Chapter 15: On the Uses of Desert Sand
I walked after her, rather than run. I needed some time to calm back down, and staying close behind, watching her contracting and relaxing buns bounce and sway did not serve that need. No no, Davie, get your mind off that!
Then I heard a startled shriek, and now I ran.
Kaitlyn had gone up another dogleg in the canyon, out of sight, so it took me a bit before I had her back in sight again. But it wasn’t just her. Around the corner were three guys, and she’d come around that corner running, leaving her far from cover before she realized she was in trouble. They weren’t far up the dogleg, and they’d apparently been hiking down this canyon from the other end. I knew there was a road that passed near that end’s mouth, but I didn’t take into account how much faster my new trash-o-lev technique had gotten us to this end of the canyon. If I had, we’d have been more cautious, knowing the chances of running into someone were increasing.
The group was just standing around, tense. My shishya was simply frightened. The guys were triply startled: first a gorgeous nude redhead runs at them, then she shrieks, and along comes a dark guy charging at them, also nude. It’d all caught them rather flat-footed.
I slowed to a stop beside Kaitlyn and put my arm around her shoulders, both to calm her with the gesture of protection and also as a signal to the guys, ‘This one’s mine. Back off.’
The boldest of the three shook it off and stepped forward, taking my nonverbal proprietorial claim as a challenge. “So, a little girl’s come to play with us?” he said with a lascivious smirk. “C’mere, baby, lose huggy-boy and let me show you what a real man does with a naked chick.” Then he flicked away the soda can he was carrying to free his hands for action.
Ooops. Bad move, dude.
I slid instantly into a trance and concentrated on the mix of sand and air around the guys’ ankles. I pushed the air down into the sand and lifted the sand up, mixing them like a blender, creating a whirlwind. All three guys fell down like I’d dropped the ground out from under them. Only I didn’t keep it going: I stopped the whirlwind about four feet down, so they hit bottom in a crouch, absorbing the impact, and I stopped the whirlwind, dropping the sand over them, trapping them in the ground as if they’d been carefully buried there!
The confrontation was over by the time Kaitlyn had finished putting a scowl on her face. All three of the guys’ heads still poked out of the ground, but they weren’t going anywhere soon.
I walked over toward them, stooped down, and grabbed up the soda can. Standing, I scolded, “Don’t litter!”
Then turning to Kaitlyn, I said, “It’s time for us to go now, shishya,” and go we did, at a stately walking pace, arms around each other, hands on opposite hips. I hope they enjoyed the sight of Kaitlyn’s bouncing buns as much as I did!
As we walked back to camp, I said, “It’s getting late, I have work tomorrow, and I’ve just made three guys rather angry with me. I think we should pack up and go back to town now.”
“Good plan,” she said, fervently.
“So, how about a date?” I asked, and she busted up laughing so hard she slipped out of my half embrace.
Disappointed, I just watched for a while then demanded, “Is that a ‘yes’?”
Winding down, she said, “Yes, Devindra, yes!”
“My friends call me Davie,” I offered.
“Where and when, Davie?” she responded.
“How about the Blu Pig, tomorrow night, 7pm?” I came back, quickly. I’m not the sharpest operator when it comes to women, but I knew enough not to let too much time pass.
“That’ll be great!”
She accepted!
“I can’t wait to get back home and grab a shower,” she said, hungrily. Then a thought came to her; her eyes went squinty and her head tilted. “Hey, wait…you don’t stink. I mean, don’t get the wrong idea, Davie, but you’ve been running around for hours in the hot mid-day sun, and I didn’t smell anything from you walking back except ‘man.’ And you’ve been camping here since yesterday?”
“That’s right,” I responded. “Sit down and get your trance on, young shishya. I’m going to show you a thing.”
It took her about three minutes this time. I think she had her mind clouded, distracted somehow. Hmmmm. Eventually, she spoke: “Ready.”
Much as I had with the aggressive guys up-canyon, I thought about sand and air. And Kaitlyn’s skin, and her buns, and her soft breasts and… Sand and air, by Ritchie! Sand. And. Air!
Gripping tight to my trance state like a man overboard grabs onto a thrown lifesaver, I scrubbed my new girlfriend clean, swishing the sand all over like scrubbing bubbles, dropping it all back on the canyon floor.
She shivered with the sensation.
“Did you see what I did?” I prompted.
She didn’t answer quickly. “Kind of…?”
“Rise slowly, raise your arms, and stand with your feet a bit apart. Keep your trance state as you stand, and watch more carefully this time.” Then I did it all again, being sure to get everywhere, especially the sensitive stinky bits.
She squirmed expansively. “That tickles!” she exclaimed heatedly.
“Sorry, just being thorough. It’s as close as I’m going to get to touching you all over for a while, I think,” I teased.
She smiled at that. “Play your cards right, and the time might come sooner rather than later.” Then, getting back on track, she asked, “What was that?”
“I call it a sand shower. People used to use sand to scrub their bodies in streams before they invented soap, so I thought I could do the same thing using air instead of water. It worked, so I’ve been doing that a few times a day while out here each time. I like being clean. Did you see how I did it the second time?”
“Yes, and now I think I see how you dropped those guys into the wash, too.”
“Exactly. It’s almost the same technique. It differs mainly in scale and targeting, not in mechanism,” I replied. “I’m certain now: you are going to be a good mage.”
She just blushed.
As we packed up, I announced, “I’m not getting dressed. I want to hike nude all the way back to your car. It’s the long way back for me, but I want to stay with you for a bit longer.”
She just answered, “Cool,” but I think she was flattered by the attention. “I’ll stay naked, too,” she decided. But then after a few seconds, she said, “Wait, that’ll take us right past those three guys!”
I shook my head and said, “I’m sure they managed to claw their way out of the sand not long after we disappeared. I expect they’re back in Moab already, getting drunk, and working hard to convince each other that they just got caught in a freak sinkhole.”
“I hope so. I never want to see them again,” she said fervently.
“Me either. I don’t know if they’d run away in fright from me or try for Round 2.”
As we approached the end of the canyon, I waved Kaitlyn back and slowly peeked around the corner where we’d left the three horny guys, then looked back at her and said, “Come on, it’s safe.”
We rounded the corner to find three disturbed sand pits, each with a series of wide-spaced footprints going up the canyon from them. I slipped into a trance and quested down in the holes, then pulled up a sneaker and a sock from one pit and a different style of sneaker from another. Kaitlyn guffawed. We wouldn’t be seeing them anytime soon.
I sat down and disintegrated their footwear. I did it a bit more skillfully this time, leaving behind less carbon dust. That brought a satisfied smile to my face.
Kaitlyn looked impressed and a bit worried. I quoted, “Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger,” finishing it with a mischievous smile.
“Indeed.”
We came to the end of the canyon wash about half a mile from her car, at which point we had a fairly steep hike up out of the canyon back to the road she’d parked off of. Kaitlyn sat down and put on her ankle socks and hiking shoes, saying, “I’m going to risk staying mostly naked for a while longer. I’m hoping to make it clear to my car without seeing anyone. Join me?”
“Awesome!” I enthused. “I’ll be happy to take that dare.”
I then just stood there waiting for her to finish tying her shoes, so she asked, “Aren’t you going to put on shoes? Hiking up and down the sandy wash barefoot these past few days has been pleasant, but there’s a lot of sagebrush and sticks and who-knows-what before we get to my car. Probably goat heads, too.”
Goat heads are a native species of ground-creeping weed that grows clusters of wicked thornèd seeds which evolved to stick in the paws of unfortunate creatures who then carry them to new and fertile places. They’re evil little things, and they work even better on soft human feet than on coyote and desert fox paws. They’re murder on bike tires, too, so everyone around here puts puncture sealant in their tires; it’s not a question of if you’ll get goat heads in your tire, only when.
I responded, “No, I’ve been going barefoot whenever I could get away with it since I was a kid back in India. After I discovered my magic, I started toughening my soles magically, so they’re about as tough as some shoes. If Nike found out about me, I’d be an endangered species,” I grinned.
“You’re going to have to show me that trick,” she said wistfully.
“Gladly.” Then, getting one of my little twinges of devilry, I said, “I intend to show you all my tricks, little girl,” I said, rubbing my palms together lecherously.
She reached down, grabbed a handful of sand, and threw it at me.
I caught the sand up in a flow of air and shaped it into a heart, the grains of sand chasing each other like a juggler’s whirling balls, a thousand tiny little grains in a tight pattern. Then I blew towards it dramatically as I gave it just enough magical push that it flew forward and fell in a cascade at her feet. I waited a second or two, then asked, “So did that work? Did I melt your heart?”
“You’re certainly getting there, boyo,” she said quietly, almost sotto voce, with a bit of wonder in her voice.