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In a secluded part of the swamp, a clear hovercraft was idle on the water. Addy and Randall were locked in a passionate kiss. There was a mama otter floating on her back with a baby otter sleeping on her belly. On a tiny island, way off alligators laid five abreast. Catfish intermittently dart across the clear bottom of the craft.
Randall broke the kiss to remove her top. He found the clips of her bra and unsnapped them. After a semblance of a protest, she let him undo her khaki shorts. When he had his own undone his prick stood up over his navel. He guided her hand to it while he slipped his hand into her briefs. He made her gasp when he sent his middle finger straight into her. He groped with that finger inside her and found the lump that he was looking for. He put pressure on it and observed her reaction. She moaned with her eyes closed. She still had his manhood in her grip and did not forget to stroke it, but with rather token enthusiasm. He pressed the base of his palm on her clit and kept reaching for her G-spot.
It was getting more than moist and she was pushing on his hand and gripping him. He wished to take her to the point where she would suddenly relax and become too sensitive to his touch. He wanted to guide her mouth on his cock but there was not enough room so he kissed her instead and grabbed her wrist to quicken her strokes. She wanted to get on top of him but ran into the same space constraint. He told her it was okay, just concentrate. She did and pretended that he was fucking her well enough to make the gators jealous. She was glad that the baby otter was sleeping and then she came. She grew out of breath and lay back.
She asked, Will they be staying the night? I don’t know, he said, maybe. Are you going to fuck me? You have no idea how much I want to but I love the wait. Are there enough rooms for everyone? Yes if Dung’s three cooks would use the same room. Can’t we go somewhere else? If you want to, sure, what’s the matter? I don’t know, I just would rather... they might hear me. And Randall laughed.
The otters were nowhere to be seen but the gators appeared not to have moved. Randall powered up the craft and guided it on the water.
“Is this the Thomasson craft, Tom?” Addy asked.
“No, these are new. More like a hobby. Maybe I’ll call them the Thomasbae hovercraft,” replied Randall.
“I see, like Thomas’s baby,” said Addy.
“Hmm... what do you know about the Thomasson craft? Randall asked.
Addy told Randall what she heard from her copywriter Ty Johnson about the Thomasson craft. She left out the part about Randall’s life. Randall liked the idea. He said it was true that the Thomasson craft could be easily adapted for deep-sea fishing. He would love to meet with Ty and let him hear everything about it straight out of the horse’s mouth. He might even endorse the book despite the fact that he had not read a fictional work in years.
She told him she could arrange it and left it at that. She did not feel like getting into what Ty wrote about Randall’s life. She was relieved to hear Randall say: “I am getting out of the oil and gas contracting business. It will be spun off and within a year or so I will entertain bids to sell it with the Thomasson craft.”
“What will you do after that?” asked Addy.
“Lots of other things. You’ve seen this hovercraft and the bayou land reclamation. There’s a score of other projects. Most of them will fail but a few of them will make hundreds of millions, billions if I’m lucky.” Randall boasted while the hovercraft flew out of the water and narrowly squeezed through two trees. A vicious turtle snapped at the air. They crossed a number of canals until they reached a natural waterway.
“Tell me the most interesting project. Who’s your advertiser?” She was curious.
“Advertising is overrated. It’s better to have a product or service that you feel deep down it can’t fail,” said Randall. He quickly added, “But I believe in you. That was a really slick job you did for the Fairgrounds.”
“Thanks. I’m working on something even better,” said Addy.
“I have something perfect for you,” said Randall. Men have a way of preferring to talk about themselves. “It’s a spacecraft company. We have a rocket deep into the testing stage. It looks like it’s going to work out.”
“Interesting,” Addy said and started to think. “Unless the Earth became uninhabitable, I would suggest a campaign to advertise it as a way to meet aliens. I have to think about it more.”
“Do you believe in aliens?”
“I do. I don’t think anyone positively believes that we are alone in the whole wide universe, do you? It keeps expanding and all.”
“I too believe we’re not alone. In fact, they could very well be in the bayou right now. I think the reason we can’t see them is because we can only see a limited range of light. Dung would tell you that his dogs can sense spirits and things like that that we can’t. Have you seen the Predator movies?”
“No, I don’t believe I have.”
“They are a hunter tribe of aliens that comes here on a spaceship to hunt humans. They can’t even see us like we see each other. They can only see our heat signature and throw wicked weapons at the heat map. But we can see them and they’re real ugly. The point is that it’s possible there are aliens that we just can’t see. It’s also possible that they know how to trick us into not seeing.”
“Good. My idea for the first ad is like this. We send someone to space to tempt the aliens into showing themselves. For example, we’ll send Donald Trump to space, and he’ll insult and offend the aliens until they show!” Addy said triumphantly. In the afternoon wilderness, she looked different than the first night he met her. In a good way, Randall thought. She had an air of innocence and eagerness that was becoming.
“He might not agree to appear in the ad, but we can use an impersonator,” said Randall.
“But he surely will! If you tell him you’ll make Mexico pay for it,” Addy eagerly added. The waterway got bigger and they could other people. Randall pointed out the pool noodles floating on the water for catching catfish.
“I haven’t noticed any reclaimed land. Have you taken me there?” asked Addy.
“Of course, I have. That place where you kissed me and molested me,” said Randall matter-of-factly.
“Gosh! That’s awesome. It looked just like the real bayou. I bet the otters thought the same too. How far away are we?”
“That was about ten miles east of the house. We’re now a few miles south. We should get back.”
They had been gone the longest, but not by much. Dung Nguyen got back just before them and he and the cooks were carrying things to the house. The others were inside.
When Nguyen saw them he cracked the warmest toothy smile and hoisted a juvenile alligator. He said, “Look what I find! I caught all today’s dinner, one for each person.”
“Oh my gosh! I hope you’re not making me eat that gator.” Addy hugged Randall in mock squeamishness. They got out of the hovercraft and walked toward the others.
“No no, I have six different animals. You choose!” exclaimed Nguyen.
“That’s great, Dunk. Tell me my choices,” said Addy, now hiding behind Randall.
“I have this alligator. Just a baby, very tender! I have turtles, two different kinds!” Nguyen talked excitedly. One of the cooks swung a net from his back. In it were a few smallish turtles, some of the feet moved.
Addy peeked out from behind Randall. “Great, Dunk. That’s a winner. I love turtles. I read this book called Brideshead Revisited? By Evelyn Waugh? The female character? She received a small turtle? About this size as a gift? It was like the most romantic present ever?” Addy put on an exaggerated Southern girl accent that ends every sentence with a question mark.
“So you want this turtles? You get all!” said Nguyen, pleased with himself.
“She may not want them, Dung. What else have you got?” said Randall. He knew she was kidding.
“No worry. I have more!” Nguyen pointed at two pails carried by the other two cooks and at the house. “Here! Lots of crawfish. Also frogs! Very good ones, with fat legs. Inside the house, there is a big catfish and an armadillo. Very hard to catch, this armadillo.”
“Yay, I’ll have either the catfish or the crawfish,” said Addy, now inspecting the pail of crawfish. They looked absolutely lovely. She turned on her power and tried to detect if Nguyen was telling the truth about hauling in all this bounty single-handedly on the hovercraft. It seemed impossible. He just as well could have bought them from a local. He was a supplier and distributor. “How will they be cooked?”
“Up to people. You make a choice and say how and we cook. My cooks can cook anything. They are very very good,” answered Nguyen.
“I will have the catfish. Baked,” said Addy, relieved. “Unless someone else wants it. I’m okay with the crawfish too.”
“That’s fucked up, Addy. Just because Marcus is black doesn’t mean he’ll have to have the catfish,” said Randall teasingly.
“Tom! That’s not what I meant!” Addy affected outrage and astonishment and slapped Randall on the chest.
“No no no! Marcus like alligator. I cook for him before. Remove skin and put my special creole seasoning and grill whole one! Very easy and very good!” Nguyen flashed his thumbs up, his smile genuine and warm.
“Never mind, I will have the crawfish. Crawfish etouffee and rice, assuming there’s rice,” said Addy. She was getting concerned. Tried as she might she was unable to sort out the thoughts in Nguyen’s head. It was a jumbled mess. Either that was the way it was or her telepathy was out of service. She had never been in the bayou this long. Could it have some unexplained effect? She chose to buy time, turned to Randall and asked, “What are you going to have, Tom?”
“Tom! We have special armadillo. In Vietnam, men eat armadillo and get strong power. Get thick and hard like the armadillo. Powerful! This one is big and fat with beautiful skin, very hard!” Nguyen could hardly contain his excitement. He curved his hands and put them a foot apart to give an idea of the size. “We stir-fry the meat with creamy sauce and vegetables. Serve inside the skin. Very special!”
“Guess I’ll have the armadillo,” said Tom. A bit embarrassed, Addy pretended to look around the place.
As a last resort, she tried to send a thought to one of the cooks telepathically. It was very risky. Her mother had convinced her and her sisters long ago that revealing their psychic power could result in their ending up in a special prison much worse than Gitmo in Guantanamo Bay. In any way, she was never able to reliably send her thoughts. Too often the other person would mistake it for a random thought of their own. Addy sent this thought to the cook holding the net of turtles: You turn me on. No reaction. Whatever.
