by Claire Adams
I’m a little nervous, but it is quite the gesture.
We exit the freeway and drive for a little while, death metal still droning quietly in the background. Either Dane’s forgotten about it, or he’s just that into me.
Eventually, we pull into a campground in what’s called South Mountain Reservation. There are a few occupied spots, but all in all, it’s pretty quiet here.
After we get everything unpacked, one thing becomes painfully clear: he forgot to pack a tent.
He offers to run into the nearest town and pick one up, but it’s already getting late and I’m tired.
The air is warm enough, and we have plenty of bug spray, so we just unroll our sleeping bags and spend the night under the stars.
As tired as I am, I can’t keep my eyes closed. The sky is filled with more stars than I remember existing.
For all its simplicity, getting to know Dane a little better and lying under such a bright canopy, this is quite probably the best night of my life.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Eyes of the Morning
Leila
My peaceful sleep is shattered by the piercing cacophony of an alarm clock.
With my eyes still closed, I reach over to hit the snooze button before I realize I’m not in my bed.
Dane is already up, and he’s quick to silence the alarm.
“Sorry about that,” he says. “I forgot to turn that off.”
I rub my eyes and look around.
The sky is growing brighter, but the sun’s not up yet. It looks like it won’t be up for a while.
“You know,” I tell him. “I love the camping idea, but I’m not so much for the early morning.”
“It’ll be worth it,” he says, “trust me. Are you hungry? I packed some food. We still have a bit of time before we need to get going.”
“Get going?” I ask. “Tell me they don’t actually kick people out of here this early in the morning.”
“No,” he says, “nothing like that.”
“Then why the hell am I getting up so early?”
He smiles.
“It’s a surprise.”
I don’t so much stand as I roll and stumble to my feet. Dane pulls a peanut butter sandwich out of the cooler and hands it to me.
We eat and Dane sprays us both with some more bug spray.
“We should probably get going,” he says. “It’s going to be a bit of a hike to where we’re headed.”
“And where are we going?” I ask again.
I realize I’m pestering him, but he’s the one who set the alarm for the pre-break of dawn wakeup.
“Just trust me,” he says. “I promise it’ll be worth it.”
For now, I trust him, but this better be going somewhere. In case it’s not apparent, I’m really not a morning person.
He puts on a backpack and we walk down the dirt path a while until we come to a trail. As I squint to see what’s written on the sign, Dane covers my eyes with his hands.
“No peeking,” he says.
“You know that I’m probably not going to be able to hike very well if I can’t see, right?”
“It’s just until we get past the sign,” he says. “It’ll give away the surprise.”
I walk slowly and can only hope that there aren’t too many signs along our way. This is pretty ridiculous.
After what feels like 10 minutes of walking—probably closer to two—Dane removes his hands.
We hike on the main trail for a while before the sound of water gives Dane away.
It’s not quite sunrise, and he’s taking me to a waterfall.
I want to kiss him and praise him for his thoughtfulness, but he’s so adamant that it be a surprise, I don’t say anything about it.
“How are you feeling?” he asks, and my heart skips in my chest.
“I’m feeling great,” I tell him.
“You sure?” he asks. “You seemed pretty tired back at camp.”
I shrug.
“I woke up,” I tell him.
As the sun comes ever closer to peeking over the horizon, my pace naturally quickens. Not knowing exactly where we’re going, I grab Dane’s hand to give me direction.
Ahead, there’s a sign for Hemlock Falls, and I feel myself growing warm at the thought.
“Oh shit,” he says. “Don’t look.”
“Okay,” I say, covering my eyes.
“You saw it, didn’t you?” he asks.
I remove my hands. “Yeah,” I tell him. “Trust me, though, it’s still a wonderful surprise.”
“Here’s another one,” he says. “That’s not where we’re going.”
“It’s not?” I ask. “Then why didn’t you want me to look?”
“Well, the cat’s out of the bag on the waterfall part of it, but we’re going somewhere a little further off the main path,” he says.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I found it one summer when my family camped up here. I’ve never heard anybody talk about it, but I know I’m not the only person who’s found it.”
“How do you know?” I ask.
“Well, for one, I’m not that profound a wilderness explorer,” he laughs. “For two, there’s a little handmade sign near the plunge pool. It’s called Winterberry Falls.”
The sky is getting brighter by the minute, and both Dane and I are jogging now.
He leads me down a tiny dirt path that all but disappears after the first hundred feet or so, but we keep going.
I can hear the water in the distance, and my heart is pounding in my chest.
“We’re almost there,” he says, but I don’t see anything.
It’s light enough that I should be able to pinpoint where the waterfall is, but for the life of me, I don’t know where we’re going. I can hear the roar of the water, but it seems to be coming from a great distance.
“Just a little further,” he says.
We’re lost. This is just great. After the way I teased him yesterday, he’s probably going to drag us both deeper into the woods until we can’t find our way back before he admits he doesn’t know where…
Just ahead, the ground drops sharply. Dane’s pace slows and we veer to the left, avoiding the steepest part of the slope.
“Do you trust me?” he asks, stopping in his tracks.
“I trust you,” I tell him.
“How much?”
“Enough,” I answer.
“Close your eyes,” he says, taking my hand.
I close them.
He leads me slowly down the embankment, taking care to tell me what kind of terrain is in front of my every step.
My eyes aren’t closed very long before the ground levels beneath my feet and Dane steps behind me.
“All right,” he says.
I open my eyes, and there, directly in front of me is the waterfall. The pool at the bottom is rather calm as the flow of water is somewhat light. There’s a deep alcove behind the waterfall which seems to be the reason the waterfall sounds so loud from where we’re standing.
On this side of the current is a little handmade sign with the words “Winterberry Falls” scrawled across it.
“Get in,” he says. “I’m right behind you.”
The waterfall isn’t very tall, but it’ll more than enough for me to comfortably stand underneath it.
I step to the edge of the water and unbutton my pants. I take off my clothes, piece by piece, and shiver a little in the cool morning air.
Naked now, I take my first step into the pool.
The water’s cool, but not freezing.
The rocks beneath my feet are smooth from decades of erosion, and I slowly make my way into the falling water itself.
Although it’s not a deluge, the water presses me down in a firm massage. It’s when I turn around and come out of the current enough to see that I want to cry.
Ahead of me is the stream issuing from the waterfall, and the trees are sparse around it. Directly ahead is the brightest spot on the ho
rizon, the patch of sky where the sun is going to make its appearance, and the clouds above are already turning shades of purple and pink with the closing proximity of the sunrise.
It quickly becomes obvious that sex in the waterfall is going to be a bit much to handle with the force of the water itself, but only a few feet into the alcove is a mostly smooth, mostly flat rock.
I walk over to it and turn back toward the opening. There’s a good deal of mist, but the colors of the coming sunrise are bright enough from back here to fill me with a dual sense of peace and excitement.
“What do you think?” Dane calls from the other side of the falling water.
“I think this would be a lot better with some company,” I tell him.
A few seconds later and he’s naked beside me, placing an already-soaked towel onto the rock just behind me.
“It might be a little cold,” he says.
“That’s okay,” I tell him, and as the mist surrounds us and the sunrise grows more intense, I wrap my arms around him, saying, “I love you, Dane. Thank you.”
He smiles, and I kiss him tenderly.
This moment is peace and romance and sex at once, and I lie down on the towel, wincing slightly until the towel absorbs my heat and Dane’s on top of me now, his hair dripping wet.
I reach down between his legs and feel him.
He’s already hard.
I’m dripping wet.
He slides into me easily, and I’m immediately plunged into a new realm of existence where there is nothing but sensual pleasure inside and all around me.
He leans forward, kissing me softly, and as he pulls away, I can’t hear the words, but his lips say, “I love you.”
I wrap my legs around him, pulling him into me deeper as the first glimmer of the sun catches the water, forming prisms of light, casting colors in the spray of the waterfall.
The water is cold on my skin, but Dane is so warm inside me.
My arms are around him, his skin so fluid against mine.
His warmth fills me, and as the first half of the sun comes above the horizon through the translucent distance, I start to quiver.
With his body firmly but gently pressed on and into mine, I gasp as my body becomes so incredibly sensate that every drop of water coming over the falls, every particle and wave of light passing through grows into me.
My breasts push tight against him with every deep breath, and my eyes are watering as the surge permeates my body, making me feel, for a moment, immortal.
I hardly notice when my eyes close, I’m so aware of every tattered piece of touch.
My own voice echoes in the alcove and is washed away by the rushing torrent so close I can taste it.
When my eyes open again, Dane is smiling above me.
I move my mouth, but can barely form the words.
He leans in closer.
“Pick me up,” I tell him.
My limbs encompass him so tight, so completely, and he lifts me with ease. Being a true gentleman, he turns so I’m looking at the sky over his shoulder, and I kiss his neck as this beautiful man brings my fantasies to life.
Part of me wants him to walk beneath the water, but the rest of me is so much more content right here in his arms with only my thighs and gravity to careen through this other plane.
Through the open air to the side of the waterfall, I can see the trees swaying gently in a sightless breeze.
“I want you to come inside me,” I tell him, my voice barely a whimper.
I kiss his neck and then his lips, leaning back a little, but still secure in his arms.
He gazes at my breasts as they heave with every ragged breath, and as I look out the side of the waterfall once more, I lock eyes with a woman standing on the bank.
Adrenaline soars through my body, but the woman just stands and watches us, her hands at her sides.
I don’t take my eyes off of her as I press myself again into Dane’s body, the warmth in my skin rekindled.
Dane’s erection heats my core, and I imagine the mist as steam coming off our bodies, through which I can still perceive that woman as she sits on the dry ground and leans back, taking in what we’re giving off.
It’s not an attraction that I feel for the woman, at least not a sexual one, but I lick my lips as I lean back once more, exposing more of my body to the open air.
With both arms clasping each other behind Dane’s neck, I roll my hips, wondering just how much that dark-haired woman can see of us.
It’s not attraction: it’s understanding, recognition between artist and subject, though I can’t claim to know who is who.
Dane holds me with only one arm now as with the other, he guides my breasts, one by one, into his smoldering mouth.
I tilt my head back, allowing him greater access to me, and my hair hangs down, heavy with water, behind me.
The woman on the shore is still there, her eyes ever intent on mine, and I start to climb toward that threshold once more.
Dane feels the quickening of my breath and he lifts me, his whole length entering and then retreating again and again, the sounds of our love crackling against the walls of the nook.
“You’re slipping,” Dane tells me, and I immediately pull myself against him once more.
The shock of his words, any words, delays my gratification, and I tell him to lie down on the towel behind me.
He turns around slowly, every step deliberate, until he can sit on the edge of the rock. I lean forward as he leans back, and he rotates his body just enough for the whole of him to lie back.
Every moment, he’s inside me.
I let my hair fall to cover my face, focusing my gaze onto the man who brought me here to this place of trance and frenzy. As I rise and fall on his firm erection, I tense the muscles in my center, gripping him tight.
My hips flip and rock against him, and I can see in his eyes that he’s going to come.
I lean forward, putting my mouth to his ear and telling him once more, “I want you to come inside me,” and I ride him hungrily, the sun now well into the sky.
Dane’s chest expands and contracts quicker now, and I can only hope to meet him there.
His mouth comes open, and he gasps as I feel new warmth inside me as I skyrocket toward the stars we’ve discovered again together.
His body is still jerking in and against mine as I fall into him, hardly able to breathe, barely able to move, and our muscles contract and release in a strange rhythm as I lay my body against his, exhausted and satiated.
We lie here together for what seems like a jilted eternity, until he slips out of me.
“Gotta tell ya,” I breathe, “I don’t know if I can move right now.”
“Right with ya,” he says.
I lift my head to look for that woman again, but the shore is bare.
I’m still not sure if she was there or if I just imagined her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Backsliding
Dane
Tonight is Leila’s last night before the move.
It’s not the easiest thing in the world, but we’ll make it somehow, I’m sure of it. These last days have been phenomenal.
After bringing one fantasy of hers to life, we agreed to try again with another. I’m still not a fireman, but picking her up in a bar should suffice for now.
I’ve been waiting here a while, though.
That’s not wholly unexpected. She said that she had some errands to run before she’d be able to make it, but that anxiety over her leaving so soon after we really found each other is starting to grip my veins.
“You good over here?” the bartender asks.
“How about a tequila sunrise?” I ask.
The guy gives me a bit of a look, but shrugs his shoulders.
I’ve never actually had one, but they’re Leila’s favorite. It might prove to be a good icebreaker for when she arrives.
The bartender makes the drink and hands it over. I pay him and take my first sip.
&nb
sp; It tastes good, no doubt, but it’s a little fluffy for me. I’m one of those assholes that likes to taste alcohol when I’m drinking alcohol.
“Could I get a shot of vodka, too?” I ask before the bartender finds someone else to inebriate.
He smiles and brings me the shot.
I drink it down and take a look out over the dance floor.
I’m looking for Wrigley just as much as I’m looking for Leila.
Wrigley promised that she’d back off, but I know better than to simply take her at her word.
I sat down at the bar next to her and ordered a drink.
We just kind of sat there for a few minutes, neither one of us even looking at the other. It was awkward, but finally she broke the silence.
“What do you want?” she asked. “Have you finally come to your senses and realized that your Vestal Virgin doesn’t have all the appetites that you require?”
“She’s not a virgin,” I said. “That’s really not the point, though.”
“Hold on,” she said. “I don’t think either one of us is anywhere near intoxicated enough for this to be a comfortable, pleasant conversation.”
“I’m really not planning on staying that long,” I told her, but she insisted.
She ordered up a couple of shots, and before I could start talking again, she ordered up a couple more.
We were about five shots in when the bartender told us to slow down, but that was the wrong thing to say to me. I have a tendency to take warnings like that as a challenge.
In retrospect, I probably should have listened, but as soon as Wrigley told the bartender, “We’re not children. We can handle our shit. Now, pour, fucker!” I was set on not only out-negotiating Wrigley, but out-drinking her as I did.
The next couple of shots came and went so quickly I don’t really recall whether there were two or three of them.
Finally, as the liquor started to really sink in, I decided that I’d better say what I went there to say and get the fuck out before I started losing IQ points.
“We need to talk,” I told her.
“Yeah,” she said, “you mentioned that.”
“What are you doing? It’s not very dignified, is it?”
“Dignity’s overrated,” she said. “I’m just a woman who knows what she wants, and you just happen to be the man that has it hanging between his legs.”