India was a part of the British Empire she would gladly like to see the sun set upon, Emily thought as she packed her paints and sketchpad into the basket with her lunch. She was slowly going insane on the tea plantation her husband Scott managed. She had to find a way to convince him to let her return home. He'd be heartbroken, and it would be so selfish of her to leave him alone in this hellhole, Emily thought, but she was near the end of her rope. With a sigh, she headed for her husband's study to tell him goodbye before she went on her walk.
Scott was chatting over some papers with Dillip, the plantation foreman, when Emily entered the study. He rose and greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
"Ready for your ramble?" He asked with a smile.
"Yes," said Emily. "I'm finishing my sketches of the waterhole. I should be ready to get started on the painting after today." She showed him her sketchbook.
"These are quite good..." He murmured as he thumbed through the pages. "You really have a feel for the Indian landscape. I think she's fallen in love with this place, Dillip."
"M'am sahib is talented indeed." said the big Sikh as he looked at the drawings. "This is the very image of the place." Emily managed to keep her face straight at her husband's comment about loving India.
"Well I'll be off then." Emily said.
Before she could leave, Dillip stepped over to her, fast and gracefully for such a large man.
"You are taking your pistol, M'am Sahib?" He asked, holding out a hand.
"Yes," replied Emily, fetching the Bulldog .38 from her basket, handing it to him.
Dillip, unloaded the gun, pocketing the bullets, high grain, hollow point alternating with high velocity solid points. He inspected the cylinders and barrel for cleanliness and dry fired the pistol to check the smoothness of the mechanism. Satisfied that the weapon was well maintained, he reloaded it and gave it back to Emily. She gave her husband a kiss and was on her way.
Emily almost wished there were a real need for her to carry the gun. There was little to fear in the jungle surrounding the plantation. Tigers and leopards had long been hunted to extinction in the province, and no Thugees prowled the pathways looking for sacrifices to Kali. The marksmanship training her husband had urged Dillip to give her was just another boredom killer as far as Emily was concerned. The path took her deep into the forest to the waterhole she had discovered a few weeks before.
Emily sketched a bit and made color notes before putting her things away. It was hotter and more humid than usual as Emily unpacked her lunch. The water, shaded by the trees and overhanging canopy looked inviting. Feeling wicked, Emily took off all her clothing and dashed for the water. The swim was refreshing and Emily did not dress after coming out of the water, sitting starkers on the blanket and eating her sandwiches like some sort of naked savage. The full stomach, combined with exhaustion from the walk and swim caught up with her and Emily stretched out to take a nap, weary beyond caring if anyone saw her.
The sensation of something moving across her body woke her. Emily raised her head, and almost fainted at the sight of a gigantic python crawling over her shoulder down between her breasts. Horrified, she saw that her gun was a good ten paces away, lying in its holster beside her basket and art supplies. She wanted to scream, but the sound was choked off in her throat, so absolute was her terror. The snake continued slowly over her belly, passing between her parted thighs, ignoring her completely. Emily closed her eyes and waited for whatever the horrid beast intended to do, afraid to move as yard after yard of snake slid over her, muscles rippling against her naked flesh, the weight of the monster pushing her into the grass. Emily wanted to push it away and run, but she was afraid that the python would turn on her before she could get away from it or reach her weapon. She closed her eyes and waited, trying to suppress her trembling for fear it would draw the serpent's attention. At last, the tail slid into the grass and she was free of the disgusting creature. Emily scrambled to her clothes and dressed as fast as she could, keeping her eyes on the python as it made its leisurely way to the waterhole. She marveled at the creature's size, having never seen a snake that large, not even in the London zoo. Its scales glittered in the sunlight as it slid into the water without making a ripple. Emily grabbed her basket and ran for the path.
She had calmed down by the time she reached home and did not mention the incident to Scott or Dillip. That night she found herself strangely excited and her husband's usual competent, but uninspired lovemaking was not enough. Memories of the snake's body pressing against hers came unbidden, making it impossible to sleep. Quietly, trying not to wake her husband, she used her hand to quench the fires raging in her. Finally she slept.
Two days later, Emily found herself walking briskly down the trail to the waterhole. It was unlikely the snake would be there she told herself, and if it were, it was a danger to her. I must be going mad, she thought. Just as she entered the clearing, Emily heard the dreadful screeching of a pack of monkeys. She stopped in stunned amazement at the incredible sight before her. The python was crushing a monkey in its coils as the rest of the pack screeched in impotent rage. Only the monkey's head was free of the coils, face contorted in pain and horror as it slowly smothered under the pressure exerted by the python. Emily watched fascinated as the monkey gave one last shudder and died. A few minutes later, the python relaxed its coils and began the task of swallowing his prey, headfirst. Emily could not tear her eyes away from what should have been, for her, a gruesome spectacle. The monkey was the size of a five or six year old child, surely the python could not swallow it whole, she thought. The snake somehow dislocated its jaws and engulfed the head. Within minutes, the monkey was merely a bulge in the python's midsection. Emily watched as the snake then slithered towards a nearby hollow log to sleep off the meal. Cautiously, she approached the log, marveling at how tightly the snake had wedged himself into the confined space. She reached out and touched the cool flesh of the predator. The snake flinched and hissed at her touch, the great head slid towards her, tongue flickering in the air. Emily drew back. The python stared at her and at last relaxed, burying it's head in the nest of its coils. Emily sat watching it for a long time, then at last got up and headed home.
Again, her husband's efforts left her unsatisfied. When she finally sleep, she dreamed of massive coils encircling her own body, squeezing. The dream was still vivid in her mind when she woke. Emily found that she could not concentrate on her painting, thinking instead of the giant serpent sleeping in the clearing. The thoughts of the python's gleaming coils surrounding her naked body would not go away, and Emily found them arousing and too persistent to ignore. Surely I'm going mad, she thought. Emily gathered her things and headed for the clearing.
The snake still slept in the hollow log. Emily touched him again, this time not moving her hand when he hissed at her. Once more, the python raised his head to study the intruder. Neither of them moved, each studying the other intently. Slowly, Emily ran her hand over the python's body, marveling at the softness of the creature's skin. The python did not hiss as loudly this time, nor did it flinch. It seemed to have come to the realization that the strange creature before him was not a threat. Nor prey, Emily chuckled to herself. After a few hours, Emily headed home.
During the next day's session, the python left the shelter of the log. Emily dared not move, holding her breath as the huge snake began to slither towards the waterhole. Yard after yard of the massive body poured out, mottled tan and red-brown skin gleaming in the sunlight. More than twenty feet Emily guessed. Cautiously, she knelt beside the python; reaching out a hand to touch him, ready to bolt at the first sign of aggression. The snake barely acknowledged her presence. Emboldened, Emily ran both hands down the python's body, sliding them under the snake, feeling the marvelous belly scales with which it propelled himself and the rippling of the powerful muscles. She lay down next to the python and pressed her cheek against his skin. Single-mindedly the snake continued his path to the river, Emily, crawling along side him, touching and caressing him. At last he reached the water hole and disappeared into its depths.
The water was quite deep, and Emily quickly lost sight of the snake. For a moment she considered diving in, but common sense finally took over, telling her she had taken quite enough of a risk already. She lingered for a while, but she saw no sign of the python. He's probably gone forever, Emily thought, sighing wistfully. She headed home.
There was no point in going back to the clearing Emily thought the next morning. She chuckled as she painted, at least her little adventure had taken her mind off the dreariness of life on the plantation for a while. A few days later, however, Emily found herself walking down the familiar trail.
To her amazement, the python was back in the hollow log. At first she thought that it may be a different snake, but her artist's eye for detail let her easily recognize the snake's pattern as that of the python she had been watching all this time. She wondered if he still recognized her. After all, Emily thought, snakes were not as bright as dogs or cats. She reached into the hollow and touched him. The python hissed half-heartedly and raised his head, tongue flickering to taste the scent of the intruder. Emily began to undress. She wanted to feel the snake against her bare flesh again. Emily's excitement was so great, that her heart felt as if it would pound its way out of her chest as she reached once again into the hollow log and grasped a loop of the python's body.
At first the snake resisted as she pulled against him, finally yielding as Emily put all her weight into it, bracing her feet against the sides of the opening. The snake suddenly ceased resistance, and Emily tumbled backwards, dragging the python with her. The snake tried to slither away, but Emily grabbed him, rolling, winding him around her. She felt him tighten and there was a brief moment of panic as she recalled the monkey smothering in the great serpent's coils. Sensibility lost out to lust. She didn't care about the danger, caution be damned, she thought. Emily dragged more of the snake around her, breathing labored with the effort it took to maintain her hold on the python's smooth body as well as from the weight of over 200 pounds of writhing muscle that enveloped her. Massive coils encircled her waist and chest and the tail slid between her legs and wrapped around her thigh. Emily parted her thighs, allowing the heavy length of serpent to slide over her mound. She moaned as the pressure of the snake's body gliding over her engorged clitoris sent an electric thrill radiating throughout her body. To an observer in the clearing, it would seem to be a death struggle between woman and serpent. Emily was engulfed in the gleaming coils from shoulders to mid thigh, her own body glistening with sweat as she writhed and twisted, encouraging the heavy snake to tighten its grip on her. Then, with Herculean effort, Emily pressed her feet against the ground, raising her snake-encircled hips into the air for maximum contact between the cold flesh and her cunt. She slipped her hand between the snake's coil and her pubis, fingering herself frantically. She screamed loudly as orgasm wracked her body. She shuddered and collapsed into a heap.
The snake loosened its coils and lay quietly on the inert body. Gently, Emily caressed the python's body, enjoying the sensation of the cool body on hers, then she slowly lifted the snake so that its head was inches from her smiling face, tongue flickering about her lips and cheek. She lowered it a bit and kissed its snout, allowing the tongue to meet hers. She chuckled, tickled by the sensation. At last, she released the snake and it began to unwind and slide off into the forest. Sated, Emily enjoyed the rippling sensation of the serpent's muscles as it glided off her body. Then inspiration began to form in her mind.
A glass of wine in hand, Emily surveyed the packed gallery. Her show was a success and a scandal rolled into one. The elite of London's art world and the wealthiest collectors had come to the opening. Already three of the canvases had been sold and her printer was hard at work filling the orders for the suite of etchings that filled in the narrative gaps between the 12 large paintings.
"The Temptation of Eve" paintings told the story of an innocent Eve in the Garden of Eden; first tempted, then seduced and ultimately ravished by the Serpent. Some critics had denounced the works as pornographic, which only whetted the public's desire to see them. Even more horrifying to the moralists a woman had painted the blasphemous and blatantly erotic pictures. Even worse, there was an uncanny resemblance between the painted Eve and the artist. There were rumors that she had participated in orgiastic cult activities in India and kept a gigantic python in a cage in her studio. The resulting uproar had assured her reputation as a painter and offered her financial security; something that Emily had been worried about after leaving her husband and India. Emily sipped her wine.
"Your imagination is breathtaking!" Gushed a patron as he walked up to Emily.
"Imagination?" Emily purred. "Imagination is highly overrated. The most effective art comes from direct observation...and experience."
The man was taken aback. Could she possibly mean...?
Emily smiled enigmatically, turned and walked into the crowd.
The Junglerot Kid