“That.” She grins.
I laugh. Not that I mind. “We just did ‘that’.”
“So? Let’s do it again.” She grins even wider and reaches down to fondle me.
“Exactly ‘that’ might take a few minutes, but there are other versions of ‘that’ that I might be able to interest you in?”
“Oh? I’m open to suggestions.”
I flip her over and slide down her body, kissing her as I go.
Gently pressing her legs wide apart, I lay between them, lowering my mouth to her soft, glistening lips, “Oh, open is just how I want you to be,” and I graze my tongue along her slit.
I can’t quite make out her response, but I think she likes it.
CADENCE
If you cut me open, you’ll see me bleed red earth.
Not gush out in thick rivulets, but in dust whirls, small tornados carrying my body and spirit into the wind, scattering me over this beautiful, burnt, vast, dry, copper red land.
I may be first generation Australian, a child of immigrants, but the day I was born, the first breath of air I inhaled carried with it tens of thousands of years of Australian history and tied me forever in with the people and the land, so that my story would start and end here.
And it’s why I brought Sebastian here, of all the places in the world, it’s here I wanted us to come, to be the place where we would get to know each other.
Amongst the harsh heat of the desert sun, and the crisp cold breeze of night.
With the echoes of the spirits of the Aboriginal people around to witness the promises our bodies and hearts made to each other, and bind us together with their blessings.
***
“Cadence! LOOK!” Sebastian parks the Jeep on the side of an abandoned paddock and quickly jumps out, pointing his phone camera out into the horizon.
“What?” I call after him.
“It’s a kangaroo!! With a little joey!” He squeals, and I can’t help but laugh at his childlike excitement.
“Er, yeah, we have a few of those around,” I tease him, secretly committing the squeal to memory.
I lean on the hood of the car, watching him run a few steps and then stop, trying to get close to the mama kangaroo and her baby. After posing for a few photos, she gets sick of him and bounces off lazily, in no rush to get away from the human.
He jogs back to me, his face split open into a giant grin, waving his camera. “Got her! Oh, that was so cool.”
“Yeah, I guess you don’t see too many roos jumping down the Champs-Elysee.”
“Pfft, even if they did, Parisians would just scoff and say they’d seen it all before.”
“Maybe on their dinner plates!”
“Quoi? You don’t EAT kangaroos here, do you?” He looks like I’ve just suggested we eat a human baby.
I shrug, “Sure, not a lot but yeah, you can get kangaroo meat at any grocery store.”
He turns to me, absolutely horrified. “You are savages! Cute little kangaroos hopping around, you catch them and then EAT them?”
“What are you so horrified about, you eat foie gras!”
“That’s goose, geese aren’t cute! They don’t carry their adorable baby geese in a front bag.”
“Front bag?” I’m confused. Sometimes I forget that English isn’t his first language until he comes up with something golden like this.
“You know, the hole in their furry tummy.”
“You mean ‘pouch’?” I spit out.
“Whatever, savage.”
“Which reminds me, you owe me breakfast… and dinner! You didn’t feed me last night after all that show and dance about Cadence’s wish is your command.”
“You fell asleep, honey.” He shrugs and doesn’t look at all apologetic.
“But then I woke up.”
“Did you ever!” He grins and winks at me, and my legs instantly feel a little wobbly.
“Come on, I know of a great place you can make it up to me,” I tell him, to distract me from thoughts that would have me forgetting about breakfast and dinner altogether.
“Oh no, I’m going to need some sustenance,” he groans.
“Not that, you perv! Food!” I squawk at him and he laughs until a camera bag thwacks him on the head.
***
“It’s definitely alien.” Sebastian says after a few minutes of rare quiet.
“It’s not alien.”
“Then where did it come from?”
“The sky.”
“Yeah, an alien dropped it.” He insists.
“An alien. Picked up Uluru… and then accidentally dropped it.” I have to repeat it just to make sure I’ve heard him correctly.
“Sure, a giant alien. With slippery hands.”
I have to put my glass down, to keep from spilling it as I hold my stomach with my other hand as I bend over in laughter.
“What? Do YOU have a better explanation?” He asks, looking hurt.
“There are thousands of years of better explanations than that.”
“Well, I guess we’ll never know.”
“I think we know it’s not a giant alien with crappy finger grip that created Uluru.”
“It’s not my fault you have so little faith.” He sniffs, and turns back to observing the stunning horizon.
“I’m here, aren’t I?”
We’re sitting on our balcony looking out as the sun sets over the giant red rock, that under the angle of light looks like it’s sprouted a halo, illuminating it against the darkening sky.
We can hear the sound of our neighbors enjoying their own meal and experiencing the unique experience of the sun setting over Uluru.
I shove an olive-oil-soaked piece of break into my mouth; part of the array of food we’d picked up at the store, our makeshift gourmet dinner picnic.
“Hmmm, so good.” I say and dip another piece and hold it out to Sebastian.
He opens his mouth and as I push the bread into his mouth, he clamps his lips down, trapping my fingers and then slowly licks the oil dripping off them.
“Hmm, you’re right, delicious,” he winks at me. My nipples harden instantly and I wonder if there’ll ever be a time my body’s not going to react to him from the smallest things.
He watches me eat for a moment, and I let him, somehow feeling so comfortable in his presence that I don’t really care that he sees me spitting out olive pits and sucking on lamb chop bones.
“When’s the first time you came here?” He asks, picking up his fork and stabbing a cherry tomato dancing around his plate.
“It’s a long story.”
“I don’t have anywhere to be and you’ve sexed me out for a while, so, spill.” He presses, already used to my evasive tactics.
I take a sip of wine and sit back, looking out at the scenery. “When I was ten, my grandmother died after a pretty long illness. After the funeral, we were in the car, and suddenly, my Dad spins the car around and he says, ‘where do you want to go? Anywhere in the world’.”