Koneka's Excellent Vacation

Koneka4 Koneka begins Day 2 of her vigil with Vejita and Trunks. Disclaimer: The usual. Love ’em, don’t own ’em. _____________ DAY 2 I struggled up from the nether regions to the smell of strong hot delicious coffee! “Oh, Trunks! You made coffeeeee.
.” His face swam into focus upside down over me. “Gramps is great,” he said, grinning and patting his jacket pocket where a container of capsules stuck out. “Want eggs or hotcakes?” “Both,” I said, crawling out of my sleeping bag. Yeoooow! I was sore all over, like I’d run a 26k in my sleep. I limped over and squatted down near the fire he had built. The early morning air was cold and damp. I shivered a little and Trunks valiantly took off his jacket and slung it over my shoulders. “Thanks.” He handed me my coffee, and I dropped to the ground, wrapping my hands around the steaming cup. Minutes later, we were eating a scrumptious Capsule Corp breakfast in the rapidly warming air. And he was still standing in the same spot. Unreal. “Didn’t he sleep?” I whispered. Trunks shrugged. “Don’t know. I was asleep.” I laughed. “Duh.” After I helped Trunks clean up the camp, he took me to a clear stream and left me there to perform my personal hygiene. I didn’t think Trunks was a peeping Tom, so I stripped down and immersed myself in the cold water. Yeow! That was an eye-opener! But it was soothing and refreshing on my poor battered body. I had bruises from sleeping on the hard ground — at least I think that’s where they came from — so the water was a healing balm this morning. I seemed to be sore in so many places it was hard to describe. Inside and out. In places I would not have dreamed could be sore. Some of the soreness felt — well — good. I spent some time just swimming laps across the widest part and ducking down to commune the the fish. There was a big blue one that kept looking at me like I was breakfast, so I cut my swim short, brushed my teeth and dressed. As I began my climb back up to the camp, I glimpsed Vejita on his ledge. I crawled around the rocks and peered at him from different angles. I had done as many sketches as I could from the rear and side. How could I get him from the front? He was so focused, it was eerie. I made a face at him. Stuck my tongue out. Huh. Nothing. Across from him was another rocky ledge, so I retraced my steps and explored the opposite side. This was a slightly easier climb and pretty soon I found myself facing the man. I signaled Trunks by waving my arms frantically. He flew over to my ledge — sheer poetry in motion! Eek. “Would you do me a favor? Would you bring me my art stuff?” “Sure,” he said, but as he turned to leave, I touched his arm. “Doesn’t he even go to the bathroom?” I whispered. How charming! Trunks blushed! “Never mind,” I said, and couldn’t help giggling. Soon, I was set up with my field binoculars balanced on a makeshift eye-level tripod and my sketchbooks. Getting the basic form was easy, but I needed the binoculars for detail. Looking at him so close made me shiver. His sharp features and permanent scowl were intimidating. As I studied his face, his heavy eyebrows shifted down even more. I watched as they began to inch back up, and as I focused on his eyes, he winked! I shook my head to clear it and peered around the glasses to stare at him. He was still scowling. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe he was just blinking or batting off a bug. Maybe I so desperately wanted him to wink... Get a grip, Koneka! I spent a couple hours sketching in charcoal and graphite until the sun began to beat mercilessly on my head. I gathered my thick hair back, twisted it and stuck a leather barrette and wooden stick through it to keep it off my neck. I settled back on my seat and gazed at Vejita. He quirked up one corner of his mouth, just the tiniest twitch. It suddenly struck me how surreal this whole scenario was. Had I been told that I would be spending my vacation with an alien and his son while another creature terrorized the Earth, I’d have laughed in that person’s face. And if I had been told that said alien would end up standing on a rocky ledge for over twenty-four hours without moving more than his facial muscles, I’d have referred that person to my psychiatrist. I was beginning to think I’d need an emergency session when this was all over. On the other hand, I was totally fascinated with my subject. On the other hand (I was up to three hands now), I was beginning to want more of him — I wanted to paint him nude. Oh, hells bells, I wanted to see him nude! Spandex was great for the imagination, but I wanted more more more! I wiped the drool from my chin, put my sketchbook down for a second, and folded my arms, studying him. I thought I saw him raise his left eyebrow an eighth inch. My tongue was cleaving to my mouth, and, almost like he read my mind, Trunks flew over with some food and water. “Thanks,” I said and chugged the whole bottle. He handed me a second one, then squatted beside me to look at my sketches. “You’re really good,” he said. “Thanks. You wouldn’t consider posing, would you?” “Well, sure, I...” “Nude?” I just wanted to see him blush again, which he did. A lovely shade of true red. I giggled and squeezed his arm. “Just kidding.” He smiled and turned redder yet. “Don’t suppose your dad would consider posing nude, do you?” “WHAT?” Our heads snapped simultaneously in Vejita’s direction. Now, that was a scowl! I couldn’t help laughing out loud! “Oh, keep your shirt on, Vejita!” I yelled, then realized the irony of I j I just said and burst out laughing again. Except for one fist that clenched, unclenched and clenched again, there was no more movement. His eyes seemed to turn inward, focusing on some energy unknown to me. Trunks moved off to flop in the grass, chewing on a blade of grass and gazing at the sky. I looked my surly subject over again, picked up my sketchbook and went back to work. Hours later, exhausted and hungry, I laid it all aside and Trunks moved me and my stuff back to our little makeshift camp for another great Capsule Corp meal. The sun was low in the sky and the second day was drawing to a close. I wondered how long Vejita was going to stand there. I said goodnight to Trunks as the sun sank below the horizon and crawled into my sleeping bag. ************ tenderly tenderly roughly touching fingers hands exploring bruising. soft lips. hands. burning skin a moan a sigh a whisper a caress clutching embracing gasping soft cheek against cheek warm breath, lips against lips hands lifting, flying body against body melding molding joining soaring moonlight, cool breezes joining crying release release Vejita... ************ I woke with a start, staring into the sky. Bright moonlight bathed the rocky ledge. I struggled to my elbows and waited for my eyes to adjust. Looking toward the ledge, I didn’t see him, not even a heavier shape against the darkness. I squinted. “Vejita?” There was a movement in the shadows off to the left, then a figure stepped out, like black on black. He seemed to hesitate a moment — I couldn’t tell if he was looking my way or not. A turn of his head and a flash of moonlight in his eye. I crawled out of my sleeping bag and glanced behind me. Trunks was asleep. “Get out your sketchbook.” The tone brooked no argument. I groped around and suddenly a beam of light played across my field of vision and I found what I was looking for. I turned with my sketchbook and pencils in my hand and the beam disappeared. I felt rather than heard him as he approached. “Don’t scream,” he said gruffly, and then the most astounding thing happened. It started at his feet, crackling and sparking like lightning, a golden flame of energy that crawled up his body and engulfed him until he was head to toe a golden god. Golden hair, green eyes. Completely nude. He was so close I could have touched him. I wanted to fall at his feet. His small, compact, powerful body was perfect, the well-muscled arms and shoulders crushingly strong, his thighs...gulp. I reached out toward the glow, but when I saw the scowl he gave me, I kicked my professional self into high gear and went to work. He stood with his feet shoulder width apart, knees slightly bent. “Turn your head to the left a little and raise your right fist,” I said, and my pencil flew across the surface of the sketchbook. I flipped the page and grabbed my charcoal. “Turn to your left and look to your right. Bend your elbow.” “Look at the sky, hang your fists at your side.” “Lower your chin and smirk. Raise both your fists.” Finally, he had had enough. Just as quickly as he had turned it on, he turned it off. “Go back to sleep,” he growled, and his voice seemed to float right near me. I shivered with desire, crawled back into my bag and went to sleep whispering “circles and cylinders, circles and cylinders...” ...continued....