Zara was striding along the trail ahead of me, as she usually did. We had resupplied yesterday at Florence Lake, so the packs were heavy, which caused periods of silence as our bodies suffered up a serious grade here and there. We were on the John Muir Trail in the high Sierra.
I didn't mind the silence, being accustomed to solo hikes where conversations were with myself. But Zara, my recent trail companion of one week, usually had words to say if she had breath to do so.
On a sunny afternoon, something prompted her to tease me, "I think I spend too much time thinking about sex."
I wondered to myself if a response was wanted. This could be treacherous territory. I was a twenty-nine year old research professor, currently unemployed, and she was, by her own account, a homeless, friendless, screwed up female trying to find herself on the trail.
In the fashion of trail relationships, we refrained from what might be considered nosy questions, like were you gay or straight. But each of us had confessed to the other that we were currently without a partner.
After a few minutes of silence, I asked, "Is that a philosophical statement, or are you flirting with me?"
The trail was agreeable and we kept walking. After another silent interval, Zara said, "I get to zip our bags together tonight. My feet are always cold."
Shortly after that declaration, we came around a corner and could see Evolution Lake in front of us to the south.
"Pretty open country out there. Should we stop in these trees? It's almost five."
We stood in late sunlight, absorbing the immensity of high Sierra peaks and the work of millions of years of glaciers. Zara stepped backward and reached for my hand.
"Jeff, This is fixing me. You are fixing me. Ever since we met by accident last week, my brain is different."
I eased her pack off and put it down next to mine. My arms around her front gathered her in.
"That's nice to know, but don't give me too much credit. I'm just a guy you ran into on the trail."
She turned around and gave me a warm kiss on the lips. "That's not true, but we will deal with it later. This is a fine place to camp. Let's get farther from the trail. If you fill the water bag from the lake, I will set up the tent."
By the time I got back with several gallons of filtered water, she already had tea water boiling on our stove.
"Orange spice?"
I nodded and dug out my insulated cup, along with my flask of high test alcohol. Shortly we were side by side against a convenient boulder, sipping carefully.
Zara whispered, "You've spiked my drink." Another kiss followed.
I whispered back, "I like your campsite. People have written books about this spot."
"I don't need a book, I have you." She was pressed to me with one of the down bags over us to ward off the high altitude chill.
"Yeah, pretty mellow. Do we have any weed?"
"Yes, but I don't need any. I have you." She decided the next kiss required her being in my lap. I kissed her forehead and held us close.
"That stuff you told me about dropping out of Berkeley. Are we leaving that behind?"
"Yes, if you keep holding me and kissing me."
If this was Zara's version of a hit job, it was working. All of my boy-girl urges were surging.
"You sure you want to be in close contact with a horny male?"
"I've only had one boyfriend up to now and he dropped me for being spaced out and screwed up. That's not much of a recommendation for close contact."
I hummed and just held on. Sometime soon, an early dinner was needed. Zara had good instincts about trail food.
"Has the chef decided on the menu for this evening?"
She wiggled in my arms and replied, "What about stroganoff in a pouch, and one of those cheese and vegetable things you put in boiling water?"
"Sounds good. Is the sous chef allowed to prepare the meal?"
"Yes, but am I allowed to have a little nap right here? Dinner in an hour?"
She was gone before I could say yes. Some guys might think they had inherited trail trash but I was intrigued by Zara. She told me that she had been at Berkeley, but dropped out after two years because she was an indifferent student and her parent's divorce had dried up her financial support.
"All part of being AFU," she had said.
But whether it was me or not, the strong woman was back in the real world. Or at least the high Sierra part of it. I was pretty sure she had thoughts about hooking up with her new trail buddy. This was dangerous. What if she imprinted on Jeff and assumed we were paired up? Damn, that could get sticky.
A little voice said to stop looking only at the downside. You haven't had much success with the opposite sex. The last friend, Carolyn, had said on her way out the door, "Jeff, no woman can meet your expectations. I love you but am going to find myself a nice quiet guy who lets me be myself."
That had set me back for a while and in fact, was one of the reasons why I was out here in the wilderness trying to resort and restart my life. Having my assistant professor appointment expire without renewal hadn't helped.
The package in my arms stirred and said, "This is very cozy, but I have to pee. Do we have more tea, or what about a cup of that tomato bisque soup?"
She dropped her briefs and found a convenient bush. I did the soup and brought it in one container and two spoons. She was bundled in the sleeping bag without benefit of the trail sweaty briefs. Female smells were in the air.
"Maybe you need to wash my bottom for me?"
"Before or after we check compatibility?"
"Mountain sex is messy. It is not on the program for this evening, but what about a sunny place tomorrow?" She followed that with a torrid kiss. I moaned and tickled.
"Stop, the soup will spill. Talk to me about our future."
Oh, oh. Just what I feared. She leaned back and waited for another kiss.
"Um, both of us have screwed up lives at the moment. Don't we have to fix that?"
"Yes, you are absolutely right. I have been thinking it might be easier to fix ourselves as a team." She turned her head and applied lips to mine again. I felt myself sinking. Sinking somewhere with a pretty woman with smarts.
She pulled the bag over her head and sniffled on my chest.
This was not trail behavior. "What is the problem? You were tough trail girl until a few minutes ago."
"Just hold on to me. I may live."
I kind of liked having her under there. My hands wandered, finding ribs to tickle and boobs to squeeze. The body was on the thin and muscular side. Whatever else was happening, trail work was helping her fitness.
She found my hand with hers and put it between her legs. A muffled voice said, "Rub."
That induced a whole new round of wiggling, and a few giggles.
"Being around you makes me horny."
I uncovered the mop of not recently washed hair and worked my fingers in it.
"You want me to stop thinking about sex and do it?"
Her fingers pressed on mine, rubbing harder. Her other hand was worming, searching for a hard thing.
I lay back, lifted the squirming body, and dropped it on top of a very hard cock.
