Clayton's Story ... And His Jungle Girl! (closed for Drobabes)

[Homerun2611]

Disney, as it is want to do, simplified things greatly, Tarzan good, Jane good, Clayton evil, but the story is far more nuanced than Mickey and his friends might want to portray it. They also are constrained to a G/PG presentation, when in truth this tale is a hard R, to more rightly X! To begin with, William Cecil Clayton was the YOUNGER cousin of John Clayton, Viscount Greystoke, the aforementioned, Tarzan. Not some old, snarly, stalker of the 18 year old, chaste, Jane Porter. Yes, the same Jane who ultimately, and willingly gives up her virginity to swing on Tarzan's manly vine, and who will someday bare his children. The same Jane Porter who was originally engaged to William Cecil Clayton, before the slut, or at least how William Cecil Clayton can't help but think of his one time betrothed, as she wantonly pursues, and fucks the man who is little more than an ape himself!

William was once a man of unquestioned repute and social standing, but being cast aside for such an uncouth brute, was a humiliation no man of turn of the 19th century England should have to endure. He tried to fight it, but his hatred for Tarzan and his hairy brothers of the jungle only grew. How he had pined for Jane, only to wake up in sweaty nightmares of her being enjoyed by his very own cousin dressed only in a loin clothe! So it was, that he sailed from England, just as his one time fiancé was about to head home, Ape Man in tow, and regularly buried within tarnished cunt, to return and make him endure even further humiliation!

William Clayton had seen enough of the apes, to have his own perceptions of the massive and primitive animals, a light he wanted the rest of the world to see. To see his cousin in his proper light, and yes, by association bring his fiance up for ridicule, for choosing such a beast over a man such as he! He would not return to where Jane had met Tarzan, that he could not do, but he headed back, to jungles not more then 500 miles away, and he went with a single purpose, to bring back apes and other primitive and wild creatures where he had already presold them into zoos, and the animals would be put on display for all of society to see and understand.

At that time, William Cecil Clayton was still the primary heir to the Clayton estate, and so, he took 1,000 pounds sterling, half of which was necessary to commission a ship and crew, and headed off to Africa himself. Once there, he would secure a guide, and if all went well, in roughly three months he would return to England with both a king's bounty, and all the evidence he needed to disgrace Tarzan and Jane!

That was the plan, but as we all know, the best laid plans, often ....

 

[Drobabes]

Leona could not remember a time before the island. Why would she? She had been born beneath the canopy of the jungles arms, ever reaching towards the sea. A sea where her parents, whose memories she clung to in moments where the loneliness often cooed her into dipping her toes so far into the depths that she might never return, had whispered of grand adventures and luxuries unimaginable to her small mind, beyond the waves.

Did those places really exist? she wondered as she ran her fingers through her short hair, brushing it to the left along with multiple grains of sand that had been packed beneath her nails. It was of little consequence to her, as even if she felt the need to look in her mirror-a small token left from her dearest mother, she would not be able to tell the difference between the warm grains and her own icterine locks. But the world beyond the waves often intrigued her still, and sometimes she would indulge in fantasies of building a grand boat, perhaps one even more grand than the great shipwrecked beast that she still called home, to sail away and seek other lands. Other people...

"Kss!" she scoffed, shaking her head as she reached down to pick up her basket, full to the brim with the days bounties. Various fruits and nuts, grains and roots, fresh and succulent leaves and greenery, fat and juicy grubs made sweet by the fruit they had engorged, and large rockfish caught mere moments ago and wrapped in fresh grape leaves which she would use to slow cook the tender meat in over the fire. She adjusted the thin rope beneath her cleavage; an outfit made first of the hide of the brocket deer, worked, softened, and then cut into a simple fabric strip that lay beneath and above her breasts. It's only purpose, for the weather on the island rarely ever required anything more than a light shawl, was to keep the thin ropes she used as support for her ample breasts lest they sway and bounce too hard while she needed no distractions. From there, she attached the basket to a similar setup of soft dear fur and rope around her thin hips, supporting the weight on her side to free her hands as she first swept the excess sand from her bare and tanned bottom, then strode leisurely down her beach.

Today, she was collecting specifically entrancing bits of stone and shell. Leona wished to add just a bit of something eye catching to the dress she had been working on for some time; a dress that was similar enough in shape to the one her mother had wore on her death bed, but not quite as voluptuous around the lower rump and legs. After all, Leona preferred to be able to move freely within her own skin, and while she couldn't remember many things from her short time spent with her mother, some of the memories she did have were of how sweet her father had looked upon her when Mother struggled with her dress.

 

[Homerun2611]

The Island was equally as primitive as the one on which Jane and her Father had located Tarzan. Clayton had come up to the Captain’s perch on the helm, spyglass in hand, as soon as the sailor had rung the bell from the crow’s nest, announcing after nearly four arduous weeks at sea, they had finally spotted land. The original goal was the West African Coast, but people were ill, and both supplies and tempers were short, and so the spotting of the reasonably large island was a seeming Godsend.

The Captain looked at Clayton, “We can continue Sir?” But the Captain’s tone suggested that his invitation was half hearted and Clayton needed no convincing. Clayton was nearly as green as the sea that surrounded him, and nodded ”NO” vigerously. “No, we land here, if only as a way station, we need provisions and rest and … we need to get off of this ship and on dry land!” It was only yesterday that he had gone down to the bowels of the ship to check on the provisions, realizing they were in danger. He also ran inventory on the things he would need going forward.

There were 6 large cages to cage the beasts permanently, and a smaller, cage that could be used to transport them from the land to the boat. There were rifles with plenty of both shotgun shells and tranquilizer darts. There were machetes, drums for water, canteens, and lanterns. There were tents and ropes, and some basic canned goods. If they ever landed they could move on.

Given that there were no natural ports for the ship to dock the ship would need to anchor while still in the deep water of the sea, and row there way into a landing spot, ideally on a beachhead. Two large wooden boats could be used to transport both the temporary cages, tents, guns and other supplies to shore as well as the men.

The biggest near term issue was water! The ten man crew, the Captain, Clayton, five sailors and three other hunters/collectors, were down to less than a week’s remaining rations of the precious, life giving substance. He need to to find land, and with God’s grace, find a source of fresh water! The last night had been one of the worst yet, and frankly had it not been so, he might have dared venture further. The ship had rocked and rolled in a heavy storm which had left Clayton and his team green at the gills.

There was no guarantee that the island contained the disgusting primates he sought, but after leaning over the edge and vomiting one last time, he was resolute. He would either find what he had come for here, or return home frustrated, and even a greater failure than he already felt!

There were other issues, using the spyglass he looked up and down the coast, but all her saw were jagged cliffs, some of which went straight up, 100 feet or more, and so the ship moved north, up and around before spotting an inlet with smooth white sands which extended nearly 200 feet, before disappearing into increasingly lush, dense foliage broad leaf bushes, palm trees and birds circling overhead.

Birds! What a welcome site. The likelihood that fresh water stores were somewhere on the island went up exponentially. “Here, we anchor here, I want to get to shore as soon as ….” He was glancing through his telescope when he saw her, or so he thought, hoped, perhaps imagined? “A girl?” He said loud enough that the Captain could hear him. “Is the island inhabitated?” He asked, despite the fact he was certain it was a woman, dark, well tanned, wild, and barely dressed, but he was sure, he had briefly, no more than a second or so, seen a woman!

He had read of hallucinations brought by lack of water and the constant heat of the sun, not to mention how long he had been at sea only with men, and perhaps this was, what did they call it, oh yes, a mirage? But he so hoped not. “Ready the boats and supplies, we will anchor here, and I want to be on the island in less than an hour.” He went to his cabin to ready himself and pack what he would need as well. But what he had seen raced through his mind, was she real? Were there others? And, perhaps, could she help him find the apes or gorillas, he sought?

 

[Drobabes]

Leona sat her basket down upon her bamboo porch, a plentiful material found deep within the thick of her island and which she used to make many of her tools and personal possessions. It wrapped the front expanse of the great ship that she called home, jutting out in a similar manner as the ship itself and providing a balcony to observe the great expanse of the ocean. The storm that had brought the ship upon land, nestling it snugly between thick foliage and high mountain peeks that jutted out just slightly to the sea, was one in which few humans had ever seen. It's waves had reached higher than most prospective buildings that ever dreamed of touching the great clouds above, lifting the massive vessel up and manipulating it into the mountains face as easily as a child with it's toy. And while the great ship would never sail again, it still had housed a team of twenty; the last survivors of a once mighty crew. With great effort and many weeks of hard labour, the remaining survivors secured it to the mountain's mighty face, insuring it's stability for the coming years. Though the coming years they would never see...

The porch was where Leona spent much of her time, lazing about her days on repairs, tasks, and anything that might bring peace to her never restful mind. There were many sections of rooms beneath deck where she could have lived if she so chose, and which she did attend to-keeping them clean and in good repair to dissuade pests, and for her own storage purposes. However, she chose to stay above deck for the sole purpose of being nearer to the figurehead whom she had named Rosanna, after her mother.

She, the figurehead, was a magnificent women of great stature whose bronze arms stretched gently to the sea, and her tenderly carved lips serenaded a silent song that the young women was sometimes convinced she could hear in her dreams. Never quite captured, though. Always scampering off right at the last moments, somewhere between the graying skies and dreams of Mother's gentle fingertips upon her brow.

Leona was lonely, in a sense, and being near the figurehead brought her some amount of comfort. Though there were many animals on the island that she had befriended and tamed across the years, they never could quite replace what the gaze of the bronze statue could give her. Nor could they comfort her in the same way as those cool metallic arms.

Thwack!

She used her sharp rock blade, tied snuggly to a thick and sturdy piece of dried bamboo for a makeshift axe, to cut the head and tail from her catch. Sometimes she liked to use the whole fish in certain preparations, such as soup, but today she craved just a juicy fire baked fillet with smoked vegetables and roots. Glancing to her right, she noticed the large boa that liked to bask in the sun near where she would hang her fish to dry. It was only a baby when it had first stole a kill from her, three years ago, but instead of adding it to the menu the young women had instead become enchanted with the creature and would cut select tidbits of tender meat to offer to it in small morsels, eventually enticing it closer. It had taken a long time, but the two had eventually built a bond, and now she could freely pick the creature up and wrap it over her arms. It was a good relationship for the both of them-the snake got fed prime foods and groomed of ticks and bugs, and Leona had companionship and a hunter to keep the rats and mice away from her bedding and fresh meals.

*Thwack!

She cut another piece of fish off, this time a small chunk, and took both it and the head over to the serpent. Offering first the small bite, smiling with amusement as the snake gently took it from her fingers, and then the head, she sat by her friend and stared out once more at the sea.

"Oo-ay!" she exclaimed loudly as she suddenly jumped to her feet, causing the snake to flinch and move away. It wasn't quite a word, but more of a sound she had often heard in the jungle when a predator was too near. Of course, Leona could speak, but she found the words to feel rusty and slow in her mouth. Much harder to use than the simple grunts, calls, and whistles of the forest.

There was something in the distant waves, coming to the shore of her home. Something that made her heart hammer in her chest in a way that she had not felt in years.Turning around quickly, she grabbed her bone knife and jaguar throw, placing the head of the beast upon her sandy locks and tying it securely around her shoulders.

"Something is wrong" she proclaimed out loud, the words sounding as foreign and ominous to herself as the accent that carried them from her lips. Before she leapt from her porch and down into the thick foliage below, she took one final look over the waves, her eyes burning into the many small figures moving about.

 

[Homerun2611]

The row boats were being assembled to take them to shore. Holding and transitional cages to capture and transport the wild animals back to the ship to be penned for transport back across the ocean. Tents, guns, tranquilizer darts and bullets, God only knows what they might be confronted by on this island. Medical supplies, canned foods, flints and matches, enough clothing to last the week, washing boards, soap, and lastly, the two to three days remaining water supplies on the boat.

Water should have been the most, the only focus as the men prepared, rowed to shore, and began exploring the island. They could sleep under the stars if needed, even if there were mosquitos and malaria took them, it was better than dying of dehydration, they must find water.

Against that backdrop of such clear and imminent peril, that should have been Clayton’s only focus too, except it wasn’t. “What are you looking for, do you see anything that suggests fresh water?” It was the captain had Clayton’s side, sure their sponsor was a man of reason and understood the priorities.

”What?” Clayton asked, a bit perturbed, should the man have been anchoring, managing the landing crews, doing anything more useful than bothering him? Clayton was sweeping the telescope up and down, left and right, where is she, was she real?” He had only gotten the briefest of glimpses of Leona, she seemed to be floating in the trees. He stopped, and played that back, the sheer ridiculousness of his observation. Since that time, unbeknownst to Clayton, she had discussed herself in the trappings of the jaguar.

Fortunately for her, she had not yet started the fire to cook her fresh fish dinner for any smoke would have quickly revealed her position and hastened the crew’s desire to get to shore, locate the “firestarter” and ask, and if necessary force, them to assist the desperate landing party on where to find water!

Clayton had given up, he was now with the rest, get to land, find water, forget the hallucination. “We’re ready Mr. Clayton, the boats are being lowered, it is time to go.”

Clayton was actually William Cecil Clayton, the financier of this expedition. He nodded and climbed down the rope ladder. Twenty minutes later, all three landing boats landed on the white sand beaches of the moderate sized Island.
The Captain organized the activities. There were 22 men in total, they would separate into seven groups of three, and one of four.

If the landing spot was the center, they would head off every thirty degrees or so, to canvass as much of the island as possible, for the minimal sunlight that remained. Clayton as the least skilled in Navigation would be one of the parties of four. There were roughly three hours of sunlight left, and who knows what kinss of dangers the island held. It was agreed, each party would venture as far as they could in an hour, and then double back, just in case anyone lost their way. It was pure luck that it was Clayton‘s party, that began walking, on a beeline path directly towards Leona’s shipwrecked home…

 

[Drobabes]

The downside to the jaguar attire was that every bird within spotting distance of it's rosette embroidered coat would send out an alarm loud enough for almost all of the island to hear. Therefore Leona had to use it with cunning and precision; rarely if ever, using it as camouflage for the hunt. Instead she used it a warning and to clear the forest around her. These humans were now her prize. Her obsession and treasure to claim, and she wanted no other creatures aside from the insects beneath their feet, and the squawking featherballs above in the dense canopy, to know of their arrival. Not yet.

And neither did she want the ship men to know of her arrival.

It had been many long years of solitude on her island since her mother, and then father, had passed. Many even longer days and nights where she spent her time weeping in despair of the possibility that she would never again see, nor speak, to another human being. Unlike Tarzan, who she did not know but might one day come to learn of, she had had just enough time with her parents to know of companionship, love, and trust. The warmth of another to play with and feel safe with. Someone to coddle her when she cried, and chase away the beasts from the dark shadows. Yes, she had grown strong and almost fearless in some aspects having been forced to fend for herself, but there were still things that even the brave warrioress feared. And for some reason that she could not quite place, the thought of making herself known to these men too soon shook her young heart. She needed some time to study them first; become more comfortable and confident with the idea of approaching them. Or perhaps, approaching only one first.

Slinking down another branch, her body staying low to the stability beneath her strong hands and feet, she matched the movements of the jungles mighty beast, becoming one with and encompassing the spirit of the apex predator that she had brought down with her own weapons of arrow and skill. If she so chose, she could near perfectly mimic it's range of purrs, huffs, and low growl, having practiced for years in an attempt to both study the mighty beast and keep it away.

After having jumped down from her observational perch and into the densest part of her jungle home where she knew she would not be easily spotted, she had taken the time to bind the once great beasts four paws to her own matching limbs with cords of soft leather. While her heart was thumping wildly with the call to answer questions that she had pondered upon for years, she had long ago learned the value of patience. The jungle did not favor those creatures that threw caution to the wind, and though it had only happened once, Leona had once upon a time nearly lost the battle of survival with her enemy-now a mere corpse upon her crown. It had only been a basket that nearly ended her young life, nothing more. But it had not been tied securely enough upon her, nor left loosely enough to be discarded. When the time came to run, Leona had found her waist entangled in a trap of her own making. Her sturdy basket-caught upon a branch from which it had snagged as she swung wildly through the vines. The rope, secured to it but not well enough to keep it close to her bodice, jerked and nearly cut so deeply into her skin as to reach the bone of her slender hips. She had screamed wildly, caught as the prey she was, and the blood had only further drove the large cat into the frenzy of the hunt. If Leona had not had her knife sheathed against her breast that day, she may have very well died of blood loss even if the jaguar had decided to abandon it's kill. It had been many years since that day, and yet the scars still remained beneath the soft strip of leather protecting her hips from the weight of her loaded baskets. Two twin lines, one on each side. Leona had small and various other scars of course, but none so prominent as those nor serving as such a visual reminder.

She could feel her phantom tail twitching leisurely behind her as she froze, patiently watching the party below. She saw no women, as her study books called them, amongst the group. It brought upon her a profound sense of sadness that was as curious to her as to where the feeling itself had arisen from. A distant past, and memories that carried weight in which she did not yet know how to handle. A swallow, to wet her mouth, and then her keen eyes zeroed in on a particular figure whom she had hear one of the men call 'Clayton'.

His features, similar to another man in the party of four, stirred something deep and animalistic inside of her. It was a sensation she felt rarely, but when it came was usually around the season in which many of the animals on her island began their mating calls and she would sometimes watch with awe and fascination as they pleasured one another. This too, she had learned about in her books, but only so far as vague descriptions when it came to humans. 'Purity' and 'marriage' were often concepts mentioned, but her curiosity had never quite been satiated in how two people came together in attraction, dance, persuasion, or chase; let alone the actual act of intercourse. It was among the many questions she sought to satiate as she tracked the party through the jungle.

It was about twenty minutes before it finally dawned upon her that they were heading for her home. While they stumbled and struggled through the thick brush, like young baboons who still clung to their mothers teat and had yet to learn how to properly dance amongst the branches, Leona herself had reached them in mere moments, knowing exactly which twists, turns, and vines to swing from in order to reach her destination before they had even begun to cut the first few branches down with their machetes and tools. Once understanding bloomed, planning followed, and just as quietly she snuck away.

About five minutes later, the wild women returned to the group, and in the pouch pocket crudely sewn into the fur covering her ribs, was a tangle of roughly fifteen brightly colored but perfectly harmless snakes. They made no noise, as she had been careful in her procuring of them, and as she delicately plucked each one from her pack, she sat them gently atop the branches ahead. Key spots in which the men would have no choice but to come face to face with the slithering creatures as they attempted to crawl along the mossy branches.

Once her trap was laid, she hid herself once more, watching and waiting. She had once used this very technique to scare off a tribe of gorillas that had been hunting the deer that liked to graze in her territory. It had caused a huge commotion, and while many of the snakes were simply trampled, it was enough of a concentration of them in once spot to send the great apes into a nervous mood that would not leave until they found a new nesting area. Leona wondered how these humans, her own species, would react...

 

[Homerun2611]

The call of the birds and the scattering ahead was noticed by the most experienced of their party, for he was far more hunter than sailor, and had been specifically chosen for both his skill with a rifle, but his tracking. Pointing to the sky, Raphael, he was a Spaniard, one of two in the largely anglo group, put his index finger to his lip. “Sshhhh… there is likely a predator about …“. Again he pointed out as the birds flew off primarily to the north in response to the call, “….that is their signal. It could perhaps be referring to us, but I think not, so we should be aware.”

Clayton felt a shot of adrenaline go through is veins. He was unsure what kind of predator this could be? No big cats were necessarily indigenous to these areas, however, there were instances where explorers and travelers had captured and released both adults and cubs who had since proliferated. In his only other trip to these parts, the hunt for gorillas which had cost him his fiancee, lost to the arms and loins of an ape man.

Even this momentary rememberance filled his mouth with bile. Jane had been his love, his betrothed, a woman of unquestioned virtue who he had honored and cherished, and lost in the most lustful and vile manner imaginable. And to who? An ape man! He swallowed, was that why he had seen that vision. Oh what an evil and cruel tormentor one’s mind could be! She had looked so real and…. So alluring!

He had been far too long at sea, and even longer without a woman in his arms, or more explicitly and relevantly, between her legs. The ship had not even allowed enough privacy to masturbate, and if Clayton’s balls were any more blue, they could have been mistaken massive sapphires. This was something he intended to rectify shortly, perhaps even stealing away that very night, which brought him back to not only the danger, but the inconvenience if there were a nearby predator.
If Raphael was their hunter and tracker, Abubwe, was their muscle. Abubwe was African born, but rather than sold into slavery, like his family and friends, due to his obvious physical attributes, standing nearly six foot, three inches shorter than Clayton, he weighed nearly 220 pounds of pure muscle. His skin was black as coal, and was stretched tight over bulging muscles on top of muscles, he wielded the machete with reckless abandon.

Despite his efforts, his shirt off, his body dripping with sweat in the humid island air, progress was very slow! Slowly, but surely the made their way, unwitting toward Leona’s tree based home. “AAAAAHHHH NYOKA HATARI!!!! NYOKA HATARI!!!” The big man had shrieked, dropping his machete and desperately trying to removed the gorgeous, but non lethal red snake that had called on his shoulder and bicep with his last thrash of the bush. The issue wasn’t just the one snake, but there were suddenly all types of snakes, everywhere!

The big man was wide eyed and looking around, and saw the puzzled looks of those around him. Suddenly realizing he had, in panic, gone back to his native tongue. The men were all behind him, “Snakes… snakes… everywhere… go back.. go back!“ Clayton pushed the man out of the way, only to look a black snake coiled at his feet hissing at him, seemingly poised to strike!

Raphael pulled his rifle and shot the black snake between Clayton’s legs, a perfect strike between the black beady eyes, but that only served to ignite a chorus of hissing, no wonder Abubwe said to run, and this time no command was necessary as the men turned at a run. Once they had taken about thirty steps at a sprint, Clayton stopped, and turned, looking back. He could have sworn he saw a beautiful pair of eyes looking at him through the brush, what was more, was he could have sworn he heard laughing?

Looking at his watch, there was no use in trying to go back or create a new path tonight. Hopefully the other search parties had more luck. He was not all that concerned about food, there were clearly animals, perhaps even larger game on the island, which also suggested there had to be fresh water. However that was the question, for if they didn’t locate water by sometime tomorrow, they were in real danger, and everyone knew it!

Back at camp, tents were already being erected where possible under the shade of the large palms and out of any danger of high tides. Palms had been scaled and coconuts procured, their milk would whet their thirst tonight. One of the parties had shot a small boar, which had been skinned and was already roasting on a spit.

Each of the parties had noticed the same effect of having headed inland and felt cooler temperatures and a sense of humidity. There had to be a source of water, perhaps more than one. The best news of all was no one other than Clayton’s party had run across a den of snakes. However, as Clayton ate, his mind was on none of the above, all he could think about was those eyes, although they were wild, and yes it was likely all his imagination, but they had seemed female, and spectacular!

 

[Drobabes]

Abubwe was the first to spot her impish trap, though his reaction to the serpants was not what she had hoped for. He had been the man that first caught her eye, his tall stature and imposing figure causing her to take pause. But it was the features of his skin-such a stark contrast to the others and reminding Leona of her dear Rosanna, that had her feeling an instant attraction and allure to speak to him; perhaps even touch him. Those feelings were quickly dashed away when he began to shout in a foreign tongue that she could not understand, hower, and a frown of dissatisfaction tugged her lips. The man seemed a coward, as her text books put it. She could understand the fear of being startled by a snake suddenly appearing on one's body, but such a shriek was unbecoming. If was not as if the snakes were capable of chasing him down, having such long legs as he had.

When the one that she had heard the others refer to as 'Clayton' pushed himself forward, her blue eyes quickly took stock of his features and were pleased with what they saw. There was something in the way he carried himself, in the way he had stepped forward to assess the danger, that Leona had hoped to see in Abubwe. It was a take charge kind of action and she felt herself being pulled forward with an almost dangerous need to understand, and slake something animalistic in herself.

The shot of the riffle shook her focus, and she was impressed to see such an instrument of what her people were capable of creating. Her father had come to the island with a pistol, but had long ago expended it's bullets in protection of his betrothed so as when Leona had come of age, she had never been able to experience the sheer heart stopping noise of a weapon of war. She was unsure if she felt a fondness, or fear, of such a device yet but she was definitely impressed with the markmanship of Raphael. It had taken her literal years to perfect her own aim with the rope lasso and arrows, so there was no doubt in her mind that this man had also had years of experience under his belt. That was the expression used, was it not? Under one's belt? She would have to pour through her books later, but for right now...

They were fleeing! All of them! Fleeing from the simple trap she had lain! Oh, how funny these creatures, these people of her own, they were to flee from creatures that lacked the legs to give a proper chase!

There was a tickle in her chest, an ecstatic glee of pride in her own shenanigans that bubbled forth in the form of a girlish giggle. But what was this? Someone turning back? Leona clamped her mouth shut so hard as to hear her own teeth snap together before she darted her head down. Ever the bright student she was though, she could not stop herself from keeping her line of sight peeking ever so through the canopy of the leaves...

...

Their eyes had locked. For one heartbeat of a moment in time, in which Leona would never forget, she had felt the warm embrace of another soul seeing her, knowing of her existence. It had been as intoxicating as it was terrifying, and though she had fled-her cheeks turning red with embarrassment at doing the very thing that had brought her to giggles over the group of men, she was once again seeking them out mere hours later. Once again trying to slake some desperation in her soul to be alive, and more than just a passing day and another passing creature like the ants on the branches or the grubs in the dirt. She wanted her soul, her very existence, to be mirrored back at her through the eyes of another and not just a piece of metal and glass in her hand.

As patiently and cunning as the jaguar that she still wore upon her back, Leona waited long after the last of them had settled in for sleep. She had watched them as their dwellings were put up, food and drink secured. They had seemed very thirsty, having cut and cracked open many of the trees bountiful fruit and Leona wondered why they did not simply collect from the streams that were plentiful on her island? Perhaps they had yet to travel far enough into the dense foliage. She smiled, then, naively feeling a bit of pride at her trap with the serpents and congratulating herself on this being the reason that the men had yet to find a source of cool and clean water.

Shifting her weight, she avoided stepping on a plate with scraps of bone from the kill. It would not do to wake them before she had satisfied herself with touching and sniffing their belongings. Yes, she may have been raised by her human parents for some years before she was orphaned, but Leona had almost just as many years amongst the heart of the jungle, and the jungle demanded of her that she use all of her God given senses.

And so she leisurely strolled through the camp. Item to item she went, picking up a shoe here, placing down a cup there. The artsmanship in much of what she picked up intrigured her just as much as the items functionality, and how it might work were she given enough time to solve these puzzles. All the while she was mindful of her actions-her movements lithe and silent; stalking. Soon she was strolling closer to where he slept, though this, she did not notice, as her intrigue had become consumed with the tools around her and not waking any of the sleeping piles.

She licked the end of a knife as she crouched with her back towards the one called Clayton, unaware that it was him until she heard a noise that made her spin on her haunches. Leona had enjoyed the flavour that had been left on the metal, it having cut through a particular juicy piece of the mens dinner, and she had just been learning to close it and stuff it into her pouch to take with her on her way out when her senses tingled.

Crouched like a tiger, but with the mottled fur of the jaguar covering most of her back and somewhat down her forehead until her eyes were a bit hooded, she froze and stared into two dark pools. Pools that had looked upon her in the foliage earlier that day, and who now held her just as still. The knife was still in her hand, and her hand halfway into a small pack tied to her belly. Her other hand was planted firmly on the dirt before her, mere inches from Claytons bedding, and it was only a cool night breeze that stirred any movement from the young women. Just the slightest of shivers, running through the taught muscles of her arms, as her eyes remained locked with this stranger before her.

Another gust of wind blew a strand of hair too close to her nose, tickling her and forcing her to move it aside, which at last caused her to finish putting the knife in the pouch. And once the spell was somewhat broken, and her itch scratched, a new itch arose just as ferrociously. Carefully, cautiously, she broached the small gap between them. With her eyes just as intense, just as searching, she reached out with her now empty hand and paused just before touching his face...

"Clay...ton... Clayton..."

She had heard it said, knew it was the title assigned to him, but lacked the social skills for a simple, 'hello'.

 

[Homerun2611]

For the most part, and what should have been the entirety of Clayton’s assessment of their initial foray into the jungle, their venture had proven a complete and utter failure. His “guide” Abubwe had proven himself a coward, and therefore in many ways useless to Clayton, while Raphael a marksman worth every penny he had paid.

What was worse, as they would soon head to bed, needing sleep before arising before the break of a new day, they were one day closer, perhaps only one day left, from running out of water. On the transport boats from the ship, the one remains full barrel of water had taken a bad wave only to fall overboard and empty itself into the salty waters of the sea. Now here they were, maybe eight canteens, at most half full, and that was it, then the lifeblood of their survival would be used up.

The milk from the cocoanuts had helped, but that was insufficient for long. In the morning he had commanded half the crew to stay back and set water traps, essentially large funnels using leaves to capture any rain that might come their way, but today that sky had been cloudless, and the lack of color in the setting sky, suggested that condition had not changed.

The other half, would break into two search parties, one led by the Captain, one by himself, and he did assign Rafael with them. They would retrack their path of earlier today, and snakes be damned, they would find water.

Yet none of that was what was on Clayton’s mind as he headed to his tent. No, it was his two very quick, yet he felt likely related sightings. The girl she was increasingly sure he had seen through the telescope, and the eyes, that when he turned, he had felt looked, perhaps momentarily, but nevertheless looked, into his soul! Their had been a connection, magnetic, but he mentioned it to no one.

Society was well aware of Clayton’s humiliation with Jane, and he did not need them questioning if he was hallucinating for want of a broken heart. Even the question perturbed him, yes she had hurt him, but he had decided, it was for the best. She was not the woman he wanted, needed. Clayton was a man of certain desires, and needed a woman who would feed and blossom under those same complementary needs.

Yet, as fast as he had seen her, connected, she had been gone. Who was she? Yet even her appearance brought hope, if there was a mammal, let alone a human, then there had to be a supply of fresh water somewhere. And of course there had been the wild pig that the other party had encountered, another mammal needing water, who had given his life for their dinner. At least they would enjoy a good meal, if this were their last, depending on what tomorrow brought.

But it was more, he’d felt it in his heart, felt it in his loins, each glimpse had suggested two things, she was wild, and without question beautiful! And those qualities, kept Clayton tossing and turning, sleeping naked covered only by a sheet. He thought of her going to sleep, dreamed of her as sleep came, only, with just a bit of light provided by the full moon outside that leaked through the crack of his tent, would he find that rather than him needing to seek her, she had apparently come to him!

Something inside him awoke him, there was something in his tent. Damn, why had he not kept a lantern nearby. He knew why, it might have attracted unwanted creatures, just as the creature that was now in his tent. The light was poor, he squinted, and saw the spots of the leopard. He held his breath, he had no gun within reach, and his knife was on the other side of the tent.

He opened his eyes, hoping for them to adjust and provide clarity on the danger he must be facing. He slowed his breath, and watched as the great cat turned … and then …

Was this a dream, were his eyes deceiving him? In utter disbelief he did not act, only watched as those eyes, her eyes, again looked into his. How could this be, how should he react, why was she wearing the pelt of a leopard? Odd things run through your mind, no real strategy to the questions tumbling forth, and still he stayed silent. No longer was he worried that he was in danger, instead worried about not scaring her away.

"Clay...ton... Clayton..."

His name! He lifted his head, moved slowly, turning to sit up in his bed. She sheet slid down his body, revealing his muscular, naked torso, the dark, curly hair that was richly displayed across his pecs. He moved slowly, a smile on his face. So not wanting to startle her.

“Yes … that’s me….” He move a bit more, as bare, strong legs also slipped from under sheet, and feet found the floor. If he had to know, he could probably dive and possibly grab her if she tried to escape, but she seemed to not be trying.

His eyes looked as quizzically into hers as hers did his. He slowly lifted his hand, palm up, but empty, not sure himself of what he was offering. “Do you speak … English …. Who are you?”

 

[Drobabes]

His body drew her eyes as she stood as well, reaching her full height in one lithe movement that looked as effortless as the wind. The differences between them were stark. Where as her body was mostly smooth, only having one small bush of course hair to protect her nether regions and some thin, but slightly long, light hairs on her legs and underarms, his appeared to be much courser in nature in covering more of his overall mass. If it were not for the fact that she could so clearly see his lighter toned skin peaking through the patches, Clayton may have reminded her a bit more of the apes that she often competed with for land and resources. Instead his body reminded her much of her fathers, before he had left when he would lay bare before the morning sun and soak up it's heat, getting ready for the days lessons of reading, writing, and most importantly, survival. Once more she had an urge to touch him, to step forward and run her fingers through the curls on his left peck and satiate her curiosity of their texture. She had only just lowered her eyes from said spot, when she spotted his outstretched hand.

Before she could think to take in the words he had said and speak in return, she found herself having a knee-jerk reaction, the sudden realization of where she was and how close they physically were inside the small enclosed area causing her to snap back to reality. Very quickly she reached behind her back, grabbed the bamboo quiver she had stored beneath the fur, and smarted the back of his knuckles with enough force to leave a nasty bruise, if not just a bit of blood. At almost the exact moment she did this, but perhaps just a fraction of a second after, she bent forward slightly and gave Clayton a mighty hiss that was just as intimidating as any leopard of the jungle that surrounded them. She even twisted her lips and bared her teeth to emphasize her threat while taking a few steps back, before quickly twisting and slipping through the draping of the tent entrance and back out to the world for which she had been born.

Pausing just outside, far enough from his reach to ensure she could get away if she chose, she turned back around to face him down with a most intimidating stare.

"Leona" she spoke, before reaching up to pull the head of the leopard down over her eyes.

"That is my title. My name."

With a little smirk, she lifted the quiver once more and pointed it towards him as her body tensed and stood tall, and her chin raised.

"Come find me...Clay-ton, of the Sea."

With her challenge laid, she turned and sprinted into the blanket of darkness, disappearing into the foliage before she risked another soul awakening to see her lithe form.

 

[Homerun2611]

Typically Clayton might have been more modest, a young woman in his midst, aware of his nakedness of her eyes seemingly soaking him in, yet he wasn’t, didn’t, he just stood there and let her gaze a moment, as he did her. Of course she was wild, it was actually fascinating to see what a woman looked like when only tended to my nature. Somehow she seemed clean, her wild bushy hair at least, despite being a bit matted from the wearing of her big cat cape and hood.

She was wild, but now wild? The utterance of his name indicated some civility, at a minimum intelligence, even if she was only mimicking what she had heard. Heard? That brought on a new set of thoughts to be processed. He peered close into her eyes, YES!!! Of course, he hadn’t been crazy, he had seen a girl, a beautiful blonde girl, the other the orange had been her hood, this was her, which brought an altogether new question, was she alone?

Mmmm, and what a woman, a delightful dish of youth and wildness, a mischievous grin spread across his lips, as his eyes panned down her lithe, fit frame… “I bet you’re a wildcat everywhere aren’t you?” The question was rhetorical, more musing if not indulging in a moment of fanatasy.

Clayton had been weeks at sea and too long abstinent, not by choice but by treachery, and so, he allowed himself a moment to ponder and enjoy. “You’re beautiful…’ This time the speech was softer, more admiring, even complimenatry and courting.

Putting his hand out had been a mistake, one he soon realized as her eyes panned down, no longer observing/admiring his muscular body, his tightly curled hair on his chest, his broad shoulders, sculpted muscles, strong legs, and cock, which he realized, based on his prior musings, was not yet hard, but no longer flaccid… hanging nearly 7 inches, it seemed destined to grow to its full 8, if only to be prepared should opportunity arise.

Was it his hand, or his reviving cock that made her take caution, back away. The hand he could drop, the cock, it seemed to have its own mind, one that Clayton could not help nor stop his growing manhood. “OUCH!” The wrap on his knucKloes was firm. She was strong, and cat quick. Thank goodness that was the extension she chose to slap away. His mind was going a mile a minute, so many questions, yet he had to be careful. She leaned in, hissed… and despite Clayton being much larger, more powerful, it was now his turn to take a step back.

Did she bite? Why was that question not as concerning as It was arousing? God, it had been too long without a woman! Yes, wild, she was warning him, do not come closer, yet he was unfazed, undeterred, the only thing that stopped him from reaching out and trying to catch her was a sense she should not be underestimated.Somehow that leopard that now served as her cloak had succumbed, so this girl might have skills, lethal skills, and who knows what else she had hidden underneath that cloak.

He looked down to his hand, realizing now how it throbbed and saw a small trickle of blood curling down from his middle knuckle down the back of the hand. “That hurt… don’t do that again.” He said, still doubting she understood him, but feeling it must be said, just in case. “I don’t want to hurt you…” Again, was he talking to her or to air? She bared her teeth, she was unconvinced.

Quick as a flash she stepped away, out, damn! “No.. don’t… “. He was not changing her mind, but then just outside she stopped, spoke. “Leona?” Making sure he heard correctly, but the next thing was what really excited him, she not only confirmed but spoke in an actual sentence, in the King’s english! “You speak.. you understand…“. He wished he’d kept the cat comment to himself, but now this opened so many new possibilities. Except….

She was leaving, he was sure, truly quick as a a cat, Leona the Cat Girl, he thought. She brought her weapon up, but he saw the smirk, almost playful, was the game of cat and mouse between man ans woman really so instinctive, it must be. "Come find me...Clay-ton, of the Sea."

It took him aback, an invitation, arguably flirting, “NO.. Don’t go…”. The words were pointless, she had done what she meant to do, or so it seemed. “Where.. .how … I don’t know…” He hopped up, wanting to follow, but instantly knowing it was fruitless. Suddenly he remembered the most important thing, what the hell, had he been so infatuated and filled with interest and face it, lust, he had forgotten about base survival? So it seemed.

”WATER?” He yelled as the sexy little body flew away, quick and agile. “We need WATER… Where… WATER?” But he had no Idea if she heard him, and only then realized he might have awoken others, and yet, he was not certain, in fact he became more certain he hadn’t when he heard no rustling in the nearby tents. He breathed a sigh of relief, he didn’t want to share his recent revelation. Leona the cat, might need to be his secret, at least for a while!

 

[Drobabes]

"WATER? We need WATER… Where… WATER?"

Despite her quickness, she had not retreated very far. She felt safe enough hidden within the dense canopy, and her mind needed a moment to process what had just happened to her. Her sharp ears were able to hear him clearly over the continuous hum of crickets and nocturnal creatures that were ever present, but her heart was still beating quick beneath her breast so she ignored his desperate inquiry and half climbed, half leaped, to the top of a heavily vined tree. Once on a sturdy branch, she turned and observed his naked form through the leaves, his skin taking on a new kind of glow beneath the light of the moon.

"You’re beautiful"

Such sweet words. Beautiful. She knew this word, from her story books and dictionaries, but also what little she could remember of her mother. "Flowers, young one, and all things pretty and sweet; delicate. Things that delight the eye and lift the spirit, these are things we call 'beautiful' Little Leona".

His comments in the tent and...what she had seen between his masculine legs, had awoken something in her that she was not sure if she had ever felt before. There was a desire, a burning itch between her legs that she was quite used to, but also something else. Something that only another human being could have elicited. It made her cheeks warm and her mind playful. But at the same time her instincts tickled and told her beware, her stomach also feeling a bit wrong. How could these feelings sit side by side so easily, plunging her into turmoil?

She should have retreated. She wished to leave. Run, now, before others awoke and prepare herself for their next meeting.

Her heart knocked even harder, eyes locked on him still. Then, her hand grabbed a vine.

Suddenly, from a greater distance than should have been possible, Leona broke free from the top of a tree to Clayton's left. Her lithe form somersaulted just before she landed on the dense canopy floor, knees and knuckles both digging into the cool, damp earth. Jumping to her feet this time, there was a hint of a smile on those full and flushed lips as she strode back into his presence, her light blue eyes almost iridescent in the barely lit night and her thin clothe of leather holding her breasts firmly in place with each step. Her shoulders laid back naturally, her chin never dipping and her gaze never leaving his. To her sides, her hands swung freely, gracefully and light, as if she were being indecisive whether to walk or dance. Beneath her, her toes touched the soft earth first, and then followed the arch and heel. And wherever she chose to step neither a twig nor leaf crunched to announce her presence.

This time, unlike in the tent, she stopped a greater distance from his taller and more broadly muscled chest. Her own species or not, she did not feel like getting grabbed by someone that could likely toss her around just as easily as the great apes of her jungle home swung their pray against boulders. Without completely turning her face away, she tilted her chin to the left and gazed into the far distance of the hills, the thick canopy going as far as the eye could see.

"Through there. It is not far...you were very close, Clay-ton. If my snakes had not stopped you..."

Here, she paused, only her eyes moving back to meet his own while her lips turned up in a proud grin.

"You would have reached fresh streams before the light left the sky."

Now, slowly to give herself a bit of time, she looked behind her and towards the sea. Her tongue still felt a bit thick between her lips, the pronunciation of the words clear and proper but still heavy in a way that was very difficult to point at exactly what was wrong with her speech. Swallowing to wet her mouth, she reached up and pointed out a structure that was almost hidden in the bush. A small porch, which was only the tip of her large shipwrecked home.

"There, Man Of The Sea...is where you will find me."

She looked back to him, and suddenly she seemed to lose a bit of her enthusiasm. Her young face took on a hard edge of a life lived dangerously, and in three quick strides, she was threatening close to him. So close, that if she chose to, she could slit his belly as easily as any graceful buck of the forest. Indeed, even her fingers seemed to twitch towards some unseen weapon.

"If you wish to speak with me," she whispered, close enough now for him to smell her womanly scent on the wind. It was a combination of a very delicate musk and earth, surprisingly clean for just how much wildness was betrayed through that dangerous glare she was now giving him.

"Come alone. You, and you alone, will be allowed to pass. Mark my word-any other soul who dares come close will meet with a painful end..."

Leona couldn't help but let her eyes wander his form one last time before meeting his gaze before turning and, once more, she ran with the wind into the night.

 

[Homerun2611]

He had called out, only to regret it, but he also realized his scream, could be interpreted as pure frustration, that is if anyone had heard him at all. It was barely sunrise, and while his shout may have made some stir, it brought no one out of their tents, and so he relaxed. He had a million questions, but his curiosity took a back seat, to what he realized was pure arousal and desire.

He had awoken naked, startled and now as he stood outside, having followed her, watched her disappear into the trees, he realized his cock was tingling, his body responding. It had been a while since he had seen a woman, and hadn’t touched one since his break up with Jane. Clayton was a strong a virile man, a man who craved the touch of a woman, but a certain type of woman.

It was in this moment he saw the potential of the cat, the barely civilized animal the young blonde appeared to be. She was this rare combination of fascination and danger, innocence and wild, and she appealed to him as perhaps none before, or after, ever would. He had learned through his relationship with Jane, that he was a natural dominant, and she had never been quite the submissive, to his liking. Yet he didn’t want a doormat, a woman swooning at his feet, he wanted a challenge, a wild mare to harness, tame and eventually possess. Leona, in only this brief meeting, represented the best of all possibilities, so raw with so much potential!

This girl stirred something primal within him, Leona the Cat, he smiled, looking into the bushes to which she had disappeared, “I wonder what you’re like?” He mused, are you wild, a virgin, are you ready to be caught, claimed, tamed and owned? The thought stirred him to his very core, his cock got harder, now throbbing with a type of desire he had never known before. It was more than a man lusting for a woman, it was a hunter, a master, who longed to capture and tame such a glorious beast. She was a wild cat, dangerous as she was enticing. He found himself biting his lip.

Clayton was about to return to his tent when he heard the whoosh in the trees, and then there she was again, tumbling to the ground, but not falling. Agile, graceful she landed, somersaulted and sprang up, looking at him, almost daring him, but to do what? No longer startled, he took her in, as a man, eying her young, lithe, but muscular form. She was wild, part animal, part human, the rawest and most magnificent specimen of the female form. The more he looked, the more he admired, his eyes raking over her, the more his body responded even more.

“You’re back?” He noticed how she kept a careful distance this time, she was wary, and somehow that appealed to him, a greater challenge. She was looking into the distance, and he followed where she was pointing, "Through there. It is not far...you were very close, Clay-ton. If my snakes had not stopped you..." She was pointing at the thick grove of trees he hand his men had been heading yesterday. “Your snakes?” He couldn’t help chuckle, seeing the pride and defiance in her voice, she was smart! “Well done, it worked.”

"You would have reached fresh streams before the light left the sky." That was very good news, within the day they would have fresh water, that meant survival and they could stay on the island. “Thank you…” He was looking into her beautiful eyes, almost reverent, “Thank you!” This time much bolder, more commanding. She was silent and then he followed her hand to where she was pointing, he had to squint to make out the structure, it looked like a ship, or part of a ship, suspended in the trees. "There, Man Of The Sea...is where you will find me."

Her tone, the words, she was almost flirting, yet she couldn’t possibly know how. He liked the “man of the sea” and so he playfully responded, “And so I shall, woman of the trees.” He gave her a wink, she may have been flirting, Clayton definItaly was. And that appeared to be a mistake!

She moved quickly toward him, the look stern, slightly threatening, he was confused. He had seen animals in the wild when they struck a pose just prior to attacking, but he did not give ground. Her eyes burned into his, "Come alone. You, and you alone, will be allowed to pass. Mark my word-any other soul who dares come close will meet with a painful end..."

He believed her, he also had no intention to bring others, to share her, at least not yet. He didn’t get a chance to respond but found himself taking a deep breath and flexing as she looked up and down his body before leaving as fast as she came.

There was no use in going back to sleep, Clayton when down to the lagoon and bathed, shaved in the cool water, it was painful, but he wanted to look good when he saw her again. When he got back to camp everyone was up and about, making plans to go looking for water. Clayton saw that the men he was with yesterday were less than thrilled by the idea. “I have a better idea, I can move easier by myself, I will retrace where we were yesterday, my crew will stay back and hunt and fish here, the rest of you go east“ He pointed at the opposite direction of where Leona was located, and with eight canteens hanging from a branch he held across his shoulders he headed toward the spot Leaona had showed him before.

Clayton was wearing a wide brimmed hat, a thin white linen shirt that draped loosely over his muscular frame, khaki pants and hiking boots. Without the benefit of swinging through the trees, Clayton walked nearly 45 minutes

When he reached the spot where the snakes had ambushed them yesterday, he passed through without incident. He was careful where he walked, the air was getting a bit cooler, partially from the shade of the overgrown of trees, but Claytone could distinctly smell water and feel a light mist in the air, likely from a nearby waterfall of sorts. Yet, at least in the moment he was not thinking of the water, that would come in due time. He was looking up, and saw the structure Leona had pointed to. “Leona… Woman of the Trees!” He called out loudly, wondering, hoping he would hear from Leona, the cat!

 

[Drobabes]

The sun rose in the horizon on the day they were set to meet. Leona had found herself restless throughout the night, sleeping little, and then when morning came she once more could not sit in one spot for long.

Her heart beat quickly with every step, every pace on her porch, and swinging amongst her tree top vines. There were plenty of things she could have been getting done. Ropes to weave, wooden structures to build, food stores to clean and rearrange, books to study. She could have even gone out to track her herd of wild deer and still had plenty of time to return and catch the alluring man who had come from beyond the sea. But she found her legs restless, her feet light, and her mind running more quickly than the baboons swung from branch to branch.

In the midst of one of her frantic strides across her porch it occurred to her that these foreigners were rather clumsy, almost useless even, when it came to traversing the jungle below. And the noise they made! Why, it was a miracle that they had not drawn the attention of the great apes from the other side of the mountains pass. It brought about a new hammering in her heart, a sudden fear of what may happen to the hansom man who she had warned to come alone. He was surely no match for the dangers of her island.

Fetching her leather wrap, bow, and her own handcrafted knife, she quickly made her way back into the forest. It took her no time at all, especially as she heard his noisy footfalls and labored breathing long before she pinpointed his exact location, to find Clayton. Much like before, she camouflaged herself amongst the trees instead of immediately making her presence known. She needed a moment for the racing of her blood to slow, her breathing to even, and to admire the new attire he wore. Silently she moved, barely needing to even glance down at which branch her feet brought her to. Sometimes she would stay behind him, simply watching as he worked, and other times she would race ahead with giddy excitement and longing for him to reach her home. At one point she came so close that Leona was sure he would spot her slender form. But if he had, he never made it known, and, the girl having much fun with her new play partner, simply raced ahead once more.

"Leona… Woman of the Trees!"

Finally! He had arrived!

There was a movement to Clayton's left, and a slight rustle of leaves as the young girl lowered herself from a massive tree growing near the side of the entrance to her boathouse. She used the jungle vines, one of which she had wrapped around her foot, to descend while keeping herself stead with her hands. She did not completely touch the ground below but instead rested a few inches above the leaves and swung almost playfully, side to side.

"Hello Clayton" she greeted, her sun-kissed skin and sandy locks now being much more clear in the light of day. It was also now obvious, how young she truly was, despite her rough demeanor the night prior. And yes, even there, in her expression, was a bit more radiance of youth. Her eyes were slightly softer, her cheeks a slight hue of rose from her joyful gallivanting through the branches. Her smile, while not quite beaming, was nonetheless radiant and unabashed.

 

[Homerun2611]

Ever since his unexpected visitor, Clayton was on pins and needles, and what was more, much more, increasingly aroused! There was not a chance he could immediately follow her, as, at least supposedly, he had hired expert trackers. Yet he was the boss, the man financing this entire expedition, so if he waited and told them of his desire to head off alone in teh same path they had been thwarted yesterday, they had no choice but to allow.

As for the others, since Clayton rightfully assumed the Woman of the Trees somehow had water to survive, she could assist them there, so the rest of the group needed to focus on shelter and food. It had been far too long since any of them had enjoyed fresh meat, so if there was a human, there was also likely to be various types of wild game. Turkeys, deer, wild boar, something?

The term fresh meat made him smile again, perhaps he had been too long celibate, but he longed for the feel of a woman, and despite the fact her leopard covering had kept her well hidden enough, he had gotten a few tantalizing peaks at the young beauty who seemed to reside beneath.

Clayton stank! They all did, however the girl hadn’t seemed to notice, but they had not gotten that close perhaps, or maybe she liked her men that way, if she liked men at all? In any case he took a soap and medium bristle brush, his straight edge and a whisker brush and small jar down to the lagoon. If only this island had a small waterfall? That, albeit likely frigidly cold, would feel far more like a civilized shower than bathing in the ocean’s salt water.

Down he went, and took his time, grooming up his bead until he was clean shaven, and even tending To his nether region, primarily for the purpose of hygiene, as he hoped, with luck, he might soon enjoy a females touch there.
When the crew awake he gathered them, he gave his instruction dividing the men into two groups. One to establish camp, including setting up more permanent structures than their simple tents, this group would also build a fire and collect wood for sustaining it. The second, was further split, two men to fish, using the spear and rods they had brought with them, the other two were too hunt. They had rifles and knives, the goal was bigger game, but no gorillas, the gorillas and any big cats were intended to bring back to England.

There was some grousing, logical complaints about water being the highest priority, but Clayton promised, he would not return without finding a source of that life sustaining liquid. He had to be careful to hide his enthusiasm, making it seem like his was a truly selfless task, when the reality could not have been different.

With them busy, he put on his large fedora and headed out, he was wearing khaki shorts, a long sleeve linen shirt rolled up at the sleeves and partially unbuttoned to reveal his burly, muscular chest. He had on white socks and hiking boots, a walking stick and a machete, a pistol in the holster slung around his neck.

He moved precisely in the direction Fiona had pointed earlier, and his imagination had ventured, as she had blossomed into the personification of his lusty and pent up imagination. Every couple of hundred yards he would stop and cup his hands, shouting, and he could have sworn he saw her, but as he turned, there was nothing.

"Leona… Woman of the Trees!" He called, and nothing came back. This final time he walked farther, a quarter to a half a mile, as perspiration began to lather on his body, his shirt becoming a second skin, "Leona… Woman of the Trees!" He called again.

And then, as if by magic, she appeared. "Hello Clayton" She stood there triumphantly, unafraid and spectacular. He took a moment to gather her in, she was nearly naked, with only the most minimal loin cloth barely covering her pussy, and a minimal support for her firm, spectacular young breasts. If Clayton were to think of it, his imagination of the sex kitten he was hoping to find, he would have had to admit, even his lusty imagination had not done her justice. The thought quickly attacked him, how could he keep her separate from his crew, at least for a while?

Did she notice how his eyes raked over her, or his deep breath. Surely she couldn’t feel the acceleration of his heartbeat, or the surge of blood to harden his cock. He swallowed, “I came alone … as you asked… we need water?”

 

[Drobabes]

"I came alone … as you asked…"

The smile never fading, she swung back and forth in a most playful manner, her head tilting back as she arched her spine, her hands and arms outstretched with the vine still held firmly as she continued to play on her long jungle gym. Yes, she knew he had come alone. After all, she had followed him to make sure of it, and, to provide protection from the unseen predators that were sure to snatch him up like a tasty treat. So clumsy and noise making this stranger, this man.

A man. There was another man here, in her jungle. The reality of it made her giggle to herself.

"...we need water?"

She stopped swinging, stood up straighter, and gave him a look that was almost questioning his intelligence. Her head tilted slightly, sandy locks falling over slightly knit brows as their eyes locked for a moment.

"Did you not send your men in the direction which I gave you last night?" she questioned, almost, just almost, a haughtiness in her tone. Leona was unaware of it, of course, having been a bit too young to be corrected for such rude ways of speaking when her father departed and left her to her own devices, and having had no one else to interact with and learn some manners. Just as quickly as it came though, it flitted off from her face and she was smiling once more, her playful swinging of the vine starting over with renewed energy.

"No matter" she practically chirped.

"I can show you."

A long swing to the left, and on the downswing, she once more arched her back and looked at him, her head almost upside down as she flexed those strong and wiry muscles to hang down from the thick green vine as she smiled and giggled.

"From my lookout, you'll see! You can see everything from there!"

 

[Homerun2611]

How old was she? He watched her dancing eyes, her grin, she was playing, not necessarily with him, it simply exuded from her lithe but clearly strong and well defined young body. She was wild, and fierce, yet in some ways shy, she was a young woman unlike any he had ever met before, and the combination was irresistible. It was hard for Clayton to tell exact age, there was a youthfulness though that was undeniable, and although he might not want to admit it, as he was only in his early 30’s himself, she was very, very sexy, and he felt his reaction to all she did throughout every part of his own strong, very masculine frame.

She worked the vines like a trapeze artists in the circuses that would visit London, but it was all natural, and he took this all in as he stood there, asking questions that she clearly thought quite stupid! He chuckled at the lack of tact, and honesty in her reply. “I did not, perhaps I did not understand, I thought you meant the water was in this direction and that I needed to come alone first?” She seemed fine with that, moving ahead and willing to help him.

“Your lookout?” Clayton looked around, only to slowly pan up, and see what was undoubtedly the helm of a boat, fixed/stuck in the trees, nearly 20 feet above where Clayton now stood. He took a good long look at the ship, trying to understand how it had possibly ended up in its current position. Yet they more he looked, it was obvious, that the ship had been there for a very long time. The way the trees had entwined themselves took years, even decades.

Clayton looked back at Leona, “How long ago did this happen?” He pointed to the ship up in the tree, “How long have you been on this island?” There were many more questions to come, and as he looked, and asked his questions, he found his heart beating faster and faster. Leona was nearly naked, and, despite the incredible appeal of her young body, he found himself lost as he looked into her beautiful eyes.

As he looked there was no obvious way to get up to the outlook, even the ladder that hung from the back of the boat was several feet above his reach. It was clear that the nimble Leona accessed her quarters through the vines, and Clayton moved over to give them a tug to ensure they could support his weight. Well, this would be an adventure all in itself, and Clayton backed away and began to unbutton his shirt, he didn’t want to tear his minimal clothing as he scaled up the vines, and given Leona’s lack of apparel, any concern for modesty or social propriety had vanished …

 

[Drobabes]

“How long ago did this happen? How long have you been on this island?”

She laughed, finally stopping her playful swinging and choosing to let her feet touch the ground, vine still in her hand.

"I was born on this island. Before that, I do not know."

Leona paused, her brows knitting a bit as she thought before her face suddenly brightened and her eyes lit up.

"My father would know, though! When he returns home, he'll have so many stories to tell! You can ask him then, if you like. Although...you may have to be patient. He left a long time ago, you see, and he didn't tell me when he would return, only that he would."

Laughter filled her chest suddenly, and a dainty hand came up to rest lightly over her left breast bone.

"My how surprised he will be! The last time we were united, I was merely above his waist. Now, why, I bet! I dare say he might have to look up to see my eyes!"

The thought of it seemed to entertain her greatly, as she continued to laugh and giggle, and then with renewed energy, joined Clayton in the climb.

Together, the two of them ascended. Leona making quick work of it, but obviously holding herself back from going too far. Indeed a few times she even rapidly dropped back down, fearful that Clayton's untrained grip might cause him to fall and she wished to be ready to catch him. But despite his rugged clumsiness and occasional heart-wrenching drop into the abyss before he was able to wildly grab onto another sturdy vine, he did quite well. The man was well muscled, resilient, and determined, all traits that Leona felt quite attracted to. And once she was confident that he had the hang of it, she gave him a bit more leeway and began to play once more. Sometimes she would jump and climb quickly up, seemingly willing to leave him behind, only to stop and look back down at him with a grin, or occasional giggle when he had to readjust his grip because the vine he grabbed was the wrong type to support his weight properly. Other times, she would simply let go of her own hand-holds altogether, dropping, no, almost gliding through the air, until she was level with him once more. Then she would take hold of a branch or strong rope and simply pirouette from one direction and to the other behind him. All in all, the climb took almost four times as long as it would have taken Leona on her own, but not one moment of it felt like a burden on her shoulders.

Once they reached the top, Leona did a sort of somersault up onto the porch, and then leaned over the side to grab hold of Clayton's hand, and with one swift and strong movement, had him pulled up and over...

...

The entrance of her boat home was as wild and free as the heart that resided in it. It was obvious that parts of the wood had rotted away over the years, as there was large patches of thatched floor where sturdy woven bamboo peaked through, so tightly woven together that it barely made a creak when stepped upon, nor gave at all. And supporting those thatches themselves was hand chopped planks of old redwood, obviously weathered and brought in from another land, likely amongst the cargo itself. Large canopies made from various combinations of long grass, banana leaves and palms, hung over various swinging chairs and hammock like beds, which were lined with materials of the jungle. Some of it seemed old and dried, while others, such as the deep veins of the alocasia and bright orange of calla lily's were very fresh. Days, perhaps even only hours, old, and used as a form of decoration. For the seats or single beds themselves, oft furs lined them, varying between different animals such as deer, wild hare, what appeared to be a wild canine, and yes, even the occasional lemur. But one large bed in particular, which was supported by a sturdier and solid square frame of wood and lined with thatch to soften it's stiff frame, hosted a truly impressive fur-a lion.

A female of the pride, but a giant specimen even by it's own species considerable strength and size. It's still-attached head hung lazily over one side of the swinging frame, while each massive paw was used to tie the fur in place as to not slip around while it's host slept. And though the fur was well cured and obviously tenderly taken care of, there was no doubt by any even decently skilled eyes that one could tell the beast had been slain many years ago. Perhaps, if not a bit sooner, than when Leona herself had been born. And yet, even this great beast, was not nearly as impressive as the gigantic figurehead for whom held the bed aloft.

Arms outstretched to meet the rising dawn, the great figurehead made of bronze and whose features in the face and hair resembled that of an African woman. Her skin, or rather the metal from which she had been crafted, was a deep and rich bronze, only tarnished and patched green in just a few small areas. Obviously someone had taken great care to weather the sensitive metal against the unforgiving weather and seas, and Leona had taken up the task of continuing on her care.

"Rosanna" Leona said, after noticing that Clayton's eyes had been drawn to the magnificent statue. Indeed, it truly gave perspective to just how large the boat truly was, and how the 'porch' had been built onto it's front after years. If one chose to look up, they would actually see that they were not standing beneath a man-made building, but a roof made completely of thick, heavy, jungle foliage that had simply grown over throughout the years. Only being trimmed back and tamed, as well as one could tame a jungle, by resilient and consistent hands.

"It is her name. I do not remember who she was before we came here, so I gave her the name of my late mother."

After a brief pause, in which Leona's eyes traveled up to meet the large, almost kind in an eerie sort of way, eyes of her beloved Rosanna, her young face softened considerably and at last showed her true age, her true innocence and ignorance to the rest of her human kind. When she next spoke, her voice was not that of a women hardened, but rather of a young and vulnerable girl. The girl for whom she truly was at heart.

"She watches over me each night, and each morning she greets me to another day. I do not know what I would do without her."

Walking confidently, as always, but slowly this time, Leona came to stand near the great figurehead and placed a tender hand upon it's cool bronze arm before resting her forehead there as well.

 

[Homerun2611]

It had been a simple question, curiosity as to how long this beauty might have been here, yet there was another question, thus far unasked, was she here alone. In her innocence, Naomi, unwittingly, answered both.

"I was born on this island. Before that, I do not know."

Leona paused, her brows knitting a bit as she thought before her face suddenly brightened and her eyes lit up.

"My father would know, though! When he returns home, he'll have so many stories to tell! You can ask him then, if you like. Although...you may have to be patient. He left a long time ago, you see, and he didn't tell me when he would return, only that he would."

Laughter filled her chest suddenly, and a dainty hand came up to rest lightly over her left breast bone.

"My how surprised he will be! The last time we were united, I was merely above his waist. Now, why, I bet! I dare say he might have to look up to see my eyes!"

“Ah … yes…” Clayton swallowed and saw not just the hope but glee in the girls eyes and voice for a future event that Clayton was more than certain would never occur. He bit his tongue, he had no doubt she had seen the last of her father, but should he be the one to break the beautiful young girl’s heart. Somehow he felt an obligation, but there was something more, he also felt a deep sense of possessiveness to provide that fatherly figure she was now lacking but he had no doubt needed, but not just a fatherly figure, and that was a contradiction he would need to reconcile.

“You were a little girl, and now look at you, a ravishingly beautiful woman.” He was using big words, sophisticated words, but if was only by the somewhat growly, heated tone of his voice, the look of desire he tried to hide but clearly showed in his eyes. He had nothing else to say, at least in that moment, but a certain resolve was already building within Clayton, he wanted this girl, this woman, as his!

She moved so easily, a natural strength, agility, grace, suppleness and playfulness that was beyond intoxicating. But it was as she ascended, moved above him, no sense of the need for privacy or the impact that her body might make, Clayton looked up, just as Leona reached up, splaying her legs, before regripping the vine she clunged to. “Oh God…” Was that his inside or outside voice? He was not sure as primal need ripped through his body, she had presented herself, albeit unknowingly, but every bit of the man in him responded and craved to mount!

The glimpse of her soft pink petals, opening and closing, moving made him dizzy, so he wanted her to slow, spread and let him enjoy. He could have sworn he saw a hint of dew on those petals, but it was also hot and could be perspiration, similar to that which was coating his very own skin due to his efforts. Was it possible that she too was arouse, yet the impish grin that seemed alwasys on her face made him wonder, even if she was, would she understand why or be wanting to have that need satisfied?

Adrenaline gushed through his veins, and despite how at his weight the gripping and pulling at the vines as he ascended using nothing but brute strength and desire, he did indeed move up. Yet it as two steps forward, one back, she likely could have gotten up and down four or five times, as she did move up and back but each time she went above she would again flash him, sometimes momentarily, other times longer and far more invigorating. He wanted, he needed, yet somehow needed to control himself.

He knew, even as his body craved as he could never remember, his goal was not to simply try to capture her, over power and have his way, his goal was to have her, completely, tame this wild cat and get her submission. The end of the journey was perhaps the most impressive as he watched her somersault over the rail, and then felt her strength as she leaned over and pulled him up. He would have pulled her in his arms at that very moment, but she was too quick, not necessarily trying to avoid him, more seemingly excited to host a visitor.

That was the quandary, wasn’t it? She had the playfulness and enthusiasm of a little girl, the innocence and yet she Al’s had the sultry beauty and body of a spectacular woman. Clayton considered himself a good man, yet he was battling feelings to hold her and take care of her, with pinning and taking her. He had been heartbroken at Jane’s decision, her submission to that ape man, yet know, he understood as his attraction hit him at his most primal level.

Clayton had no idea what he would find, but as he climbed into Naomi’s home, he found his eyes looking around in wonder. The first thing he noticed were the flowers, her simple attempt to bring life and beauty into her surroundings. He noticed the pelts, particularly the large lion fur, and pointed from one to the other, finalizing on the Lion. “You, Naomi, did you hunt these animals?” He would find there was a story to each, but when he again realized it was her father that had killed the most significant of the predators, he was once again sad and felt her loneliness.

“It is all very nice, very pretty, you have done a very nice job here?” He stopped and wanted her to understand the compliment, but then his brow furrowed, and asked a question that might prove to his benefit, “But do you get lonely here….” Again he pointed around the room, “By yourself?”

The lion pelt, well while tended, was quite old, but not all the pelts, and he spotted the leopard covering and could only assume Naomi herself had hunted some, and was curious. It also said he should not take her lightly, but that was fine, as his goal had nothing to do with bringing her harm, quite the opposite.

It was the ship’s masthead, that was clearly the focal point of the room, and Clayton found himself staring into the vacant eyes. “Rosanna…” Leona referenced her, but not as a work of art, she humanized the bronzed goddess, and Clayton crooked his brow as Naomi seemed to be introducing them. When Naomi said it was the name of her late mother, he again felt his heart pang. “"She watches over me each night, and each morning she greets me to another day. I do not know what I would do without her.

Clayton felt obliged to speak to respond. “it is nice to meet you Rosanna, I see you have taken good care of Naomi …” He stopped and looked at Naomi and gave her a wink, “Thank you, for she is quite worth protecting.” Clayton took a step toward her, and held out his hand.

He was looking into her eyes, standing strong, but despite his desire, in this moment all he could respond to was the innocence. “I’m glad I’m here Naomi, I’m glad to meet you, see your home.” His hand was still out, he wanted to take her into his arms, he wanted to be friends, more than friends, he wanted!