I’m still working on my cheating story (or at least plan to really really soon), and I’ve blown off my writing group, so I thought the least I could do is a writing exercise:
This is from the Writer’s Idea book. “Write about the place you most want to go-for a visit or to live. It must be a place you’ve never been before. Open with details, unbarnacled with explanation. Describe what you know of the place, waht you’ve seen in photographs or on television. Then, move to exploring why this place appeals to you so much. Which elements of your personality are hooked into this place?
We bounce along a rough road. My body hurls from one end of the land rover to the over as we hit pot holes, caked in mud, and ruts from thousands of hooves as they made their way across the savannah. The air is rapidly getting colder. When we started out just before sunset, I had hesitated about bringing a sweater. Now, as I watch a pink, purple, and mauve sky glow over miles and miles of African plains, I wish I’d brought something heavier. But though cold, the air feels good…clean, refreshing, and with the smell of something exotic. We slow down and I look at my guide to see what he was doing. As I had just rammed my body against his during the half hour ride, I didn’t feel shy anymore. Something about rough bodily contact works better than any ice breaker in a conference room back home. “Tell everyone 2 things about you, and one false thing. Make them guess which one isn’t true.” I hate that one. My lie is always “I have 2 dogs named Tom & Jerry,” when obviously Tom & Jerry are cats.
Now I’m about to see much bigger cats. I have my camera so I can show Tom & Jerry when I get home. I reach down to find it on the floor of the rover but it has slidden backward. I start climbing over my seat when I’m stopped by Ralph, my guide. “What are you doing? Sit DOWN!” His South African accent is super sexy. So is he, but I still don’t like being yelled at. “I need my camera,” I say, with a wounded look. Thinking of the big tip he’s about to lose, he softens up. “Oh, I’m sorry. You have to be careful out here. We’re in the dark, we’re in the wild, and there’s nothing between us and the fiercest animals on earth except two rollbars. I look at him, bored. “I’ll get your camera,” and he climbs over the seat, and I check out his ass.Nice. That was worth the $100 fee just for that.
All of a sudden, I hear a rustle out there in the dark. I nervously look behind me and see nothing. “Ralph!” I whisper hoarsely. Nothing. I squint my eyes and peer out to my right again. The headlights are shining straight ahead, but they don’t help since they’re pointing the wrong way. If anything, they are blinding me more. I can see a silhouette creeping toward me. Six thoughts reach my head at one time: where’s my fucking camera I have to take a picture of this where’s the stud did he get eaten by a lion holy fuck I’m going to die. And then my feet went numb from fear and I started crying. “Boo!”
I screamed and started clobbering my idiot guide with the purse I grabbed from his hand as he climbed back over the seat. “There’s a fucking lion there you idiot. Drive!” I was expecting a panicked and sorry look from him, but he just looked calmly over at the lion who was now 2 feet from my face, purring. Not wanting to make any sudden moves, I nearly go blind by trying to look at Ralph without moving my head. He’s smiling and climbing over me (hmm… he smells good). Then he reaches out and starts petting the freaking lion! “What the eff?” I ask? He doesn’t know what that means, so I spell it out for him. “What the fuck?”
“She’s my friend. I’ve known her since she was a cub. My parents own a refuge and picked her up from a couple in Capetown who had illegally purchased her, thinking they could keep her as a pet. When she got too big, my parents took her in. A year ago, they released her here. She remembers me, and I take all of my clients to meet her.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s a surprise. Do you like it?” I’m starting to feel more like I’m on a first date, then an expensive safari trip. I suppose he does this to all the ladies. Not that I care. Hell, I’m on vacation, I’m not opposed to expensive flirting. “Yes, I like your surprise,” I say and laugh, flinging my hair back dramatically. I reach out and pet the lionness. She looks remarkably like Tom, just bigger, smellier (in a good way), and less colorful. She reaches her paw out and puts it on my head. This is officially the coolest vacation ever and I start making mental plans to never come home.
