Part 2, Chapter 5, of RFV.

FIVE

 

    When Roger came to a few minutes later he sat up groggily and looked round. Big Lucas, the crowd and the choir had drifted over to a large hut where a booze and ganja fuelled party was just starting, accompanied by some booming reggae music.

    “Hey man, let me helps you up,” Hub Cap offered, extending a hand.

    “Why thank you,” Roger said, taking his hand and pulling himself to his feet.

    “So what’s your name then, bro?” Hub Cap asked.

    “Roger White, Fleet Pilot,” Roger told him.

    “Roger White Fleet Pilot,” mused Hub Cap. “Kinda long name, ain’t it?”

    “No no, I think you misunderstood. My name’s Roger--”

    Hub Cap laughed, displaying two rows of piano-key-white teeth. “Only jivin wit you, my man,” he said. “Nice to meet you, Roger baby. They call me Hub Cap.”

    Hub Cap was in his early twenties and late teens. He had braided black hair which fell to his shoulders, bounced back and settled just under his ears. He was wearing faded jeans and a multi-coloured t-shirt. Round his neck was a gold necklace which had a small silver hub cap dangling from it.

    “Used to steal them when I was a kid,” explained Hub Cap, pointing to the hub cap. “That’s why they calls me Hub Cap.”

    “Pleased to meet you,” Roger said politely then looked apprehensively towards the partying crowd. “I say, are they really going to execute me?” he asked.

    Hub Cap caught the worried tone. He threw a consoling arm round himself then realised his mistake and threw it round Roger. “Hey Roga, my man!” he said cheerfully. “Don’t you be worryin bout no execution. You leave it wit Hub Cap. He’ll fix things for ya.”

    “Really?” Roger asked, brightening. “Well that’s jolly decent of you, Hub Cap. You’ve taken a weight off my mind.”

    “That’s cool then, bro. So let’s you an me go an check out Uhuruland.”

    Roger and Hub Cap strolled off, away from the party towards the small village. There were about fifty round huts which had been built along the bank of a wide river. The huts were simple, with baked mud walls and straw roofs.

    “This village for the bruthas an sistas who wants to stay close to natcha,” Hub Cap explained as they strolled along.

    “Natcha?” Roger queried. “Oh you mean nature?”

    “That’s right, bro �" natcha.”

    “The huts look pretty basic,” Roger remarked.

    “Oh they is but that’s how the bruthas and sistas likes it,” Hub Cap told him. “Furtha down the riva we gots a small town where the regula folks live.”

    “Well I hope they keep regular,” Roger remarked wittily but Hub Cap didn’t laugh.

    As they wandered on they came to one of the huts which had a ‘FOR SALE’ sign in front of it. Two men were standing near it and were obviously in the middle of bargaining.

    “So, can we go over and listen to these chaps discussing the sale of the hut?” Roger asked.

    “Shua,” Hub Cap replied. “I knows the bros. They won’t mind us liss’nin in.”

    They strolled over and Hub Cap saluted them.

    “Good day my man Raymond and my man Jimbo!” he called.

    “Hi Hub Cap. Hi Whitey,” replied Raymond.

    “This hea is Roga,” Hub Cap told them. “Mind if we lissen in?”

    “Shua,” said Raymond “That’s what this sketch is for.”

    Raymond and Jimbo turned back to each other and continued bargaining.

    “So like Ah was sayin, Ah’ll gives you three hundred for it,” said Jimbo.

    Raymond shook his head. “You shua are shittin me, bro,” he said. “Ah’ll take seven.”

    Jimbo laughed. “Seven my a*s! Four.”

    Raymond turned and looked at his hut then leaned against the ‘FOR SALE’ sign. “This a fine piece of work,” he told Jimbo. “Built it wit ma own hans. Ah’ll take six.”

    “Five fifty.”

    “Five. An dats final.”

    Jimbo sighed and nodded. “Okay bro, you has a deal. Five it is.”

    Raymond grinned and he and Jimbo shook hands. Jimbo produced the money and Raymond trousered it. He then turned to the tall wooden post which held the ‘FOR SALE’ sign and started pulling it up. Jimbo helped and with a bit of effort, the post was freed from the ground.

    “Sure is a beauty,” Jimbo said, admiring the post and sign.

    Raymond nodded agreement. “Shua is. Five hundred a fair price for it. Took me weeks to make it.”

    Roger turned to Hub Cap, mouth open. “But I thought they were selling the hut!?”

    Hub Cap just grinned.

    “So what you needin the sign for anyways, Jimbo?” Raymond asked. “What you sellin?”

    “Elvira,” Jimbo replied.

    “Elvira!? You sellin Elvira!?” Raymond said, amazed

    Jimbo nodded.

    Raymond whistled. “Man, that Elvira got some lovely t*****s on her.”

    “Lovely big t*****s,” Jimbo added.

    Raymond nodded in agreement. “Yeah, they sure is.”

    “I just love runnin ma hans round them big t*****s,” Jimbo went on.

    “Mmmmhhhh!” agreed Raymond.

    Hub Cap laughed. Remembering his recent episode with Amanda’s balloons, Roger flushed.

    “So what in the hell you sellin Elvira for, man?” Raymond asked.

    “Well she started shittin all ova ma ganja patch,” Jimbo told him.

    “Yeah?”

    Jimbo nodded. “Her an them otha goats. Hell if they ain’t shittin in it, theys eatin it!”

    Raymond and Hub Cap laughed. Since Roger didn’t know what ganja was, he didn’t.

    “Hell, them goats just lyin round stoned,” Jimbo went on. “Elvira ain’t eatin no grass. Her big t*****s flatter than a spaniel’s ears. Ain’t producing no milk. Man, Ah loves dat goat’s milk!”

    “Yeah, it real nice,” Raymond agreed. “You ever try it?” he asked Roger.

    “Ah no, can’t say I have.”

    “You drop by ma place then, bro,” Jimbo told him. “Got me some stored.”

    “Why thank you,” Roger said.

    Jimbo grinned, picked up his ‘FOR SALE’ sign and strolled off.

    “Catch y’all lata,” Hub Cap said to Raymond.

    Raymond waved and turned back towards his hut as Roger and Hub Cap strolled on.

    “We gots us a school up hea,” Hub Cap told Roger. “Maybe y’all likes to check it out?”

    “Why certainly,” Roger replied, hoping he’s said the right thing, as he hadn’t fully understood what Hub Cap had meant.

    As they wandered on, Roger glanced back. Raymond came out of his hut with another ‘FOR SALE’ sign, walked over and planted it in the hole where the first sign had been then sauntered back into his hut.

    “Down hea, this is whea the school is,” Hub Cap said, indicating a path which led away from the huts and into the forest on the other side.

    As they strolled down the path they could hear children chanting some lessons and soon they came to a clearing where the school had been built.

    The school was another simple half-open round hut with some desks and chairs in front of it. The class of eleven ten year olds or ten eleven year olds were seated before an attractive young teacher and a large sign on the round hut said ‘SPEECH DEFECTS �" CORRECTION CLASS’.

    “So all of these children have a speech defect?” Roger asked.

    “You gots it, bro,” Hub Cap replied. “Let’s lissen to what teacha’s teachin em.”

    “Okay,” Roger agreed, grinning.

    “Tidy piece of a*s, the teacha,” Hub Cap remarked waving at her.

    Teacha smiled coyly and waved back. She was indeed, as Hub Cap had noted, a tidy piece of a*s. Her straight brown hair framed a small but perky face. A tight gold t-shirt clung to her small but perky breasts. A tight black mini skirt clung to her small but perky legs.

    She turned back to the class. “Now repeat after me,” she said, “I puck, you puck, he she it pucks!”

    “I puck, you puck, he she it pucks!” chanted the class.

    “Good. Very good,” Teacha praised.

    “I certainly wouldn’t mind pucking you!” Hub Cap muttered.

    Roger, understandably, frowned.

    Hub Cap held up his hand. “Hey Teacha, minds if I sees you home afta class?”

    The children giggled.

    Teacha smiled and nodded and carried on with the lesson. “Now class repeat �" Hey mothapucka, go puck youself!”

    “Hey mothapucka, go puck youself!” chanted the class.

    “…go f**k youself!” a lone voice yelled, out of sync.

    As one, the class drew in their breath.

    “Who said that?” asked Teacha. “Who say ‘f**k’ instead of ‘puck’?”

    “It was Horace!” a small female grass volunteered.

    “Horace, come to front of class.

    As Teacha gave Horace a lecture, Roger turned to Hub Cap. “I say, I thought the purpose of this class was to correct speech defects,” the astute one said. “These children don’t seem to have any.”

    “Na. You gots it wrong, man,” Hub Cap explained. “This is to give the kids speech defects. Lots of us culurd folks got speech defects. Aint’s you noticed?”

    Roger shrugged. “Well…sort of,” he muttered, not wishing to insult the chap who had kindly offered to save him from execution.

    After Horace was suitably chastised, Teacha announced that the class was over. A shrill cacophony of totally unnecessary noise immediately arose from the delighted children and they dashed off back towards the village.

    Hub Cap grinned. “Got me some business to attends to,” he muttered to Roger. “You wait hea for me.” He grinned again and strolled up to Teacha.

    He did a little dance round her, she laughed and arm in arm, they strolled off.

    Roger sighed then strolled round the empty classroom and sat at one of the chairs. “How ridiculous,” he muttered. “Actually giving children speech defects…’Hey mothapucka, go puck youself!’” he mimicked then shook his head.   

    “Psst! Psst! Psst!” a female voice psst’d.

    Roger stood up and glanced round.

    “Psst!” she psst’d again.

    Then he saw her. Leaning out from behind a tree. Beckoning. She stepped out a little and Roger could see she was partially naked. She stepped out further and Roger could see she was completely naked…apart from silly pair of flat black shoes. Roger generously forgave this fashion blunder and concentrated on the rest of her.

    Thick lustrous black hair fell to her shoulders. Two magnificent tits pointed dark inviting n*****s at him. The sunlight trickled down a flat brown belly into an exquisite shaved quim.

    Instantly, Roger felt something stirring in his trousers. He glanced down but it was one of the schoolchildren going through his pockets.

    “Shoo! Shoo! Get away!” Roger ordered and the child scarpered.

    Roger stared at the nude beauty again. She was rather fabulous.

    Nudey beckoned to him again. “You like give me puck?” she asked seductively. “Good…hard…puck?”

    Roger swallowed. Remembering the lesson the children had just received, he mumbled a translation to himself…”You like give me good hard f---!”

    Instantly, Roger felt something stirring in his trousers. He glanced down quickly lest the young pickpocket had returned but the stirring was himself starting to tent.

    Beauty saw the beast. Nudey grinned and turned back into the forest. Roger eagerly followed. Nudey moved easily through the lush forest and the sunlight dappled on her smooth velvet skin. Roger couldn’t take his eyes off her a*s. The sexy way it rippled and quivered as she walked. But Nudey let go the rope and the animal wandered off.

    She turned and beckoned again. “Come, I need good hard puck. Can you give me puck?” she asked throatily

    Roger nodded eagerly. She strolled on. Roger and his expanding tent followed.

    Somewhere ahead Roger could hear the low hum of a generator and immediately he imagined air-conditioning. An air-conditioned hut where he and Nudey would have a good hard puck. His tenting increased.

    Nudey turned and smiled at him again then parted some bushes and went through. Roger followed and frowned at what he saw. Ice. A small ice pitch with a small set of goals at one end. The humming emanated from an ice machine.

    Nudey bent and picked up two ice hockey sticks and handed one to Roger. Then a small round black object.

    “Puck,” she told him. “For ice hockey.” She slid off on her flat black shoes. “Give me puck. I need good hard puck!” she yelled.

    Roger stared disbelievingly at the puck. The realisation that he wasn’t going to get pucked suddenly dawned and his tent began deflating. Rapidly.

    “Give me puck!” Nudey called.

    Roger dropped it to the ice, swung his stick and angrily whacked it across to her.

    She trapped it expertly with her stick and slid towards the goal. In a mixture of beautifully wobbling tits, jiggling arse and sun-kissed thighs, she whacked the puck into the back of the net.

    “I score! I score!” she yelled, jumping for joy.

    “I don’t!” muttered a disconsolate Roger.

    Nudey retrieved the puck and hit it back to him. “Give me puck again!” she called.

    Roger threw down his stick. “Oh…puck off!” he muttered and turned back into the forest.