Free ClaimedbytheNative by Rea Thomas Page B

to
leap back into the art of living. I knew my friends and family would be outraged
if they could see me following the stranger. I didn’t care. I was boundless,
free to make whatever foolish decisions I wanted. I felt alive, adrenaline
thrumming through my veins as I increased my pace. I was only a few steps
behind him, close enough to smell the pheromone-infused scent of his taut
skin—a mixture of coconut oil and something woodsy I could not place—close
enough that I could see his hair was damp with sweat. I wanted to sink my
fingers into the strands, tugging until his head fell back to expose the column
of his strong, thick neck.
    I had no idea where I was being led. The sun was low enough
not to cast warming beams of light upon the coastal town’s narrow streets. We
walked past humble dwellings, the inhabitants of which were still asleep. There
were long shadows created by the coconut trees growing in profusion along the
roadside. The smallest breeze had the palm fronds rustling, but otherwise this
mostly residential area of town remained quiet. My feet, clad in brown leather
sandals, slapped against the ground, loud in comparison to his silent
footfalls.
    We may have walked for ten minutes or an hour. Time was
measured here only by the increasing light and shortening shadows. I followed
him, not daring to speak in case the anticipation I felt was shattered by some
anti-climatic rebuke. He made no attempt to initiate conversation, and the
mysteriousness of him was only strengthened by his unwillingness to
communicate. I was either being led down a dangerous, potentially deadly
path…or I was approaching sexual nirvana with a man who wanted the same as me.
I was drunk on my craziness, giddy with excitement. Where I should have been
afraid, I felt deeply and profoundly aroused.
    The buildings thinned out, giving way to uninterrupted rice
fields stretching far to the east. I was inclined to stop walking, to absorb
the unparalleled beauty of the plantations. The vivid green met the dark,
ragged shadows of the mountains in the distance. The dusty road, lined with
ever-present coconut trees, was empty. There were no vehicles, no cattle and
above all—no people. I was in the middle of nowhere, following blindly into a
situation I could not predict.
    The man cut off the road, traversing a grassy pathway
between the wet rice fields. I hesitated for a moment, a shred of common sense
breaking through the fog of adrenaline. Where was he going? Did my decision to
follow him go beyond insanity? No one knew me here, and if I went missing there
wouldn’t be a single person who could verify which way I had gone. I hadn’t
passed another human being in ages.
    He stopped abruptly, turning his head only a fraction to
look at me. His body remained rigid, succulently dark and tempting. I thought
he might speak again, and offer me a morsel of pleasure in his accented voice. He
did not part his lips, striding onward as though he didn’t care one way or
another if I followed. Somehow, his indifference reassured me. I inhaled
deeply, and hurried on.
    Focusing on his body, I guessed he had to be at least
six-two. His shoulders were broad, but his muscular stature was the type earned
by physical labor and not, as I had seen so often back home, the product of
seven-day gym sessions. He was like a warrior, his physique natural, and there
was something virile and deeply sexual about his every movement. He moved with
refined grace and certainty, navigating the rice field with expert knowledge.
The longer I followed him, the more I wanted to touch my fingertips upon his
brown skin and taste the sweet, coconut scent.
    We approached a wooden hut, mounted on stilts above the
field. The roof, constructed from dried palm leaves, sloped gently downward.
There was a single door at the top of the wooden steps, and a rectangular
window covered by a piece of fabric. I bent my head back to study the little
structure. While I observed his home, the man