Free I Shot You Babe by Leslie Langtry Page B

from a vendor. More vodka was passed around, and we all got pleasantly drunk as the day drew to a close and the competition ended. By besting his opponent, Zolbin achieved the coveted rank of zaan, or elephant. Both families, Sansar-Huu’s and Chudruk’s, celebrated the win as if they were all related. This was the way of the steppes. They now had a connection, and I was more than a little touched that I was the catalyst.
    I insisted that Yalta and Zolbin ride in the cab of the truck while Veronica and I climbed into the back with the others. The darkening sky brought a chill to the windy road as we drove along. I was warm in my fur-lined deel, but Ronnie began to shiver. I put my arm around her and pulled her close. She resisted at first, then relaxed against me. The alcohol buzzed warmly in my veins and I felt good.
    Our friends chattered around us and I translated a bit for Ronnie. She laughed at the jokes a few moments later than they were told—and at many mangled translations I attempted—but I could tell she was starting to feel comfortable. That convinced me I had been right to invite her. In the sterile environment of a hotel in the big city, she wouldn’t learn anything.
    Eventually we arrived at the camp. Ogderel invited Ronnie to share their ger, but I insisted she be put up in mine. Too much cultural overload was not a good thing. It would be better if she was with someone she knew. Someone who spoke English. Someone who wanted to have sex with her. Yalta sent the boys over with an extra cot and blankets. Ronnie watched nervously as I set her up on the other side of the tent.
    She sat quietly on her cot, cuddling Sartre while I made some tea. It was warm in the ger. The felt walls kept in the heat put out by the small cookstove.
    “What are you doing?” she asked sharply.
    I kept unbuttoning my deel. “Getting undressed.”
    Ronnie’s face had a look of sheer panic. “Surely you aren’t going to strip right here in front of me!”
    “You’ve seen me in nothing but a towel. Get over it.”
    “I’ll…I’ll go outside and wait.”
    “Why?” I asked, even though I knew the answer.
    “Can’t you just sleep in that?” Patches of red spread over her cheeks.
    I shook my head. “It chafes and isn’t very warm.” I found it hilarious that, in spite of her modesty, she didn’t look away as I peeled off my zodag, leaving nothing but my shuudag. In fact, she looked a little frozen with fear.
    “Well, since you can’t take your eyes off of me, I’ll turn around.” I smiled. With my back to her, I pulled off the briefs, leaving myself completely naked. For a moment I entertained the thought of turning around…just for the fun of it. But the fact that she was nervous about being here changed my mind.
    Did I imagine it, or was there a brief intake of air coming from this modest young lady? I slipped on a sweat suit and socks and turned around.
    Veronica looked stricken. And maybe a little excited. I couldn’t tell. It made me wonder if she had sex very often. Now, why did that pop into my head?
    She accepted the tea gratefully and drank. “This is good. I was afraid you would give me more vodka. Or…what did they call it?”
    “ Arikh. You’ll only see that in the cities and at festivals. For the most part, we will be drinking airag. ”
    “What’s that?”
    “Fermented mare’s milk.”
    She blanched. “Thank God you have tea.”
    “And that’s another thing I should warn you about. They drink their tea with salt and animal fat.” I watched with amusement as she grimaced. “But I have the good stuff.”
    She shook her head. “I never thought I’d hear tea called ‘the good stuff.’”
    I smiled. “There’s a lot you will have to get used to here. We eat a lot of mutton and goat cheese. Just remember to stay away from tarvag. ”
    “Why?”
    “It’s marmot. And they still carry the black plague.”
    Ronnie’s eyes widened. “I guess I really am immersed in Mongolian culture