Aflame

Aflame Copyright 2017 MCVT February 13, 2018

Teen and her step-queen mom solve family issues in their own mystic way.

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Adult Content: 100% Fiction, gay, nudity, urine, spanking, hum, mast, anal, rom, slow.

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Call me a fool, but when I was studying abroad, I married a professor. Not just any professor, but a tenured professor, and trust me -- quickies between classes with this old bear kept my attendance perfect. I fell head over heels in love with that huge, distinguished treasure with dark eyes and tight waves combed back into a small tail.

Just out of high school, I suffered a broken heart that I thought would surely end my life, but at nineteen, living in a rural area of the Midwest it was bound to happen. There were only three queer boys in my high school, and I wasn't on the wrestling team -- I preferred home-economics over jock straps. To address my sorrow, I'd applied for scholarships to study abroad -- several far-flung nations. I had to find my place in the world -- a place where my teen heart could heal and the colors of the national flag were within my "season."

After several rejections, I was overjoyed to get a letter of acceptance from a small university in Argentina -- down river of Iguazu Falls. My Spanish was muy excellente, and I figured I'd shine on campus being the foreigner and so very enthusiastic about my studies. My callow mind didn't realize I was moving from one small town to another that had the same peculiar personalities and provincial attitudes.

Through all the chaos of my marriage, I kept my crown firmly pinned to my pretty little head, shining with dignity as I cleaned up one another domestic disaster after another to finally claim joy for my nation of three.

Let's just call my hubby "Lee." The names from the area of the world where his family were from are difficult to pronounce and seem to have an excess of vowels sprinkled with unpronounceable combinations of consonants. Lee was the third generation of immigrants, like many of the people were where I was born. Nothing new there, except his distinctive accent.

Lee was famous in his field for a lot of things local gentry didn't consider important but he said he was well respected on the international Sociology circuit - such as the international Sociology circuit is. Seemed to me they might be a circuit, but someone had forgotten to plug their equipment into the outlet!

Stodgy doesn't describe that bowl of whole-grain porridge they called their annual convention. I'd never seen a group so excited at the highlight of that event -- they held a raffle and gave away office supplies with waves of "oohs and ahhs" washing through the crowd at a packet of sticky notes or a virgin box of unbroken staple strips. One of their conventions was enough for me.

Odd thing - Lee reveled in celebrity and cultivated it around him though he was a tenured professor and had plenty of attention at our national university extension in the hinterlands. I didn't know it at the time, but he married me to up his standing with the plaid-suited sociologists -- yep, the novelty of same-sex marriage had just hit this southern nation and he wanted to update his image.

He married a twenty-year-old student, thirty years his junior! (Gasp!)

He married an effeminate man? (Prof. Lee swings both ways?)

He took his new partner home to his two children from that train wreck of a previous marriage? (Light a candle and start praying for those kids!)

Lee reconstructed his international image by showing the world he was more liberal than the cardboard cut-outs of his realms. As for moi - I didn't cultivate any extra attention, being from the Midwest US, I knew there could be problems but I patiently tolerated his dreams and schemes. I young, in love, married and determined to make things work. What else could I do?

With my hot Cultural Anthropology degree in my hand, I went into the local enclaves to study legends of the river that wended through our town - more out of curiosity and need to document the artifacts and information before it was lost forever.

Indigenous people who lived along the river were so interesting, I focused my work on their ancient ways and any remnants left of them, focusing on their relation to the river. The river was integrated into every part of their lives and language - they were one with the falls, rapids and seasonal floods.

Lee, his kids and I lived in a ramshackle old house in an area that was once way outside the town square. Progress happened slowly, but the bohemian area where we lived was now considered almost historic and eclectic.

Our neighbors were historic and eclectic too, but there weren't many mental health services. I learned to tolerate them - such is life in the boonies. Biting my lip and smiling genially through the neighborhood cookouts and cocktail parties, I mingling with neighbors listening politely to their rigid opinions and constant complaints about directives from the capital.

Thank goodness they weren't the helpful, chatty kind of neighbors - mostly old geezers lying about their past exploits and griping about everything like codgers do all over the world.

Always the topic of conversation settled on "El Rio."

El Rio was formally named "Rio de La Plata," the Silver River. Clear, sparkly and silvery it wasn't! This once noble waterway was degraded into a sludge of trash, agricultural run-off and muck.

Understand that our river flooded every spring causing havoc in everyone's lives -- the local schools never had "snow days." They had "flood days." Riparian flotsam lined the shores in front of the ritzy houses annually causing major disruption and a brigade of bulldozers every October. Chicken feathers and detritus floated through at all times of year. I tried not to be too curious about the partially submerged oddities that constantly bobbed along its rapid currents.

El Rio was both an antagonist and the as well as the lifeblood of the two towns that clung to its shores with only one bridge crossing between them. Barges and boats brought civilizing elements to our lives -- deodorant and hairspray -- the necessities of my life.

We lived on the east side but the best jobs, cafes and markets were in the western town. Not to be outdone, our side had the small soccer stadium and all the government offices -- unfortunately, we also housed the rendering plant which in the heat of summer saturated our area with the ripest of odors. The disparity between the towns caused a problem, especially during rush hour and when the bridge closed so boats full of produce and goods could pass through the drawbridge bound for the capital.

All traffic and commerce stopped in both towns during the bridge openings. Radio and tele stations all carried the warnings of a closing. Suspended animation for at least two hours settled over the area. If a person was caught in the back up they'd be stuck, so both cities constructed "rest areas" at the onramps. How civil!

With two hours to kill, drivers got out of their cars, opened their trunks and imbibed while they waited, chatting with other people they knew or trolling for a hand job. But the liquid time-filler caused a problem when drivers were finally able to start their engines again. They had to find where they left their keys, their cars, and then get past the police without a DUI.

The bridge reopening was like catching fish in a barrel to the local gendarmes. Two bridge openings filled their monthly ticket quotas.

Annually, the church blessed the river, but I knew that there were other ceremonies. Way up north of our area, the indigenous tribes held their own blessings. Couldn't tell you which ceremony was more pagan, I think it was a neck-and-neck tie.

The indigenous people made sacrifices of live animals and other gifts to the river. Their ancient beliefs defined the river as life itself, and to live next to such a strong, vital spirit was to be richly blessed. Humans were to respect and cherish the deep currents and bright sparkles of sunlight dancing on the water. The river gave all of us food and water - therefore, strength to live and raise their families. Water was an eternal, dominating force to them - and us. But El Rio could also be deceptive - it gave life and took a number every year in its rapid undercurrents and changing depths.

Another tradition of the indigenous was returning their dead to the river. The capital sent directives to outlaw the practice. I'll admit it's a surprise to see someone's uncle, or parts of him bobbing along in serenity, and there was a health concern, I supposed. But the tribes carried on their tradition - did it on the sly, at night, and in the same fashion and with the same songs and dances their people had done for eons.

Like a first-class chump I asked the older indigenous people what the ritual was like but was met with a tight-lipped group of native folks that were giving me a jungle skunk eye. I shut up and moved on with a smile and another less probing question.

Our house was about two kilometers from the river - on the south end of town. Directly west toward the river, the land fell low into the area we called The Bottoms. This area flooded often and kept the area swampy and damp. The entire town's street runoff drained through The Bottoms after heavy rains so they were soaked for twice as long as the rest of the city. The Bottoms smelled like decomposition in action. A heavy, earthy smell that was distinctively sensual, in an odd way.

Years ago, immigrants and indigenous people squatted in The Bottoms - building houses up on pylons and sticks, stacks of whatever they could find to keep themselves dry. Every succeeding generation shored up and reinforced the proceeding generation's work. That was a more innocent time; not so many people lived there but the population increased through the years.

Now, The Bottoms was packed with huts and shacks and it was an area to be avoided - especially at night. The Bottoms had a reputation for crime. Dark alcoves, ragged bars and liquor stores dotted the narrow winding alleyways and narrower passages gave muggers and thieves a perfect place to employ their skills.

Obvious that the planning and development department of the city never considered The Bottoms important enough to be served with streetlights or storm sewers. But I wondered if anyone paid any taxes in The Bottoms. House numbers? Street names? Nothing like that in The Bottoms! Strangely, you needed a good nose, galoshes, intuition and a very relaxed nature to maneuver through the area to their fantastic open-air market. Asking directions would get your pocket picked on the next block.

Experts on tossing the bones, palm readers and botanicas carrying strange herbs were common - no snobby coffee shops or franchises down there. But I liked walking through to their market with Lee. His height alone commanded some respect, though his belly was the cause of some chortling from the almost emaciated residents.

Odd strains of music from their cafes and street musicians were eerie - guitar, lute and drums, but it felt comfortable to me for some reason. Smooth and strong melodies that were as fluid as the river nearby.

So, there I was - a married, mid-western guy, suddenly with two children, fresh out of college and on my way upward at a low angle. Well, I felt like I faced a long, uphill climb from this old armpit of a city that was only received reprimands from the capital.

But I got grit! I continued scrapping to make my way among or toward the biggies in the Anthropology world with my brilliant, insightful research. I'd ditch the acclaim for producing great papers that might change this tired, corrupt world.

About the kids? The two step-kids were fine, we got along well. There was Podie, a nine-year-old boy with aspirations to be a soccer goalie, and his twelve-year-old sister Layla, a very touchy, often emotionally volatile actress-to-be. My kind of gal!

Fortunately, their mother lived in the capital. She was a thirty-something woman with a sixteen-year-old mind-set and a strong proclivity toward hallucinogens. Hence the "ex." Seems she was a Psychology major at one time and currently not allowed visitation without supervision. Hmmm.

Podie and his dad were thick, they loved soccer and watched the games all weekend long. Little Podie was a bright, spirited boy and dependable because we had rules that would limit his time on the field if he didn't keep his grades up or didn't manage his responsibilities at home. Lee called it "parental leveraging." I called it coercion. Either way it worked well enough.

Layla was a different child altogether. Photos on her bedroom wall showed her dressed as Medusa for Halloween at the age of seven, another costume she was dressed as Ulysses! Yeah, the ancient traveler Ulysses from the Odyssey. White beard, robe - the whole get-up! Thank the ancient gods she didn't choose to be one of the sirens. I detected a distinct precociousness in her temperament.

Layla assumed poses of upper crust English royalty during breakfast, expressed exaggerated responses at the slightest bit of news, such as the when the bell on the dryer rang. She tried wearing theatrical makeup for school at least once a week! Her beauty mark was a bit much in the humidity and often resembled a tadpole tattoo on her face in the height of the summer, but I could live with that phase comfortably enough. "The nuns will just send you to the restroom to wash your face, so ditch the foundation and blush." I'd remind her at breakfast and left the decision to her.

Lee had already lost all his battles trying to mold Layla into mediocrity, and I respected her ingenuity in making her star-studded place in a grimy little backwater town. Layla was smart, independent and lived her dreams. She was an avid reader of history and the theatre - she kept her grades high with an eye toward scholarships to the National Theatre program in the capital.

The only thing I refused to accept was her sneaking my clothes. She was going to be a tall, slender beauty. I was short and thin, but during this semester, we wore the same size shirts. Not only did she leave rings of sticky makeup around the collars of my best polos and Hawaiian prints, I suspected she'd been through my underwear drawer as well. Verboten for that impish child! I had a definite penchant for silk cashmere and wouldn't you know -- she did too.

These were minor issues, I considered myself the luckiest step-whatever in the world. After the parade of Lee's lovers, the kids appreciated my consistent, and accepting ways. They didn't try to make me into a mom, I didn't try to make them into anything but honest, reliable humans with a solid, sensible dreams.

During the rainy season, right before summer vacation, the kids and I were planning their summer activities. Podie was going to a two-week soccer camp on the west side of the river with six of his school chums. He'd been packed for weeks and mimicking the reporters who covered the big FIFA games continually substituting his name for the best players.

Layla had been talking about visiting her mom. That made me uncomfortable - there were no other family members in the capital she could stay with while she was there. My stomach was tight for a few days until Lee told me that his ex told Layla she couldn't come. He suspected his first wife was going back to court for some reason. So, I took the opportunity to ask Layla to help me, knowing that must have hurt her tender heart.

"Wanna come help me? I've got to get back upriver for several days to research."

To my surprise, she agreed. As usual, her pre-adolescent brain began working the angles. Her most recent theatrical interest was costume design, and she wanted to see the different fabrics, prints and cuts the indigenous people used. "I'll bring my camera."

"Great!" I told her, "Let's ask them to see how they weave those little loin cloth things the men wear." Then, I blushed. Inappropriate comment for this twelve-year old girl.

"Yeah?" Her eyes glazed over thinking about male anatomy.

"Maybe the head wraps would be more interesting..." I added quickly. "Or the hammock weaving..."

"Yeah, Bobby. That'd be good." Her eyes glazed over - I could tell she still had phallic images dancing through her thoughts.

Dad was off to Capetown to lead a seminar, trying to boost his international status. His status-polishing attempts always fell short because he'd drink so much - his lectures were given with red, bleary eyes and slurred speech.

"Time for a spin-dry, Daddy!" I chortled along with the kids. But he was barreling toward his next attempt to rectify his reputation fueled by vodka.

The night before Podie left, Layla and I packed our few supplies. Lee was packed and ready to leave for the airport in the morning. Layla and I would leave at noon, driving up river and taking a boat to the tribe's outpost. "Everything set and going as planned." I thought.

As we went to bed another terrific thunderstorm roared through the river valley. Nothing new and at least it gave me cover for some hot, "stock-up" sex with Lee. The rain beat the windows and the trees bent and trembled in the storm - and the lightening! Glorious bolts lit the horizon and over the roiling river and then calamitous thunder rolled across the area! I reached over Lee's chest, "How about a little, hot stuff?" He was already snoring and didn't move.

So, I reached under the mattress, near the headboard and grabbed my vibrator - the big one, coconut oil and decided to enjoy myself as I listened to the storm pelting the house. As I reviewed my hottest fantasies for a quick, choice morsel of a thought, I flipped the switch on the handle.

"Oh, yeah. The one about the hammock and the coconut oil and the black eyes and wide, smooth dark chest..." I settled into my imaginary sex life and breathed deeply imagining of warm breezes and sweaty skin. My heavy breathing and the hum of the vibrator with Lee's snoring in the background filled the bedroom while the rain pummeled the windowpane. My body rode waves of pleasure, nudged by my fantasy; I was about to climax...

Bam! The whole house shook. A bolt of lightning hit somewhere close by. The room was illuminated for a split second and the humming stopped. My electric lover just died at my fun button.

"Dang! Another outage," but I lay still, waiting. Then, the thunder rolled across the land, deep and strong like a roar of anger. The very walls of the house trembled as it passed. I shivered when that happened and slipped on my boxers to go check the children. Podie was sleeping deeply. In Layla's room, I found her standing at her bedroom window looking out.

"You okay?" I whispered.

"Yeah, that was awesome, but look." She pointed out the window. "The Bottoms - I think they're gone."

From her second-floor window I couldn't make out much in the direction of the river. She was probably right. "Okay. Maybe we'll have to postpone our trip till things dry out. Go back to bed - we'll see what happens tomorrow."

I remembered I couldn't use the tele or the radio to get any news so I went back to bed beside my snoring giant.

The sound of chain saws woke me early. I called Layla and Podie to help the neighbors pull the limbs out of the street while I got the water heating on the barbeque grill. Lee needed his yerba mate and three aspirin every morning.

Layla came back later and asked me what I burnt for breakfast.

"Strange; she wasn't usually sarcastic so early in the day. Must be her next phase." I thought. "Well, if that's how you feel about it." I told her. "Forage for yourself, no gas or lights today."

She stood close, "It's not breakfast - it's you. You stink this morning." She said and while she poured a mixing bowl full of cereal, planning to serve several I guessed, but she was a growing girl.

Hopping up the stairs, I got in the shower and noticed that the water was exceptionally steamy and hot. "How peculiar for a hot water heater to do that when we don't have power. Must be what was left in the tank..."

As I grabbed the towel to dry off, I noticed there was some kind of wispy mist coming off my skin and looked closer. I didn't need a towel; the water from my shower was steaming off my skin immediately. After wiping the mirror, I noticed my hair was almost dry. Hmmm?

Lee was at the bathroom door holding his dress shirt and a button. "Sew this back on for me. I gotta wear it tonight." He demanded.

"Wonder how that could have happened?" I glanced at his ever-expanding belly. Grabbing my cerise acetate robe, I slipped it on and noticed the inside seams were darkened. "What the hell is this?" I muttered and went to find the sewing basket but stopped.

"Lee, what's going on?" I showed him the shirt placket that had been singed where I'd held it, and then I felt a line of burn along my shoulders and around my neck. I threw the robe off and tossed his shirt to the bed, and then I looked at my feet on the rug -- faint wisps of smoke were coming from between my toes and a funky smell rose.

Dancing back to the tiled floor of the bath, I saw light footprints along the carpet where I stepped. "Am I on fire?" I asked Lee, who was already in the shower.

"Personally, I think you're damn hot - for an anthropologist." He quipped.

"Something's very, very wrong here." I touched a tissue and saw the fibers begin smoldering. "I'm on fire!" My skin felt normal when I touched it and knowing full well how absurd that statement was.

"I can work it into my schedule..." Lee said. "It's a little early, but I'm flexible." I saw him sudsing his groin, shivering in the cold water.

"Lee! Something serious is going on. I seem to be igniting things." I said as I picked up my toothbrush and felt it start softening; melting in my hand. As he turned around, I showed him how a tissue began a slow burn and the term "arsonist" came to mind. "I could burn the house down!" Yeah, I was scared!

He stepped out of the shower and touched my shoulder but drew his hand back immediately.

"Damn, you are hot. Do you feel okay? We need to take you to the doctor!"

"I feel fine; it's everything else that's the problem. But let's see if I can wear clothes. Bring me my briefs and my black shorts."

"Oh, god - those black shorts. Ditch the briefs and I'll make you sweat - that'll put your fire out." He muttered wiggling his eyebrows.

He kept bringing me clothes and they all started melting or smoldering as soon as I touched them. I was starting to panic - how could I live my life naked? That may have been a teen-aged dream, but with two kids in tow a man's perspective changes takes a hundred-and-eighty degree turn on naturalism. "Call the doctor - tell him to come here. I can't go out naked!" I almost screamed.

"Looks like some kind of gris-gris to me. Common among anthropologists -- no professional distance... Bless their hearts -- they mean well but have no clue." He whispered and got his phone. "I'll call Farris."

"Oh, shit. That old lizard-lipped quack." I snapped. Farris was a retired GP that lived several blocks over. Farris was the one that believed strongly in stairs for exercise, and had a narrow, five-story tower-house of sorts he'd designed himself but had lived in a camper-trailer out back for the past decade. His knees gave out after years of an up-and-down lifestyle. Seemed to me like self-eviction -- just my opinion.

"You've got to go pick up Podie's friends and take all of them to the soccer camp bus." I reminded him.

"Oh, yeah." He left to round up the Podie and the boys with his phone in his hand calling Farris.

The house went quiet while I waited, naked in the bathroom when I heard a soft rapping on the bathroom door.

"Bobby, are you okay?" Layla asked softly.

"I feel normal. Your dad says I got the gris-gris. Seems everything that touches my skin causes it to start burning."

"Must have done something to his spirits - all his vodka and gin..." She chuckled, "What? You forgot his precious Fernet or the cola?" She cracked the door open and tossed me two oven mitts.

"What's this?"

"Dad said you might be able to wear these on your feet so you can leave the bathroom."

When the mitts hit the floor, a cloud of powder rose from them.

"What's that white stuff?"

"Boron, the kind we used to use in the wash. Dad said they use it on baby clothes to keep them fireproof. See if it works on the mitts."

I tried them on, and except for my heels sticking out, they weren't burning. So, I grabbed Lee's sacred beard scissors and made a slit on the top of the mitts, shoved my toes further inside and scuffled toward the door.

"Layla, call the fire department down the road, ask them if their jackets are fireproof and if they have one they can spare for a few hours. I can't be naked in front of Farris." Layla left with phone in hand while I scooted down the hall closing the drapes and blinds through the house.

Soon enough, I heard Lee outside with Farris -- at least Podie wasn't in the house for this.

"Could be Santeria, but I doubt it. This must have some organic cause." Lee's voice boomed on the front porch. "Can't be mental or emotional -- I keep my guy satisfied al maximo!"

I rolled my eyes and tried my best to remember the last time he was awake in bed with any kind of ratable performance. But my nudity in front of a neighbor was humiliating; I stood halfway inside the hallway closet with the door half-closed, shielding me as Lee brought the doctor to the living room.

"Hey Farris, how's it going?" I hollered.

"Fine and you're sounding chipper to be so, well, super-heated. Come on out, let me see if you've got a rash or a temperature."

I stepped into the hallway in my oven mitts, and heard Farris unzipping his medical bag, digging around for his equipment. Lee was grinning and Farris was trying to keep a professional face - both ogling my naked body.

"Complaint?" Farris asked and swallowed hard as he scanned my body, his eyes lingering over my groin which was neatly shaved to emphasize my assets.

"Everything that touches my skin burns if it's at all flammable - most of the clothes are synthetic - they smolder... How can I work and take care of my responsibilities if I can't wear any clothes?"

"There are certain professions..." He grabbed his stethoscope and glanced at my groin again, "But I don't think you're quite cut out for that." His eyes lingered on my chest. I shot him a stink-eye for that and crossed my arms. He stepped to the side and eyed my butt. "Nope. Probably not."

I suspected he lifted his bag in front of him to hide the pitiful lump behind the zipper of his pants while Lee was still grinning. But he pulled out a paper-wrapped tongue depressor. Sticking the rounded, wooden depressor on my tongue, "Aaaahh." He prompted and clicked on his flashlight.

I `aaahhed' for him as the depressor kindled into flame when it touched my tongue. He immediately backed away from me as he stared at the thin slat of burning wood.

"Hmmm." He waved the flames off the slat and continued. "Well, I'm not going to explode a good thermometer, so I'll assume you don't have any fever." With the earpieces between the wiry hair growing out of his ears and he lifted the flat disc of the stethoscope to my chest to listen to my heart beat. It took about two seconds before the metal became too hot to hold and he threw it to the floor, surprised.

"I've heard about spontaneous combustion - a few documented cases, but this beats all!" The rest of his cursory exam I did for him; checking for swelling on my extremities, and such; his eyes returning to my privates several times.

He asked if I'd had a thorough exam recently, lifting one eyebrow and glancing downward. I was royally miffed, "My dick, my balls, my prostate aren't involved -- it's my skin! Don't go thinking you're getting into my playground for a few jollies."

"Just asking! Calm down." He continued glancing at my groin and grinning. Then, he got on his phone and began making calls to other specialists. He videotaped another burning tongue depressor to show how my body was igniting flammable objects and sent those around the world I supposed.

Luckily, Layla took off for the firehouse to get some kind of flameproof jacket, but to no avail, it was lined with plastic that stunk and started melting when I tried it on. What could I do? I sat on the concrete floor of the patio, waiting for the local medical specialists to come.

"I'm sorry dear - this is going to delay our trip." I told Layla as I sat in a way that hid as much of my genitalia as I could.

"I'm not sorry, this is great! I never knew anyone so hot." She was grinning. "I called the news. They'll be by later on this afternoon for an interview."

I'm sure my face was red and my blood pressure rose. "You called the television station?" I tried to stifle my anger, she was turning this into a three-ring circus.

"They'll be here at four to get you onto the evening news." She said with a smile, "You shave down there? Wow! I gotta try that!"

"Lee!" I screamed loudly, "Get over here." Farris and Lee were enjoying brandied coffee in the kitchen, "News reporters are coming, and I'm naked! Cancel your trip and help me!"

"Sorry, hon. I'm going for the gold - we need to move to the capital where I get the honor I deserve. This Capetown conference is a biggie - the next step to being the president of the society. I'm the keynote speaker."

Before I could blast that thought out of his head, the doorbell rang with the first of a parade of internists, endocrinologists, dermatologists and several interns from the local hospital. Seems Farris had kept his connections strong.

"Farris and Layla will have to help you till I get back. I'll only be gone a week." Lee said and took a slow weave up the stairs for his suitcase.

"Hope you get stuck on the damn bridge!" Was the only insult I could sling in the moment.

A crowd of medical experts began gathering in our living room as Lee slipped out, on his way to the airport as the doctors chattered, pulling their laptops out and ensconcing themselves around the room. As they chatted, they checked all kinds of different syndromes and diseases.

Several hours passed and two more specialists came. The doctors and I reenacted the blind men and the elephant, each expert had a different opinion, but no one had any answers. One of them called a priest - "Exorcism! That's what we need! Let's cover all our bases!"

"Last resort! I don't need a bunch of horny clerics over here rubbing me with holy water and anointing me with oil -- I'll probably fry!" I called that to a stop immediately. The next few hours were equally surreal.

Later, to compound the chaos, there was a swarm of camera and sound people and a fantastically altered face at the door. The news crew had arrived. Leading the pack was a particularly wind-swept looking woman reporter who announced she needed to interview me about the strange happenings with my dermis.

"Out of my way! Where is he? I have a deadline to meet." Her minions swarmed through the living room with floodlights and a snake's nest of wires, pushing the doctors to the walls.

I shrunk back into the hall closet, "Layla - Layla! Help!" Layla had sneaked upstairs and slipped on my pink cashmere sweater and was that her training bra underneath it? How outlandish!

She smiled, "I love you Bobby, and it looks like I'm going to have to do your interview unless you can develop some confidence about your body. No need to be embarrassed. You're kinda cute -- you could almost do that `schoolgirl' look if you want to borrow my uniform sometime..."

She giggled and I noticed the lip-gloss and eyeliner - then I noticed her nipples were clearly visible through her fashion choices. No time to correct that now. "Layla, go out there and ask for help. Ask the viewers for any ideas - if they've ever seen anything like this before. Tell them to email me. Ask for prayers and all that stuff," I paused, "And don't you have a jacket to wear over my sweater?"

"No. I'm fine like this." She tossed her long, black hair back and strutted forward. Seems Ms. Layla liked rubbing shoulders with these plastic celebrities through my emergency condition, "Maybe we should make a video diary - I'll narrate!" She commented as she left.

The voices in the living room quieted as the overly-siliconed reporter interviewed Dr. Farris.

Cringe. That's all I could do when he painted me as a poor, woe-begotten soul. Then, he said that the sudden changes can cause medical issues, "Could be triggered by emotional responses to his change of location - he's an immigrant after all - our nation needs to be very careful about foreigners with their peculiar ways and strange microbes. Don't want some strange epidemic starting up. You know I'm going to keep an eye on this."

"Crap on a stick!" I thought. "What a `two-fer' insult - gay bacteria and immigrants in one stupid sentence!"

In a solemn voice he continued, "We've contacted the best and the brightest around the world and are awaiting more information, until then, we'll control and contain - protect our great nation!"

"I'm gonna choke that jerk," Then I remembered I'd leave third-degree burns on his scrawny neck to nail me for that gift to humankind. I gritted my teeth.

Then, the reporter spoke with a priest. "How'd he get in?" I wondered. But there were about thirty people crammed into the living room; I couldn't see them all from my cubby behind the closet door.

"The good lord never gives anyone a burden too heavy for their soul to bear..." He began a sermonette. "...wages of sin is death. Let us pray." When he pulled out his prayer book, the reporter cut him off like a guillotine dropping.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Amen and all that..." She shoved the incensed cleric aside.

"Lady! Lady! Bobby said to give you a message - he wants to ask for help." I heard Layla's voice chirping above the din of superstar wanna-bes. The crowd went silent.

"Who are you, dear?" I heard the reporter ask and the camera people moved in closer.

"I'm Layla, Bobby's daughter."

Funny how the word `step' dropped out of her vocabulary when fame was close. But my Layla asserted her adolescent self and took the reins in a room full of blow-hard adults. I tried listening more closely from the hallway...

"Our dear Bobby has a message." I heard her say.

"Lights! Audio! Come here, um - what's your name again little girl?"

Through all the confusion, Layla's voice was small but clear as she asked for people's help, their ideas and gave the contact information.

"Bobby's skin makes things ignite - start fire, so he can't wear anything. He's been naked since it started, so he can't, well, he doesn't want to come on camera." She went on to explain my needs for non-flammable clothes and a fireproof bed.

"And how does all this make you feel, you poor little thing? Do you feel abandoned?" The reporter asked Layla, hoping for tears to tug the heartstrings of her viewers to up her ratings.

"It's funny! But I feel sorry for Bobby now that he has to isolate himself because he's - um, naked all the time. Must be so lonely..." Layla gave a sigh and a dramatic pause, "But I'm sad because we were going up north to study indigenous legends and stuff together. Bobby's an Anthropologist - he's the best!"

Layla, my little stinkpot, had thought this out, or maybe it was her manipulative nature. I readied myself for her asking for funds after that comment -- she'd been wanting a full-length mirror and theatrical vanity -- the kind with all the lights.

The reporter was nonplussed for a moment, probably didn't know what an Anthropologist did. "Well, that's it from the little town on the big rio!" The woman interviewing Layla said in a well-practiced voice.

"That's a cut. Let's go and edit this mess. The bridge should be open now."

"Did you hear what I said?" Layla came back to the closet.

"You were great, now go get Dr. Farris and tell him to clear living room out before those jerks find the liquor cabinet. He's the responsible adult out there now, though he's neither."

"Oh, yeah!" She jumped back out in the crowd and slowly the crowd closed their computers and left.

After the room emptied, Farris came to the hallway. "You know, I'd like to give you a more personal exam..." His hand came toward my nipple.

"Yeah, I'd love to burn the skin off your pervy pecker." I told him and slapped his hand away.

"Oh, you like dirty talk? Like it rough?" He reached out for me again wiggling his eyebrows. "Damn, you're a cute little hell-cat." He whispered.

I rolled my eyes and noticed Layla had heard all that and was grinning. "Wonder what burning spunk smells like... You little devil -- I like spanking tiny butts." He whispered, still unaware of Layla's presence.

"This is my home, not your sex lab! Go home, light a candle and find out for yourself, but you got to get it up first, sicko!" I screamed back at him. "Layla call your daddy and tell him to get back here now!"

"He's gonna be mad!" She warned me.

"Yeah, well `love, honor and cherish' includes protect as well." I grunted and screamed that Farris had to leave; he was enjoying himself way, way too much. "Then, put the computer on voice command. I'm going to have to check emails after the news. And call Podie, he'll see the news. Tell him to stay at camp."

"He's gonna be mad." A second warning from her.

"Enough! I've had enough of this craziness for one day. Tell Podie to stay with Jared when he comes home if my condition isn't gone..." I shot a dirty look a Farris who was rubbing the front of his slacks, grinning. "Get out, you old rounder! Get out now!"

He left in a huff with a pup tent under his zipper.

Hungry, thirsty and completely humiliated I shuffled my way to the kitchen tiles to cool off. Layla and I experimented on what I could eat.

Seems where my body contacted air, that's when the combustion started. Kindling point, oxygen and fuel; that made sense, so I had to swallow fast before my food had a chance to char in my mouth.

"Make me a smoothie with lots of ice - I won't have to chew it."

"Wow Bobby, you could cook your food and eat it at the same time! Cool! Let's try some popcorn." Well, that whimsical thought interested me, and she made a video of the kernels jumping off my tongue. Marshmallows expanded and toasted before I could swallow them.

"Enough. I need to rest, but where?" The bed was nixed; I'd singe the sheets and probably start the stuffing aflame.

Layla went to the garage and came back with a roll of chicken wire. "We could make a hammock with this." I touched the wires for a moment and it blazed red-hot. She took it back out to the garage - hexagonal scars would become stigmata so I'd never be able to forget this bedlam. We were stumped. So, I lay down on the tile floor in the bathroom noticing a small, dark cloud of pubic hair behind the commode but ignored it as I napped on the cool ceramic tiles.

My life was a wreck!

When I woke up, I found Layla had made taken messages off the phone, carefully noting each one. Lots of doctors had called, all wanting to make an exam, either in person or on video. Yeah, sure they're all doctors. I'd review those later.

Several more religiously-affiliated people called wanting to give me some kind of spiritual cleansing - all saying they were praying for me, and lighting candles... Okay.

Got a call from the capital, they wanted to give me another interview about my immigration status. "Always with the harassment... Probably see a chunky mordita in this situation." I thought. Lee would have to handle that.

The amazingly plastic reporter from the news called saying she wanted to come by for an update in another day. Burned that when Layla wasn't looking.

There was a call from the university. One of my professors had gotten wind of my dilemma and asked about my health. Gossip traveled at light-speed in a small town... I called her back and confirmed my condition.

"Don't want to talk on the phone." She said. "You know they monitor us from BA, but I might be able to help." Professor Rizzo was an older woman, grey and white hair in tight, uniform waves pulled into a chignon and a slender body with a bird-like face. I'd always respected her for maintaining her grace among the hyper-machismo of the male professors on campus.

Rizzo knew things - esoteric information - mysterious bits of knowledge from her years of studies and reading and had offered me some of her knowledge to help me answer some difficult questions I'd raised in her classes. She'd been on some of the first expeditions deep into the jungles of Brazil. But she had an arcane and expansive knowledge of the unspoken and unnamed forces on the planet; incredible instincts about mysterious powers that roamed earth's various realms.

"Please come, but I think there's some gawkers parked in front of the house... I can see them sitting in their cars with cameras." I explained how to walk around the block and come through our back yard.

Before the early local news, I heard Professor Rizzo calling my name from the back of the house. Layla and Rizzo sat at the kitchen table while I sat, as modestly as possible on the floor.

"This looks like something I've heard of..." Rizzo began. While researching years ago in the jungles, she'd come upon a tribe who had a woman who could do the same, or so they said. "Such a powerful bruja - legend says she could make people ignite or cause fires around them. All stories from centuries-old stories, but probably a grain of truth in there. What were you doing when this started?" She asked. "Were you at home?"

"Yeah, in bed..." I explained the thunderstorm the night before and losing power in the house. "Layla remembers it. The Bottoms flooded again."

"Ahhh! Did something odd happen during the storm?" Rizzo asked.

"I was enjoying a personal moment, if you know what I mean... Power shut off at the wrongest time." I grinned.

She nodded, "Interesting. Tell me more..."

I went through all the details of Layla telling me I burned breakfast, and every detail I could remember.

It came time for the news. Layla turned on the tele for the news and the three of us watched. We saw the doctors, priest and by comparison, Layla was a fresh-faced girl with a clear voice, though I noticed her tiny nipples through my sweater and shuddered. What could I do about that now? I had to remember to lock my bedroom door to stop her fashion forays.

After that visual fiasco, Professor Rizzo and I walked through the house looking for any strange or new thing that could be an invitation for a spirit or a curse. Although I felt the dirty socks and underwear in the bottom of Podie's closet harbored evil, the professor ignored them and picked up a few odd pieces of felt and glass laying on his dresser.

"What's this?" She asked and pointed to some odd bits of junk - tiny fabric scraps and rounded stones.

"Kiddy pocket-trash." I couldn't remember seeing them before, but it looked like there of symbols on the felt-like fabric. The bits of glass were frosty and rough, all sharp edges worn away.

"Looks like glass from the river bed. God only knows how old it is." Rizzo noted. "Would you mind if I took them to my office?"

"Wait." I took a photo of the detritus and sent it to Podie. "What's this?" I texted.

"Lukie charms." Podie sent back, never was much good with his spelling.

I showed Rizzo. "He says they're lucky charms."

"Ask him where he got them."

He sent me back a photo of him with his team on the bus, harassing the coaches and eating chips and sandwiches making a horrid mess by shaking up their sodas and aiming them at each other as they opened them.

"Jared's abuelo." He texted back.

"His best friend's grandfather, he says." I told her.

Lucky charms in hand, Rizzo left for the campus, but returned that night with the specimens in a tiny plastic bag. "I've got some feelers out now - there's an MD in the Caribbean who knows a lot about these things. I'll get back with you. Call if you need some help." She peeked out the curtain of the front window and donned sunglasses and a wide-brimmed hat before being videotaped walking to her car by all the curiosity-seekers.

Surprisingly, Lee stumbled in late, drunk and fell on the couch to sleep it off. I heard Layla go downstairs and take his shoes off of him. "Bobby's mad because you left us here with all the goofballs. By the way, Dad, did you see me on the news?" She asked.

He grunted.

"I got on tele and I was fantastic!" She was dancing around the living room, then pirouetted and shoved her toes into his ribs. "Dad, you got to get some help with the booze. You're missing the best part of my life! I'm going from pixie-cute' to an elegant beauty,' and you're missing everything!"

From my bed on the patio floor, I had to nod.

My phone started ringing before the sun was up. Dr. Farris wanted to bring a doctor over for an exam.

"What's his specialty?" I asked, not wanting Farris to come back.

"Urology - could be you're making acetone instead of ketone in your body - you could explode when you pee. Does your family have a history of endocrine disorders?"

"You're grasping for straws, Dr. Penis-fixation. My glands are fine."

"I can get him on video phone..." The jerk was trying to worm his way back to my naked body, I could feel it.

"Tell him to call me directly. Lee's here; I've got to get him up and going. And you don't need to come over any more Farris. You've been way out of line - especially in front of Layla - you wag!" I hung up and slipped my oven mitts on my feet and went to Lee. "Honey, get up, I need some support today - Layla can't handle everything!"

He jumped up. "What time is it? I'm going on video conference today since I had to come home to protect you."

"Protect me? My ass! You got stuck at the bridge and missed your flight." I chuckled.

"Oh, shit! I'm on in ten minutes Capetown time." He was breathing fast. "Crap, where's my tie?"

"On your neck." I left the room.

He fell off the couch and stumbled around the house for several minutes until he finally got onto his computer, clearing his throat in a thoughtful manner and proceeded with his canned lecture. Of course, he blamed a "sick partner" as an excuse for his unkempt look and red, bleary eyes.

Reading through my emails, I found several interesting suggestions about lifestyle conflict. There was an odd email from the transgender community offering me compassion and refuge in Jujuy, but how would I get there? I thanked them. Then, an email arrived from Professor Rizzo asking to come at noon. Of course, I agreed.

I suspected the doctor she contacted knew something about Santeria or dark hoodoo realms. Maybe that would help.

Western medicine just didn't feel right and hadn't done a damn thing but humiliate me so far. I wasn't sick inside my body. I felt perfectly normal, but the doctors assumed I must be ill - something wrong in my mind, body or genes. For some reason I felt like this condition was hovering around me, not emanating from me. Was some aura causing the combustion?

Rizzo and Layla were talking softly in the living room readying for the video conference with her expert while I showered and drank as much water as I could from our low-flow showerhead - I melted straws and plastic cups and no one started the dishwasher in several days after I melted the knobs.

Soon, the screen lit up with a huge, very dark man, with skin as black as India ink and dressed in a brilliant white lab coat. I went to my cubby in the hall closet and peeking out the side, watching.

Rizzo spoke in French with Dr. Dayano Gamal. He was absolutely gorgeous with a deep, soft voice and a wide, open face and a big smile - so relaxed, made Farris seem like an anemic ferret on the verge of a panic attack.

"Where is the patient? Let me consult with him." He told Rizzo in a very strong get-down-to business voice.

Peeking out around the door, "I'm here."

"Come out. I've seen this before. Come here, I can help, mon ami." His voice boomed and filled us all with respect. What confidence! I felt like I just found my champion in this mess as Lee snored loudly upstairs.

First Dr. Gamal he asked me if there were any marks on my body. Layla and Rizzo inspected me, between my fingers and toes, in my ears and on my scalp. Rizzo took me into the hallway to inspect my more personal areas. Nothing.

"Good, that would only compound your problems. But it also means that the spell wasn't cast directly on you." He told me that he'd seen something similar several years ago - seems like a person casting the spell hadn't been too specific, and the power had swirled around until it found a different place. "Sought a place where it could become more powerful."

Gamal continued, "You need to find the person who cast the spell and imbued these bits with power in order to get rid of this misalignment with the universe of spirits. Sometimes we have to help the spirits re-order themselves." He paused and thought. "Not sure if it will cool off things around you, but that would be my advice. Now where did you say these bits of glass and felt came from?"

Layla leaned forward, making sure her face was on the camera, "They're from Jared's grandfather - he's a healer -- a spiritualist."

"How do you know?" I asked. She usually avoided her little brother as his panache level didn't meet her standards.

"Um, uh..." Layla suddenly had an interest in the ceiling. "We - well, I... Um, I took your phone and some money from Dad's wallet and Podie and me - we went to The Bottoms."

My mouth and eyes shot open. "You two? Alone? In the Bottoms?"

"Um, well, yes. But Podie was being a stinker, and he forced me."

"When could anyone force you to do anything? Tell Dr. Gamal what happened." I was ticked to say the least.

Dr. Gamal smiled. "I need to know what happened. Tell me every detail - no one's upset with you, darling."

"Did I make this happen to Bobby?" She glanced at the doctor but licked the tip of her finger and touched my earlobe, listening to the sizzle and gave me a crooked smile.

"I don't think so - don't feel bad about Bobby, he seems to be feeling fine. Just go back to that day, tell me what happened, mon petit cherie."

With a sparkling flair, including dramatic gestures and thoughtful pauses, Layla explained stealing my phone with the taxi app, and some cash. "It's really cool down there - they got everything!" Her eyes sparkled.

The Bottoms had "marital aids" and adult sex toys openly displayed in storefront windows, but no one was able to stop them. Alluring lingerie for was situated alongside the school uniforms and hairbrushes. Condoms and dildoes weren't hidden but assumed a place of respect alongside the floor polish and trash can liners. I rolled my eyes and made a note to check her hiding places later.

Layla went on to describe a shack up on concrete blocks - with a blue door and several evergreen trees in the front. "When the taxi driver refused to go any further, we got out and showed people the photo of the house. They gave us directions - kinda confusing place down there. No streets, just gobs of little houses with paths through them."

Then, she described meeting an older and very slender man who had the bits of glass and felt wrapped in a bit of paper. Seemed the old man performed some kind of ritual on Podie, blessed him and sent them both home before sunset with the charms in Podie's pocket.

A heated discussion in French ensued between Rizzo and Gamal, then stopped suddenly.

"Where is this grandfather now, my love?" Gamal asked Layla. She wasn't sure if she should give up that information.

I looked at Layla, "Well, keeper of the clues - where is he?"

"I ditched the photo of his house, didn't want any evidence on Bobby's phone. But, el abuelo is probably still The Bottoms."

"Why did your brother want the charms, sweetheart?" Gamal asked. "No punishments, my little canary, we need to know so we can undo this..."

"Podie wanted his team to go to win the district championships this year. He asked for a spell that would make him the best goalie in the world. Or something like that..."

Dr. Gamal paused, "Where is your mother?"

Layla pointed at me. Gamal only nodded. "Does your father live here with you?"

"Sure, he's upstairs - probably sleepin' it off again." Layla answered.

"He's here? Do you mean that man is letting a stranger consult with his naked partner and isn't concerned enough to find out what's happening? Do you mean there's a man here who has no idea his children are off to a dangerous area and doing nothing to stop them?"

"He stays hung over until around two." Layla told him, "Unless he has early classes."

"Bring him here!" Gamal boomed, eyes wide and breathing through clenched teeth.

In a few moments, Layla came downstairs grinning, followed about five minutes later followed by Lee in only a bathrobe and sliding down the stairwell against the wall.

Gamal took the lead, "Now that everyone's here, we'll move on with removing the problem from this family. This kind of spell usually involves more than just a child's simple wishes. Layla, go to your room while I speak with your parents, I thank you, mi diamante."

Layla and Rizzo stood and left.

The rest of my video consult left Lee's ego in bleeding shreds for being a drunk slacker as a parent and partner. Through it all, Gamal gave me enough information to hopefully remove the spell, and the spirits that were inflicting flames around me. Finally, I was looking forward to relief.

Lee only went back to bed moaning about his headache.

Professor Rizzo brought Layla a small video camera from her car and left us to our plans.

All afternoon, Layla and I gathered what we needed in the garage: Umbrella, Podie's old gaucho-print bedspread, a sheet and two more oven mitts with the borax - haute couture it wasn't! We stitched the bedspread and sheets over the umbrella making me a small, round space, and attached powdered oven mitts to the stem so I could hold it upright. My mitts with boron for my feet -- that was it.

Though it was only about as big as a broom closet, the veiled umbrella would cover my nakedness and give myself room enough to stride without becoming a flaming -- well, aflame.

As the sun was sliding low in the west, Layla and I left - a small, thin girl escorting a draped parasol with feet. Along the streets of our neighborhood, walking wasn't too bad; the streets were washed clean by the heavy rains. Layla led us with her hand over the flashlight so we had enough light to avoid stumbling and not enough to arouse attention.

I held the umbrella high as we moved toward El Rio, padding through vacant lots and a neglected orange grove. It was slow-going through high weeds.

The smell of decay led us to The Bottoms, we were able to move quickly from the rough walk through the weeds, and onto lower grass of a meadow. My oven mitt-shoes were wet, but now they met soggy ground under me, sounding like a squishy kiss with every step. Layla moved ahead like a will-o'-the-wisp with the flashlight, nimbly dancing through the marshy soil in her neon pink and green rubber boots.

On the edge of The Bottoms, "Bobby, I think I remember the way, but we have to stay in the shadows, so get ready to jump into a doorway. Your get-up is going to get us arrested or whatever they do down there."

My stomach tensed as I remembered that the police didn't enter The Bottoms after dark, but maybe there was some kind of security force. Probably more force than security for a skinny, naked man with an adolescent diva-cum-Sherpa. That didn't make me feel any better, but I could hear the music from the cafes and bars, and I knew we were closer to the answers I needed. "Just keep moving and keep us in the shadows. Don't talk to anyone and take the damn ski mask off, they'll think we're cat burglars or worse."

Layla had assumed the role of a spy of sorts - dressed in tight, black clothing with her bright neon-colored boots. I had to wonder where she got the ski mask - there wasn't a mountain or snowflake within a thousand kilometers.

"Bobby, I'm scared." Layla whispered as we trekked nearer the houses. Dogs started barking, and then I realized the absurdity of this chapter of my life.

I loved Layla, she was a great help through this mess despite showing her nipples on national tele, phone theft, pilfering, and all her strange decisions. I almost cried when I realized I couldn't protect her now - the tables had turned. She was my only protection now.

"Keep going, we'll make it - just like you'll be a star someday. This is gonna happen tonight!" All that was wishful thinking, but she seemed to buy it and forged ahead.

"College educated man, traipsing through a mud pit of a town holding an umbrella draped with a child's bedspread and completely naked - sneaking into a dangerous area on the word of legends. And then, being led to an uncertain location for some hoodoo spell removal by a twelve-year-old wearing too much eye shadow." I thought.

"I. am. royally. fucked. No one in hell would ever believe this." I figured, but I would be wrong.

Layla pushed me into an alley as I recognized rutted mud that served as streets in The Bottoms. "We're going to have to walk past the bars now. But there's no one on the streets, so hurry." Layla whispered.

"Sweetie, I can't see where you're walking. Make a little click noise so I know where you are ahead of me. Like every third step make a click... Please?" I asked. "Turn the flashlight off - isn't there enough light on the streets now?

"Okay, but..." I heard her pause. "I think the clouds are clearing, we'll have some moonlight." I wasn't sure if that would be helpful or not, but I could hear voices and music, I figured if we could sneak past the crowd unnoticed, we'd find our way into the residential area. We couldn't stop, and we couldn't ask for help.

Lila clicked, and I stepped. We advanced further, step by step.

After being shoved into another alley, "Okay, it looks like we've got four more blocks to get past the bars. I'm going to walk ahead and find another doorway for you to hide in and come back for you." Layla informed me.

"No! Don't leave me alone!" I whispered, but she was gone. A few moments later, she returned and led me quickly along the muddy path that sufficed as a sidewalk. Well, Layla and I leap-frogged and clicked down two blocks like that - her finding me a dark hiding place big enough for my umbrella, scouting for the next, then escorting me.

We moved forward, but it was getting late - maybe around midnight. I could hear voices of people as they left the bars and cafes, singing and going home ready to cap the night in their ways. Some of the folks weren't too discrete about their nocturnal intentions. Layla didn't need to hear that, but what could I do about that?

After the first three blocks, I had more faith in Layla's sharp intuition. She'd kept me hidden until the streets were clear, and we were closer grandfather's house by the moment.

Finally, we were on the last, rag-tag stretch of street. Layla was excited, "Yeah, yeah! I remember this part -- this is where the taxi driver refused to go any further. C'mon!"

I moved forward after a surge of sweat from her last comment, but my oven-mitt shoe caught on a pile of trash and I tumbled forward, scraping my foot and losing grip of the umbrella, the sheet fell aside and my entire backside was exposed as I lay face-down on the bedspread that had shielded me. The thin arms of the umbrella were crushed in the front of me as I hit the ground.

We heard footsteps running toward us - my heart began racing. "We're caught! Oh no!" I whispered. Not a word from Layla.

"Are you alright, Missy?" I heard the voice of an elderly woman as she neared us. "Well, what's this?" She paused, looking at my naked butt.

"Why, you slimy two-bit whore!" She leaned closer to my butt, "And a peckered whore to boot! Making a house call are ya'? And what's this - your bastard daughter? Damn you both to hell..."

I looked over my shoulder, and to see the woman lifting her shopping bag over her head and bringing it down on my bare, vulnerable rear. Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Thwack! Then she took her plastic sandal off and began beating my behind causing a burn on my skin! I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from screaming from the searing blasts.

"I'll teach you to come down her to ply your filthy trade in my neighborhood. Gutter trash! Mate of Satan himself... I can smell the sulfurous fumes from your stinking, filthy trade!" She beat my behind red, and it was all I could do to stifle my screams -- the gaucho-print polyester-fill bedspread was beginning to smolder under my chest.

Then, over my other shoulder I saw a drunk weaving down the sidewalk toward us, obviously drawn by the president of the morality league's cursing and public flogging. Fabric was heating beneath me -- I couldn't stay down much longer! Maybe the street was damp enough to stop ignition. No luck. Wisps of smoke rose around me.

The drunk walked up to us silently - his body wavered as he assessed the situation. "Hey, mister, I think you're on fire." He reached into his filthy pants, pulled out his penis and began urinating on me! Well, it stopped the old lady beating me, but that guy must have drunk a case of beer, I was soaked, my umbrella, sheets and bedspread were full of urine and reeked! Still, I couldn't find the courage to stand and completely expose myself.

As his stream slowed to a trickle, he shook his pecker several times, "That'll do her." The drunk mumbled and tucked his fire hose back in his pants and stumbled away but leaned his head back and sang "Come on, baby, light my fire."

Then, talk about igniting! I looked up to see Layla videotaping the whole fiasco. Anger isn't strong enough word to describe my reaction to the little tart's documentation. "Layla, you're never going to be a star with a video camera up your rear! Help me up, let's run for it!"

Layla snickered, and helped me up, naked, stinking, and a little singed, and I started running behind her. We took a few wrong turns, but we were in an area with more trees, and we stayed in the shadows as the full moon rose giving us more light to find the house with the blue door and evergreen trees.

"There it is!" Layla said, breathlessly.

The house looked dark, and we climbed the steps to the door tentatively, and knocked.

"Stand behind me Layla, I don't want the neighbors to see me naked." I whispered. She did but added I could go to Rio and get silicone injections to give me some more shape "back there."

Seemed like it took a year for anyone to answer the door, and we heard a voice. "Who is it?"

"Layla. Do you remember me and my brother Podie? He got the charm..." I said, hoping he'd remember the names.

There was some hesitation, and then we heard the chain and the deadbolt. The door opened slightly, enough to see us. "You're not Layla." He said, looking at me. "You don't have any clothes on -- what's this about?"

Layla jumped out in front of me. "This is my step-dad Bobby, we need your help."

He opened the door a few inches further. "I remember Layla and Podie -- but mister, I think you may be in trouble. I'm going to call los vigilantes nocturnos."

Of course, Layla horned in ahead of me. "I'll say we're in trouble! Didn't you see me on the news the other night? Bobby's the guy that lights everything on fire. I can show you..."

"I believe I remember that on the news -- was that you, mi estrella?" The man I assumed to be Jared's grandfather gave us a closer examination for drugs or alcohol, I suspected and started to open the door, but looked back to me.

"Mister, you smell like pee." He said softly as I stepped forward.

"Well, it's not mine. I'll explain later. Right now, I've got a spell or something - I don't know - and it seems I burn everything flammable I touch. It came from the spell you gave Podie."

He opened the door and extended his hand. "I'm Simon the Healer. Welcome."

Without thinking, I grasped his hand, "I'm Bobby..."

He pulled his hand back quickly blowing on his palm to cool it, "You do need help."

Layla dug in the pocket of her too-tight black jeans and brought out the little plastic bag with the glass and pieces of felt. She held them forward to Simon and I explained.

"Dr. Gamal told us to come back to you to get the gris-gris lifted or whatever you do. I can't work and take care of my family... My life is a wreck without even a shred of underwear and less dignity!" I was almost in tears. "There's no such thing as an asbestos thong."

"Gamal -- Dayano Gamal? Heard of him. Oh yes! Powerful man! Very powerful." Simon went to another room. "Aidan, come help." The slender, old man continued, "I'll do my best, but sometimes these things get - well, out of hand. Not an exact science, you know." He said. "I'll make tea while Aidan removes your stench."

Simon lit a kerosene lantern giving the room a soft, golden glow. He looked down at my oven-mitt slippers, now covered and clotted with mud and twigs. "What's that about - you're not hoofed, are you?"

My eyes widened with that question. "Not yet."

Layla explained my footwear while a young man came out of the bedroom, dressing quickly then motioned for me to follow him. Aiden led me to a small room with a concrete floor and a drain in the center. Then he motioned for me to take my shoes off while he got a cup and reached into a large plastic tub of water that was filled by a gutter coming through the wall from the roof.

Slowly, he poured the water over me, starting at my head, and his other hand lightly rubbed my body. He made no comment or expression as his hand touched every part of me, including the bottoms of my feet. Yes, there too. He kept rinsing slowly and moving his hand lightly and quickly until I didn't smell like scorched pee and sweat.

Jared's Grandfather, later came in with a bowl of warm tea.

"Pour this very slowly." He instructed the boy and left.

"Do you know Podie?" I asked the young man rinsing me in the dim light.

"Yeah." He answered, "We go to the same school."

I blushed thinking of their conversations during the next semester and as he rinsed me with the tea, but my skin began to feel softer, less prickly.

"Stay here and let the air dry you. Poppi Simon says it helps if you relax and breathe slowly..." The boy left, completely undisturbed as though he'd done this before.

I heard voices in the other room, yet concentrated on relaxing. Some of my modesty seemed to have left after the spanking and urination incident. I was grateful that at least we had some help now.

Yeah, I inspected my fingers and toes for any thickening of my nails. I waited while the herbal rinse evaporated. This whole affair was tiring, for some reason, my eyelids weighed tons. Entering the front room of the old house, I noticed the simple, bare furniture. But I didn't see the Simon, Layla or Aidan.

"Oh, no!" I thought. I didn't know if Simon, as a man with ethics or a smarmy snake, like Farris. "Layla!" I called out and heard light footsteps immediately. She came in, video camera in front of her face. "I'm still naked, dear. Stop that now or you'll be recording your colonic activity in real time!"

"This is so cool. Professor Rizzo's gonna love all the vid I got. Simon told me a lot of stuff! I love this camera! Can I have one, please? Please?" The teenaged whining rang through the room as Simon came in quietly and lifted my hand, leading me to a small room not much larger than a prison cell lit by his lamp and a candle. It was appointed with only a thin cot and two wooden chairs and a small child's stool.

Aidan was on a small stool at the head of the cot with a string of beads in his hand. Drawings and photos of different, indigenous faces in thin metal frames adorned the walls in a scattered, haphazard spray.

"Drink this and lay down." Simon instructed and handed me a cup of tea. "I've suspended your ignition for a few hours until we can ask the spirit to move along."

Songs of birds and the soft clanking of dishes being washed woke me. I could sense sunlight filling the little house and creeping into the small room where I lay.

A sheet covered me and I wasn't burning! I opened my eyes to see Layla sleeping on a wooden chair, head against the wall, and video camera in hand.

"Layla, are you okay?" I asked softly. "What happened?"

"You fell asleep, and we fixed things, but I'm not sure you'll like it."

"What do you mean?" My heart started beating fast thinking I'd been given the limbs of a farm animal ... Maybe a gazelle or a lemur - oh, geez. I'd have to make my own shoes.

"Look at your hand." She stood, stretched, "It's so cool, Bobby! You'll never need a tattoo!"

"I never wanted a tattoo..." I wondered why she said that. I lifted my arm from under the sheet and was stunned! My skin was blue - there were some rounded, blank spots of white.

"What's this?" I pushed the sheet back - my whole body was blue with the soft, white spots, looking like they were slowly exploding - they were moving! "Help!"

Simon came running. "Calm down, it's alright." He touched my hair. "I told you that this wasn't an exact science. Every moment is a change - an unfolding of newness toward the golden realms of celestial serenity..."

"Cut the philosophy, what happened? I'm blotchy-blue!"

His hand came to my forearm and lingered without heat. "I tried my best, but that Layla got hold of the spirit and negotiated. I'll have to admit, I couldn't have done it any better. She's a real pip, you should have heard her."

Layla came and sat beside me grinning.

"What happened Layla? Be honest."

"Well, this spirit, well her name was Nokihuba... Nokiwani - or something like that. I just called her Noky. She wanted to give you a tail and fangs -- and there isn't enough make up or costumes to hide that! Noky was laughing - making all kinds of jokes about what she was going to do to you. She said it was about tripping up a confused mortal - I think she meant Dad. Noky's the goddess of rainbows and fermentation -- seemed Dad's been insulting her people during his lectures. She's a Zulu goddess -- one of the most powerful."

Simon stepped in. "Looks like you were the lightning rod for your family's problems. I wasn't aware I was opening the door for Noky to bring in her power when I gave your boy those charms."

He stroked my cheek and inspected my face, "By making you into a freak, the insulting person in your family would never achieve the fame they desire. Podie wanted a small bit of fame, but Noky saw your husband's incredible weaknesses then his insults, and pounced. She was going to destroy everything around him through you! Can you imagine the mess in the media if a gay man became half-animal?"

"Happens every night at the spa, but I think I understand."

Layla jumped back in the conversation. "This was better than the other choices. Really! I told Noky I had all these spiritual media apps on my phone and told her I was going to trash her reputation all over the world. I lied, but she didn't know any better."

"What an actress!" Simon exclaimed. "Layla went on to convince the goddess not giving you a full-body alteration. Oh, that Layla! She was crying and moaning saying she needed her Bobby - and it wasn't fair... It was incredible - tears and sobbing like she was in full-blown emotional meltdown! Then, ruining her reputation! Like I said, I couldn't have done any better myself."

Layla waved the camera at me. "Got it all on tape. You think there might be an award for that performance?"

Ignoring that, "Am I like this forever?" I asked Simon.

"We don't know. Maybe, but you're not any worse. If you could resolve the other issues in your family, you might fade back to normal." Simon shook his head with his lips pressed together tightly.

"Call Dad, Layla." I fell back on the cot and started crying. "Tell him to bring my bathrobe - I'll use your ski mask for the ride home." I thought for a moment. Lee couldn't find his way down here, much less drive with a hangover... "Wait, we'll have to walk home the way we came."

Aiden handed me tissues, "Tears help ease the transition." Simon muttered and went to make mate.

Dressed in my oven-mitt shoes and old, ragged clothing from Simon and Aidan, I grabbed Layla's ski mask as we stood at the door. "We'll be back with some compensation - how much do I owe you, Simon?"

"Nothing. Layla's video is worth a mint to my practice." He grinned.

"Please edit my face." I cringed again. Why isn't anyone else concerned about my dignity?

"Sure." He was still grinning and I wondered, but I had to get home.

Aidan led us through the cluster of houses quickly. We made a wide circle around the center of The Bottoms and climbed a steep cliff by grasping roots and pulling ourselves up the side. When we got to the top, we found ourselves in the meadow, I could see the old orange grove. Home wasn't far!

Layla did her "scout" thing as we entered our neighborhood and soon we were hosing ourselves off on the patio, feeling like supernatural champs.

We found Lee sleeping on the couch with an empty bottle on the table in front of him.

With my foot on his shoulder, giving him a hard nudge, "Did ya worry that your only beloved daughter and your cherished spouse were gone all night in The Bottoms - you dusty old fart? Worried about us being with two men all night doing strange drugs and talking to some nasty spirits?"

"Wha?" He rolled over and winced through red-rimmed eyes. "I tried calling. No one answered." He looked at me and sat up as I started undressing.

"Well, I didn't have a pocket for my phone, remember?" I tore off my shirt, "See! See what your drinking and ambition did to me? I oughta sue you - but you don't have enough unless I got the kids."

"Sue me?" He was staring at my blue body with clouds slowly wafting across my belly and breasts - transfixed. "My god, you're beautiful -- is that the sky?" He rubbed his eyes, "Whose clothes are those?"

"Watch the re-runs. Layla recorded the whole summit." I snapped back.

"Are you still hot?" He asked, still spellbound.

"Well, I've gotten plenty of looks, but if you mean angry? Yes. If you mean the dermal issue, no. I'm not igniting anything anymore. This is what I'm left with. And furthermore - you've just ruined my career and my whole life -- you ignorant oaf."

I heard Layla cackling from the hallway - why didn't that child take me seriously?

"Layla, show your dad your negotiating skills from last night." I ordered and left to shower and get dressed in my own clothes if there was anything left after Layla's covert harvesting.

As I walked away, "Hey, Bobby! Your rear's still red where that woman whooped your ass. But it's lovely shade of mauve now!" Layla said. I heard her guffaws all the way up the stairs and wondered what was going to happen to me on a rainy day - I'd probably turn a dismal shade gray.

Great! Just fucking great!

Well, it wasn't really so bad, being the sky-colored man. Not at all. Yep, my face faithfully reflected the clouds and the sun, and rainy days brought a dark gray cast - even my finger and toenails took celestial hues. At night I became as dark as Dr. Gamal, but with a moon sometimes, and shooting stars. I sported Orion on my back and the Scorpion on my belly after the sun set. It was mystically serene.

Mostly, I worked at home, but I did go out, I wore a burqa in town. Close neighbors became accustomed to seeing me blue or gray, sometimes orange and lavender at sunset as I took the trash out and weeded around the yard.

Layla and I did go up river and research the tribe later - we went with her new video camera and a solar battery. When we met with the tribe and I removed my covering, they honored me! My work became a thousand times easier with my heavenly-hued skin.

Native people welcomed me and my specialty opened before me. Sure, I kept Layla with me along with her video camera - she wasn't imposing or threatening but smiled often and enjoyed herself among the other young girls while I worked gathering more information. She was a big help to me and became quite adept at documentation.

My next big domestic campaign was to guide the kids away from their father's path. We loved him dearly, and his need for recognition, fueled by alcohol was simply futile -- he hadn't published a paper in years; no books, no research other than at the package store.

I began teaching the kids about other possible careers -- different dreams and that suddenly easy with Podie. After a serious knee injury on the field, he was thinking about becoming a coach or referee. Then, he became curious about programming and coding during his recuperation as he played video games.

As for Layla, I encouraged to submit her videos to local, then national competitions -- she was becoming quite proficient at editing and the costumery of her life became less important as she polished her work about the lives of young women in small towns. Now, there's an unaddressed issue!

I became the full-fledged father of the family as Lee's health declined. My skin stayed the color of the skies, the kids thrived though all my unconventional parenting but poor Lee became more withdrawn and seemed shorter though not any thinner.

What could I do? Begging and pleading for him to go into rehab only started an argument that ended with him leaving for the local bar.

During the next few years, Dr. Gamal called every three months to check my progress, though there wasn't any change - I stayed "Sky Queen." Every call, he was genial, and professional; every call I was more resigned to my default role as single-father and care-giver.

Every call he asked about Lee.

Every call he asked us to visit him on the islands. Lee never had time, he was still schmoozing his way among the sociologists though at a much slower speed.

Online, I tutored English for extra income. I continued working with the indigenous tribes along El Rio readying to publish my first paper with the help of Professor Rizzo.

My dear reader -- you've come to a hot site for some hot stimulation. You must be wondering if you selected the wrong category. Well, life didn't give a horny young swish much in that department for the first few years of my union. I used my energy at home and pushing my career forward despite all the mosquito bites with my Layla videotaping everything including my odd colors.

You see, after we married, after all the craziness of Podie's spell, Lee only drank more and became more depressed. Should I have divorced for misrepresenting himself as a hot daddy? I vowed to love him, and wanted this challenge -- was I strong enough? Could I see this through to a good end? Many of you have lived with an addicted partner or seen it happen. But the resolution to Lee's problems was easier than I thought.

When Lee was exhausted, a glimmer of a kind, loving and extremely passionate man lit my heart for a few moments. Outside those moments, it feels funny to admit, but I became more attached to the kids. They established a grubby presence in my heart and filled my days - pushing aside thoughts of divorce with dental checkups and baking cupcakes for the school fund-raisers. We were a family with only the specter of a captain at the helm. But we were a family.

It wouldn't have done any good to start the "I told you so" song and dance when Lee was hit with diabetes that he'd ignored in his drive to become the leader of the pack of mongrel sociologists. Nope -- couldn't abandon my lover who took a year's sabbatical due to his health problems.

Farris, still the weasel, had kept Lee's cirrhosis from us until Lee was bright as a school bus -- jaundiced al maximo.

Yes, dicks get yellow, too.

Gamal kept calling, and on one call I broke down in tears over Lee's health problems. It didn't take long for Gamal to realize the entirety of the situation. He didn't tell me, but Gamal had more gris-gris up his sleeve.

To my complete horror, I opened the door on a Saturday morning at 6AM to find the dark hulk of Dr. Gamal looming in front of me. Behind him was Dr. Rizzo and a slender young man who appeared to be a student -- he carried a heavy rucksack on his back.

"Come in! Good to see you." I tried being a good host despite being taken by surprise -- was this a dreaded intervention? The place was a wreck with Lee's bottles scattered about from the night before. "Layla, come make the mate, Drs. Gamal and Rizzo are here so get dressed before you come down." I heard her footsteps above us.

We hugged and greeted each other, "And who's this?" I asked about the very attractive young man accompanying them.

"Nurse Juvenil - he's acting as my assistant today." Gamal said, "Where's Lee?"

"Upstairs, why? He's still asleep - won't wake up till this afternoon." With that, Gamal and Juvenil marched upstairs.

Dr. Rizzo, Layla and I sipped our mate and shared pastries while Gamal and Juvenil were upstairs with Lee. Within thirty minutes, and after a few curse words from Lee, they came downstairs. Gamal hugged me quickly and the three left. I was stunned but watched them load Lee, weaving and staggering into their van.

I looked at Rizzo, "Is this one of those drug interventions?"

"Dr. Gamal is taking Lee to the islands." Dr. Rizzo told me. "Going to give him the manhood ritual." She seemed calm, but I was curious.

"Manhood ritual? Lee's almost fifty-five and he's established his manhood all over the place."

"Gamal said Lee missed some of the basics; he's taking him through it all again. Haven't you noticed that Lee is immature at times? When bad things happen -- everything inside him gets out of balance and he defaults to the behaviors of his childhood -- those never work so he tries to drink it all away... Auditing Manhood 101 again!" She was nonchalant about the abrupt removal of my husband.

I could only shrug my shoulders. Sometimes taking care of Lee was like having another child in the house. "When will they get back?"

"About a month -- maybe longer."

That month was heaven! The house didn't smell like a bar, and finally, I went on a vacation. The kids and I visited Asuncion, then BA.

We toured the Casa Rosada; Layla got an interview with the mothers of the Plaza del Mayo, we tangoed with several strange partners at an introductory class and stopped by the Aquopolis -- an extreme water park. Layla rated every man around the pool for me, but I just laughed -- "Sweetheart, I'm a married man!" I'll admit, she had very good taste in men. What could I do as I sat watching behind big sunglasses, a huge, floppy, droopy hat in a long-sleeved muumuu sporting a scarf and gloves?

In BA we met Lee's ex. She was doing well in her third drug rehabilitation program. Secretly, I was glad the kids saw her and heard her admit all the problems her drug use had caused. Saved me a finger-wagging and the "just say no" lectures. We kissed her and wished her well.

We returned home tired after our whirlwind vacation and found several messages on the answering machine. Lee had called. On speaker phone, the kids described all the things we'd done, and I told him we missed him, "When are you coming home?"

"Tomorrow. We're outside of Sao Paolo now." We all went silent wondering what would happen, but Gamal came on the phone.

"Everything's going well, I think we got the blood sugar levels stabilized, and I see a much happier man in front of me."

"Is there anything we should do?" I asked, thinking Lee wanted me to restock the bar.

"Just be there."

Like a tornado, the kids and I cleaned and washed, got everything in place. Layla went to the store while Podie cleaned out the van and I shopped at the open-air market. Diets for diabetics need lots of vegetables, and I bought the best for my husband hoping all the while he'd made some positive changes.

Did he? We almost didn't recognize him when he, Gamal and Juvenil came in the door that afternoon. Looked like someone had let the air out of the balloon that was Lee's belly! Though I hadn't considered it at the time, Lee was facing a happy, tanned and grinning family with expectant looks on their faces and fearing the same old man. Sticky situation, "Get the blender out Layla -- smoothies all around!" I said, then, Lee beamed and took me in his arms.

On the patio I demanded that Juvenil and Gamal stay the night, "Grilling steaks and big salad -- I feel like celebrating!"

They only stayed for dinner, afterward Juvenil took me in the kitchen and helped me with more diet information and some fairly strict rules: "Don't hide the alcohol. That's his challenge -- there's alcohol all over the planet and you're not his keeper. He's his own man managing his own life -- do you know what co-dependence is about?"

I could only nod. Then, he showed me a series of bags and jars. "These are his meds -- you can get more at the botanica in The Bottoms -- it's his job to prepare and take these." He laid out a glass cup and a wooden spoon, "He knows his dosage."

"Okay... What should I expect?"

"Expect a man with different priorities and accept him while he's rebuilding his relationships. If you become impatient, take a break. Both of you need to make changes -- he's forced you into taking most of his responsibilities. You have to give those back now."

As Gamal and his nurse left, I saw rainclouds gathering, but watched them drive away with Lee's arm around me.

"Light years ahead of Farris -- I'm glad Gamal called." Lee rocked me against him, "Do you still love me? Will you make love with a sorry old sot like me?"

We went to bed and my guy needed to brush my teeth and use a cock ring, but it was good -- so very good. Rich, in fact! Holding me against him as the rain hit the window, he whispered how good I was to him, he apologized and said all kinds of mushy things -- different to say the least! My head swelled along with my erection.

"You're gonna get it! Not calling us for a month -- put out!" I pushed him on his back and lubed his gorilla-erection and straddled the man I loved.

"I deserve the worst -- but you're always the best." He chuckled -- I couldn't remember the last time I heard him chuckle. As I slipped his hot glans against my pucker, it hurt!

"Been a while, honey." I couldn't remember the last time we had sex.

"Easy," His hands tweaked my nipples, then down my chest. He fondled my balls, "I missed you, even before I left. I've missed you since we were married. Such a fool, I was such a fool."

I leaned over him with his glans still at my ass and kissed his neck. His hands went to my waist, then around to my bum and he pressed, "Take me. Please." Almost before he finished asking me, the bedroom lit with a bolt of lightning close by. Using that as a distraction, he grinned and pressed me down onto his rigid tool, surprising me with its size all over again. Ouch!

With that, the feeling of him filling me caused a stronger bolt of lust inside my chest -- I had to gasp and ride that fool till my cum shot over the bed and his chest. He licked some with his finger and asked me for fifteen more strokes, "Deep and hard, I need to cum."

We fell asleep quickly, the smell of satisfied men filled the bed and the rain continued all night into the next morning.

I had my husband and lover back.

The sun woke me early, Lee was still sleeping with a pillow over his head. Layla was up already and I could hear Podie on his video game. As I swung my legs over the side of the bed, the bedroom door flew open, "I made pancakes!" Layla came in the room and sat on the end of the bed, "Bobby, do you feel alright?" Her fingers touched my face.

Then she screamed, "Podie! Get in here! Look!"

"Layla, please -- no drama till breakfast." I grunted.

"Podie! Bobby's back on earth!" She jumped up and ran in our bathroom and brought a mirror back. "Look!"

As I looked at my face in the mirror, the last traces of blue left, unfortunately the little wrinkles at the corners of my eyes didn't. Their small hands stroked and squeezed along my arms and neck verifying the mystifying change. I was back to being Bobby-colored again!

"That's weird. Why did your color come back?" Podie asked.

"Yeah, did Dr. Gamal give you some medicine, or that guy Juvenil -- did he do something?" Layla asked.

Kissing each of their faces, I glanced at Lee, "No, Daddy came back home."

"Look, hon." I shook Lee. He didn't move and his body seemed rigid. Staring for a few moments, I saw his chest wasn't moving.

"Layla, take Podie downstairs." They knew and left the room silently as I grabbed my phone to call the coroner.

The next month was difficult; Rizzo came over often to help with the arrangements, all the notifications and paperwork while I walked through my life zombified by the rapid changes and trying to heal over the big hole suddenly left in my heart and my home. Sure, I felt some guilt for when I could have been kinder to Lee but brushed that aside. I'd done what I could and I'd been honest.

The kids and I kept the house filled with music while we adapted to a new life. They stayed in school and we pushed forward inches at a time. There was a life insurance policy, the house was paid for, and we found that though we weren't wealthy, we were a very comfortable family, but money can't buy your lover or your father back...

The memorial service was well attended but I didn't see a sociologist from the "circuit." Rizzo explained that they sometimes have social gaps, and don't do well with emotionally-charged situations. The best part of the service was Dr. Gamal -- he stayed with us and when all was finished, he asked me and the kids where was Lee's favorite place. We'd take his ashes there.

It took us several days to decide, but as we cleaned out the bar, it came to us like a beam of bright light! The bridge!

We took Lee's ashes to the bridge -- so many hours spent there during his life. Waiting for it to open for the boats to pass, then close.

We sneaked behind the restrooms, down to the water, and found a path to the river bank. Seemed appropriate in a way that we poured his ashes among the jetsam along the shore. So much of his precious life had been wasted as well -- diverted by another liquid.

Before he left, Gamal asked us to come to the islands, and as soon as the semester finished, we left from the schoolyard to the airport immediately to the Luis Muñoz Marin airport in Puerto Rico.

Gamal met us at the airport with several men who swept us across the sea to the small island where he was born. Like ants, people streamed out of the jungle above the beach, waving and singing -- repeating a short phrase I couldn't understand. Several men came with drums, Layla and Podie looked at me for some kind of explanation -- I looked at Gamal.

"Celebration -- of you! A sky-human is a rarity and a considered a strong spirit."

"They've seen the video?"

"Oh, yes. Caused quite a stir -- they wish to honor you."

Podie had already jumped off the boat, swimming to shore through the clear waters -- there was a group of boys with a soccer ball waving. Layla had the camera at her face, "This is gonna be fun!"

I sighed, the kids were resilient -- they were excited and happy, now I had to relax and dismiss my embarrassment over my nudity on tape flying around the world for people to see and probably critique meanly.

"Feast tonight -- mi reina, you'll see something wonderful." To my surprise, he gripped me around my shoulders and kissed my cheek.

Didn't take long for the kids to strip down and don their bathing suits. Several of the older women offered me a loincloth. It didn't get any easier for me to make myself naked in a group, but they wanted the honor of tying it on me. Yes, it was a little large, but from the looks of the men, average for the males of the islands.

Gamal grinned and came from a hut wearing his. Be still, my heart! Tall, muscular with that inky-black skin shimmering and only a small red square of cloth barely holding his kit underneath! Well, that was certainly worth celebrating!

A number of huts stood around an open area under the canopy of the jungle where women were stirring big pots of stews and cooking flatbreads on heated irons. It smelled festive! The men were off fishing to bring back our entrée for the evening.

As the sun sunk lower in the sky, several young women took me to the stream to wash and ready myself for the celebration. I hadn't seen the kids, but occasionally heard their voices. I'm sure they'd find me if they wanted, but everything seemed quite peaceful in this small community of about two-hundred. Clearly, they loved Gamal -- he was relaxed and smiling as he strode like a giant among the tribe. He was their doctor and a powerful spirit in a lot of ways.

When the men brought their catch, the activity hit a new level around the fire. Drumming started and singing -- dancing and we found places to watch. Gamal sat beside me to interpret. The language was a mixture of French, Spanish, some English and spiced with words from several African tribes. This tribe was a mix of escaped slaves, and others who'd sought refuge and peace from the "Golden Triangle" trade and earlier.

Big bowls of food were passed with a big round of bread covering it as the sun went down, creating a very intimate dinner among the crowd. A man with wreath of leaves in his hair walked among us to the fire. He introduced me, Podie and Layla as Gamal's special guests for a special event. After dinner, a drama! Everyone grinned and nodded, eating this incredible feast. I nodded and grinned, too.

Now, I didn't ask what was in that stew, but my loincloth was snug where it wasn't before. I was glad it was dark. Looking around the fire, I could glimpse other erections filling and lots of grinning. Hmmm?

Well, this play didn't need any translation -- it was about me!

A young woman came to the cleared area near the fire, swaying and flapping her arms. She stopped and gave a coy look to the audience. An older man came with a folded blanked strapped to his middle -- guess who that was? He kissed the girl and went to the side mouthing silent words and gesturing. Lee and his speeches.

Suddenly two children jumped from the darkness hugging and kissing the woman. The young boy went to the man who was still gesturing and speaking silently, then began shouting and miming drinking and yelled a few curses.

Then, suddenly all the action stopped. A line of children ran around the diners with torches and shaking leaves still on their branches, "That's the thunderstorm." Gamal whispered. The children left but put the torches in the young woman's hand. She screamed and began pretending to touch different people with the torch flames. Of course, people backed away and chuckled. The woman was alone with the torches in the middle of the stage area, looking very sad. She left the area.

Out of the darkness the young girl playing Layla came in, miming talking into a cell phone, "Yes, Gamal, yes!" She repeated again and again. Layla was laughing somewhere in the crowd. The old man at the side was still gesturing, speaking silent words, and drinking, but now facing away from us.

The drums started a slow, quiet beat as the young girl tiptoed, glancing around as she escorted the young woman in a loincloth with a branch strapped to her head and covered with a cloth. They slowly sneaked across the cleared area with some narration by the tribal leader. The crowd was mesmerized, and began chanting, "Um-ba-la-la! Um-ba-la-la! Um-ba-la-la!"

A man with palm fronds attached to his arms and legs jumped behind the girl, knocking the young woman down, and began switching her with a cloth and then several men joined the fronded man on stage pushing their loincloths to the side and aped urination on the woman while the young girl stood to the side with her hands at her eyes like she was using binoculars.

"That's you in the umbrella being beaten and -- uh, dampened. Um-ba-la-la is what they call you now."

"I know that!" For some reason, my head felt light and I was filled with a warm joy.

Here's where it got interesting. All the actors came out and gathered around the young woman and girl making deep noises, like groans, bodies undulating, hands raised. The young girl began screaming fiercely as the woman fell back on the ground. The girl continued screaming at all the actors until they all left; she did too, leaving the body of the woman on the ground.

Then, the old man at the tree comes back into the clearing, lifts the hand of the young woman, helping her stand. He kisses her cheek and takes off the branch, and her loincloth. For a real bang at the end of my fiasco re-enacted, the two begin a very sexual scene with both the young woman and the older man naked and caressing. The old man strokes his cock and spurts cum over the dirt of the clearing and falls to the ground.

The young woman begins a slow, circular dance with the two children and the whole audience stand to join around the fire, singing and drums playing a faster beat. "Um-ba-la-la! Um-ba-la-la! Um-ba-la-la!" Everyone chanted and stood applauding and began dancing around the woman and two children.

"Wow! That was incredible!" I began hugging and kissing everyone around me then worked my way into the crowd to hug the actors. I turned to see Layla with the camera in front of her face and I smiled! "Thanks, Layla. I love you!" I gave a wink to the camera.

Can't tell you how many people I hugged and kissed that night, but it was the most memorable, well, maybe second most memorable night of my life. But there was more to come.

I had a small hut and saw Layla's bag and mine inside the door. Hammock, table, chair -- small and cool, the floor was about ten feet off the ground and a view of the ocean in the moonlight with a cool breeze. By the window, I took my loincloth off and inspected the skimpy fabric for a way to more firmly encase my preciousness. The night was so quiet.

My feet felt the floor shaking underneath me; I turned to see Gamal's eyes shining and a sheen covering his muscled body. Naked. He was naked and smiling.

"Do you know where my children are?"

He wrapped me in his arms. "Under mosquito netting, mi corazon. Did you find the oil?"

"What?"

There was a small bowl of something on the table, I hadn't really noticed. "Cocoanut oil." He lifted the lid off the bowl and the sweet smell filled the hut. His fingertips scoop the viscous sweetness and he watched my face as he oiled his incredible erection. "So slick."

Something about this situation felt vaguely familiar... Couldn't place it as Gamal grabbed me in his arms and oiled my belly with his rod. Sure, my knees went weak as he kissed me and picked me up in his arms, carrying me over to the hammock.

The weave on the hammock was loose, like fishnet and he lay me on my stomach and felt around underneath me until he could pull my dick through one of the holes, then, my balls through the next opening. Mmmm. Interesting and arousing!

Silently, his big fingers oiled my cleft and I swooned, swaying in front of him on the hammock. This was delicious in every way -- and still felt familiar, but couldn't figure out where those memories came from, but I relaxed into his big fingers probing me and his hot breath close by.

His glans was at my hole, "How long has it been, sweet lover?"

"The night Lee died..." I was so ready for him, sweating and shallow breaths for that first feeling of penetration.

"Death by sex!" He roared and began laughing as he plunged into me with one shove. "Best gift you can give a man!"

Suddenly my body tensed, tiny droplets hit my face. "Is it raining?" I heard the clap of thunder in the distance and a faint flash from the open window in front of me.

"Rainy season." He moaned, and continued slowly stroking, pushing the hammock away and letting it slowly move back into his groin. Deep and slow, in and out... The droplets of rain on my back mingled with his sweat as that incredible feeling of fullness washed through me. So lightly he stroked along my balls, then reached underneath me to grab my rock-hard tool.

"Ready..." He sucked in a deep breath. Grabbing my hips, he stroked deep and hard, faster and faster shaking everything inside me. Lifting myself on my toes, I changed the angle and felt like I was going to explode in a few moments, my balls were twitching and pressure built.

Chest muscles clenching as I grunted, I lifted my butt and -- damn! This was my fantasy the night I started igniting things -- cocoanut oil, prostate, big hard dick stroking -- dark eyes and smooth black skin. Why did I have to remember that right now?

I went limp trembling as I recalled that incredibly bright bold of lightening and the thunder but Gamal kept pumping, harder, faster -- there wasn't any more room inside me, and I loved it. He stopped deep inside and made a few funny high-pitched straining noises from the back of his throat and I felt his liquid heat filling me. A few more strokes and his cum was dripping down my thighs.

My brain was still concerned about my skin and the possibility of being hoofed. Yeah, I checked.

The smell of the ocean and the smell of our sex wafted around us as Gamal lay beside me. "Move to the island, Malaguaya is good, you can work at the university there and the kids can go to school... Be close to us, we love you."

"Who is `we?'"

"Me. Everyone on the island. The spirits here."

Thinking of the old, ramshackle old house, the smell of the rendering plant and El Rio, it sounded good. Gamal leaned over and kissed me. "We need Um-ba-la-la here." As his tongue caressed mine and his big hands pulled me against him.

Call me a fool, but I took him up on that offer! Really - what else could I do?

Fin.