The bottom of the forest bed was shady, the soil soft with fertile goodness and dark, chocolate brown richness. Oliver, feeling the moist river silt under his soft, white feet, looked up at the little slits of quiet light drifting in through the ever-moving, glowing green leaves of the tall trees in this strange place. His average clothes were tattered and faded, and without a notion of how his clothes got that way, Oliver stepped clumsily deeper into the forest towards the riverbed. He crouched down on a rock overhanging the current and gazed in. It was a clean, sparkling river, with the clearest visage Oliver had ever seen. The algae scrambling on the larger rocks was bold and vividly reminiscent of the sun shining through a fresh new leaf. In the distance he saw a doe bounce away, silently and so gracefully. Some rabbits with puffy white tails scurried after it, and with them ran a woman with dark skin, perhaps made darker by the shade caused by the overcoming trees above them.

“Wait!” Oliver called. The woman continued to run, bouncing with a constant lightness, as if she were a gazelle. “Where am I? Come back!” The woman was gone, but Oliver didn’t lose her from his sight before he noticed she had glanced back at him for just a moment before disappearing into the dark thickness of the trees. Oliver hesitated before running after her, calling to her and asking her questions, but no answer came. He kept running in a straight line, and soon the trees blocked so much of the warm sunlight that it was difficult to see anything at all but shadows of inter-changing and shifting leaves on the ground and an occasional rabbit hopping in the distance. Oliver happened to run into the solid and massive tree trunks, stepping on sharp twigs and rocks, cutting his right foot on the instep with severe pain, and on the second fall he lost his glasses and panicked to find them. While putting them on again, he saw in the distance of one hundred feet to his front a spot in the forest where it was light, and feeling the cold of the shade in his present placement, he stepped hurriedly towards the mental warmth of the open area.

He stepped through the sunlight and saw a small, open cave of green grass and flowers arranged in a garden. It was a natural setting, yet Oliver could tell this was a place where man had formerly dwelled. In his contemplation, a slight movement above him caught his eye and confirmed what he had been thinking. On a sturdy branch of a tree overlooking the site he was in was the woman in plain view. She had a solemn facial expression and gazed coldly at him, and was repaid by an equally perplexed look in Oliver’s face. In this moment, Oliver began to see the features in the woman that made her different than any other woman he had ever seen: her olive skin showed signs of dark hair on her arms and legs; her hair was smooth, long and straight; she had muscular legs that were planted along with her strong arms in such a way on the tree as if she was ready to prance on him as a lioness does before catching her prey should he make an attempt to attack her; as far as expression, she was nothing special, but her most outlying trait were her eyes, large, vibrant, grass green, and so beautiful.

She crouched slowly on the branch and laid her hands gently on the wood. Then she stepped cautiously off and hung by her arms on the branch as her feet reached for the next one below. Slowly she made her way down the tree, swinging and jumping when necessary. As she hopped on the dirt around the glass and straightened herself, Oliver began to see her true stature and height, a woman with sculpted calves and triceps, more than seven feet tall and domineering in appearance and her glare. She walked towards Oliver silently, and as she neared him Oliver said quietly and hesitantly, “My name is Oliver. I don’t know where I am.”

The woman said nothing but with the slightest hint of recognition at his words in her eyes. She began to circle him, giving him up and down looks of investigation. Oliver didn’t move, he only felt the awkwardness that came when one was being interviewed in a moment of such tension as this. The woman came around to face Oliver again, this time stepping closer to him. She got so close that she began to feel Oliver’s body. First his face, grabbing the blubbery pale skin under his jaw bone, then down his neck, pinching the fat as she moved down the shoulders and thoroughly feeling the juiciness of his arms. Oliver became suddenly flustered and self-conscious. “I’m not sure what you’re doing–”

“Shh,” the woman hushed. It shocked Oliver to the point that he almost jumped, but her word shut him up as she continued to overlook him. Her hands made their way down his stomach, chubby from years of not exercising. She jiggled it in a way that made Oliver embarrassed. Then she touched his balls.

“Now please, I don’t like that.”

“Shh!” the woman shushed him loudly, but she refrained and stepped backward to stare into his brown eyes. Then she turned around and went into a hole in the ground that Oliver had not noticed before, and she came out after a minute with a green rope. From the looks of it’s length, she had a lot of it and he was confused as to how she would use it. The woman walked towards him with the rope and when she reached him, she pulled the rope violently over Oliver’s head and secured a tight loop around his neck, tying it in a very ornate manner. He choked and reached for his neck, but the woman tugged at the loop rather forcefully to test it’s keep and seemed satisfied as she began to pull Oliver towards a tree. There, she hopped around the tree and tied it and Oliver together in a similar fashion as she had done with his neck. He was nervous. He didn’t do anything to fight back. He breathed heavy breaths, coughed occasionally and watched in silence as she finished tying his arms to the tree. He was pinned and definitely trapped.

He finally said once he saw her begin to walk away, “Wait! Wait, you can’t just leave me here.” She glanced back but kept walking towards the hole in the ground. Oliver tried yelling, “Hey! Come back here! Let me go!” He realized as he struggled under the rope that it was as tight as a straight jacket and he was overcome by a panicked feeling as he thrashed, pushed, and pulled at the rope that didn’t budge. He broke out a sweat in just a minute, being the unhealthy one he was from five years of sitting at a computer nonstop. He tried moving again, this time with less struggle and more method. He tried just pushing forward as hard as he could, but the rope was secure. The woman obviously had sturdy hands to make such a tight knot. To no avail, he gave up and sat sweating in the shade of the tree. He closed his eyes, heaving and sweating like a dog. He thought to himself: Who was this woman? Why did she tied me up?

Then suddenly the woman jumped out of the hole with a metal dish and laid it on the ground in the middle of the open cave and ran into the woods. Minutes later, what seemed like an eternity, she returned with a large armful of wood, and Oliver knew she was going to make a fire. She placed the sticks on the metal with strategy, making a sort of tipi-structure with the sticks. She then placed some fluffy material unknown to Oliver and some white flakes resembling paper under the fire. After fanning the fire gently with a fan of tightly-knit straw, the woman went down to the hole and took out a red, rusty metal camping rack and a black boiler pot. As she was walking carefully towards the flames, Oliver could see that the pot was filled with a soup of vegetables, other sediments and slightly opaque brown broth. She was making food, and all he could do was sit and be hungry, for he was beginning to feel the pangs of hours spent walking through the woods without any sort of recognizable food in sight. Him, being the dependent, blabby man that he was, was inclined to eat only that which filled him heartily, and the brew she was now positioning on the fire to boil was making him ache with longing.

“What are you making that soup for?” he asked. A stupid question, he immediately thought to himself. Obviously she is hungry, and perhaps is making it for me to eat as well. Oliver sat for an hour staring at the woman stir the soup and watching it boil up while he periodically checked the ropes she had entangled him in to make sure there was no opportunity he could slip out and possibly request an answer for the reason she had tied him up in the first place. When the soup was finally ready, the woman took a bowl that she had in the meantime carried up from the hole while the soup was cooking and scooped up gently a serving of the soup. She then walked over to Oliver and placed the bowl in between his knees, which he pushed back together impulsively. She proceeded to slide the bowl and her hand up his thighs and up over his stomach, his chest, and finally to his mouth, where she tipped the bowl over, forcing Oliver to flinch back with pain from the immense heat of the soup.

“It’s hot,” Oliver said with a loss of dignity. She giggled, which Oliver interpreted to be a sign that she understood English. “You know what I’m saying!” he begged. “Talk back to me!” The woman sat on a familiar solemn face and pushed the bowl aside, and strode with her long legs and lengthy height to sit by the fire while the soup in Oliver’s bowl had time to cool.

After a while, the woman came back and put her finger into Oliver’s bowl to test the temperature of the soup. After having the satisfaction of it’s edibility, she lent over Oliver, swinging her leg over his two legs and sitting directly on top of his crotch. She then touched his chin and led him to tilt his face upwards while she cautiously poured the soup down his throat. She gave him moments to breath, but Oliver still felt preoccupied with both her current position and her forceful undertaking of his welfare. It was both arousing and uncomfortable, even more so when at the moment he finished his soup, she reached down to his pants, unbuttoned and unzipped them and pulled them off his legs with some struggle.

“What are you doing?”

“Shh,” she replied, only more gently than before, and more elongated in a pleasurable manner.

“I don’t feel comfortable here–”

“It’s all right, I’m here for you,” the woman whispered as she leaned down to kiss him tenderly on the lips.

After the delicious silence, Oliver felt both used and loved. He had never had a woman take advantage of him before and didn’t know of a single case in which that had happened to anyone else. The rape was passionate, and yet he did not feel like it was an emotionally stable intercourse where two people loved each other for all the right reasons. His clothes were drenched in sweat near his shoulders, down his chest, back and gloots. She had stopped suddenly, and laid her body next to his on the dirt around the tree, running her right hand up and down his body. Meanwhile, Oliver was experiencing unwanted yet beautiful sensations every moment she touched him. And there, they feel asleep together.

When Oliver had woken up, he saw dimness with the single light source being the fire that burned gratefully onward with a magnificent orange glow. The woman was gone from his side, presumably back in her hole. Oliver in this nighttime–perhaps it was nine o’ clock–began to feel the accumulating fluids and solids in his internal regions. Still haunted by the awkwardness that the lovemaking that afternoon had birthed, he was afraid of the woman and too meek to call out to her and request that she free him so he could relieve himself. He was beginning to be quite terrified of the place he was in, and although he loved every bit of the rape, he despised it too, and Oliver sought to find a way out of the seemingly endless depth of the thick forest in which he had wandered into.

Eventually, the woman’s face was visible by the light of the fire, and Oliver brought out from his heart the courage to ask her too release him. “I’d like to go to the bathroom.”

She stared at him with cold eyes while kneeling by the fire.

“Are you going to let me go or what? I’m asking you to let me go.”

The woman began to walk away while Oliver yelled at her in an uproar, “I have to go! I’m only human! You can’t keep me!”

The girl turned around sharply, with such eloquence and with such a face of anger that it almost scared Oliver into regretting what he had said. Surprisingly, she walked to him with what he mistook as relent, and she ruthlessly untied the knots surrounding his hands, waist and body that restricted him and said quietly, serenely, “Go then. See how far the forest takes you.”

Oliver was startled, and he got up with a heavy breath, and began to walk around the tree and towards the darkness of the forest opposite from the fire. He started to jog, but it didn’t last long as he was both heaving steadily from years of not keeping in shape and the constant whipping of branches and falling in line with trees and sharp objects on his path of movement, but he caught himself looking back at the fire and knowing that he was going to turn back at any moment out of fright, but not before he had let out his frauds and crimes onto a soft patch of earth which he dug around blindly to cover up modestly before heading back to the glow of the fire.

Once he returned, the girl smiled with moody composure, and she held out her hand saying, “Come with me.” He reluctantly took it, and together they went to the hole, which was somehow lit up with a bright, flickering beam of light as far as Oliver could see, and as he climbed down to it, they proceeded to disrupt the calm, smoothness of the silence of the humungous body of forest that surrounded the area for miles and miles, where no civilization reigned for miles and miles without the remnants of the deaths and abandonments that had overtaken the land for miles and miles.