Lara Croft vs. Jungle Girl

The whole temple complex turned out to be open to the sky. This meant, thinking ahead, when she brought a complete team back here in a few days, they could come in from that direction, rather than using the caves again, as she'd just done... They would probably have to use helicopters. The island was ringed with sheer cliffs; no beaches at all along their base. Fun to climb - probably more fun than the underwater caves - but not practical for an expedition, with all the equipment they'd want to bring.

The water in the caves had been pretty damn cold - worse than she'd expected. She'd worn one of her silvery long-sleeved diving suits, except it was one of the flashy ones that left her legs bare, all the way up to her hip bones, and she hadn't bothered with flippers, concerned about getting them caught on the rocks if the passages had got too narrow (for that had happened to her in the past and it wasn't at all nice). She should have put on a full wetsuit instead. Including the cowl, even if it did make you look dorky. It hadn't been a long swim, or particularly deep - she could have done it without an airtank, at least now that she was sure of the route - but BRRR! Like swimming under a glacier, you'd think, not a dinky dead volcano in the tropics. Diving off her boat, the sea felt perfect, like bathwater at the ideal temperature, only then as soon as you got into the tunnel system, the water turned evil on you, in the darkness...

And now that she'd made it up out of there into the brilliant sun again, she started to boil. She hadn't expected everything to be uncovered to the elements this way. It was convenient to have the surrounding artwork so perfectly illuminated, but at the same time it made this feel like standing inside a gorgeously decorated stone oven. In fact the pale floor had absorbed enough of the day's heat that it gave her bare soles trouble. She had to keep hopping and scampering around to keep them from getting scorched. It made her feel foolish.

Now she was glad her swimsuit didn't cover her legs - it had dried out in moments, and then became stifling and itchy. She tried to push the sleeves up, but it clung too tight, all the fancy synthetic sci-fi fibers it was made from too thick and rubbery for that to work. And those the clinging sleeves wouldn't slide up, the lower section of the tight suit had the opposite problem. Kept riding up in the crotch real bad, and in back as well. Aggressive wedgies, front and back. Just had to keep picking them loose. Cameltoe, the kids called it. Would've been funny if it was happening to anybody else. Fucking suit had cost her a fortune. It was specifically tailored for her, and the damn shiny stuff it was stitched from was scientifically designed at great expense for robustly defending the human body against hypothermia (even if, yes, the fashionable cut of the suit left her legs completely unprotected; hi-tech practicality sacrificed to style - one was meant to put on separate, matching leggings with it, when necessary, only so far she'd never once bothered with them). A comfy and snug outfit for the lightless subterranean temple she'd expected to discover; this relentless sun transformed the garment to a chafing, suffocating instrument of torture.

Well, what the hell. She was all on her own. No sense putting up with this when there was a very simple solution...

She unzipped the stupid thing and took it off. Actually it wasn't quite that easy. Peeling the suit off her body proved a bit of a struggle - it stuck to her skin and fought her every inch of the way. Again, if she was watching some other silly bint go through this, she would have laughed her arse off. Experiencing the hassle herself wasn't much fun. Still, one could only persevere. In the end, she was victorious. Took a fair amount of swearing, but at last she wrestled free of it and left it on top a boulder next to the tunnel mouth. She had nothing else on underneath - it wasn't the kind of costume that would have allowed that. But hell, this wasn't the first time she'd been completely naked in the midst of an ancient ruin. It was no big deal, not in this climate. Nothing to get excited about or fret over. She had of course kept on her utility belt with her guns and her knife and some other tools on it, not that she was likely to need any of them. She was sure she was the only living creature on this entire island, except for bugs and little lizards. She was as safe and secure and private in this place as if she was standing in her own luxurious bathroom in her estate. And she was only doing this for practical considerations. Adapting operational parameters to a change in circumstances which she hadn't foreseen. There was nothing scandalous in such a decision, no nonsense to be ashamed of. There's nothing salacious in simply alleviating a discomfort, so long as doing so isn't hurting or disrupting anybody else. Surely no one would dispute that fact?

There was another factor to it, weighing on her mind. The other earlier times this had happened to her - where she'd found herself, by accident or design, in a state of undress outdoors in the middle of an adventure - things had ended up getting out of hand. Other individuals had appeared out of the blue, and then things had gone bad. Those were not happy memories. Only before things had gone bad like that, they had been going very well, up to that point. Before those memories turned horrible, they had been good ones. Or they would have been good ones, if subsequent events hadn't entirely spoiled them, playing out as they had.

So here was the thing: Lara wanted to create fresh memories, to make up for those other times. She wanted this to play out properly, like it should have done earlier, but hadn't.

It was like she had been punished. It was like she had committed transgressions, and then had to suffer for them. And it wasn't fair that it had happened that way. In her heart, in her guts, she knew she hadn't really done anything wrong. She had been made to suffer unjustly. Biblical puritanical bullshit. And she had a duty, in fact, both in the spirit of crusading adventure, and as woman - a woman like any other, in this unjustly unbalanced existence - not to accept that. Not to be defeated by that, or hung up, or held back. No fucking sir.

Lara refused to allow her mind and spirit, for the rest of her life, to associate "outdoor nudity" like this with appalling sensations of trauma and dread and guilt. She wanted it to feel good, like it had at first, those other times, before things turned against her. It had felt freeing and fun. She wanted to be able to feel those good feelings again when she did something like this. Just once, goddammit, she wanted it to happen without any screw-ups or intrusions along the way. She wasn't committing a crime out here. She wasn't breaking anybody's stupid laws. There was no reason to feel ashamed of herself, or frightened of getting caught again. All she'd done was cool her body off, because she'd started to overheat and that was no joke. Overheating and dehydrating could turn into a serious problem... you had to take care of it, in an environment like this. So fundamentally, there was nothing more to what she'd done than that. Besides of course proving that point to herself. That this could and should be perfectly okay, so long as she allowed it to be. For herself.

Granted, taking all aspects into account, it wasn't a particularly wise thing to do, even if it wasn't outright wrong. Any new archaeological site is undeniably perilous. Even if there were no dangerous critters on hand, or booby-traps to contend with, an ancient place like this is always far from safe, even after it's been thoroughly surveyed. All it might take was one loose wobbly rock... Like in that movie with that hiker guy that had to cut his own arm off. That was a true story.

Hell, if a boulder toppled over on top of her, or the floor suddenly gave out under her feet, having clothes on wasn't going to make a difference in how things turned out. Not even if she had a suit of armor on. Might raise some eyebrows if her remains were found in her present state, but who could say if they ever would be? And what would it matter anyhow? Besides, clothing rotted away the same as flesh. Even if she died properly outfitted, her remains wouldn't remain that way, once the elements and critters got started on them. One mustn't expect dignity in death. If it's not the very first thing to go, it's generally the second.

Then just after running over all these arguments in her mind, once she got down to nitty-gritty business and took her first close look at the intricate reliefs on the surrounding temple walls, Lara had to laugh out loud. Hard to stop, once she started. A real hysterical giggle-fit. The irony was just delightful. Ideal, in fact. You see, all the carvings in this place, everywhere she looked, every room she explored, turned out to be erotic in nature. And extremely explicit. Graphic, pornographic depictions of sexual acts. Hundreds of figures, large and small. Rows and rows, layers and layers. Everybody screwing, every which way. Every combination you might imagine. Without realizing, she'd swum into a long lost secret sex temple. And soon as she'd arrived, she'd got naked. Ha.

She hadn't wanted it - her state of undress - to be about that, not at all. She didn't want that sort of thing to be on her mind. Her nudity should have been completely irrelevant to the work at hand. She hadn't got undressed for a kinky thrill. She hadn't meant for kinkiness of any degree to have anything to do with this survey. She had just wanted to be comfortable, as she poked and prowled around, because of the heat. Relaxed and no nonsense, in the sun. Like the Garden of Eden before the apples. She wanted to stay unselfconscious about it. She wanted to prove to herself she could be. Innocent, clean, comfortable nakedness. What was the word? The "before the fall" idea... Prelapsarian? That didn't sound quite right. Or even if that was a real term, possibly it referred to something else. Shit. She'd have to look it up on her laptop, when she went back to her boat. If she remembered. If she could figure out the proper spelling.

Fate is fickle, and Fortune is a bitch. The temple turns out to be a sex temple. Isn't that wonderfully apt? It most certainly was. Everywhere she looks, she sees explicit depictions of fucking. And thus it's completely impossible not to think about sex, and to put her own nudity out of her mind. Not for a moment, oh no. No chance. Makes it shamefully inappropriate, as a scientist, that she should be undressed while she's exploring this place - and yet somehow, paradoxically, it also feels entirely appropriate, doesn't it? Yes it does. Poetic, even. Her perspective is compromised. It's impossible for her to study the reliefs in anything close to a properly objective state of mind. It's impossible not to be aware of how damn silly and deluded she must look, trying to do so. It's impossible not to become embarrassed, and aroused, as well. Exactly as this ancient artwork intends, and exactly counter to her initial wishes and resolutions. No doubt the long-dead artists who carved all these reliefs would be pleased, and proud of themselves. This little adventure wasn't meant to acquire an erotic flavor, but now it has, and there's no denying that fact, there's no escaping it. This trip has turned into a daft sex joke, and the joke once again appears to be on her.

It didn't drive her out of her mind. Let's not overstate the matter. She'd got turned on, sure, but only to a degree. Just a little. She didn't find herself uncontrollably overwhelmed with lust, with a frenzied compulsion to masturbate... Mostly she just felt awkward. Self-conscious, skittish. And like she had to pee, but then couldn't, the couple times she tried, in a corner behind a pillar. She couldn't squeeze anything out. But the feeling wouldn't go away. Her nipples tingled, and also ached, the way they sometimes did, when they were stiff for too long. Like they were sticking out too far, overextending themselves. A sense of strain. She had to keep rubbing them a little, just to ease them. It wasn't something she got off on, playing with her own tits. It wasn't any kind of huge rush. But it helped to press on them and rub them a little like that, when they got achy. It soothed them. She was glad nobody else was around, so she could take care of it without having to think about it, without it becoming in issue. It was the kind of thing you couldn't ever let yourself do in public or people got the wrong idea and freaked out.

She wondered if she would have to masturbate after she swam back to her boat. She didn't feel a strong urge now, but it was probable she would want to later on, if her arousal persisted that long. Sustained arousal often tended to increase her excitement level, the longer it lasted - the mere fact of its continuance. That might sound a bit ridiculous, but it was what happened. Like: "Wow, I'm still turned on!" The persistence of her arousal would itself become arousing. "Can't I control myself?" Hopefully the chilly cave water would calm her system down enough she wouldn't reach that point. Wouldn't feel the need anymore, once she was back aboard her boat. But she wondered, if she did end up doing it, later on at night if not right away - the feelings might come back, at bedtime - if she would think about some of the images in the reliefs, as she was performing the deed... Or rather, to be more honest, not if but which of them she would think about. Which one - or which ones - would her imagination zero-in on? A few of them had popped out at her more than most - figuratively, that is. There was a lengthy, elaborate series with lion-headed men and bullheaded men, like minotaurs. She wasn't sure if they were supposed to be gods or monsters or just men in helmets. They were having a war, along the tops of the walls, up where it was harder to see them - clobbering each other with clubs and axes. But then in the lower levels, the armies stopped fighting and started fucking each other. Then women got involved toward the bottom rows. An army of women on horseback, with spears and bows. They took all the lionmen and minotaurs captive and led them away in chains... but then they fucked them all, or made them fuck each other while they watched, but still all in their chains.

Lara decided she'd seen enough for one day. She'd intended to spend most the day here; now she didn't feel up to that commitment anymore. There was too much to see, and it was too embarrassing and overwhelming, and too damn hot, worst of all. Not in the sexy-sense - the actual temperature, was what she meant. The sun just got worse and worse, harder and harder to put up with. Her canteen didn't have much left in it. One more swallow, no more. Maybe she'd come back in the evening. She was looking forward to the chill of the caves now. Even without her suit on, at this point she was still much, much too warm. Cooking like a pot roast, literally. So much sweat was dripping off her she noticed she was leaving trails of dark splotches on the floor behind her, wherever she walked. She wouldn't have been surprised if she started leaving footprints of sweat as well, but no, she wasn't. This fucking stone floor was burning too damn hot for that. Made the bottoms of her feet the only remaining dry surface of her body, it seemed. Probably turned her calluses a crispy black. Crap. No, actually the soles of her feet looked fine, when she checked. Just a little pinker than usual, maybe. They hadn't even got very dirty, like she thought they would. The flagstones weren't very dusty. Frequent rainstorms in this part of the world must keep the floors fairly clean. Surprising not to see more erosion on the walls. There was some, but not as much as you'd expect. Were the carvings protected somehow, some sort of coating? Must be. They seemed to have a shiny, glassy sheen. When she touched them, they felt more like plastic than stone. Curious.

Still considering that question when she walked back to the boulder where she'd left her suit, she found it wasn't there anymore. And it wasn't on the floor around the boulder anywhere, like it simply slipped off. Could it have fallen down the hole into the caves? Blown by wind or something? No, too far. And there was no wind at all. Her suit had vanished altogether.

No. Somebody had taken it. Simple as that.

Well, fuck. Lara drew her guns.

Her airtank was still there. Perhaps she should have just put it on, dived down the hole and gone. Cold as the tunnels were, the swim wouldn't kill her. Well, at least the odds were decent that it wouldn't, if she didn't take too long down there. But she didn't split. Would have felt cowardly. And she needed to know who had followed her. And if they were still here in the complex. They might have sabotaged her boat, or been waiting for her on board. Not likely, though - why would they have advertised their presence ahead of time, if they meant to ambush her? Or were they just trying to mess with her head? If that was their hope, it was working.

Slowly, carefully, she searched through whole temple. No sign of anyone, nowhere in any of the chambers. She might have thought a bird had grabbed her suit, or a goddamn monkey, if this island had any fucking birds or goddamn monkeys. She'd spotted nothing but tiny lizards and beetles.

Then as she was making her way back around to the tunnel, she realized she was crossing a room she hadn't been in before. She would have sworn she'd been through the entire complex three times by that stage - it was big but not terribly big - only somehow she had missed this chamber. Had someone opened a hidden door, while she was elsewhere? Seemed the only sensible explanation, though she was surprised she hadn't heard the mechanism. Ancient, dusty, ponderous stone portals tended to make quite a ruckus, when they shifted.

The carvings on these walls depicted women copulating with serpents in the branches of trees. Possibly both the women and the serpents were copulating with the trees as well, somehow. The trees had grinning faces on their trunks.

The room was narrower than the rest of the chambers, more of a corridor than a room. And it curved twice in front of her, an S shape. Fitting with the serpent motif. When Lara went around the second bend, there was another woman in her path, with her back to her. But she heard Lara approaching and turned. Giving her a thoughtful, questioning look. And Lara saw she was holding the swimsuit. She was also holding a large but crude-looking stone knife, picking at the fabric of Lara's suit with the tip of the blade.

"What is this made of?" she asked, whoever she was.

She was a white girl, with wild hair and a snub-nosed, freckled face, a little younger than Lara, and very thin. At first Lara thought she was wearing a bikini, but at second glance, she realized that wasn't quite right. It was a bikini, but not an ordinary swimsuit. It was fashioned from furry animal skins. The bottoms were a loincloth, rather than panties - two flaps hanging loose front and back on a thin cord, leaving her hips completely exposed. The top only had one shoulder strap, on the left side. The girl also had a necklace of sharp animal teeth, and a matching arm bracelet on her bicep of slightly smaller teeth, as well as couple white feathers dangling off it. She also had another larger feather dangling upside down from a hook through one earlobe. Her feet were bare, but she had shiny rings on some of her toes, and anklets of colorful beads and tiny seashells. The sheath for her knife was strapped to her thigh. She had two other knives, slightly smaller - one on her opposite calf, and the other on the inside of her forearm.