rfp6n7
rfp6n7.docx
Meanwhile, Milo Evans briefed Ron, Nick, and Gary on the subject matter. “Mr.
Rivera, Mr. Fusil, and Mr. Russy, may I get you gentlemen’s attention for a moment. Are
you ready to work.” The crewmen were puzzled because their boss had never spoken out
like that about a job.
Nick Fusil replied, “What! What are you talking about? I’m always ready to
work! What is this? Did some client complain? Gary! Are you ready to work? What
about you Ron, are you ready?” Ron sat there with a deadpan face and said nothing. Gary
had stood there all the while in his overalls, his rough beard and mustache seemingly two
in one.
The hefty man replied, “Milo, What’s up?”
“No one complained, but I have a job in which there can be no complaints. It’s a
field job, and it will pay some good money.”
Nick’s cockiness soared. “Well, we’ve done plenty of field jobs.” Before he could
blabber on further, Mr. Evans explained. “No, this is no ordinary field job. The only
reason I even took this job is because I have my aviation license.”
With excitement, Ron blurted out, “Oh shit! We have to fly this trip!”
Gary intervened while puffing on his extremely large cigar. “Where exactly are
we going, Milo?”
“Well gentleman, this is an international job. Gary was stymied from replying
because of the smoke engorged in his throat.
Ron Rivera sat with wonder, but slowly he managed to respond. “You mean
we’re leaving the country?”
“Yes, we are going to South America!”
“South America! What? Why do we have to go all the way to South America,”
Ron said with a truly opposing tone in his voice.
“Because, that is where the job is located, you idiot. Look, we take his plane to a
city in Brazil. There are helicopters waiting, where we will use them to go to the
designated spot and survey the area.”
Still enriched in the aroma of tobacco, Gary replied. “Where exactly in Brazil?”
“Central Brazil!”
“Isn’t that thick forest?”
“Yeah, but we will measure along the North and East coast. Gary! I need you to
build a small dock, or just something sufficient to tie boats to, also a camp, which may
take a few days. I think Mr. Dickenson wants everything to remain so that he can bring
other inspectors”
Gary replied with a peculiar tone. “Mr. Dickenson?”
“That’s the client who wants the work done. He’s actually a very wealthy man."
“Oh!” With his curiosity some what alleviated, Gary said, “So I see! You called
upon all of us for our individual abilities. Ah, now I get it.”
Nick blurted, “Yeah, Milo has always been slick. We may not want to go all the
way to Brazil to work in a thick jungle. Besides, we have enough business as it is. You
said it will pay a lot, but I doubt that it pays that much. Yeah, I heard about South
America, and what I heard wasn’t peaches and cream.”
Ron was anxious to get his two cents in too. “Yeah Milo! How much is this Mr.
Dickenson willing to pay?”
“Damn! I thought I could count on you men, but I guess I need to find some other
people.”
“Naw, Milo! I’m with you,” responded Gary with a deep hillbilly accent.”
“You still didn’t tell us how much it pays.”
“Hold on, I’m getting to that.”
“I thought you didn’t know.”
Ron looked at Milo with a sarcastic expression, and Nick muttered, “Man, we just
fucking with you.”
“Yeah man, lighten up.”
The leader of the group took a deep breath before offering his defense. “Well, the
exact figures aren’t worked out just yet, but…”
“What?” The word was spoken sharply by both Ron and Gary simultaneously.
“Calm down! Calm down! The pay, let’s say, will be well over three times as
much as each of you made last year, and that is still being modest. That is why I said not
everything has been worked out completely yet. I’m trying to get the most money for you
guys.” There was a bitter silence as the men contemplated the possibility of working for
triple a year’s normal salary.
Milo Evans continued to give the particulars of the job while he had his crew’s
undivided attention. “He seemed very eager to have this done ASAP. I told him! Hey,
I’ve got four men who will be away from their families for a while, and on such short
notice. Check this! I said hey, a long-range trip like this will probably be in the mid to
high six figure range. That is for all of my men.”
“OK , OK , Milo!”
“Hey wait! I told him, I don’t even know how much land is to be surveyed and
how harsh the terrain may be.”
“Oh, Milo! I get it! We have the flexibility to tack on additional fees. Yeah, I like
that.” Ron turned and looked at Gary and Nick while Milo observed them all. The men
remained silent as their faces appeared to gleam with avidity.
“OK, We’ll meet here early, before dawn, and fly out tomorrow at dawn. Gary!
Be sure to order all the equipment and materials you may need. They need shipping
before we leave.”
“Aye sir!” The words were spoken as of through congestion, due to the massive
smoke that curled around Gary’s face.
Hayword opened the beautiful gates to let Richard in. He seemed preoccupied, but
in a pretty gingerly mood. Everything was moving according to plan, except he had
forgotten to check with John to assure a cargo helicopter was delivered to the site. He
refused to call him, declaring he’d had enough for one day. Besides, he figured it had
better be there or John would have to answer to him.
“Hello Mr. Dickenson,” Hayward said with a doit of anticipation. Richard nodded
his head, but continued for his doorway incessantly. Hayword had dreamed of being able
to confront Mr. Dickenson, hoping to move up in stature. People even thought he was a
little on the loose side because he had been seen talking to himself. More like a full
blown conversation is what they actually witnessed. What the watchers didn’t know was
that he was just practicing for a conversation with Richard and was determined to make
his worth known. “Mr. Dickenson! Blurted the gentle servant, but his boss seem
unphased. “You know Mr. Dickenson. I know how to get the maximum potential out of
me.” The servant got the boss man’s attention as indicated by the capricious look that
landed on Richard’s face.
He responded sarcastically. “Son, if I’m not receiving maximum potential from
you, than there’s no point in having you.”
“Well, no sir! What I mean is, I have a lot more potential to be filled. Basically,
you’re using me ineffectively and inefficiently. That doesn’t quite correlate with the
grand scheme of things, does it?”
“No it doesn’t Mr. Reynolds. So what is your point?” Mr. Dickenson said rudely
as he gripped his door handle and pressed his thumb down to open it.
Hayword exclaimed, “I’m not just your ordinary security guard who is good for
nothing but opening and closing gates all day. I have keen vision and much courage that
will secure anything. Richard was well in the door before he was even halfway through
his statement. However, Hayword still seemed relieved even though the door was
slammed in his face.
“Honey,” hollered Richard in a pleasing voice despite being hampered just
moments before. Just a moment drifted without an answer, as he fumbled through today’s
mail. His attention was captured by an eccentric colored envelope that, for some reason,
reminded him of his wife, maybe because the color resembled their wedding invitations.
Nevertheless, he failed to open any of the mail, instead hollering loudly, “Sweety!”
Unsure if her silence was intentional, he called out again very sharply and with a touch of
mendacity. Richard even looked around his huge house in that very manner, wondering
where she could be. “Hey! I’m sorry dear! I know I haven’t been showing you much
attention, and I know I’ve been putting work before my precious dear.” After no
response, Richard’s expression turned sour with possibilities.
“Honey, Where are you?” He squealed deplorably, but there still was no response,
and the house seemed to grow extremely quiet. It was obviously affecting him intensely
because he began to search the rooms frantically. Sprinting upstairs like a training athlete,
so overwhelmed by his sorrow, he failed to check their room until last. That is where she
sat in her elegant and comfortable reading chair. Her eyes showed a touch of enjoyment
at his search for her, but her face was also earnest. Richard stared her in the eyes after all
of his pleading and approached her position gently. She curled up in her chair as if it were
her last stand. She tried to stiffen her stare, and pressing her body against the plush
leather chair.
“Boo… Look! I’m sorry,” he said grandly but with the softest tone. “I’m sorry, I
know I have been neglecting you, and you deserve so much more.” Grabbing her hands
softly caused her harsh expression to melt a bit. “Oh baby, I love you so much, and I
know I haven’t been showing you this, but baby, tonight I confess, I’ve known all along I
couldn’t mentally function without you. Let alone live with out you.” After talking in a
continuous monotone, he had his wife nearly hypnotized. Sliding his hands up her arms
gently, he made his way behind her to slowly kiss her neck, whispering, “I’m so sorry
baby, I realize I better straighten up my act before I lose you. Oh baby, I don’t want to do
that.” He kissed her neck repeatedly, and then softly said, “Well, you forgive me, huh
baby?”
Besides small smacking noises, there was silence, and Susan’s last stand was far
from being as admirable as the famous stand of Stonewall Jackson. In fact, it had
weakened severely like Vicksburg, and she became susceptible to sudden passionate
surges within her. She was trying her damnedest to hold back, but she knew she had
failed when she reached her left hand behind her and caressed his cheeks and neck.
“I love you so much, Dear. If you just bear with me, my services will no longer be
needed on this project, and I can spend more time with you. Honey, that makes me feel so
good.” All Susan could do was listen while she continued to take on lustful surges that
had no signs of letting up. This was so because she had succumbed to his verbal
manipulation. Her caressing got more passionate, because her strokes increased in length
and quantity, and you could hear a sensual moan trickle along her tongue as she glided it
along her perky lips.
“Ohm… Baby… I forgive you,” she said softly. Richard heard his loved one only
vaguely, but kissed her as if those very words evoked true love in him. He placed one of
her hands in both of his, and began to administer single kisses, progressing upwards. He
ended his trail of kisses at her wrist and began to grace his tongue across the traces of her
fingertips, like jet skis gliding across the substance of life.
The next move involved the placement of each of her fingers into his mouth one
by one, being sure to give each adequate sucking and slobbering to enhance his attempts
to arouse her. It was like a kid eating a popsicle from a craving driven by inordinate heat.
By this time, Richard had made his way around the chair, and from his knees he finished
up the finger-licking appetizers. He then placed his head against her inner thighs, kissing
both sides while massaging her lips. These actions made it irresistible for diving his nose
in between, and he purposely rubbed the bone in his nose up against her bone until he
heard a deep inner grinding sound. This made Susan experience heightened sensation
especially when Richard softly bit both lips and licked all around.
There were no objections from Susan. In fact, it appeared she was not speaking
our language at the time, and maybe was not even in our reality. Whatever the case may
be, they made love on the sofa chair. Richard stroked hard for fifteen solid minutes,
where they both shared satisfaction simultaneously. “Oooh…Baby,” screeched Richard
with depleting breath. There were moans from his loved one, but with a little more
control over respiratory functions. “Come on …,” exclaimed Richard, grabbing both
hands and pulling the Susan’s seemingly lifeless body. The path was for the bedroom and
she followed like a princess in distress, holding tight to her prince.
The first action taken upon entering was diving on the bed, where the two cuddled
for about thirty minutes. Their kisses and smooches were periodic, but all of a sudden
they became more frequent and mostly generated by Richard. “I love you. Look what you
make me do!” Pressing hard against her, Susan realized quickly it was time for more
action. Richard was definitely full surged and tingled within, but so did she. He wanted
some more and Susan was surely sodden in between. They made love again. This time he
had more leverage, and she reached more than one goal this time. After several different
postures, she obtained three on the scorecard, but Richard wasn’t about to stop. However,
stamina was drifting, so he needed more feeling to maintain strength. “Turn around,”
commanded Richard. “Here, like this…” Susan obeyed his every command. Back in the
original standard position, so to speak, he watched himself stroke slowly, very slowly, in
and out until almost pulling completely out. “Oooh yeah baby, you’re so wet, I want to be
inside you.” With just the tip barely touching the inner lips, then inserting slowly and as
deeply as possible, he watched this process repeat itself with greatened pleasure. After
about ten minutes, he placed both hand even with both of her shoulders. Placing her legs
spread wide, he literally did push ups. This caused for a different entry point and gave
Susan a totally different sensation. After about ten minutes, he panted because fifty
pushups meant fifty strokes. A full work out was performed on, Susan and she enjoyed
every minute. The love in Richard’s body poured because this process repeated
throughout the night, with time intervals varying between an hour and a little more. At
one point, he had even scarfed down a snack and harked up a cigar before delving into his
wife’s lust once again.
The next morning, that glare was commanding once again, causing Susan to toss
and turn. “Honey,” poured out of her lips, which were smashed from her face and mouth
being pushed do far into her pillows that she was nearly suffocated. Feeling her hands
about the bed, she noticed only her hands glide across silky sheets, and that the sun was
undefeated. She rose with a bit of frustration from the empty feeling her bed gave. Upset
at the fact she couldn’t hold her honey was enough, but that glare was truly the dominant
factor in her rude awakening. It was proven because Richard experienced that same glare
about thirty minutes before. Susan sat up and turned her back towards the glare, taking
nearly an hour to get out of bed.
Meanwhile, Richard was already directing the office personally, gathering any
needs for the project. The survey crew was on their way. The plane flight was smooth and
the four gentlemen finally landed in beautiful but wild Amazonian land. The small
airstrip had remained the same since Richard’s last invigorating encounter. The air was
sill accompanied with the sun’s vibrant shine, and the humidity was overwhelming. The
four gentlemen exited the bombardier built jet Richard had reserved for them.
Nick Fusil was the first to exit the plane in his same confident and cocky manner.
“Goddamn! Shit! It’s hot as fish grease. I see why we’re getting paid, quote-unquote, big
bucks.”
The others exited, and with no hesitation, Ron replied, “Nick, man, you can stand
a little heat for the bread.”
Nick looked at Ron with a pitiful gaze, replying. “Yeah, I’ll bet! You Mexican,
Spanish, Puerto Rican muthafuckas are used to this heat.”
“Nick, don’t start with me, because your black ass is pretty scorched yourself. The
last I heard, it was pretty hot in Africa.”
“Man. I haven’t been to Africa in over four hundred years. Shit, we the brown
race now, just living in America. At least we’re not so damned emotional.”
Gary looked at the others and said, “Knock it off. We’re here to make some
money and that is all.”
The scrawny old man from the tower approached the men. “Hey gentlemen,” he
said shrewdly and still with an unidentifiable accent. “I guess you gentlemen are
Richard’s men. That big old cargo helicopter sitting over there just arrived. The pilot
should still be inside. He can help you all load the chopper and fly you to the destination.
“Excuse me, but who are you?” Nick declared, stepping in front of everyone and
sounding very demanding. The old man shrugged his shoulder and kept silent.
He started walking towards the helicopter and Milo Evans followed. “Come on
guys, follow me,” uttered Milo. The old man proceeded in front of the crew with a
swagger and said nothing for the moment.
“Damned hot, and I thought Florida was hot!” cried Nick while continuing to
complain about the fierce heat that seemed to hold him down and pound on him. Gary
seemed unaffected as he puffed away. Milo and Ron were engaged in their own
conversation that brewed with laughter.
Finally reaching the chopper, the old man said, “Gentlemen! The pilot!” Not quite
sure of his name, he continued, sputtering, “He can fly you all and help load or unload, or
whatever it is you need to do. I don’t know what the plan is, but the man seemed
obsessed.” The men loaded the helicopter and the old man returned to his tower. The
pilot was silent as he sat in his cockpit and fiddled with the gadgets before him.
The gentlemen sat down, but Nick couldn’t resist blurting out, “Well, Mr. Rude, I
guess you don’t speak…”
Milo interjected, “Excuse me, sir. What is your name and function, or at least
after you drop us off?” The pilot remained silent for a moment, looked at Milo and then
glanced over at Nick, and finally declared, “I was instructed to fly you to the project site,
and to help with any unloading.”
“Are you camping out with us.”
The pilot chuckled before saying, “Oh No…! I’m just a pilot who is dropping you
off at your destination.”
Nick spoke out boldly as if Milo’s interruption irked him. “You mean you’re
leaving us out here! Oh, Hell no! Just leaving us in the middle of nowhere?”
“Hey look!” The pilot yelled dejectedly. “I’m not paid to go camping in a thick
rainforest.” He chuckled again before completing his statement. “Oh no! I’m sorry.”
“Hey Nick, we’re getting paid for this, OK. Be easy,” replied Ron.
“The pilot yelled, “Hey, will you tell Mr. Bungalow over there to put that cigar
out, damn! Everybody doesn’t find it easy to inhale the smell of crude tobacco and used
motor oil. My helicopter is not an auto shop.”
Gary said nothing but continued to puff away.
“Just fly the damned helicopter,” replied Nick.
Milo looked out of the window and noticed the drifting Amazon below, and he
asked, “What about an emergency, how can we contact you.”
“There’s radio equipment that you all will be setting up in your camp. Mr.
Dickenson will arrive in a couple of days.” The gentlemen registered discomfort on their
faces, but they had nothing else to complain about. The remaining flight was calm, but
the pilot was aggravated from the smoke Gary persisted to exhale. “OK gentlemen, we
are finally here. Now you men can get the hell out of my sight.”
“Well, thank you too,” replied Nick.
The pilot adjusted the helicopter controls and proceeded to descend. The landing
was smooth and the four men were eager to get out of the cramped helicopter. Nick
jumped out of the helicopter and looked around excitedly. With an amazed look upon his
face, he shouted, “Goddamn. Now where the hell are we?”
Milo replied, “I showed you on the map.”
“Yeah, I know, but I didn’t imagine we’d be in the middle of a jungle.” Ron
looked as if he had seen a ghost. “Oh man, how in the hell are we going to start this
survey with all these thick trees, man?!”
In the meantime, Gary unloaded his supplies while Ron and Nick continued their
complaints. Gary then walked over to the banks and scanned the scenery. “Milo!”
shouted Gary.
“Yes Gary, what do you need?”
Gary trudged over with an obvious look of disappointment. “There’s no way in
the hell I can build a boat dock with this limited equipment.”
“Well, what are you missing?” “Well, first of all, look at the shoreline. I’m going
to need some digging done, not to mention special equipment. The boat is too big.”
Milo looked puzzled, but then advised Gary to improvise. “Just build a small one.
We may have to anchor the boat and bring smaller ones to shore.”
“OK! That will work.”
“Oh Gary, do you have enough bagged cement to build a landing pad for the
choppers, because this area seems a bit soft and mushy to land.”
“Yeah, I noticed that. That Briscoe guy must be used to this area.” The pilot had
finally told them his name in flight.
“Hey Briscoe, this ground is pretty tough to land on, huh!”
“Well, this cargo chopper has a strong motor to take of with — quick sand
probably won’t stop it from ascending.”
“Great! Great!” Milo declared, but he was continuing to speak commandingly.
“Has all the equipment been unloaded?”
“Yes,” exclaimed Captain Briscoe. The pilot advised of his departure and told
them to radio if the encountered any problems. Nick looked on, anxious to chastise.
“Hey, you fucker! You better not leave us here, shit. I don’t do jungles, and where I’m
from, we kick the ass of any muthafucka who wants to strand another muthafucka!”
“Calm down, Nick! Gentlemen, listen up! We need to devise a plan to get this job
done.”
“I don’t know man, Milo! It seems, I don’t know! Something hasty to me.”
“I don’t understand Nick, look at it this way. We will be able to contact him by
radio.”
“Are you sure about that,” replied Nick with a slander in his eyes and his anger
boiling within.
“Yes, I’m sure the radio is adequate. Isn’t that right Mr., or Captain, Briscoe!”
Briscoe showed slim patience and offered an agitated response. “The radio is already set
to the necessary frequency. You just make sure you connect it to adequate power. A good
generator, like the one I helped unload, should suffice.”
“Gary, that’s a check… OK, great! Gentlemen, first we need to get started on the
camp, and Gary, do the best you can with the dock situation. Make sure the camp’s rain
proof. I hear there’s a lot of rain in this part of the globe.”
“Yeah, all we need now is to get drenched and have to radio in.” Nick hawked in
is throat and spit out a huge pile of cold mucous after letting everyone know how he felt.
“OK men, let’s get that camp up first. We’ll be sleeping the night here. So the
camp is first, and the dock is second.”
“Hey, Milo! Do you think it would be better to take first recordings along banks
and mark those as endpoints.”
“Go ahead, Ron. I’m listening.”
“That way, all we have to do is follow the eastern coast of this godforsaken land,
to whatever distance is necessary.”
Captain Briscoe had overheard the conversation just before departing and said,
“Hey, that’s a shortcut. I don’t know if my boss would appreciate this.
“The math will do the rest,” Ron continued despite Briscoe’s rude butting in.
“That’s all we want right, the dimensions! I heard something about measuring
dimensions and that’s all.”
“Yeah!”
“But he will need us again when he brings the engineers with him, so there may
be more money involved,” replied Milo after huddling his crew to keep Briscoe from
hearing them again. They were all amenable to the prospect of more money, but Nick
doubted he would return. Just as that thought was chemically induced, he slapped his legs
and blurted, “Yeah, I don’t need any money, or whatever, more money. This will be
enough! These damned mosquitoes, or shit, I don’t even know if they are mosquitoes.
Well, some are, but damn, they look like little dragons. What the fuck is this?” Nick
ground at his face and slapped at his other leg. “You see what I mean. I must have sweet
blood. I know ya’ll being bit, but you act like you’re not. See, I was tricked into this job,
so yeah, I’m going to take my money. Then, I’m getting the fuck out of here, and I’m
never coming back.” Nick had comical intimations in his tone, but he was always serious.
Gary proceeded with preparations for building the camp, but first he mixed the
concrete with Amazonian waters. He prepared a mixture to help build a simple
foundation for the camp, about thirty to fifty meters from shoreline. Nick began setting
up their tents, while Milo and Ron set up the survey scoping equipment.
“Ron! Here’s the plan. I’ll walk down the north bank, to the east. I’ll go until I
reach the shoreline. We’ll record in increments of 100 meters. After we have completed
this side, we will then walk south along the eastern bank and repeat the process.”
“Well, how far down do we go?”
“We are supposed to be very close to the midpoint of this project, so according to
this map, not tremendously far.”
Meanwhile, Gary hacked away with his hammer, his cigar hanging from the
corner of his slightly closed lips. “Hey Nick, hold that, will ya please?”
“Yeah! Hold up and let me finish tying this down and I’ll be right over there.”
Ron and Milo proceeded with their plan, and Gary, with some casual help from Nick,
built a waterproof lab equipped with a gas tank for fuel and a power generator. The next
thing was living quarters suitable for the living conditions of a rainforest. He didn’t really
need much of the concrete, so he built a mini-wall around the tents Nick had set.
“Nick, give me a hand with this digging.”
“Hey, you didn’t tell me about this. I’m not a digger.”
“There’s a shovel in the lab,” Gary said with a bully’s mentality. Nick did join
him and they proceeded to dig. Maybe an hour went by and the heat poured grossly upon
the men.
“Shit, it’s hot as fuck,” Nick said, seemingly with his last breath, and the clatter of
his shovel as he tossed it to the ground served as punctuation.
“OK, that’s enough, we can stop.”
“No!” Gary exclaimed, “just a little more.”
“Oh no, I’m through.” Gary said with a look of disappointment growing upon
hearing his friend’s reply.
“What’s wrong with you, man. We still got more shit to do. You’re trying to make
this extremely laborious in this bug-infested land.” “OK, OK, let us lay the concrete. At
least can you get the finisher while I set up and prepare to pour.” Nick fetched the water
while Gary continued to work rigorously, like he always did. He was a hard working
man, and his appearance supported that claim. On the other hand, Nick was a hotshotknow-it-all, but he didn’t know it all, at least all that his attitude would suggest. He was
indeed keen and aggressively outspoken, quite the opposite of Gary, especially the hard
work part. If it weren’t for his brilliance, he wouldn’t be here, and the fact that these two
were antipodal is probably why they worked well together.
“So Gary, what do you think?”
“What do you mean, Nick?”
“Well, about out here! Isn’t this kind of extreme?” “Indeed, I guess the extreme
part of it is what it takes for the big bucks.” Gary spoke in spurts because he puffed his
cigar in three second intervals, and Nick watched pathetically.
“Hey, it’s a job, and if this is what it takes for the real money, then I’m all for it.”
“Hmm…,” Nick smirked, and the gentlemen finished the task.