Wet Encounters Ch. 07

We breakfasted on the damper left over from the previous night, which Juanita had lightly toasted on the top of the stove, covered in butter and topped with thinly sliced Spam and a light coating of baked beans. It was the closest we were going to get to ham and beans on toast but it would do to give us the energy we needed to keep ourselves warm; amongst other things. All that was needed was a couple of eggs to make it as enjoyable a breakfast as one would receive in the nearest Hilton hotel (the closest Hilton hotel was in Port Moresby, about two days air-travel time from where we were). I mentioned this to Juanita as we were eating.

"Aren't I the stupid one," she said. "I bought eggs when I was in town. I also bought bacon and a few other things that would help make our stay here a little more comfortable. I'm sorry I didn't think of it earlier, Matthew. It's all in the cooler box in the back of the truck."

"Don't beat yourself up about it," I said. I've got to go down and pump more water up into the header tank to replace the water you used while having your extra-long shower. And I've got to bring up some more firewood. Even if it's wet, it'll still burn in a hot fire. If the water's not too deep, I might try to get over to where I've parked the Toyota and see if I can rescue some of those provisions.

"While I'm away," I said, "I want you to take the bucket and mop from the pantry and clean up the mess you made on the bathroom floor."

I then explained to her that I had noticed that the water that had spilled over from the bath appeared to have escaped down through the floor-waste pipe. That told me that the outlet must still be above the floodwater level.

"I want you to use the bucket to empty half the water out of the bath and pour it down the floor-waste pipe, rather than simply pulling the plug in the tub.

"There's a good chance," I said, "that both the waste-water sump and the septic tank will be blocked and that both pipes will be filled to the level of the floodwater. If I'm right, that means that we can't drain the bath in the usual way. Nor can we flush the toilet. We're going to have to use a bucket to perform our bodily functions so, while you're hunting around in the pantry, see if you can find something we can use to cover the bucket. Otherwise, we might have to sacrifice a towel to do the job.

"With the grey-water tank and the septic tank under the floodwater," I continued, "there's a good chance that they will overflow and possibly contaminate the rainwater tanks. That means we should start boiling our water - it needs to be on a high boil for at least ten minutes to ensure that any bugs have been killed off - so see if you can find something in the pantry to store our drinking water while it cools; even a couple of saucepans will do."

Before I left to pump water from the tanks up to the header tank, I lit the wick on the refrigerator. If, as it appeared, we were going to be spending the next couple of days in the cabin, and if I was going to be able to retrieve the supplies that were in the back of the truck, we would need the fridge.

The last thing I did before stepping outside into the torrential downpour was to pull on my shorts, T-shirt and sandshoes. If I was going to be waist-deep in water, I didn't want my dangly bits exposed. And if I was going to try to get over to the truck, I didn't want to be cutting my feet to pieces on any odd bit of metal or machinery that might be lying about under the water.

The rain was still falling quite heavily and it now had a strong wind behind it. That told me that we were sitting under the influence of a low-pressure system. Interestingly, though, the wind was now blowing in from the north, an indication that the system had passed over us and was heading either west or south; maybe both. Hopefully, that might mean that we were about to see the last of the rain.

Since I'd last looked a couple of hours earlier, the water had risen by another step height; about eight inches. If it kept rising at that same rate, we would have twelve hours before it started coming into the house.

I made a mental note - another among the many - to start keeping a closer eye on the rate of rise. Twelve hours would put us well into darkness. We would have had to have made our plans and be fully prepared for our escape up onto the roof long before that decision became necessary.

I made five trips up the stairs with firewood before I was convinced that we'd have enough to keep us going for another four days. Only that taken from the top of the pile had not been submerged, which meant it was only rain-soaked, rather than saturated.

With my arms full, I kicked at the door to let Juanita know I needed her to open it for me.

"Ah, Mister timber-cutter!" she exclaimed, putting on lady-like airs. "It's so good to see you. We will have to be quick, though, as my gentleman is not very far away. He is a very jealous one, is my gentleman, and I'd hate to think what he would do if he caught us together.

'Why don't you just stand there holding your firewood and I will pay you for your efforts. Oh, that's right, I have no money. As you can see, my gentleman keeps me penniless and naked so I can't go anywhere.

"I know." She continued, "I can pay you in international currency."

With that, she reached down and pulled my shorts down so they were hanging around my knees. She then dropped to her own knees and took my already rising cock into her mouth. Within seconds it was fully engorged and its head was knocking at her throat. She tried hard to swallow it but it was just too big. With her left hand cradling my balls and her right hand taking a firm grip on the lower half of my shaft, she started working me with the hand-mouth method she had used last night. It worked a treat. She had me pumping my sperm into her mouth and onto her beasts within five minutes. It took every ounce of my strength not to drop the firewood I was holding above her when I threw my head back and roared as I blew my load.

With the job done, she stood and pulled my shorts up. She then took a step back so I could see her clearly and, raising her right hand, used her little finger to redirect the cream that had escaped from the corner of her mouth, pushing it back so she could catch it on her tongue. She repeated this highly erotic action with her other hand on the left corner of her mouth, then lowered both hands and began rubbing the loads of semen she had deposited on each of her breasts into her nipples and areolae. I almost came again just watching her extremely lewd performance.

"Thank you, milady," I said, resurrecting the Lady Chatterley image we had played with earlier, as she turned and sauntered back into the living area. She gave her hips a little extra swing. She had very quickly picked up on the fact that I loved to watch her undulating arse teasing me as she walked.

I dropped the load of firewood I was carrying inside the kitchen to be used once the fire was in full flame. It would dry out quickly enough once it was in the stove's firebox. The remainder, I stacked on the porch outside the back door. It could be brought in and dried out as the timber already stacked near the wood-box dwindled.

I spent the next half-hour standing waist-deep in the floodwaters pumping water from the rainwater tanks to the header tank. There was no-one more pleased than me when Juanita came to the top of the steps to tell me that the header tank was overflowing. I had no idea when it had actually started to flow over as its noise would have been masked by that of the constant rain on the corrugated iron roof of the little house. If we'd used one hundred gallons - which, I know from filling my own tank when I've had to do it by hand takes me about half an hour - we were going to have to cut back on our water usage.

'It'll have to be short showers from here on,' I thought. 'No more baths. I might be able to top it up this afternoon but after that, I doubt that I'll be able to get down here again until the water levels start dropping. Even then, we probably won't be able to trust that the rainwater tanks haven't been contaminated. What's in the header tank this evening will be all we'll have until we pull out of here.'

I loaded up with another armful of firewood before climbing the stairs. After piling it on top of the stack I had already unloaded on the porch, I entered the kitchen. I was chilled and needed to warm myself before attempting the trek over to the workshop where I had parked the truck.

As I stood by the fire, warming my bones, I looked through into the dining room, where I saw Juanita sitting at the table staring at something. She had tears streaming down her face. Forgetting my own discomfort, I padded quietly to her and knelt down so my eyes were level with hers. I reached out and grabbed hold of her hands. They were shaking.

"What's the matter, my darling?" I asked. "What has hurt you so?"

She looked over to me, then looked back at what was on the table. It was one of the board games I had found earlier. The new one. Squatter.

When I'd found it, I hadn't removed its lid. I'd merely noted that it was a reasonably new game, which might be worth playing to fill in our time while we were stranded. Juanita must have thought the same thing when she had found it in the pantry and brought it out. It appears that she had taken the cover off the box and had started to set up the game when she noted that someone had written a name in the place on the back of the board that said, "This Game Belongs To:" In a neat feminine adult's hand - her own, I imagined - had been written, "John James Stewart".

I suddenly knew who Liz' secret lover was. And, now, so did Juanita. But did she know who his lover was? Something in her demeanour told me she did. I think she had finally worked out the identity of the person whose bath salts I had put in our bathwater the night before.

"Oh my God, Juanita," I said, reaching over to pull her to me. "I'm so sorry."

She didn't resist as I pulled her off the chair and down onto the floor so she could kneel while I held her tightly to my body. I didn't try to kiss her and I certainly didn't try to create any erotic connection, I merely wanted to comfort her. She lowered her head into my chest and wept. I knew her heart was broken. All I could do was to try to hold everything together so she didn't fall apart.

"You're wet, Matthew," she said after about five minutes. You need to get out of those clothes and set them to dry by the stove. I don't want to lose two men in the one day. Although truth be told, it appears I lost James some time ago."

"I've still got one more job to do before I take these wet clothes off," I said. "But I promise you that you won't lose me. Do you know who the woman is?"

"I think so," she answered. "Do you?"

"I believe so," I said. "My suspicions were aroused when I found the key to the back door hidden in a pot that I was told - and believed - had been broken and discarded almost a year ago. There were also some other things. The faded bedspread, which I thought we'd left behind in Rabaul when we came to Bougainville. The smell of the bath salts was a crucial piece in the jigsaw puzzle that was being laid out before me. None of them, individually, was enough to convince me but, together, they completed the picture.

"That Raleigh Ware tray you used to serve dinner last night was the final piece that brought the picture into focus. While it didn't have the owner's name on it - like your game of Squatter does - and in spite of everyone I know having received one as a wedding gift, I recognised it as the one Liz and I had received on our wedding day. It was a gift from my mother, which was supposed to be used when we served drinks using the crystal glasses she gave us on each of our anniversaries up until she died last year. Liz always hated it.

"So, yes, I do know who the woman is, my darling. It's my wife, Liz. I didn't for a single moment think that James would be her lover, though. Sure, he was on my list of suspects, but only because of his proximity. It was a short list, and there were two others ahead of him. Two others who I considered to be more likely candidates."

Both of us were shivering by this time. Me due to my wet clothes and Juanita as a result of the shock she had received at finding out that her husband had been unfaithful to her for the best part of the past year.

"Will you be okay while I go over to retrieve the provisions from the truck, my dear one? I'll stay with you if you want me to, but if I don't go now, the water will be too deep for me to attempt it. I wouldn't bother, but if we're going to be trapped here for longer than I estimated, we're going to need that extra food."

"You go, my darling Matthew," Juanita said. "When you get back, we'll have a game of Squatter. We need to talk about what we are going to do about our situation. I might find the strength to be angry and look at ways to seek revenge if I wasn't standing here in the nude wanting to tear the clothes from my own lover's body so I could take him to bed to fuck him senseless.

"I wonder if that's how James and Liz feel when they're hidden away in this little cabin?"

Having stopped shivering, I bent my head and kissed Juanita passionately. She eventually pushed me away from her and steered me towards the door.

"And when you come back, please take your clothes off before coming into the living part of the house. I won't kiss you again unless you meet the house dress code. Besides, you've got splinters from the firewood you've been carrying sticking out of your shirt. Hugging you is like cuddling up to a porcupine. When you come back, you're going to have to examine me to make sure I haven't got any splinters in me. You will probably also have to take my temperature to make sure I haven't contracted some sort of wood-borne infection."

I laughed as I headed down the back stairs and made my way through the now midriff-high water towards the mill's workshop shed where I'd stashed the Toyota. The current, even this far away from the creek's natural course, was stronger than I had anticipated. My heart leapt up into my mouth when, just after I'd passed the mid-way point, I felt something brush past my leg. I could hear my heart racing as its rough texture glide across the side of my thigh. After standing perfectly still for long enough to let my heartbeat return to somewhere approximating normal, I continued on towards the workshop building. I tried to convince myself that it had been a small log that had brushed up against me. I didn't want to even consider what else it could have been.

The water levels around the inspection ramp upon which I had parked the truck showed that it was about the same height as the floor of the mill manager's house. Like the house, the ramp would go under in another eight to ten hours. The water would reach the body of the truck three or four hours later. I was hoping that the rain would have stopped well before then and that the creek would have stopped rising. Once that happened, it would only be a day or two before we could get across to the other side.

After walking up one of the ramps, I lowered the tailgate and climbed into the load tray of the Toyota. I was relieved to be out of the water and, after my encounter with whatever it was that had brushed past me, I wasn't looking forward to having to go back in; I didn't for a single minute believe that it was a small log that had brushed past me earlier. I knew I'd have to, however. I couldn't cower here while Juanita sat alone in the cabin.

I rummaged through the gear in the load space and found the cooler box under a tarpaulin. Lifting the lid was like opening a present at Christmas time. Not only did it contain eggs and bacon, but it also held other treasures like bread and fruitcake. There was also a tin of milk powder and a couple of packets of tobacco and cigarette papers. I hadn't had a smoke since before I'd left home to come down to rescue Juanita. I hadn't said anything but there had been a couple of times during our ordeal that I had thought that a hit of nicotine might help to relieve the stress of the occasion.

I folded the tarp that had been covering the cooler box and laid it on top. It might come in handy if we had to spend a bit of time up on the hut's roof. Not finding any rope with which to tie it down, I leaned around to the side of the vehicle and opened the door to the cab. As soon as the door opened, I was hit by the pungent odour of our earlier sexual games. It was overpowering and anyone opening the cabin doors in the future - James, for example - would be in no doubt as to its source. Obviously, my attempt to allow the smells to dissipate by cracking the windows open a little hadn't worked as well as I had planned. 'Perhaps the increased wind velocity might improve the vortex effect and will speed up the removal of the smell,' I thought, although I didn't really believe it. I wound both windows all the way down to allow for an improved flow of air.

Digging around behind and under the seats, I came up with Juanita's shoulder bag and a couple of lengths of light rope and a large Thermos flask. The best find, however, was a couple of lengths of heavy rope of the type that James would use to tie down a load of cocoa beans when taking them into town for shipping. This heavy rope would prove invaluable if we had to climb up onto the roof of the hut to await rescue.

After throwing my booty into the load tray, I climbed out of the cabin, closing the door behind me. Whether our sexual escapades were discovered or not was in the lap of the gods. 'It would be ironic,' I thought, 'if Juanita and I were caught out by her unfaithful husband; one half of the pair of lovers who, themselves, had been carrying on an adulterous affair for the past ten or eleven months'.

The thinking about when their affair had started my alarm bells ringing. It was eleven months ago that my mother had died and I'd had to fly down to Australia for her funeral. With the need to see to a number of her estate matters, I had been away for ten days. I was reasonably sure that the potted palm was sitting at the bottom of our back stairs when I left, but was gone - supposedly broken and discarded - when I returned. Bingo!

With Juanita's shoulder bag and the Thermos thrown into the cooler box and the heavy rope and canvas tarpaulin tied down using the lighter cord, I slid my treasure chest down the ramp and into the water. It floated; as I'd been confident it would. With a little adjustment so it remained level, I set off for what I thought of as home.

It took me about fifteen minutes but I arrived safely without having encountered any more water monsters - thank God - and I man-handled the box of goodies up the stairs and onto the porch. After climbing over it, I opened the door and dragged it inside.

"I'm home, sweetheart," I called out from the kitchen after closing the door to prevent the cold wind and rain from invading the warm cosiness we had worked so hard to create. Receiving no answer and not seeing her sitting at the dining table, I went into the living area.

"Juanita," I called once again after not finding her sitting in one of the comfortable lounge chairs in the living room. "Juanita? I'm home." There was still no reply. I was beginning to become concerned. Thinking that she might have gone to have a rest after I had headed over to the workshop, I looked in the bedroom. She had made the bed but there was no sign of her.

I next went into the other bedroom, thinking that she might have wanted the encompassing comfort afforded by the saggy single bed. Once again, no luck. I checked the bathroom in case she was having a shower and hadn't heard me.