Page 18 of The Rival in South Africa
We paused at the crest of a hill, and Rex gave a hand signal as Thomas eased us down.
“Nikki,” Alex said, nudging me and pointing off into the distance. There was a splash of dark against the tan ground and some movement.
We grew closer, and I could make out the shapes now. The largest lump was a giraffe, legs akimbo and stomach torn open. I grimaced as we drew closer.
The truck slowed to a stop. I glanced ahead, and the road curved off and to the right, meaning this was as close as we would get to the lions.
They were on Alex’s side, not mine, and my view was blocked by the seat in front of him.
I faffed about, looking for a better angle with my camera. I just couldn’t see it from my seat. I must have let out a noise, and Alex dropped his binos. “Come on.” He gestured me closer.
I scooted along the seat until our thighs pressed together. Yes, okay, now I could see. I leaned slightly over Alex, ducking underneath his arms, which were back to holding up the binos.
Steading my camera with both hands, I zoomed in. Overwhelmed, I fidgeted around for a moment, looking at each of the big cats. Vaguely I heard Thomas tell us there were four females here and two nearly grown males that would be forced out of the pack soon.
There was always at least one with an eye on us, observant and protective. I snapped shot after shot, even having to zoom out a bit to capture more of the surroundings. But with this lens, my 500 mm, I could zoom in completely, and my vision would be filled with teeth and blood and offal. It was gruesome and spectacular.
My arms were growing too tired, and I wanted to get a bit lower—just a smidge—to take more shots. I nestled my elbow onto the seat, between the side of the Jeep and Alex’s leg. I vaguely felt my foot lift off the floorboard and carefully maneuvered my leg around the backpack.
One of the lionesses yawned, a great gaping maw of teeth. I snapped away, catching a lolling tongue, a quiver of whiskers.
Now my foot was pressing against the opposite wall of the Jeep, and I stretched lightly, working myself into a more comfortable position. I wasn’t leaning out the Jeep, but I had definitely wiggled my way into a better angle.
I snapped again and again. “Come on, you beautiful girl,” I whispered, “give me your other side.”
I waited patiently, zooming out to see the group and keeping an eye on the whole scene. I kept clicking. I could have filled my card and probably not gotten enough pictures of the lions.
But after a few minutes, the truck rumbled to life underneath me.
“Time to head back to camp,” Thomas called out. “Everyone ready?”
I grudgingly agreed, and the rest of the group echoed reluctantly around me. Alex was quiet.
As Thomas pulled us out, I pulled my face away from the viewfinder and fiddled with the buttons. God, I hoped some of those photos came out. I flipped through a few before I glanced out the side again and spotted Alex’s hand clenched on the rail next to my head. His knuckles were white, and I glanced up at his face as we bounced along. His jaw was tense, eyes staring straight ahead.
Right. I was spread out over his thighs like a masochist looking for a spanking from Daddy. My boobs were in his lap, jostling about with the bumpy ride. The one saving grace was that I wasn’t actually boob-first on his cock; instead, maybe,maybe, his cock was boob-adjacent.
I braced myself against the side rail and lurched upward, scrambling to get out of this position, dignity completely out of the question. Unfortunately, I didn’t take into account the location of Alex’s face.
I got a whack on the back of my head and let out a little cry, but it was covered by Alex’s echoing, “Fuck!”
He grabbed his face, and the Jeep slowed.
“Everything okay back there?” Thomas called out, just as a trickle of blood slipped beneath Alex’s fingers.
“No, Alex is bleeding!” I shouted back at him.
Thomas braked to a stop as I fumbled around in my backpack for a tissue or serviette or anything I could use to stop the blood. I pulled out the closest thing I had, a spare lens cloth. Not very absorbent, but it was something. I unwrapped it from the plastic.
“Here,” I said as I held it up to Alex’s face. He pulled his hand back, and I swooped in with the cloth. Goodness, that was bloody.
“Alex, I’m so sorry.”
The car door popped open next to us, and Thomas’s face appeared etched with concern. “The good news is, we’re far enough away from the lions,” he joked. “And you aren’t nearly as appetizing as the giraffe, even if you smell like blood.”
The lens cloth was absolute rubbish for sopping up a wet mess, but in a quick moment, Thomas had a medical cotton out and was gently nudging my hand out of the way.
Alex was eased down from the car, and Mark, who was a doctor back in the States, checked him over while Thomas and Rex dug out water bottles from the boot. Blood mopped up and washed away into the dirt, we cleaned Alex up as best we could. My leggings would need a good hand washing in the sink when we returned to the lodge.
