Mala had told her people that the only way to end the drought was to sacrifice Anja. The Wakambas had kidnapped the children of a Silent Valley chief and threatened to kill the children unless Anja agreed to exchange herself for the children and become their prisoner. Their demands had been quite clear, even detailing how Anja was to be tied and what clothing she was to wear. She would be forced to dress as a slave, not the mighty protector of the Silent Valley and upper lands.Anja stared at G-string type panties and the tiny loincloth that she would be forced to wear and sighed. Anja stared at the tops of the jungle trees and tried to eat small bites of fruit. Her stomach disagreed but she knew that she probably would not have food for some time. Anja heard the drums from a far distance and knew that it was time. She squeezed into the goatskin G-string; it was very tight and very tiny. She next slid the small loincloth over her hips, it too was very tight and as she looked behind. She asked her if there was anything on or off the menu, which she would recommend. The hand seemed to send little pulses through her skin. Brigitte immediately understood what she meant by off the menu.But she dutifully pointed out the specialities. She also dwelt on the fresh délices du marché. She felt herself smile beyond the call of duty. And she noticed how she started to respond to the cool and easy gaze of the woman. The husky voice seemed to tighten its control with every new word. It caught her in a soft web. It subtly wove a cocoon of intimacy.Brigitte returned to bring the wine, the entrée and the dessert. And each time a new sweet layer was added. At last she brought the coffee and the bill. She did not even blink when the woman told her to go to the restroom and wait for her in one of the stalls.And please to get rid of her soaked panties.In the last half-hour every touch and every whisper had made the short hairs in her neck rise. They made her nipples tingle and her.
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