SARI AND THE EXPEDITION

BY LOR OLDMAN

[ part 1 ]

Everyone knew it was a mistake from the start. A clerical error, perhaps, or a hiccup on the computer: that?s always a good excuse. However it happened, eleven year old Sari Kinnis from the preparatory department of Elmshurst, one of the top half-dozen educational establishments of upper class England had become listed, albeit through a series of unforeseeable circumstances, with seven teenaged boys from the lowest castes of New York, Dallas, Detroit and Chicago. The only qualification specifically stated in the prospectus of the United Nations sponsored project was that all the members of the same team spoke approximately the same language. That was correct at least; the similarity in language was approximate. The other teams were composed of sixteen boys, or entirely of girls, or eight of both sexes from a similar socio-economic background. The mixed sex teams, thirty of them, all except Sari?s, were supervised by two females and a man and observed by an approved United Nations evaluator. Half of Sari?s team of sixteen, for one reason or another, had opted out: seven girls between the ages of twelve and nineteen, and one sickly boy of thirteen from Denver whose parents had seconds thoughts about the fitness of their precious son to survive such a hazardous exploit. ?Half a team is better than none? people joked, and rather than have anyone suffer the trauma of disappointment, everyone pretended that everything was fine!

Everything about the set-up was incongruent from the start. As suggested by the prospectus, the girl opted to wear her standard school uniform for the exercise. It comprised a grey skirt, eight centimetres shorter than that of the senior school, almost as short as a cheerleader?s at an American ball game, a white cotton blouse with four buttons and a tiny pocket on the breast for a lace-edged handkerchief, a navy blue jacket with gold trim, white stockings that came up to just below the knee and a pair of black leather shoes that cost Cheri Kinnis more than the combined clothing of all the boys in her daughter?s team. Under the skirt she wore an extremely brief pair of panties with the school crest printed on the front over her mons pubis and the motto ?in vita veritas? - there were several spare pairs in her luggage. She did not wear a brassiere; there was little to support. The boys wore what clothes were available to them when big brothers and neighbours got together to rig them out for the expedition. The rules clearly stated that all participants must wear clothing that would be acceptable in what would be considered an ordinary dry, warm day?s activity for them. This was the whole point of the exercise: they were to exist for a week under controlled conditions with the rudimentary essentials of life; specialised clothing and equipment would be provided, under penalty, if and where it was found to be absolutely necessary.

Everything about the initiative was wrong and everyone knew it, but no-one was prepared to admit that a mistake had been made and fewer people were prepared to state the obvious for reasons of political correctness. "After all," everyone said, "Davis Carter will be with them, and Davis Carter is an experienced teacher and a dependable youth leader." Davis Carter was also the recognised United Nations project assessor. But Davis Carter was only human. Massie Belmont, the United States co-ordinator for the expedition, shrugged the whole affair off, because ?it is too late to do anything about it now?. He said, "You?ll see, everything will work out for the best in the end. They?ll probably win the goddam trophy!" No-one believed a word of it. But all hoped that the rich rewards of a visit to Disneyland and a tour of the great sights of the United States, including the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone Park, and a lawn party at the White House would keep the contestants in order and well away from doing anything wildly rash or irresponsible. In other words, they considered the perks adequate insurance for Sari?s maidenhood.

The introductory lecture over, Davis Carter eyed the girl as she climbed into the back of the transit miniature bus that was to take them into the wilderness. He was quite convinced she would be raped long before she returned to her Middleton home in England. Five of the boys eyed her as her skirt rode up to her backside when she climbed into the transit van; they knew for a fact that she would be raped, probably on the first night, if not sooner, if they had anything to do with it. Sari glanced back. She was not terribly sure what rape really was in fine detail, but the looks on the faces of the people still on the launching pad gave her a hunch that there was a very strong possibility she would learn before she was much older. She was aware of a strange stirring deep down inside her and of a peculiar warmth; the feelings she had almost perpetually when she was with Lor Oldmann. She quite liked the sensations ? at least when it was Lor who caused them; she quite enjoyed it when Hector Lansbright, the tennis coach, slipped a hand up her dress to rub where only Lor had been before him. She was not quite sure that she was all that enamoured by the same sensation when it had been generated by the Simon Pratt affair. She reserved judgement on the present situation.

"I?m gonna shaft the butt off that!" declared Yett Grossland, the sixteen year old from the Bronx. He wiped the saliva from his drooling mouth. "Yeah! First chance I?m gonna screw that!"

"You?re gonna take your place in the line, man!" exclaimed nineteen year old Jackson Joe Louis, a black boy from the worst slums of Harlem. He ran a tongue over his lips.

"We?ll toss for it." Fifteen year old Shalem Hoser laughed.

"Jerk yourselves dead," snarled Louis. "That little cherry is mine. You can do what you want with her after I have it."

Sari Kinnis was a spectacularly pretty little girl with sensuous, slightly Polynesian features, a mouth that was shaped for French kissing, outstandingly attractive eyes and fabulously tapering legs that ended with delft-like ankles. Her breasts were only beginning to show the first definite designs on development, and her hips and buttocks had already lost the puppy fat shapelessness of the preteen schoolgirl. Since her mild bout of chorea, she had acquired a slight tic, a trifling shifting of her shoulders when she was excited, or frightened or, especially when she was with Lor, when she was sexually aroused.

Davis Carter knew he would have trouble. The bus had only a seat for the driver in front; the remaining space was for luggage and equipment. The accommodation inside the rear of the vehicle comprised cushioned seats bolted directly to the floor without legs. Consequently, Sari Kinnis, like all the others, had to sit with her knees up above her backside. Carter had placed her on the seat nearest and opposite him so the he could get a decent view through one of the side mirrors.

An even better view was provided for the four boys who sat behind the driver and for the boy sitting immediately next to her. The remaining two boys were not interested in girls, and were determined to keep themselves to themselves throughout the exercise. The other boys had already labelled them Tom and Jerry. Sari was aware of the centre of interest, indeed she rather enjoyed being the focus of attraction. At first she tried to keep her knees together and her skirt wrapped as tightly as possible around her thighs. But in a short time, the effort was too much; she relaxed her position, let the skirt hang loose and ultimately widened the gap between her thighs. There were groans of appreciation. Davis Carter looked in his mirror to see the cause of the noise, and felt a definite enlivening of his animal senses. There was promise, he decided, in those thighs and that smoothly rounded butt!

They travelled in comparative silence for the first hundred and fifty miles, except for Tom and Jerry who hit it off instantly and chattered quietly and constantly and held hands. The first stop was to let the boys relieve themselves by the wayside. Sari did not need to respond to any such call of nature, so they drove for another two hours. Conversation was still subdued. They had been introduced at the outset, but none of the boys, with the exception of the gays, each of whom now knew the other?s name as well as his own, could put a face to a name ? except for Sari! They all knew Sari! And Sari Kinnis could identify each boy. It was Sari who initiated the talk.

She pointed a finger at Shalem Hoser and declared, "My father once had an office in Dallas." The fifteen year old boy beamed with pleasure at being the first to be addressed by the pretty English girl; it seemed to give him some priority to her affections. "He lived there for about three years." She looked towards Louis and Grossland, sitting opposite her, and remarked, "He also lived in New York for a while when he was studying for his doctorate at MIT." She frowned in deep thought. "In Queens, I think it was. He said he loved New York." She laughed at the memory. "He said he was once mugged there by a dozen little schoolkids!" She flirted her eyes from Jackson Joe Louis to Yett Grossland and giggled. "I don?t know whether they were black or white! But half of them were girls!"

"Is he dead?" It was seventeen year old Brett Stack, a pimpled youth from Chicago, who asked the question.

Sari?s frown deepened. "Departed," she replied, "but not dead!" But it dealt a death blow to the chatter.

The group broke up for their first meal at a wayside diner approved by the people who organised the trip. Jackson Joe Louis and Yett Grossland commandeered Sari. They assumed complete charge of her needs. They found the most secluded area in the garden of the diner; it was a bower deliberately designed to preserve its occupants (mostly business executives and their ?secretaries?) from prying eyes. Grossland disappeared for several minutes and returned with a menu, but, apart from the various ?burgers?, it could have been written in a foreign language, so the boys decided to order for her. And from that point on, it was accepted by the others in the pecking order that Sari was the exclusive property of these two boys, until they were invited to join the party. When they rejoined the bus, Louis had the girl slung over his shoulder, her feet were bound together with a leather belt, her hands secured behind her back with a necktie. Her short skirt had ridden up and Yett Grossland was playfully spanking. All three were laughing, as if it were a great joke. But the two New Yorkers were in deadly earnest despite the laughter, and Sari was calculating her chances of being let off with a couple of joggles during the long nights. Somehow, from what she had heard about American boys from the senior girls at school, and from the tentative wanderings of Louis?s hand, she reckoned the chances were slender at best. Davis Carter frowned as he started the engine, but he failed to notice that Sari no longer occupied the seat nearest and opposite him.

They hadn?t untied the girl, but the conversation took an upturn; they all got to know each other better. Sari was now sitting between the two New Yorkers. Tom and Jerry had been displaced and sat opposite each other; Tom who previously had been immaculate in his dress now appeared positively dishevelled and without his school necktie.

"What?s this then?" Louis traced the outline of the embroidered emblem on Sari?s school jacket. He pretended to read the golden words. It had to be a pretence; the boy was illiterate. He decided, "It?s a badge." The observation amused the others. He scowled.

"It?s Latin," explained Sari "In Vita Veritas." .. She suddenly felt sorry for the black boy in his embarrassment. "It means that there is truth in living! It is a quotation from a famous author!"

"I?ll drink to that!" exclaimed Jackson, brightening again.

"Here?s to living!" exclaimed the boy from the Bronx pretending to lift a glass to his lips.

"Lechiam!" exclaimed Shalem Hoser.

Jackson Joe looked round to make sure that he was not being observed by Davis Carter, then undid the buttons of the jacket of Sari?s school uniform. He slipped a hand under the garment to fondle the tiny breasts; he was unrivalled in this activity. Sari drew her breath in sharply and felt the tingling shivers run along her spine to her most secret places. There was a definite spasmodic jerking of her shoulder. "A man could kill for a tit like this is going to be," whispered Louis confidentially to the others. He kneaded the small pliable mound, then shifted his eyes from his hand to her face. He winked jokingly. "No brassiere?"

Sari could scarcely speak. She shook her head. "No!" It was but a breath in the stifling air of the bus. Even the two gay boys were watching her. She swallowed. "Why? Are you objecting?" She made a tremendous effort to sound casual.

"Not is the least," grunted Jackson Joe Louis. He studiously undid a couple of the buttons on her blouse and slipped his hand inside. He played with the bare breasts and flicked a small rosebud nipple with his thumb until he felt it hardening. He rolled it between a forefinger and thumb and the tingling shivers became waves of electric shock. He nibbled her ear. "I?ll bet you have no panties either!" The suggestion was ludicrous. The boys were already witness to what she was wearing. But Sari fell for it.

She simulated outraged. "I have too!" There was a tightness in her chest. The jerking in her shoulder became more pronounced.

"Let?s see," said Louis. He pulled the miniskirt further up her thighs to expose her crutch. There was another sharp intake of breath. Louis leaned over to examine the emblem printed on the fabric. "That?s the life and truth thing again. Isn?t it?" Sari nodded. He traced the design over her pubis with the tip of his finger. Her breathing was laboured. Grossland pulled one knee aside, Louis the other. The tracing finger crept lower and the girl started to wriggle in her bonds. The black boy pressed his finger against the cleft of her vulva and rubbed. A dark spot appeared on the otherwise spotless fabric. He grinned in satisfaction. The skirt was brushed down. "We?ll investigate that possibility later," Jackson said. The voice was hard. The light in his eyes was intense, almost insane. "I?ve never had an English girl before!" He pulled her face round to him and kissed her on the mouth. His tongue filled her maw until Sari was convinced that she would asphyxiate. He searched for and found her tiny breast again. His fondling was more demanding. She kicked with her bound feet and attempted to squirm free from the necktie around her wrists. "I?m going to enjoy having you!" he exclaimed. "I like fight in a female!"

Carter?s interruption was timely. The vehicle had taken a sharp swerve off the surfaced road and bumped and bucked its way for fifteen minutes before turning into the compound of what looked like the ruins of an old frontier outpost.

"This is where the real stuff starts," announced the man. He threw open the rear door.

The necktie had been returned to its owner. The belt had been removed from around Sari?s ankles. Her clothing had been buttoned and smoothed down. The boys made a show of stretching as they vacated the bus. The luggage compartment was emptied and distributed. What remained was equipment.

"You all right?" Davis Carter demanded of Sari. He had noticed the bulges in the front of the boys? pants. When she nodded, he declared generally, "First, you set up your sleeping quarters for the night." He afforded the New Yorkers his darkest look. "The tents are there!" He indicated the bundles now lying on the ground beside the empty luggage compartment. "They are all identical, so it makes no difference which one you choose to erect. Three of you can share a tent. The others can go in pairs." He smiled at Tom and Jerry. "Sari gets a tent to herself. And its up to you how you do it; you can work on the tent you intend sleeping in, or you can help erect all the tents in turn." He gave a cold cynical laugh. "Sorry, but I?m not allowed to help. And I sleep in the bus." He pointed to the only roofed building in the circle. "The worst coming to the worst, you can shack down in there, but you don?t win any points!"

Sari Kinnis had been erecting tents since infancy. She eyed the bundles. "Overlanders!" she exclaimed with enthusiasm. She recognised the familiar cloud and pine tree trademark on the canvas. "These are spitting easy to assemble."

By the time she had her tent erected, within fifteen minutes, and her luggage arranged, in a secluded part of the clearing selected by Carter, the boys still stood around hopelessly confused. Bits and pieces lay in chaos, parts of one tent mixed in with the bits of others. They squabbled among themselves. One of the boys, Tom (or Jerry) was in tears. Sari took charge. "You and you!" She pointed to the sex-crazed New Yorkers. "Set two poles in here!" She pointed to a spot farthest removed from her own tent. Carter smiled approvingly. She placed other tents appropriately, then organised the boys? labour. With difficulty, within the hour, all seven boys were accommodated. They pretended that it was by their own efforts and strutted with pride around their tents. Carter?s smile broadened.

When it came to preparing a meal, they were every bit as much at a loss; the boys had absolutely no idea where and how to begin; they could not even get a fire started. They grumbled about the organisation of the expedition and complained that Davis Carter was no real help. What wood they could find was damp and how did one light a fire anyway without kerosene and matches? One boy suggested siphoning fuel from the tank of their bus.

"Gasoline is explosive," explained Sari. "Cavemen lit fires without matches or fire-lighters and with damp wood." She laughed happily now that she knew she was in incontestably control of the situation. There was a budding sense of maternal power bursting into full bloom inside her. "Do you want me to do it for you ? light your fires and cook your supper?" She deliberately exaggerated her words and let her gaze flit to each boy in turn, and each in turn nodded assent. She giggled.

"You are a proper little wife," muttered Grossland. There was a pronouncedly sour note in the voice. He exchanged glances with Jackson Joe Louis and Bret Stack. The three of them had become close in the past hour. They had agreed to share a tent. "You?ll make some guys very happy one day!" The boys sniggered.

Dusk lingers during the prairie Summer. It was a completely new experience for the boys and they were reluctant to end it. Sari had made a campfire in the way her parents made one on safari. She told them stories about the places she had seen. She had been born on a South Pacific island, she told them, but could remember nothing about the place. She had travelled in Africa, Asia and Australia. She told them the stories Lor?s grandfather had told her, but left out the bits about the hostages being tied to the masts of the Viking ships and whipped. She wondered about that, for those were her favourite bits.

The prairie moon appears like a thief in the night sky. It creeps up, and suddenly seems to explode its brilliance on an unsuspecting world; it can become so bright it can frighten the most hardened city-dweller, who associates it with ghostly apparitions, werewolves and vampires. Davis Carter waited to see the team bedded, especially Sari in her secluded corner, then he retreated to his sleeping bag in the miniature bus. He made a note of the fact that Sari had insisted on dousing the fire and covering the embers with earth. He had to admit it: Sari, and consequently the team, had made full points on his reckoning.

Sari was asleep when the three boys crossed the clearing. Much more than the moon, they went as thieves in the night fully intent on robbing a female child of her most precious possession. They had listened for Carter?s heavy breathing and snoring inside the miniature bus. They made sure that the four other members of their team were asleep. They had acquired a flashlight, in the way that they had earlier acquired a necktie, and from the same victim. They forged a way with difficulty, despite the moonlight, over the ropes and pegs of the tents until they stood in momentary indecision in front of the girl?s tent-flap, then pulled the fastener down silently and slowly. They heard her regular breathing and made a final check: ropes, gag, jelly, rubbers.

Jackson Joe Louis pulled the flaps aside, Grossland shone the torch and the three together gazed into the sleeping child?s tent?

?straight into the flat savage face of a five hundred pound puma. Its eyes, green and silver, reflected the torchlight. It lay alongside Sari?s sleeping bag. The girl, bare shoulders and the upper part of her naked chest exposed from her sleeping bag, had a hand on its rump. The animal rumbled its warning at the boys? intrusion, and bared its teeth, then snarled. The three boys numbed with terror; they had never before seen a real life mountain lion. They wet themselves. Then regained some of their senses, backed away for twenty paces, swung round and fled silently in fear for their lives. The flaps of the girl?s tent, front and rear, shifted slightly in the prairie breeze. The beast settled its powerful head against the sleeping bag and rumbled its deep-throated contentment. And Sari dreamed of being alone in the wilderness with Lor.