studying at the University of Kentucky in Lexington. We were headed for a center of biodiversity, and his PhD project was to collect subspecies of known plants for comparison to their more common relatives. He was mainly looking for plants related to the Cacao tree, from which we get chocolate. He was passionate about his work, and I was jealous.

We talked back and forth for 10 minutes while the boat got under way. I made eye contact with Annabeth when she came up on deck. She looked around quickly, and decided to come sit on the bench across from Sam and myself. Sam and I both greeted her kindly.

Annabeth held onto her rage for one more minute, and then she seemed to slump in her seat, and put her face in her hands.

"Look, Bret..." She started, still not able to make eye contact. "I'm sorry. You were right. It was none of my business who you sleep with. Is she here?"

"No, Marisol will be at the south station for the next two months, and I don't expect to see her again." I said.

Anna straightened up, looking at my face for the first time. I could see a flash of something that looked like excitement in her face.

"It's just..." Annabeth tried not to show her interest in me, and I was being careful not to lead her on. "I think you're right. Us American's have got to stick together. I admit that I don't speak Portuguese, and you seem to be good with languages and people. I know I'm going to be homesick before this trip is over, and I think having a friend that I can talk to would really help me with that."

I looked over at Sam, who had a goofy grin on his face. I realized that he had that same grin since Annabeth had mentioned "...who you sleep with." I looked back to Annabeth. She blushed a little and said:

"That goes for the both of you. I think I could really use some conversations in English from time to time."

"I accept your apology and offer my own." I replied. "I'm sorry we fought, and for calling you an asshole."

Annabeth's eyes cast down. "You didn't call me an asshole, you said I'm an asshole if I couldn't like you because you slept with Marisol. I did, however call you an asshole without a qualifier and I'm sorry." There was a long pause, then she said "I want to be your friend, and I'll try not to care who you sleep with."

Sam was looking between us, trying unsuccessfully to hide his grin. I suspected that he was going to have questions once he and I were alone. I'm not the kind of guy to kiss and tell, so Samuel would just have to use his imagination.

"So, Annabeth, you're working on the Capuchin monkey's social structure in the wild?" I changed the subject.

I remembered her information from my handout of each researcher's title and project synopsis. I had been bored, so I searched for more information on everyone's research, men and women.

"You can call me Annie... and yeah, I'm working on social structures of wild White-fronted Capuchins at NYU." She said, blushing again.

"I read the paper Dr. Matthews wrote with you on captive breeding patterns. How do you propose to do that in the wild?" I wasn't faking interest in her work. Come on, who doesn't love monkeys?

"Are you stalking me, Bret?" Annie asked, flashing her brilliant smile. I felt butterflies in my stomach at the gesture. "I'm just kidding." The same smile came again, and she reached out and put her hand on my knee. The flirting had started, and I wasn't sure I wanted it to stop. My skin tingled at her touch.

"For my PhD I just need to get some data on calls and social interactions. There was a rumor of a new subspecies showing up in some bush-meat markets in the area north of where we are going to, so that would be a huge coup for me if I could locate them and observe a different social structure. Eventually I'd like to go all Jane Goodall of the new world monkeys, so this is like a dry run for me to see if I like field work and living with the monkeys."

She continued "you have me at a disadvantage. You're an entomologist, right?"

"That's right," I said sheepishly. "Mayflies."

She grilled me for several minutes, and I tried to show interest in my own research, but bugs just can't hold a candle to monkeys. Thankfully, Samuel started talking about his cacao tree research, and how many seeds he planned on bringing back, and how he planned to collaborate with a university in Brazil to sprout and grow the seeds and send him clippings for his own plant-genetic research.

We told each other about our families. Mine was boring: accountant mother, college professor father, one sibling, a brother named Marc. We were raised Lutheran, though I stopped going to church when given the choice. I grew up in suburban Denver, a good student, and I played soccer and the trombone.

Annie's history was way more exciting. She described her parents as 'Fire and ice.' Her mother is a diplomat, specializing in U.S.-African relations. She is unflappable, cool-headed and brilliant. She described her mother as instantly likeable, though almost impossible to truly know.

By comparison, her father is larger than life. He was an army ranger, and was working diplomatic security in Africa when he met Annie's mom. He is a man dedicated to his passions, quick to anger, quick to love, quick to forgive. He's a big tough guy, which made dating difficult in high school, and few college boyfriends survived the 'meet the parents' phase of their relationship.

"...although he was a great filter for the assholes that put on a good show for me." Annie laughed.

Annie clearly worshipped her mother, but loved her father. I could understand that her descriptions of her family were for me more than Sam. Annie was trying to let me know that her outburst that morning was from her father's side of her personality, and by knowing about her father's personality, I would understand her better. The message was that Annie is a passionate person with a lot of love to give.

Sam's upbringing was nowhere near Annie's globetrotting childhood nor my solidly middle class boredom. He was the middle of 5 kids, and he actually grew up in a trailer park in rural Tennessee. He was secretly brilliant, though no one in his family seemed to recognize it. He got good grades and was the first person in his family to attend college, and had a life goal of never returning to Sneedvile, TN. His PhD in botany would guarantee a six figure job somewhere on the east or west coast, and he would live his own life with his own family.

The three of us Americans talked for almost an hour before Sam got sick from the motion of the boat, and lost his breakfast over the side. I offered him a Dramamine from my backpack, which he gladly took, then went to lie down below. Once he was gone, Annie sat back down with me. She was flirting harder with me. I knew that I would be in close quarters with her for the next 8 weeks, and I had to tread carefully with her.

I had been looking forward to this trip for over a year, since my PhD advisor started chasing the funding and approvals for me. I was looking forward to adventure, sightseeing, and hopefully a little time with the native ladies. Marisol hadn't been Brazilian, but she wasn't American, either.

Dating Annie felt like going to the most exotic foreign location, viewing a marketplace full of untasted delicacies, and then ordering a hamburger. I knew that she was right, that in a few weeks we would both be homesick, tired of trying to learn Portuguese, and ready to find comfort in each other, but I wasn't ready to start a relationship with her yet.

I withdrew from her contact, and thanked her for her little flirtatious compliments without returning them. Annie could immediately tell that I wasn't responding to her best material, and she was getting upset with me.

"Let's go meet some of the Brazilians on this expedition." I said. We rose together, and I saw Dr. Joao Salas, the national parks department's biologist and survival expert who was responsible for keeping us safe from the plants and animals that wanted to kill us.

I greeted him in Portuguese, and introduced myself and Annie.

"Ah, you are the Americans, yes? How did you find Brazil?" He said in passable English.

"In an airplane." I quipped. I smiled to let him know that it was a joke. He laughed.

"It's so beautiful here." I said with a more serious face. "I went dancing last night. Everyone was so kind. I know I'm going to like it here."

"We are honored to have you as our guests." He replied. "I will give a safety seminar when we arrive at the research station. Australians like to complain about their dangerous wildlife, but I can promise you that the Amazon has more poisonous, dangerous and deadly plants, animals, fungi, bacteria and people. It will be a full-time job keeping you soft scientists alive." He said the last part with a smile, but there was seriousness to his voice that said he wasn't really joking.