The Last Tribe Martin Kane, martin_s_kane@yahoo.co.uk A photojournalist gets more than he bargained for with an Amazon tribe. --- Author's note: First the standard blub on copyright, which is mine. I'd be flattered if anyone wanted to use this tale elsewhere, but please seek permission before copying, altering, posting etc. Secondly, I invite anyone to send their comments, suggestions, thoughts or suspicions should they care to. Needless to say this story is purely a fiction and all characters merely the products of an overwrought imagination I'll abstain from the adult content warning, if you've got this far, you're certain to know what kind of thing to expect anyway. --- The helicopter flew us to within five miles of the village but Marco, the guide, told us not to land any closer. The tribe had done us a great honour by agreeing to let me interview and photograph them, to fly into the heart of their community would be both disrespectful and threatening. Pete, the pilot, found a clearing in the forest and landed. Marco and I got out and he rose again, heading back to the town where we had stationed. As soon as it was gone, we were alone in the heart of the jungle. It was amazing to think that the city was only a dozen or so miles away, it might as well have been on another planet. This was real Tarzan territory. Marco began leading me through the jungle and I followed pensively. He told me a little about the tribe we would be visiting. It wasn’t totally untouched by the outside world - they were a lot more sophisticated than I’d originally thought, an understanding of economics and the ways of the ‘civilised’ world. Over recent generations, many had begun learning English as a second tongue. This fact struck me as a kind of fatalistic acknowledgement that it would one day become necessary for their continued existence as the outside world encroached further and further into their lives. However, their current existence was one that any new-age hippie would approve, still pure and mostly uncorrupted by the western world. I must admit to feeling a certain degree of apprehension. I was after all, about to encounter the last tribe of Amazons. I was working for a magazine called ‘Wow’, a sleazy, tabloid style sensationalist paper that heard of this tribe and thought ‘cool - tits and ass, native girls as nature intended: amazons.’ It was selling sex and titillation but I was broke and couldn’t afford to get moralistic. Marco told me we were about two miles from the outskirts of their territory when it happened. That was as close as we got. He had warned me about the various dangers the jungle could throw up at you - I guess he should have followed his own advice a little closer. A snake was slithering across the ground and he failed to see it until he almost stepped on the beast. It struck out instantly, landing a lethal bite on his shin. I panicked as my guide reeled on the ground. I was lost and hopeless. In frantic horror I tried to calm him, knowing that his thumping heart would pound the poison through his body that much quicker. But it was me who was going hyper on fear. I pulled out the radio in order to call Pete back with the ‘copter but reception was totally non-existent. The heavy green foliage killed the signal. I headed off to what looked like a clearing, hoping for better luck, shouting into the radio all the way. I was about fifty yards from Marco when the tone of his hysterical screams audibly changed. Suddenly he was calling me - calling me back. I turned around to face him and it was then that I noticed the wet sticky mud that clung to my boots. I wasn’t too worried at first, having bigger concerns on my mind. Then I saw that my feet were covered. It should have struck me immediately but it didn’t. I guess with everything that was happening already, my brain just didn’t register the facts properly. Besides, at that point, it was already too late. I lifted my right leg, trying to raise it out of the mud. However, all that achieved was to drive my left leg down deeper, my right staying trapped. Instinctively and rather foolishly, I reversed and tried again, succeeding in submerging my right foot just as deep. I should have clicked then what danger I was in but it was only as the cold wet slime eased around to my calves that I finally realised what was happening. I reeled, panic really hitting now that my own life was directly threatened. I only succeeded in toppling myself however, landing with hard and painful thud on the surface. It broke immediately and encompassed me to the waist, the mud slipping around my legs and sucking me hungrily down into the wet ground. Desperately I reached out for the bank but it all looked the same to me. My fingers only found more soft wet mud, pulling me on into itself. I grasped some weeds, trying to pull myself along and hopefully to something more solid. But the weeds came loose in my hand, the damp ground offering no support. I was up to my ribcage when I saw her. She was obviously a tribeswoman, dressed as she was in animal-skins and bare feet. Her skin was so tan as to be almost black. A stern, formal face regarded me with something close to curiosity. "Help," I pleaded as slick mud reached my armpits. My arms were spread wide, trying to avoid the death trap. She had a long slim spear, which she held out to me. It didn’t come close. As soon as she saw this she pulled back, not waiting for me to make a futile effort to stretch towards it. Instead she looked around the area, finally deciding on a close tree. She put the spear down and pressed herself against the trunk. I could see what she was doing and shouted out to her, telling he to go for help. Was she insane? It wasn’t a huge tree but even so, it was still a tree. Then I heard the cracking. I watched, amazed, despite the position I was in. The tree was actually moving, a split growing lengthways down the trunk. Half the tree fell to one side, still attached at the base, letting the high, thick branch bridge across high above the bed of mud. It rested against an opposite tree, level at maybe four or five feet above me. It was a thick branch and easily supported her weight as she lay across it, above me, lowering the spear into my reach. I grasped the base of it gratefully but my hands were wet and slippery. The spear was thin and smooth, the mud was thick and hungry. It slurped me down deeper and harder, already having substantial purchase on my body. I always assumed that when it came down to it, I’d always find incredible reserves of strength should my life depend upon it. I was wrong. I literally did not have strength enough to save myself. The spear slipped through my useless grip as the mud sucked me down out of its range, cold wet slime finding my neck like the caress of a midnight strangler. The woman saw my predicament and tossed the spear aside. I thought I would certainly die now - the mud was edging up to my mouth, encroaching on my face. She grasped the branch tightly in one hand, her feet anchored to it further along so she lay along its length. Then her body dropped. She held tight with one hand, the other reaching down for me. I stretched my hand up and felt her fingers brush my palm. Then her hand was tight around mine, squeezing hard and so tight as to be almost unbearably painful. It was a pain I gratefully endured as it was all keeping me from the mud death I was immersed within. We stayed like that for a few moments, hand in hand, her body hanging down from the branch. Then the incredible thing - she began pulling me out. She simply raised the arm holding me until the slupping mud gave up its prize. With a slick wet oozing, I felt myself slide out of its lethal grip. My arm was writhing with electric pain, the weight of my entire body and the additional strain from the mud meant my arm felt close to being ripped right out of the socket. It too was a pain I endured - the alternative being far worse. At the time I didn’t wonder at the strength required to perform this feat, such was the relief at being rescued. In addition to my body being dragged upwards, she had her own bodyweight to support. Despite this burden she didn’t falter, freeing me from a gruesome grave. She lifted me to the level of the branch and I folded myself across it gratefully. With careful assistance, I eased down to the solid ground and nearly wept at the pleasure of feeling solid earth beneath my feet. The tribal woman however didn’t pause for such triumphs, instead running across to where the guide lay in hysterical agony. By this time, the snakebite had taken real effect, lines of vicious poison criss-crossed within his flesh like polluted veins. She inspected the wound quickly and efficiently. I could tell by her manner that she deemed him a hopeless case - her body visibly slumped. She held him in her arms but he didn’t seem to notice. The sweat pored from him; his face was so grey to be almost white. Then she spoke for the first time, a deep and tuneful voice, dark and throaty like a femme fatal. "Marco," she murmured, almost to herself, "you foolish child." The sigh became a cold, harsher tone as she prepared herself. "Forgive me." I realised what she was about to do as she twisted his body around so his back was to her. Then she placed a knee on his spine and tightened a grip on his shoulders, bracing herself. "No," I almost screamed, breaking my trance and running over. She looked around at me. "He is dead already," she told me. "He can only suffer now." "Please, don’t," I begged her but her position did not change. "I can call a helicopter, get him to a hospital. He might not make it but it’s got to be worth a try." She still held the position but she didn’t carry out the euthanasia. "A helicopter," I repeated urgently. "Do you know what that is?" She nodded curtly but her voice still held question. "A metal bird?" she said. "Carry him away?" "Yes," I told her, showing her the radio as if this would make it clearer. "Carry him away to hospital - to doctors." She nodded again, understanding. She gently placed Marco on the ground and told me: "Call doctor, call bird." "I can’t here," I tried to explain. "I need a clearing." I motioned about the jungle, pointing at the trees. "I need space. Empty space or they can’t hear me." "Need space for the bird?" she said. Close enough. I nodded. She scooped up Marco into her arms, carrying him as easily as if her were a child. "Follow," she told me, leading the way. She turned back then, grinning. "Follow carefully cityboy." She led me into a clearing and I called Pete. We waited while Marco lay in feverish delirium. The tribeswoman turned her full attention to me for the first time. "You are city man?" she asked. "Marco was bringing you to see us?" "Yes," I told her. "We see your bird come. I come find you and guide you to our village. I find you. Lucky for you I find you." She laughed at this, a dark rich sound, throwing her head back and spilling thick black hair back across her shoulders and back. I regarded her with the same curiosity she had for me. She was evidentially a warrior, her spear neatly tied to her back. Knives hung sheathed at her leather twine belt. She was clothed in animal skins and fur. A small white rat skull hung about her neck. "My first kill," she explained, holding it up for my approval. "In my fourth summer. It attacked my brother. I pulled it from him and crushed it." She mimed the incident, squeezing her hands as if around the rat’s body. Then she concluded by biting off its head. She grinned at my startled reaction. "In my tribe I am great warrior," she explained to me. She certainly looked formidable. She must have been at least six feet tall and was broad with powerful limbs. Amazon was the right word for it though I’m sure it’s not what Carl, the editor of ‘Wow’ magazine quite had in mind. I asked her name. Her reply was almost unpronounceable. The closest I could some sounded like ‘Ally’ which she found incredibly funny for some reason. "I’m Ally," she grinned and began laughing again. At least I could pronounce that. Her smile was incredible. It transformed the most fierce and frightening face into one of joy and sweetness. When she wasn’t grinning like a Cheshire Cat I felt actual fear of that intimidating expression. The fact that she had half a dozen weapons at hand and could effortlessly carve me up should the whim take her. In fact, given the potential strength within her bulk, I doubt that she would need a weapon to end me. I thought of the way she had grabbed Marco and the ease with which she would have killed him. But her laughter was compelling and almost childlike in the purity of its wonder and lightness. If countered any fear or threat she could possibly offer, melting the coldest demeanour. The helicopter arrived then. Her humour immediately ceased as she carefully scooped Marco into her arms. She kicked open the back door with surprising efficiency, betraying previous experience that I hadn’t anticipated. The she climbed in, laying Marco along the seat, his head in her lap. "You’re coming?" I asked, rather pointlessly. I didn’t wait for an answer, just pulled myself up next to Pete and slammed the door shut. We made the journey in silence, though I heard her whispering small prayers and comforts to Marco. He had passed out now and I knew that he would not wake again. The ambulance was waiting as the helicopter landed on top a multi- storey car park. I half expected Ally to refuse to give him up, insisting she carry Marco into the ambulance but she didn’t even want to go with him to the hospital. She just said goodbye and walked away as he was stretchered down and the doors slammed, shutting him out of both our lives. "Are you OK?" I asked carefully. She smiled, a little sadly. "It is the way of things," she said philosophically. I was a little uncertain of what to suggest next. She seemed happy enough to be in the city. There was no surprise or wonder and I assumed that she’d seen all this before. Their tribe was obviously not as cut off as one might have assumed. We had a makeshift office nearby so I took her there. First she removed the furry skin that hung over her shoulders and asked to borrow my coat. I didn’t respond. I didn’t blink or move. In removing the skin she revealed not only the fact that her vest-top was actually a name brand, but the body beneath. What I had taken to be a naturally powerful build was actually an intensely muscular one. Her arms, chest and shoulders rolled with awesome quads, delts, biceps and whatever else you get from weight training for years on end. Somehow I prised my eyes away from the sight and handed over my jacket. It was tight around her thick shoulders but still almost transformed her into a city girl, despite her bare feet and what amounted to a Tarzan style loincloth. She gave up the spear too, but kept hold of the knives arsenal at her waist. The office was just a temporary base while Sally, the assistant editor, was in town. There were a couple of other writers on local assignments too. They’d also flown in the kid, Jake, a kind of dogs- body trainee and Sally’s messenger for the duration of her stay. Sally was in the office when we got there. Jake was in the corner with a laptop, trying not to look like he was playing computer games but intermittent swearing inevitably followed by increased fervour gave him away. Sally is a thirty-two year old, hopeless romantic lesbian and probably one of the most attractive women I’ve ever met. Every guy that ever laid eyes on her has fallen in love there and then. She’s tall and slim, a slight thing, but with breasts so large that they only just stop short of being out proportioned. Her honey blonde hair is natural and her bone structure could have been carved by an artist, such is its perfection. She’s strictly girls only and has the unique talent of attracting women at least as alluring as herself. She just doesn’t seem to manage to keep them for very long. Though that doesn’t seem to discourage her pursuit of Ms Right. She has the perfect combination of sex-goddess and just one of the guys. Coupled with her utterly untouchability it makes her one of the most attractive women I have ever encountered. When Ally first saw Sally she did a double take, gazing in wonder at her. Not an uncommon reaction from men or women, gay or straight. Sally was wearing a gold Lycra dress. It clung to her curves tantalisingly. Her bold breasts stood straight out, stretching the material to its full capacity. Sally walked towards us, smiling a greeting as we entered her office. Ally just stood and stared, totally unabashed and clearly awed. It was much the same reaction I had had to seeing Ally. (And indeed upon seeing Sally for the first time too.) Sally stopped short, watching Ally with surprise, curiosity and a little amusement. Ally’s gaze lingered slowly over her full breasts then slowly down her slim curves, her long, slender legs, then back up. "Why she’s precious," Sally said to me, though still staring at Ally. "Wherever did you find her?" She laughed but was just the slightest bit uneasy. Ally’s expression held that same stern intensity and ceaseless curiosity with which she had first regarded me in the quick mud. "Actually, she found me," I said, just as surprised by Ally’s behaviour. Suddenly she reached out a hand towards Sally who instinctively shuddered backwards. She stopped at that, asking, "May I?" Still a little jittery, Sally nodded. "Go ahead." Ally ran a hand over Sally’s slim shoulder and down the back of her arm. Sally just watched, passive, while Ally’s full attention was consumed with the other woman’s body. "Why don’t you take you jacket off?" I suggested to Ally. She stopped exploring Sally’s figure long enough to pull my jacket away from her impressive build. It was Sally’s turn to be stunned. She leaned over a moment to hiss into my ear: "you do realise that you’ve irrevocably altered my sex-life?" "How’s that?" I asked, laughing at her mock seriousness. "If I ever manage to have another orgasm in this lifetime without flashing back to this moment then I’ll be amazed," she confided. Then, at my surprised expression, "I’ve always had this fantasy about being raped by an all powerful black native woman." Sally went and called to Jake. "Get some money from petty cash the go out, get as many bodybuilding magazines as you can find. Especially ones that feature women." Reluctantly, he did so. "He’s just embarrassed," I said, once he had finally left, slamming the door like a sulky teenager. I could see the angle she was thinking of. Seeing the size and power of Ally’s muscles, comparing her to a modern bodybuilder was a great idea. Old World, New World kind of thing. I began jotting down ideas and we began a proper interview in Sally’s office. Sally never got involved with the actual stories, her interest in this one was blatantly apparent. She tried to hint to Ally about the men in the tribe and whether Ally was attached to any of them in any way. The way that Ally continued to ogle Sally’s pretty body with undisguised fascination suggested that she had certainly scored but that was not the case. Ally explained that she was a great warrior, apparently important in the tribe and valued very highly. As such and in the tradition of her people, this entitled her to several men. She had five men at her disposal, all for her exclusive use and unavailable to the other women. Sally tried to hide her disappointment but I saw her visibly slump as Ally revealed an exceptionally heterosexual lifestyle. I tried not to laugh at her reaction but we both knew she would be mocked relentlessly for this at every opportunity I got. We went back out to the front office to see that Jake had returned and was leafing through the magazines that he’d purchased. Upon being discovered he dropped the magazine as if he were a teenager being caught with pornography. He shuffled about with obvious embarrassment and muttered: "yeah, I just got back. I didn’t want to disturb you." Sally smiled, reassuring him, reaching for the top of the pile. "That’s great Jake, thanks. Let’s see what we’ve got here." She regarded the front cover of a magazine called ‘Muscle world.’ "Oh shit," she exclaimed at seeing the woman on the front cover. "Plastic tits." The woman was a fitness model, her body toned up with obvious weight training but had no real muscular power. Her breasts were so obviously silicon implants that it couldn’t have been less realistic if they were simply glued on above the skin to avoid surgery. The tone of her body and complete absence of any degree of body fat to fill her shape more naturally made the artificial bulge all the more blatant. She began flicking through the magazine but regarded it with obvious contempt. "How comes all the blokes in here are hard-core whereas the women are all anorexia adverts?" "Surely you’re not hinting at the existence of sexism?" I said, aghast. "Not in today’s society? Surely not." She silenced my sarcasm with a single raised eyebrow. I grinned sweetly at her and picked up the magazine that Jake had dropped, sticking my thumb in the page we’d caught him reading. I flipped it to the front cover. ‘The Physical Woman.’ "This looks more promising," I said, showing Sally. The front cover featured a woman, not in some crass glamour pose like the previous magazine, but in a real bodybuilding pose. And what’s more, she had the body for it, biceps huge and round like baseballs. "Cool," Sally exclaimed leaning across my shoulder as I flipped through it. "And it’s exclusively women." Our obvious enthusiasm for the subject helped Jake to relax a little. He’d stopped glowing quite so brightly. He didn’t notice Ally regarding us from the doorway. I reached the page he had been reading. It was a feature on a pretty young bodybuilder. It struck me, glancing through the variety of pictures of this girl just how sweet she looked. I covered the awesome physique with my hand a moment, just looking at her tender face. She was so fresh and youthful, really stunningly beautiful. Her body was a contrast to her face - she was spectacularly muscular, hugely built. Jake saw my fascination and felt bold enough to comment. "She’s two years younger than I am," he said. The relevance of this didn’t register at first, and then I realised at what he meant. She was not only amazingly accomplished but to have so much achieved, something most people will never be able to do (even should they want to) at such a tender age, was even more amazing. She was barely out of her teens. I guess there was a kind of prejudice about female bodybuilders - the Russian Shot-putter cliché. Even Ally was so imposing and macho to inspire instant fear, and that was before I’d even seen her muscles. Here was a girl, sweet and tender and stunningly attractive. Not merely pretty but a defined beauty that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a top fashion magazine. With that, her body was more muscular that an action film hero. Willis, Segal or Stallone couldn’t touch this girl’s biceps, she was that impressive. Even Schwarzenegger now he’s stopped pumping and let his body settle down into a more normal pattern. Yet there was no contrast - nothing about her looked odd, apart from the unusual fact of a woman with muscles. There was nothing unfeminine about her. She was sleek and symmetrical, her curves highlighted by muscles instead of untoned flesh. In fact, the bulging and pumped slopes of her figure gave her curvaceousness undreamt of on a more conventional shape. "Oooo, isn’t that sweet," Sally cooed lecherously, voicing my own thoughts. "Wouldn’t you like Santa to leave you that on Christmas morning?" The she shook herself out of lustful revelry and turned to Ally. "Hey, come take a look at this." Ally joined us and looked curiously at the pictures. If Jake’s mouth could have dropped any wider, he’d have dislocated something. He stared at Ally, unconsciously mirroring both my own and Sally’s reaction to seeing her massive physique for the first time. Ally ignored his stunned scrutiny, instead gazing at the girl’s body in the magazine. She turned her body sideways on, like the photo and replicated the pumped up biceps pose. The three of us gasped in unison, Ally’s biceps muscle, flexed to its full magnificence now for the first time was, as you’d imagine it to be - absolutely massive. Ally’s body was shaped by jungle life. It was a working physique, designed by and for the environment it existed within. The girl in the magazine built her muscles in a gym, deliberately and purely for aesthetic reasons. Her body was shaped for the way it looks, not for practical use. The only regular punishment it was exposed to was the regular workouts she performed to maintain and improve it. The difference stood out. The magazine girl was sculptured and shaped with tight defined precision. With the gloss and lights she looked like a polished statue. Her body was the picture of aesthetic beauty, deliberately trained for an ultimate goal, each subtle detail tightened and honed to absolute perfection. Ally’s concerns however were of a more practical nature. Her body wasn’t pretty or polished, but built for sheer brute force. Her need was for strength and power, for running faster, swimming further and fighting harder. Not to mention lifting dumb reporters out of quick mud and pushing over trees in order to reach them. Her biceps weren’t as sharply defined or boldly prominent as the model’s were, her arms were thick all over. It suggested more natural and generalised strength, rather than the selective muscularity of a professional bodybuilder who trains purely for what she will look like rather than what she will be physically able to do. I grinned to myself, I could feel the article writing itself. It was all I could do to jot the ideas down quickly enough, they were coming so thick and fast. Ally was still experimenting with her muscles, copying the different bodybuilding poses. Sally and Jake just sat back and watched her performance with stunned silence. Sally returned to her office. She was scheduled to make a conference call to the editor, Carl. She had been talking to him only a few minutes before the shouts of heated argument could be overheard in the front office. Jake was staring at Ally while I interviewed her. He looked up at me and I shrugged. I wandered into the office, standing by the door trying to decide whether or not to intrude. Sally was standing by her desk, shouting into the speakerphone. She saw me and her anger dissipated. It was replaced by a kind of reluctant indifference, as if she suddenly gave up, wilted and died. She ended the call, hanging up on Carl. She looked utterly defeated, she couldn’t even manage to be pissed off. "He won’t let us use her," she said. "Says it’s not a good story." "Not good? Real life Amazon meets female bodybuilder, it’s just the sort of thing we print," I protested. But I was preaching to the converted, Sally wanted this story as much as I did. "Old World meets New, the ultimate in primitive lifestyle and the ultimate in modern healthy lifestyle and they turn out to be the same thing. How can that not make a great story?" "It’s not what he wanted," Sally explained. "He wanted something more Xena." "More Xena?" I repeated, utterly incredulous. "Christ, you can’t possibly get any more Xena than her." "You know what he means," Sally snapped at me. "He says Amazon, he means tits and ass. Naked natives. He doesn’t want a real Amazon, he wants a jerk-off Baywatch bimbo." "Yeah, I know," I admitted. "It’s just so frustrating. You know what a great story it would make." I thought for a few moments, an idea occurring, slowly blossoming. "What?" Sally prompted, reading my sudden expression. "You think that magazine would be interested?" "‘The Physical Woman’? Yeah, maybe. Carl won’t like it though. You know it’d probably end your career at ‘Wow’." I gave a harsh laugh. "Somehow I think I could live with that." But could I? Money was, after all, money. Sally sighed. "You better get her back home anyway," she said. "I’ll buzz Pete, let him know you’re on your way. And I’ll grab some petty cash for her. Only fair we give her some sort of fee and I’m guessing she’d prefer cash to a cheque." "Chances are," I agreed. "I’ll just go and prise Jake’s eyes off of her." Sally grinned at me and nodded to the other room where Jake was still enraptured. "You know, I think it ain’t just my sexuality that’s been irrevocably altered today. He’s an impressionable kid you know?" She later told me how Jake had persuaded her to go and buy him a copy of ‘The Physical Woman’. He hadn’t wanted to go buy a copy himself, believing (probably correctly) that the shopkeeper would recognise him and remember what he’d bought earlier. "He was too embarrassed," she told me. "Why didn’t he just take the copy he bought earlier?" I asked, confused. Sally grinned, sheepish and blushing slightly. "What, my copy?" Pete landed the helicopter in a clearing outside the village; multitudes of tribesmen and women came cautiously over to us as the blades slowed their spinning. I stood by the ‘copter as they gathered close by. Ally stood besides me as her tribe regarded us all curiously. I looked at the small population, dressed in a strange blend of animal skins and modern clothing. Jeans and T-shirts were as common as hand-killed fur. What struck me as this last tribe of natives closed around us was their bodies. The men were all obviously athletic, a jungle lifestyle turning them all into natural Tarzans. The women however, were unbelievable. I finally realised why Ally had been so fascinated by Sally’s skinny body. It was because she wasn’t used to seeing a woman who looked like that, she was used to seeing women who looked like herself. I was standing there, in the middle of the jungle, surrounded by genuine Amazons. Everywhere I looked, women with hugely muscular bodies stared back at me. A stunningly beautiful woman walked slowly and regally towards us. Her black hair was tied up on her head, woven elaborately in and out of a white carved bone. Jewels decorated her face and body. Her clothes were robes but still I could see the powerful thickness of her musculature. Her eyes were a deep, dark brown, almost as dark as her rich skin tone. Walking either side of her were two more women. Stern looking warriors dressed in minimal decoration, leather and metal wound around their bodies as simple armour. Numerous weapons were to hand, strapped across the outfits. Both stood boldly, looking menacingly at me. They held identical poses, huge arms folded before a broad chest. They were by far the most muscular of all the women I could see here, and that was certainly no modest boast. They were obviously bodyguards and clearly took their job very seriously. The threat they exhibited simply by their awesome presence was overwhelming. "This is our leader, Queen Satya," Ally introduced. She smiled at me, a heart-warming expression, and bowed her head in the slightest, a most graceful gesture. I repeated the bow. "You do us a great honour," I said. "And you also," she said carefully. "You finally come. We wonder." She smiled at me, then turned her attention to Ally, asking a question in her own language. Ally answered with a single word, bowing her head in the same way. I turned to Pete. "Go get Sally," I told him. "She’s going to want to see this herself. There’s more than just an article here." Ally then broke our conversation; she focused my attention to a woman standing a little way from us. She was young and very pretty. Her body was muscular, as were all the women here, but not as massively built as Ally. She was dressed in a bra-top that clung tightly to her torso. Her breasts poked the material out, dark nipples visible through it. Her stomach was exposed, multi-layered abdominals stood out hard and solid. Her legs were covered by an animal skin wrapped around a small waist. Her arms were strong, thought not as thick as some of the women around. However, in her case, it simply made the biceps more defined when they twitched. She lifted an arm to run a hand through her luscious hair. The movement pumped her arm, the muscle leaping to attention, a coil of power and strength. "I think Sally would like to talk to her," Ally suggested. "Why?" "She’s an accomplished warrior Ally explained. "She has earned the right to choose of any available man in our tribe." "Yeah?" I still didn’t get what she meant. "It is a right she has not exercised." I looked at her, questioning if she was implying what I thought she was. She winked at me. "She has not interest in them. Or any man." The pretty warrior now stood with one hand on her hip, the other resting on a spear. She must have been exerting herself just prior to our arrival, her muscles stood out and sweat gleaned on her body. She was as black and gleaming as polished ebony. "I think you’re right," I agreed. "I think Sally would really like to meet that girl." "Now you must go with the queen," Ally told me. "She wants to take you on a personal tour of our village. It is an honour that cannot be refused." Then she offered me some final advice. "Be very careful that you don’t make any sudden moves that may be misinterpreted as threatening. Those warriors might look friendly but they will crush you in a moment if you make a wrong move." I looked at the two formidable bodyguards. I didn’t need to be told twice. Pete departed, leaving me in the Amazons’ village. The queen began the tour, two massive shadows in tow, watching every move I made. This was going to be interesting. The Helicopter returned later with Sally who had news of the deal with ‘The Physical Woman’. My job with ‘Wow’ might have been heading for termination, but, like Sally, I’d found a far more interesting angle for my career to take. The scoop had secured us both a position on the staff. As Ally had suggested, Sally was grateful to be introduced to Aliaunna, the pretty warrior. Needless to say with Sally, the relationship did not last. But while it did I have never seen her happier (or more constantly physically exhausted.) It’s telling I think, that Both Sally and Jake have joined the local gym since our return from the jungle. Though I’m sure both are interested in getting fit, the fact that it’s a co-ed gym doubtless factored in their choice. And to be honest, I know this fact only because I myself have also made the effort to join. And one final point of interest, after a three-week coma, Marco astounded everyone, doctors included, by waking up alive and eventually made a full recovery. The only lasting damage he found himself with was the pathological phobias he had suddenly developed. Not just of snakes, as you would expect, but also, an absolute physical dread of being embraced from behind.