Note:

This story started out as a cut and paste. I had what seemed like a slight variation on the story about the serpent of the Incas. By the time I got done revising the premise of the story, it probably would have been easier to start over. I tried to change the plot and keep the sex scenes from the previous story. If the transitions seem choppy, that may be why.

If you haven't read the other story, please do, and let me know if you think they are different.

Jennifer Marie Stephens was excited, nervous and somewhat uneasy. Her husband, Joe, had worked his way into a teaching position of "Archaeoastronomy."

To some, it was a bit of a questionable field. It had been loosely described as: "The study of how the ancient people incorporated the sun, moon and stars into their daily lives. He had spent much of his life in South America and Asia studying how mountain people integrate the landscape in which they live into their spiritual beliefs. He drew on this experience to formulate his sacred center theory."

She had met him as one of her professors in college. She had been on the track team, and needed what she thought might be some "easy hours." Running a hundred miles per week took so much time away from studies during the spring, she needed to cut back on classes at the end of the year and try to make them up during the summer.

He was about fifteen years older than her, somewhat distinguished looking and a persuasive speaker. Jenn had been a bit of a late bloomer. She was somewhat tall and gangly when she started college. Long-legged, thin and somewhat flat-chested, she had little to attract the more popular athletes. The ones, who showed an interest in her, were mainly just trying for a quick score; "Fuck and run," was a popular strategy that was pretty successful with the athletic men on scholarship and in the fraternities.

It took Jenn a while to figure it out, but caught on quick.

During the summer breaks, Joe spent his months traveling to South America. He had gone to the Peabody Museum and the Library at Yale and studied all of Hiram Bingham's writings, maps and sketches. Bingham had found two cities, but the main secrets had eluded him.

The Spaniards had ruthlessly killed Pachacutec, the recognized emperor of the Incas. He had offered his captors a fortune to let him go. He had promised to fill a room; 20'-0" by 10'-0" by as high as he could reach; twice with silver and once with gold. After receiving the fortune, they melted the metals into bullion, sent it back to Spain, and killed him.

They set up a puppet king, Manco Inca to run the empire. He eventually fled; perhaps afraid for his life or may have killed some of the main Spaniards, taking a fortune with him.

It was Bingham's belief that Manco had fled to Machu Picchu, where the Spaniards never found him. There were many rumors of where he had vanished to and why he had never been found.

Joe had spent months and years tracing the many Inca trails from Ollantaytambo to Espiritu Pampa; or the old Vilcabamba. He did not know where the Inca Emperor had vanished to, but with such intense jungles from Ecuador to Bolivia, it was not hard to imagine that there truly were undocumented natives nobody had found.

Joe felt he was close to solving some of the mysteries, but he needed better proof. Jenn had inherited a nice farm from her parents with a section of bottom land along the Kansas River. With the deep topsoil on it and the Ogallala Aquafer underneath it, it was valuable property. Little by little, Joe had seemed to be borrowing against the property to finance his expeditions. He was sure any day now; he would be having a book to publish and more artifacts to exhibit.

Maybe she had been right about him all along. Now maybe his parents would see him in a better light. She had normally dated a bunch of "wild ones" in high school and college. She had been burned out with all of their maniacal egos; their endless flirtations with other women and sexual demands.

She was not that excited when he proposed to her. She had decided to marry him for a number of dubious reasons. One was that she needed to change the direction of her social life from being on the back of a Harley, to the passenger seat of a BMW. She tired of being on the verge of eviction with a boyfriend who felt the world was against him. She felt she could adjust to the five-acre lot in the suburbs that took most of the weekend on a riding mower to maintain.

Her parents hadn't been that wild about the prospects of a son-in-law that didn't know how to change the oil in his own car. He didn't know how to over-seed the lawn, or spray weeds. Jenny didn't care. She could do all that. For the first time in her life, she had some sort of stability in her life. Her disappointing romantic and sex life seemed to take a lower priority when their daughter Dakota came along. They had a common interest now, or at least, so she thought.

In the early years of their marriage, Jenny had gone on a number of trips with him. It had been exciting. She could easily walk the distances along the Sacred Valley effortlessly. She could have jogged it if she wanted to.

Once she had had her daughter, she had to stay at home. When her daughter was in school, there was no way for her to continue the trips. She had been somewhat outraged at the number of "presents" her husband had brought. In order to meet different natives who lived in the jungles, Joe always brought presents to gain favor. It didn't take much for explorers to get killed. This was the country where head hunters were known to live. They were highly superstitious about many things, and would kill people for many ridiculous reasons.

For some unexplained reason Joe had asked her to come along on this trip. Her daughter was fourteen now, and under Kansas Law, could drive herself to school. Her sister had agreed to keep her while Jenn was gone.

Joe had spent lots of time collecting maps of a promising new area. He had GPS devices. He had satellite phones. He had a laptop and flash drives for information and photographs. He had not told his wife, but now his priorities were a little different.

Joe and Jenn flew to Florida and caught a connecting flight Lima. Joe had spent a lot of time analyzing the route. He knew that his wife was fit from her years of jogging in college and years after.

From Lima, they took a four hour train to Cusco. They had to spend three days getting acclimated to the 11,000 ft. altitude. They spent several days touring the museums; watching craftsmen weave alpaca capes and others creating pottery. When Joe began to get ready for the trip, they took a bus to Vilcabamba. They had to hire a porter, a cook, a guide and somebody to manage the mules that would carry all the supplies. Joe had had good luck with his previous guide, so it was easy to use him again.

Hiring guides, porters, cooks and porters is a nerve-wracking ordeal. If somebody says they will meet you at 8:00am, it might turn out to be noon. It might turn out to be noon the next day. Joe had agreed to meet the guide at the Vilcabamba Café at noon.

Joe and Jenn had gone back for another Nescafé refill at 2:00 when she noticed a silhouette at the western saloon styled double doors. The doors parted. All she could see outlined against the bright sky behind the door was a silhouette. But there was something about that silhouette. Had she seen him before? He looked familiar. The voice sounded vaguely familiar.

"Hello; Joe. Sorry I'm a little late." She heard the shadow say as a long arm extended out of it. Joe stood and returned the handshake. "No problem. This is my wife; Jennifer." He said as he turned and extended his left hand towards his wife.

Jenn stood, extended her hand. "Pleased to meet you." Again; the shadow sounded familiar. What was it about him?

"Jenn; honey, this is Raul." He was tall; very tall. Then it hit her. It was Raul; Raul Ramos. She didn't need to hear the rest of what her husband had said about him. She knew it by heart; at least most of it.

Raul had been on the college football team where she went to school. He was voted Favorite Man on Campus. He had been on the track team. He wasn't at practice much; just when it didn't interfere with spring football practice. He ran most of the sprint distances; relays and hurdles.

He had been taken in the first round of the NFL draft because he could play both offense and defense. In his second year with the Chiefs, he had a permanent hip injury that prevented him from playing any more. After that, he disappeared from the planet. He had always been very quiet in school; very distant. Now that she had met him, she was not surprised to know he was the ultimate Peregrinator.

Jenn had tried to be civil to him, but he was always making subtle hints that he was interested in her. She tried to keep it pleasant and friendly, but she knew her parents would never approve of her dating a black man. He towered over her; perhaps over a foot taller than her.

Although she had been openly reluctant to be seen talking or socializing with him, she was never-the-less secretly horrified and attracted to him. She had watched him getting ready to run the hurdles. He wore no shirt. With a mild sweat, he looked like a marble Michelangelo sculpture that glided effortlessly over the high hurdles. He always had a wicked grin and a gleam in his eyes as he glided over the aluminum standards.

She shivered when he turned to smile at her. He would point to her and smile. She would slowly turn her head in a reluctant "No." sign.

Raul was tall. In fact you could say he was huge. She had no idea that he had left the states and wandered the jungles of South America; tracing the trails of the Inca. She had no idea that he was an expert of so many different languages of the South American Indians.

He spoke Spanish; Quechua, some Japanese, French and Italian. His internet web site, advertising his services as a Sacred Inca Valley Guide was written in six languages. Speaking Quechua was critical to navigating the jungles and Amazon River. Most of them could be traced back to the Indians of the forest; a lineage of Inca. Raul did not meet the stereotype of the Amazon guides. He was at least 6'-6" tall; very lean and fit. Unlike the native Indians, he had a number of tattoos, indicating a substantial contact with the outside world. Neither Joe nor Jenn had actually seen his tattoos. He had added them after he left professional football. Occasionally, during their meeting, one of his long sleeves might snag on something enough to get a quick glimpse of part of his arm. Sometimes when he might lean over, one might see down the front of his work shirt, showing a hint of some kind of tattoos on his body; but nothing they could really understand.

He did not wear the traditional bright colors and skull caps of the Cusco Villagers. He dressed in faded military fatigues; jungle camouflage. His trousers were tucked into the top of his black, oiled lumberjack boots that stopped just below his knees. The sides of his head were shaved. The hair along the top of his head was kinky and braided into a Mohawk that trailed down the back of his neck. This did not seem like the typical Inca guide, but he had been recommended by the college and used by Joe before.

Jenn was a little puzzled that her husband had never mentioned the name of this guide that he had used before. If she had known, she might have been reluctant to either go along, or maybe insist on him using somebody else.

Joe, himself, probably didn't completely understand some of the events that had transpired for this expedition. He did not realize that Raul had seen some of the pictures in his wallet. He didn't remember any of the subtle conversations they had, regarding his wife and her background. It never dawned on Joe that Raul might actually know his wife. Raul never mentioned it.

Some things seemed to be incredible coincidences. Joe had expressed his frustrations about having to bring so many presents for the natives along the river and in the jungle. Joe knew the dangers of alienating the superstitious jungle dwellers. They were a mixture of uneducated savages and rebels of the Shining Path, who were hiding from the government.

Joe seemed to have missed some of the connections between Raul and Jennifer. Raul had suggested that they had met so many of the leaders of the undocumented tribes, that perhaps they could go a little light on the presents this trip. He never made the connection that the idea of inviting his wife along was really the result of a subtle suggestion from Raul. Never-the-less, Joe seemed to think this would be a tremendous opportunity for him and his wife to spend some time together again. With buying and carrying less in presents, he would easier afford the additional cost of bringing his wife.

Although the initial meeting with Raul was a surprise, Jennifer felt safe because her husband was with her. She may have felt reluctantly safe, but it was a guarded feeling.

They took a train to Vilcabamba, hired the muleteers, cook and porter. From there, they worked their way back towards Machu Picchu from the back way. Joe was determined to find out where Manco Inca had fled to and what had happened to him while he fled from the Conquistadors. Along with finding questions to a list of histories secrets, he had planned to be at Machu Picchu on the winter solstice; the 21st of June. They had arrived for their trip a week or so in advance of the festivities.

Walking along the world famous Inca Trail was an incredible experience. The four day hike took them past villages, forests, valleys, and mountains, and was an excellent way to taste the flavor of the local culture. The hiking from Cusco to the Sacred Valley gave them several days to acclimate themselves to the height of 11,000 feet above see level. This Sacred Valley tour combined the Inca trail with visits to other historic architectural ruins along the way from Cusco to Machu Picchu.

Although she should have known, Jenn was unexpectedly surprised at the vast array of orchids; thousands growing among the fern and within the crooks of large trees. She was now glad that her husband had packed away several computer chips for her camera. The camera memory would never have been able to store the pictures of vicuna, condor, alpaca and different animals she had seen along the trail. There were dozens of Inca ruins that had not been noted in the travel handbooks.

This was Jenny's first trip since her daughter had been born, and was soon feeling uncomfortable around the guide. Raul had a stare as cold at the Andes wind. He was blatant about it; never politely looking away when she caught him starring. Raul had not seen Joe's wife in many years. The young awkward duckling had blossomed into the white swan. While most women who had turned forty were past their prime, Jennifer was in full bloom. Although Jenn was uncomfortable with this unwanted attention, she preferred to feel it was innocent, but the local men were not used to the way many of the tourist women dressed.

To the Peruvians, women were expected to dress very conservatively. They wore bright colors, but were mostly covered except for their hands and faces. The Peruvian men outside of the big cities tended to interpret large expanses of flesh on women as a sign that they were promiscuous.

The first few days of hiking down through the Sacred Valley were fairly uneventful. Never-the-less, Jennifer constantly felt she was being watched. She tended to go to bed early; leaving the men to talk. Even though Jenn was curled up in their tent, she couldn't help but overhear her husband talking to Raul. She could hear the subtle questioning her husband was putting Raul through.

"Raul; I know you know many of the secrets of where Manco Inca fled to. Why won't you tell me?" he asked; almost pleaded. "Do you know where any of these Inca are living?" he asked.

"Don Stephens; they are everywhere. All you have to do is look."

The term of "Don," was similar to the English word of "Sir," or "Mister."

This conversation had gone on for several summers now, with little progress. The conversation continued for a while until the campfire started to dwindle. They said their "goodnights," and Joe climbed into the tent.

"I heard your discussion with Raul out there. You don't seem to be getting anywhere, hon." Jenn whispered; half asleep.

"I'm not making much progress. I've been watching how he looks at you. Maybe you can ask him instead of me. He may be more susceptible to your questions than mine."

"You're out of your mind." Jenn whispered. "I'm not getting involved in these discussions. I know nothing about the secrets of this jungle. Besides, you are the one writing a book; not me."

There was no response from Joe. Jenn felt the issue was over. On the other hand, she knew he had been reckless with their savings. If something wasn't resolved soon, they were in danger of losing the property she had inherited.

In the morning, Jenn got up first. She could hear the cook and porter joking with each other in Spanish. She could smell the coffee. She could hear the fresh firewood popping and snapping. The morning chill would soon change to insane heat.

"Time to get up, hon," she said as she gently nudged her husband.

"I'll get up in a minute. Why don't you think about talking to Raul?" Jenn's heart skipped a beat or two. She wasn't afraid of the man; with all the others present, but still she balked at the idea.

Being a natural redhead seemed to clash with her skin tone. Most redheads do not tan. Her French braids down to their waist; golden tan over a slight sprinkling of freckles created an unexpected surprise to most men. South American men were not accustomed to seeing red hair on a tanned and freckled Yankee. To a South American, this woman of forty looked younger than thirty; more like the Indian teenagers and women in their early twenties.

Jenn put on her two pairs of wool socks. She put on her almost knee-high lumberjack boots. She pulled the boot-cut denim jeans down over her boots.

Some days, Jenn wore a blue oxford men's button down collar shirt tucked into her jeans. Under the practically unbuttoned to the waist shirt could be seen a one piece black swim suit with the bottom of the shirt tied in a knot just above the jeans. With the heat and humidity of the rain forest, it was virtually transparent. Her firm melon sized breasts stuck almost straight out. There was no sag to them. They were more conical than round. Her long pink coral nipples were plainly outlined.

Raul was sitting on a huge stone; sharpening his machete on the edge. Jenn went over to the cook's tent and picked up two tin cups. The Inca tea took some getting used to; it was made from the cocoa leaves. Rumor has it that it helped fight off many health problems. She filled them both and offered one to Raul. She sat down next to him and stared into the fire; not sure of how to start.

"I heard you and Joe talking last night. I know he wants to find a number of answers that have stumped him for years. He has spent a small fortune on you and the expedition over the years. I know he thinks you have many answers to the location of Manco Inca, and where his ancestors have gone."

Raul had been verbally fencing with Joe for a few years now; unwilling to pass on anything to any outsiders. He sat there for several minutes. Jenn was uncomfortable with the silence. Rather than just say he wasn't going to tell her anything, he decided to put such a high cost on it that she couldn't possibly accept.

"Well, Senora Jennifer, I'm flattered that you think that I might know more than I do. You also know that whenever the explorers visit; wanting to know the secrets of the jungle, they usually bring presents. What presents do you bring with you to the jungle?"

"I ... I ... I ... don't know what you're talking about. That's something between you and my husband. I ... I ... I know he has paid you well over the years..." Her voice trailed off; not wanting to admit what may have been in the back of her mind.

"I have seen how the tourists dress in Lima and Cusco. Go back into the tent and see what you can do to persuade me; Senora Stephens." The last sentence was particularly biting. He was embarrassing her because he was acknowledging that she was a married woman. He had nothing to lose with this outrageous exchange with her.

Jenn got up and numbly walked back to her tent; trying to clear her mind. Maybe she had not heard; or maybe she had miss-interpreted the man.

Joe was still lying in his sleeping bag. He heard the loud zip of the tent zipper as she entered. "Joe; did you hear him?" She whispered. Joe grunted, not very willing to admit he had overheard the conversation.

"W ... w ... what ... do ... do you want me to do?" she whispered.

"Well, why don't you just humor him a little? What's the harm in that?" he asked; acting like he was barely aware of the conversation.

"Joe; he's treating me like a Cusco Whore." She whispered.

"Nonsense; just dress a little sexier for him. Dress like you do at home when nobody is there."

Jenn struggled with her thoughts. She fished through her backpack. Nothing came to mind. Joe crawled out of his sleeping bag. Spreading out her rumpled clothes, he picked up a pair of cutoff jeans. "Try this." He whispered.

Jenn pulled off her boots. There was no way she could get the cut-offs over the flimsy garment. Sitting on the sleeping bag, she slipped off her jeans and started to put the cut-offs over the swim-suit.

"No; not that way."

Jenn looked over at her husband; puzzled at his comments. "Take off the swimsuit." He said. Jenn almost chocked on his words. She stared at him. She thought he had been almost asleep.

"Do you know what you're saying?" she stammered.

"Try it." He said. "You know he is interested in you." Joe rolled over, as though he was still only partly awake; that this was no big deal. "You seem to be getting through to him."

Jenn's cheeks burned as she slipped off her blue oxford shirt. She couldn't bear to look at her husband as she pulled her swimsuit off. She rolled it up and tucked it into the bottom of her backpack. She put her blue oxford shirt back on. She slid her short denim cut-offs up over her hips; leaned back; and arched her back off the ground as she struggled to button and zip up the tight fitting outfit. The hems were cut so short she had cut down the pockets and sewed them up under the edges so they wouldn't show past the hem. She probably could have just gotten up and walked out of the tent, but chose to procrastinate by putting her socks and boots back on.

Now on her knees, she was still bent over in the small tent as she tucked the shirt into her shorts and zipped them up. Her fingers were nervous as she fumbled awkwardly with the buttons. All of a sudden the cold morning air seemed to have vanished. She was beginning to get sheen from perspiration as she reached for the tent flap.

"Maybe;" she thought. "Maybe he wants to see me hike the Inca Trail like this." She thought. "Maybe I'm making too much out of nothing."

Raul heard the zipper to the tent flap open. To both of them it might as well have been the music of "Saint Louis Blues" from Louis Armstrong at the beginning of a stripper's performance.

When Jenn got out of the tent, she struggled with her thoughts. Just knowing she was naked under the shorts and dress shirt changed her confidence. "What do I do now?" she wondered. "Do I go sit back down beside him? Do I just go stand in front of him for inspection?" she wondered. After all, the discussion was about changing her clothes.

She walked over to him; took his now empty cup and filled it with more coffee. She had dropped to her knees in front of the campfire to fill it. She rose; not quite sure what to do. She walked over and stood in front of him and extended her arms as far as she could; offering him the steaming hot coffee. She did it so as to keep herself as far from him as she could. Raul took her hand with the coffee. Instead of grabbing the coffee, he grabbed her wrist. Unable to resist for fear of spilling the coffee, she allowed herself to be pulled over to Raul's lap.

"Senior Stephens; you need to come out of the tent. Your senora and I are having a conversation."

It was quiet for a while. Joe wasn't sure whether he should just pretend he had been asleep and hadn't heard anything, or respond to Raul's comments. They heard a rustling of fabric. Then Joe peeked out of the flap, like he was annoyed about being awakened un-necessarily. He stood in front of the tent as Raul pulled Jenny down on his lap. He could see that she was frightened.

"Senior Stephens; your beautiful wife is trying to talk me into revealing many secrets. You and I both know that it is the custom of the jungle for the visitors to shower the natives with gifts so they are not killed." His voice started out softly but became louder and more confident as he realized Joe was not going to fly into a rage.

Joe was silent. He had worked for years on many hypothesis; theories and guesses. He had spent a small fortune for research for this book. Perhaps, deep down he had suspected it might take something more than trinkets to savages to unlock these secrets. Subconsciously he must have guessed what Raul's weakness might have been. Joe's silence was encouraging to Raul. Lack of rejection; repudiation was a subtle form of consent.

"Suppose I were to tell you; suppose I were to say I could lead you to a group of descendants of Manco Inca. What would you and your wife be willing to do for me?"

Joe knew that the local Indians would offer all kinds of explanations for many things they knew nothing about. Superstitions and stories over the hundreds of years had been blown way out of proportion and often had nothing to do with the truth. "We ... we ... I would have to have proof." He stammered; skeptical of his guide's Mendacity.

"Suppose I could lead you to a group of Indians that you would have no doubt been the long lost Inca?" he whispered. "Suppose I could lead you to more gold and silver than you have ever seen in your life. What would one glimpse of this treasure be worth?"

"I ... we ... would ... would consider almost anything." He stammered, trying to include his wife.

"Your wife here has treasures I have dreamed of for a long time. What are the chances she would be willing to let me see her treasures?" he said quietly as he took the cup from her hand and laid it on the massive stone beside him.

Joe looked up at his wife. She looked over at him. No words were exchanged. It seemed as though the birds paused in their chirping at this outrageous proposition. The monkeys in the tops of the trees seemed to quiet; waiting for some sign.

"Honey?"

"No! Fuck you Senior Stephens. It is not for her to say. You cannot leave it to her to make that decision for you. You cannot put her in that position; to do something you may later say you did not agree to."

Joe was quiet for the longest time. Slowly he looked up at her. "Hon, we've come such a long ways. We have put so much of our lives into this..." he couldn't find the words to finish.

"That's not enough; you pussy. It has to be clear that you are all in on this."

Joe couldn't look up, but she heard the faint whisper. "Hon, you've got to do whatever he asks of us."

To a certain extent, it may have been almost easier on Jennifer than her husband. All she had to do was sit there; to offer no resistance.

"Show us you approve; Joe."

"Strip her."

Jennifer's heart was racing now. It was about to explode. "What the fuck had her husband subjected her to?" The words weren't real, were they?

Jenn looked up in horror as her husband walked over to stand beside her. She felt that the birds had flown down for a closer look. She felt the monkeys were coming down lower in the trees.

Joe stood on her right; facing Raul. She felt his right hand on the top button of her shirt. She fought for breath as she felt the first button pushed through the eyelet.

As her husband lowered his fingers to the next button, she felt Raul's hand over her left. She felt him guide her fingers to the bottom of her shirt. He wanted her to help. He pinched his fingers over hers. "Pull." He whispered into her ear.

He was guiding her to pull the rest of her shirt free of her shorts. Her heart was racing as she rocked slowly from one hip to the other, trying to loosen the tails from inside her shorts. She was struggling to breathe now. Her fright was almost paralyzing her.

Her mind struggled between resistance and cooperation. She had turned her mind off, but somehow her hands seemed to be on automatic pilot.

Raul was guiding her fingertips; pushing the lowest button through the last eyelet. The shirt was open now. She looked up at her husband; incredulous that the man she had loved was about to bear her to this savage. She looked into his eyes to see if there were any signs of empathy for her.

She kept her gaze focused on him as he tugged the top of her shirt over first one shoulder; then the other. Now she felt the chilly morning air. She was defenseless against the chill.