“Snakes, snakes,” Santana yelped, crawling onto the bank as quickly as she could.
I’d like to say I was braver than her, but I’d be lying out of my vagina.
The water wasn’t exactly cold, but when you’d been out in the baking hot Floridian sun, it kind of gave you a good idea of how Baked Alaska felt after it was cooked. I’d also like to say it was the coolness of the water that had me leapfrogging over Sadie to get out, the crop still in my hand, but again, that was a lie.
Yeah, I was a big old pussy who didn’t want to get bitten by a snake doing the backstroke or whatever the fuck they did. The only encounter I’d had with one of the creatures was when we’d taken a family vacay to Malaysia when I was sixteen.
We’d headed to a small zoo type place, which ended up having only a handful of animals, and four entire buildings dedicated to spiders, creepy crawlies, scorpions, and snakes. Not only that, they had a deep pit in the middle of one of them where freaking cobras just milled around, popping their heads up or shooting the shit however they wanted to. Sure, there was a Plexiglass fence around it, so visitors didn’t fall in there accidentally, but it wasn’t enough for me.
“Wait, do we get Cobras here?” I squeaked, jumping up and down and shaking my legs out like a snake was hiding in my Converse.
Santana looked up at me like I’d gone nuts, but Sadie—a non-US native—looked like she was going to have a heart attack.
“Uh, no, we don’t.”
“What about those Mamba thingies?” Sadie shuddered, looking up at the trees hanging over the river. “I have to sleep with the bathroom door shut at home and the toilet lid down because I watched a program about them.
“Actually, no, it wasn’t just the program, it was one of those late night news broadcasts after the program ended. There was a family who found a snake in their toilet. The guy sat down to do his business, and the thing bit him in the vegetables. How’s anyone meant to sleep safe and sound after that?”
Great. I’d never go for a swim in this beautiful river or even dip my toes in it. If I had kids, they’d never do it either, ‘cause no way was I letting them be a river snake victim. And now, added onto it, I’d never be able to sit down on the toilet or fall asleep without making sure I’d locked the door and closed the lid.
“No, we don’t have Mambas or Cobras,” Santana said, trying to shake out the water from her shoe by literally shaking her leg.
Given that I’d already done that, I could confirm it didn’t work.
Looking up the incline that led from where we’d left the ATVs to the river, I could only hope we didn’t skid down it. It wasn’t exactly steep, but now that I’d fallen once, I didn’t want to do it again. If we fell while we were going up it and rolled down, we might end up being thrown into the deeper part of the river.
Sighing, Sadie held out her hands. “Right, kids, let us walk up there together. If one falls, dig your toes into the ground or get to your knees to stop them from tumbling.”
Doing a shimmy, I winced. “My panties are soaked. This is going to suck.”
A wry smile twisted both women’s lips, just as Santana did some sort of lunge. “Join the club. We just have to get to the ATVs, though, and then we can get home and change out of the wet clothes. It’s not even like my place is closer than Marcus’s, otherwise, I’d suggest we go there.”
With our arms linked, we made it up the slope without having any more accidents. That would have been a reason to rejoice… if it wasn’t for the fact that all the wheels on the two ATVs were flat.
“How long do you think it’ll take us to walk back to the ranch?” Sadie mumbled, holding her phone up in the air and trying to get a signal.
Not bothering to try with her phone, Santana looked off in the direction of the ranch, even though we were too far away from it to see it.
“A couple of hours. You’re not going to get a signal, honey. That’s why we use the radios when we go out to work on the boundaries. The cell phone masts only just cover the first quarter of the ranch.”
Groaning, Sadie shoved it back in her pocket and crossed her arms over her chest. “So, we’re walking in the flipping baking hot sun, with soaking wet knickers and shorts on? What about vagina chafeage? That’s got to be a thing, like when runners get nipple chafeage from their t-shirts.”