by Dusty Miller
Heather was quickly on a gravel beach, on the far side of a small headland, thirty yards from the campsite, as the sound of the motor built and built.
The logical conclusion was that it was coming straight towards her site. The lake narrowed at this point, widened out into a basin, and then there was a landing a mile and a half away on the other side of a small curving bay. A long range of low hills receded off to the southwest.
Her canoe lay on the beach, visible for several kilometres at least.
Heather stood, letting the Nair on legs, lower back and tummy do its work. She had never done this before, and after careful reading of the instructions, again with the terror at work on her system, was hoping she still had enough time. Her thoughts were all mixed up, in some ways she was hoping whoever it was would go right on past.
What if they stopped and it wasn’t Braden?
What if they stopped and it was Braden?
Could she really do it?
What if they stopped, and it wasn’t Braden, and what if she was all dressed up in the skimpy shorts she’d cut off from stolen jeans, and what if she had her lips done in that nice hot pink gloss she’d picked up that day? What if she wasn’t wearing any top and three teenage boys stepped out of a boat and decided this was too good a chance to miss?
What if a couple of horny and very hairy fishermen wanted her? Big arms and bristly whiskers. What about that, eh? It’s not like anyone around here knew her, or that anyone here was anything but a tourist from somewhere far, far away…she wondered how much of that actually went on. What if they laughed and called her a slut or a whore, and beat her up and left her for dead…of course she was just scared. She knew that. She was a big girl, she could probably take care of herself. It made for an interesting mental picture, though, runaway nun beats off attackers, but even so…even so. If it was a pair of lesbians in a boat, she would try and get them interested…she might be interested.
She’d heard of sexual tourism, but this was different. This was her and didn’t she have the right to try and act out a fantasy too? She wasn’t prepared to take a lot of abuse from anybody. Not if she didn’t have to…she could always dive in the tent. She would run off into the woods and not come back until they left.
These were all very good notions. She abruptly waded into the shallows and began rubbing the drying dirty foam off of her skin. Real women, normal women…surely she was a normal woman at some level, but they did this all the time. The impression was all new to her. Unlike shaving there was no need to go back and do it again. She popped up out of the water and staggered back up to the beach. The bottom there was all sharp rocks and she wanted a razor to do her bush and armpits again.
The motor noise sounded all too close.
With a stab in the heart, a stab of hope and a gush of anticipation, something that made her gasp for breath and wave her hands around in confusion, the boat was coming right towards her. It sounded like they were right there, as she brushed her teeth, applied the gloss, and threw on what little costume she’d had the nerve to arrange. Once or twice she had taken a bath with bath beads and lots of foamy, blue-coloured water. It always made her horny. It was a shame she couldn’t do that now. She could be waiting for him in a foamy blue bath. She loved how her body looked in the foam. Every part of her vision had its dark side. What if Braden had been lying about a few things? And what if he didn’t come, either? Now that all of her hopes and terrors, fears and desires were up. What if he brought a friend or two and they gang-raped her? Her face lightened at the thought. Heather was hyperventilating and moaning quietly, mouthing curses in her state. God, yes, rape me…but be gentle and do it slowly. One at a time please, boys. No! She could suck a cock at the same time. A big one. She could have slapped herself in her sudden rage, but controlled the impulse.
The motor was so loud that Heather couldn’t even think straight anymore.
She had wine in a cooler. Get the man drunk. Get them both drunk. That was a plan…men were easier to handle when they were drunk. She’d read that somewhere. Especially if all you wanted was sex. She’d laughed at the time, but that was what it said.
All dried off, in a pair of cut-off jeans, with rings on her toes and a silver ankle bracelet, her mom’s charm bracelet, clip-on ear rings, a black ribbon with a bow on it around her neck, with her lips done and her skin all smooth and satiny from the hair removal, Heather took a couple of deep breaths and headed back to her camp and the place where her orange canoe lay on the rocks like a beacon to any passing stranger. Topless was too terrifying. She ran to her pack and grabbed a black undershirt, the sleeveless kind, one she’d cut off just below the nipples, nervous that the thing would fall out of her packsack or something somewhere in the real world and everyone would know who she was and laugh. She put it on, grateful for its slight warmth as the evening was coming on and she was shivering and shaking like a leaf, taking the binoculars with her.
She had never felt less horny in her life.
#
Screened by shadows and a thin clump of cedars, Heather studied the figure in the boat. In this light it was hard to tell, but she was pretty sure a white face would have shown up.
It had to be Braden. Her heart began to thump deep in her chest. She ran up the hill and put the binoculars in the tent. Then she went back down to the shore to wait.
The man in the boat, God he looked big, gave a big white smile, waved and then half turned to do something with the motor.
It sputtered to a stop and the aluminum fishing boat, bows piled high with colourful nylon bags of camping gear, drifted maddeningly slowly towards the beach as Heather stood petrified.
Wrong shoes!
She still had on her neoprene surf slippers…too late now.
The smell of perfume, underarm deodorant and the taste of a dry red in her mouth was all she had to comfort her as she waited.
“Hi, Heather!”
“Hi.” Heather managed to get it out, barely.
She was so scared. The guy wasn’t fat or anything, and he seemed to be about the right age.
He had a shirt on, and shorts, and a set of aviator sunglasses. He was barefoot. His hair was short and he wasn’t dressed like a hip-hop artist or anything like that.
Heather waded out into the sandy shallows, guiding the boat in and steadying it as Braden got out.
“You look very nice.”
“Huh? Oh.” Heather didn’t know what to think just yet, but it was a start.
“Um, thank you. Braden.”
They took a look at each other, and she wondered what he thought. The guy was tall, taller even than her, and that was saying something. He was heavier too.
The mental picture of what this might look like if it actually worked thrilled through her and she wondered what was wrong with her breathing…
“Let me help you get this stuff out of the boat.” This was a nice safe subject and would buy a little time.
She concentrated on just breathing and not saying anything for a while. This had to work. It had to.
Braden gave her a casual little pat on the ass. Her nipples straightened up inside the tee shirt.
“Thank you. I’m sorry I missed you at the boat launch, but I got hung up in town.”
Heather said nothing as she still felt guilty at bolting. It hadn’t done her any good anyway, had it? She’d never had a man touch her there before. The shock was intense. The wind whipped around her naked skin, bringing a flush of new-found awareness. Her body was coming alive.
The pair of them worked at getting Braden’s tent pitched, surprisingly big but he’d rented everything at an outfitter’s and took what was offered. Heather felt Braden’s eyes upon her, but it was all right after a little while, and in their internet chats they had agreed beforehand that nothing might happen. If so, they would try to enjoy the outdoors and shake hands like friends when they left. The question of payment had never come up. She would have done it, though.
It would be a shame not to gi
ve it an even chance.
She had fantasized about it often enough, but there was every chance the reality would be totally different and not at all what she really wanted. They both knew that in advance. They were both adults, and in control of themselves.
They didn’t talk much at this stage of the game.
#
A loon cackled out on the lake. The breeze had died, and now with no wind it seemed a little warmer. They sat on a big log beside the fire. His smell was just nice, aftershave and a little sweat as she drank it in, testing it.
Heather put some sticks on the fire to build it up.
“We’ll have to collect some more wood. When was the last time you ate?”
Braden shrugged.
“I had a good breakfast this morning, and a cheeseburger and fries before leaving town.”
Heather thought about it and bit the bullet.
“Well, ah…why don’t I throw a big steak on and you can pour me a glass of wine. It’s in my cooler. And if you wouldn’t mind gathering some more firewood before it gets dark…”
Braden’s head bobbed in acknowledgement as Heather sort of hung her head.
“That’s a good idea.” Braden stood. “Is everything all right, Heather?”
Surprised by the question, Heather stood up too. She moved closer to Braden, standing a foot in front of him and gazing into the other’s eyes.
“Yeah. It’s just that I’m really scared—scared, you know, and I know I’m not that good-looking…” She felt terribly awkward, wooden and inexperienced.
She wanted this to be right, she wanted it to be so good, and it really wasn’t starting off all that well.
“I want this to work.”
She was just too awkward.
Braden reached up and held her by her upper arms.
“Relax, and just be yourself. This is going to be wonderful. Nothing bad is going to happen, I promise.” He gently drew Heather in closer, heart beating hard in her chest as she buried herself in Braden’s neck.
The guy really was huge. Braden hugged her for a while, and then gave her a quick kiss on the lips, pausing to look into her eyes afterwards, which registered in a shocked Heather’s mind, but she made no comment and no objections. Braden went and got the wine, and poured out two glasses. Heather licked her lips and thought about things. Braden handed her a glass.
Heather gulped and Braden nodded, sipping slowly at it, savouring the sight of Heather in all of her slender vulnerability.
“Oh, boy, I can’t wait for dinner—and dessert.” He rubbed his belly, and then his hand stole to his crotch as he held Heather’s eyes.
She blushed and looked away like the pure virgin she was, yet there was also a gush of something else, perhaps pure anticipation or even just lust or something. The thought of being naked for Braden overwhelmed her and she thought her heart would stop in her chest.
Then Braden turned and went off a side trail without a look back, and after staring at his muscular calves and arms for a long moment, Heather dropped down beside the cooler to rummage around for the meat, still half hyperventilating and licking her lips as if that could assuage her thirst any better than the Merlot.
It was probably too late to run for it. His boat had a motor and he would catch her for sure. He could rape her right then and there, in the boat, bobbing around under the moonlight.
#
Braden dumped his third heaping armload of wood on the pile a few feet away from the fire pit where a thick T-Bone sizzled on the stainless steel grate.
He came over and picked up his wine.
“Nice.” He nodded at the steak.
His eyes took in a very shy Heather and then were caught by something else, a reader on the end of the long log that served this campsite as a bench.
“What are you reading?” That might help to break the ice.
“Oh. Something about forests.” Heather looked up, hot blood high in her cheeks, but sensing the opportunity, she spoke up. “Apparently every species of tree in the country will be affected by climate change.”
“Oh?” Braden nodded thoughtfully, looking around at the tall boles, soaring up into green tops, and then down again at the carpet of red, dry needles underfoot.
“I mean…I never knew trees migrated. But that’s what it said. If you think about it, trees cast their seeds only so far. If conditions improve to the north the trees will gradually move north. But climate change is moving faster than that.”
Heather looked away and down at the steaks.
“We’ve got enough wood for the moment, I’ll go out later and get some more. The steak’s close to being done.”
She knelt awkwardly by the fire, trying to keep her bare knees up out of the dirt, and flipped the thing over with a fork. Heather was conscious of her long legs, never before seen in public. Braden was looking too. She put a gob of barbecue sauce on it and spread it around. Licking the fork, she put it aside on a flat rock on the rim of the fireplace. Heather had gotten rid of the surf slippers and put on her low white moccassins.
“That’s mine.” She smiled and looked up.
Braden nodded gravely. He lifted the glass and drained it.
“Here, let me get you another.”
Heather turned and bent to pick up her glass, and Braden took a moment to admire the well-formed legs and with nice ankles, which was unusual in a woman this age. Most women’s ankles were either a little too thin or just plain thick. The ass was nice too. She had dimples near her hip bones. She was a tall, slender blonde with clear grey eyes. Her breasts looked like a C-cup.
He went looking for the wine bottle while Heather fiddled with the plates.
They were having steak and baked potato, with niblets corn. There was more than one bottle in the cooler, but Braden wondered just how much food they had if they were really planning on staying a week. His own load was surprisingly heavy, but he knew little of such things.
As Heather had sort of admitted in one chat session or another, she wasn’t the best looking girl in the world but she was surprisingly cute for a tall girl, with long, graceful limbs, nice hands and feet, and a kind of natural honey-coloured skin. The fearful vulnerability thing was a real turn-on. She looked very sweet. The girl next door.
He sat down on the blanket. It was off to one side, and the night was fairly warm. They didn’t need the fire right there. Heather finished portioning out the steak, and brought the plates over.
“What’s your safe word?” It was sheer impulse.
Braden dug in to the food immediately.
“Stop?” Then Heather giggled, covering her mouth for a moment.
Braden laughed.
“Wow, this is fantastic.” People said food tasted better in the outdoors.
They were right.
“Thank you.” She was grateful for the compliment, which made sense considering her background.
Braden lifted his glass in toast, and after a moment, Heather caught on and picked up her own glass.
“Here’s to us.”
Heather was blushing beet red as they clinked their glasses together and solemnly drank.
#
After dinner, Braden offered to help with the dishes, but since he had no camping experience Heather decided to do them herself. She’d never looked after a man before, and it gave her time to think. It was an interesting notion. This involved soap, a scrub pad and a lot of sand on the pans. When she returned to the site, Braden was nowhere around so Heather grabbed her toothbrush and headed down to the water again. Her man. Hmn.
Stripping off the shorts, she waded out into waist-deep water and did her ablutions, including washing her face and hands.
“I always wondered how you do that.”
Braden stood on the shore. Slightly hunched over in embarrassment, Heather didn’t quite know what to do. She screwed up some courage.
“Come on in! The water’s fine.”
Braden shook his head.
“No. You come out.”
/> After a minor hesitation, Heather realized her clothes were on shore and there was nowhere else to go. The water was still pretty cold. Maybe if Braden just told her what to do and she did it without thinking. She was determined to make this work, now that she had him here.
She waded noisily up through the shallows, with eyes locked on the other’s, feeling a bit like Ursula Andress in a bikini in Dr. No as Braden’s eyes raked up and down her slender frame.
In spite of the fear, part of the charm of the thing she supposed, she began to get aroused.
She grabbed the towel and dried off as Braden watched in a kind of clinical detachment.
“I suppose you’ve seen a woman naked before.” Heather stood there, trying to suck in her belly, which was getting a little out of hand these days, and to stand up straight, and not show too much fear.
Her nipples were sticking out like sore thumbs.
“Come here.”
Heather stepped in closer, heart pounding. She dropped the towel.
“Closer.”
Heather complied, never taking eyes from Braden’s face.
“You said you were a virgin and I believe you. And you really are a nun.”
Heather said nothing, just blinked.
“Are you cold?”
“Maybe a little.” This time of year, the water was fairly warm but the sun was gone and the breeze on her wet body sucked the heat right out of her.
She dropped the toothbrush in its square tubular case beside her shorts and shirt but made no move to pick them up and put them on. The general impression was one of both defiance, and vulnerability.
Braden took off his beige bush shirt and wrapped it around Heather as she stood shivering in fear and anticipation.
“What would make this easier for you?”
Heather just shook her head, miserable with her thoughts. What in the hell was she doing here?
“No one will ever find out about this…I give you my word.”