Don't Read in the Closet: Volume Four (51 page)

white. The gregarious avians even swooped down to the forest floor

before starting the whole dance again.

Scott caught Kauati’s attention and gestured at the engaging little

things as they kept pace with the men, rarely pausing to posture for

them, almost as if they suffered from ADHD.

“Piwakawaka eats the insects we stir up tramping about. One less

thing eating us.”

The guide stopped periodically and dug up roots, gathered ferns

and even collected what looked like huge grubs from a rotting tree

stump. Scott shuddered and nearly had a fit over the exaggerated

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grimace of disgust Kevin affected. He’d be very careful at dinner

tonight.

A strange whirring sound followed by a loud rustling in the

undergrowth drew Scott’s eyes. Before the twigs stilled, more

crashing sounds and unmistakable coos came from the swaying mass

of greenery. Could something as homely as a pigeon belong in an

exotic place like this?

While he and Kevin pitched the tent they would share that night,

Kauati dug an hāngi pit, lined the bottom with stones and started a

fire. The man gestured around the clearing in an arc. “I need enough

wood to fill this pit. We don’t have time to piss around, if you want to

eat tonight.”

Scott and Kevin brought back every scrap of wood they could find

and tossed it by the armful into the pit. On one trip back, he saw

tubers - sweet potatoes or taro? - bundled into large green leaves and

set aside. He kept a close eye out for the grubs, not wanting to eat one

by mistake, the chicken and tubers more his speed.

He needn’t have worried. When the fire burned down, the Maori

carefully roasted the grubs one at a time on the hot stones, soft

popping sounds and the scent of warm toast filled the air. When they

looked like they might scorch, he placed them on a leaf along with the

tips of the ferns. He gestured grandly at the crispy larva.

At Scott’s demurral, the man muttered, “Suit yourself, Pakeha.

They taste like chook.”

“Yeah, everything tastes like chicken. I think I’ll just stick to the

chicken.”

He had a hard time falling asleep that night with a scantily clad

Kevin within arm’s reach. He worried that he might say something in

his sleep or, even worse, wake spooned up close to his friend. Finally

exhausted, he dozed off.

Kauati awoke them in the middle of the night being nosily ill,

food poisoning from rushing and undercooking something. The next

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morning, he couldn’t leave the base camp they had set up at their

remote as all hell location. The man’s normal mahogany hue was now

a pasty gray, making the tattoos on his mouth and chin stand out in

stark contrast.

Feeling relieved that neither one of them had touched the weird

concoction the local Maori had proffered with their rations last night,

Scott took one last look at the pale sweating man before packing up

the rest of their equipment. They hadn’t planned to return to

Queenstown for three more days. Would the man be okay until then?

“Are you sure you’re going to be fine?” Scott asked for what must

be the tenth time.

“Yeah, I just ate somethin’ I shoulda left layin’ where it was. I’ll

be good as gold in no time.”

“I’ve got a satellite phone. I could see about calling someone to

come pick us up.”

“No, I’ll be fine. I’ll just take a sickie.” The man muttered

something further about “randy scarfies” and “takatāpui” that Scott

couldn’t quite make out.

“Ok, if you’re sure,” secretly guilty because that was what he

wanted to hear, Scott glanced over at Kevin.

The dark-haired man examined their climbing gear with an eye for

problems. Being in the boondocks with no one to call on for help

made a guy feel a little paranoid even at the best of times. Scott had to

admit this wasn’t the best. Kevin glanced up and caught him staring.

To cover his embarrassment, Scott asked, “Is everything OK?”

“It looks great. We shouldn’t have any trouble. We can descend,

explore the gorge and cave system and still be back here topside

before sunset.”

Kevin went over to the dive skins, picked one up and tossed it at

Scott. “Time to put this on.” He started stripping down to put his suit

on. Scott couldn’t keep himself from staring as Kevin exposed more

Don’t Read in the Closet – volume four 299

bronzed skin. He was glad the guide was too sick to notice his

wayward eyes.

With a shake, trying to cover his fascination and keep a moan

from betraying him, Scott reached for his suit. Glad nothing else had

given his interest away, he hurriedly stripped down and pulled the

lightweight lycra suit up to his waist. He slid his arms into the sleeves

and twitched the fabric into place, before zipping the front very

carefully.
Should he have gone commando under the skin? What had

Kevin done?

The sleeveless wetsuit slid over the dive skin like a dream. Once

he was covered, he took his time settling the suit, and his dick, into

place properly. Now even if he got a hard on, the neoprene would

keep his secret for him.

He pulled at the collar. The damn thing felt like it was choking

him. Maybe that would take his mind off of the half naked man beside

him.

When he looked up, Kevin had one hiking boot still in his hand.

“When you’re finished, I’ll check your seals for you. Then you look at

mine.”

Touching each other through neoprene wasn’t exactly what he had

in mind, but he’d settle for it right now. He had all day to try and

figure out how to get Kevin out the thing. Maybe a nice skinny dip to

cool off after a day spent trekking through the caves at the bottom of

the ravine would do the trick and give him a chance to finally lay

hands on the man he had been lusting after for the past few years.

He wasn’t letting fear keep him from reaching for what he wanted

any more. He had nada if Kevin turned him down, but he still had

diddly if he didn’t make the attempt. Nothing ventured and all that.

“You’re all good.” With a smack to the butt, Kevin sent him on

his way.

Wishing he dared do the same, Scott settled for a nod as he settled

his pack on his shoulders. “You, too.”

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Kevin grabbed the tackle and they headed for the first of the

canyons the guide had told them about the night before. Even though

the trees cut out most of the direct sunlight, the underbrush grew in

lush profusion. The moist green scent of leaf mould released by their

steps—so different from the dry dusty urban smell that he was used

to—filled his nose and conversely made him feel like one of the old

adventurers—a conquistador off to claim his prize.

The raucous cries of parakeets disturbed by their passage

resounded through the canopy. Periodically, Kevin cut a piece of bark

out of one of the trees they passed, releasing the milky pungent sap

and blazing a trail the old-fashioned way.

“What? I forget to stock us with bread crumbs,” Scott joked.

“As a matter of fact, you did. Now we’ll have to settle for this. We

don’t want to get lost out here.”

“I’ve got a satellite phone. It even has tracking.” Scott brandished

the phone his father had insisted he take on this trip.

“Yeah, how’s that working? Rather remote out here.”

Scott flipped the antenna up. At first only static greeted him. He’d

nearly counted to one hundred before he got a dial tone. “Ok, so it’s

not like back home.”

“Can you hear me now?”

Scott took a mock swing at Kevin that he easily blocked. “Alright,

smart ass! Let’s get this show back on the road.”

Pushing the fringe of blond hair off his forehead, Scott looked

around the shadowed trees and brush. The humidity lay heavy and

oppressive, but at least here under the trees his light skin wouldn’t

sunburn. Maybe the gorge would be out of the direct rays of the sun

and he wouldn’t need the sun block he had in his pack, along with

other less mentionable things.

After a substantial hike through lush undergrowth, they faced the

gorge. The drop-off appeared so suddenly that he almost took one step

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too many. With a cold wash of dread, Scott wondered what would

have happened if he had taken that step. Would his broken body even

now be at the bottom of that fall, too far from help….

Shaking off the ominous feeling of prescience, Scott stepped back

from the edge. Glad that Kevin had been a few paces back, cutting a

notch into another tree instead of treading on his heels.

“We’re here now.” The close call made his voice shaky.

“Are you OK?” Kevin studied him for a moment, but at his nod,

looked over into the depths, “We’ll rappel down from here.”

Kevin took one of the coils of rope from his pack, tossed a few

throws around a nearby tree, with a fancy Boy Scout knot thrown in,

and set the rest of the sturdy nylon rope near the drop off. Next, he

pulled two black rappelling harnesses out and handed one to Scott.

“You’ve worn one of these before, haven’t you?”

“It’s been a while, but I’ve been rappelling a few times. Just need

a quick brush up.”

Kevin shook out his harness and smoothed out the straps. “First

you step into the loops like this. Then you clip it together here.”

Scott stepped into his correctly on the first try and made sure all

the straps lay flat. He settled the thin bands as close to his groin as he

could and snapped the front buckle.

He nearly fell over when Kevin reached between his legs to

rearrange the straps before pulling them tight. “That’s more like it.

The way you had things, you would have been singing funny for

days.”

“Uhh… Yeah, thanks man.” He’d never been so happy to be

wearing tight restrictive clothing in his life. If Kevin had felt his cock

twitch at his touch, Scott would have died of mortification. He didn’t

want to scare the guy off before he had a chance to say anything to

him.

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Taking a section of the rope close to the point where they would

be stepping over the edge, Kevin made a loop which he passed

through the large part of the figure 8 and seated over the smaller end.

He pulled it snug and handed the whole thing to Scott.

“Attach that to the carabiner and lock it in place.”

Scott opened his carabiner. “The small end, right?”

“Yes, through the small loop. Make sure the tail of the rope goes

on the right hand side. That’s your breaking hand.”

“Got it.” He pulled his gloves on and noticed Kevin doing the

same.

Next Kevin handed him another figure 8 on the end of the second

rope and a carabiner. “Clip this to the belaying loop on the front of

your harness.”

When he had the important safety gear in place, he called, “Belay

on!”

“On belay!”

With a thumbs up, Scott stepped to the edge and carefully playing

out the rope, leaned back and took the first step down. The first step

was always a rush, that unnerving feeling of falling before he settled

back into the harness like some exotic recliner. Both ropes taut; his

sliding slowly through his hands and the belaying rope held tight by

Kevin.

He kicked back with his legs and let a carefully measured length

of rope slide through his hands. A few pebbles rattled down,

dislodged as with his knees bent, he absorbed the shock of coming

back in contact with the canyon wall. Successive controlled drops

brought him ever closer to the canyon floor and the unnerving

realization that he’d have to make his move soon. How would Kevin

respond to finding out that Scott wanted him? Best not to think about

how Kevin would react and just focus on getting to the bottom in one