Rocy Mountain Iefer

Hitting the highway with a Harley sitting between your legs is one of the most thrilling things I’ve ever experienced. The sense of freedom, the power, like you’re riding a piece of a storm. There’s no better sensation to have while heading out on vacation.

Unless, of course, you’re having hot, steamy sex with a very attractive man. Then it’s a whole new ball game. Pun intended.

My name is Diane. I’m 30 years old. The reason I’m on the road on my Harley, Little Brother, is because my big brother Fred told me that I was going to get some R&R before he accepted any more assignments. My brother is also my manager. I do digital photography for a living. Most of the time I can’t go anywhere without it. This time was the lone exception. No cameras, no laptop. Only a cell phone for emergencies. I was going to die from technological withdrawal.

Let me explain. Several weeks, or was it months, ago I was in a bar in Hollywood. A pool hall actually. Some drunk attacked me because I was admiring a tight ass from across the room as it was bending over to play a shot with a handsome man in tight leather pants. That ass, as it turned out, belonged to Kiefer Sutherland and the man in leather was Markus. Yes, that’s right. The actor and sometime director. What a way to meet, don't you think?

Since that fiasco, Kiefer has been romancing me. First it was in a clearing behind the Hollywood sign, then it was on a secluded beach on the Mediterranean. Through a bit of trickery, I got an assignment to photograph Andalusian horses at a place called Castile de la Luna. It was owned by a Mr. Raoul Cordoba. Seems that Markus was his middle name. Kiefer and I had a wonderful two days of forgetting the world.

However, the Gods of Entertainment decreed that Kiefer return to work long before he wanted to. So he left to appease them and I came home as well, though by a different route to confuse any nosy tabloid people. I was so emotionally drained and exhausted, I was in a slump. Nothing I did seemed right. I was that way for at least a week before my brother came over.

Fred is a power house. When he wants you to do something, he’ll steam roll you into it unless you’re a really solid rock in his way. He came over to my place and all but packed me up and booted me out the door. Verbally, that is. He knows better than to try it physically. He handed me the directions, the reservation information, and a map. The little shit even signed me up for snowboarding lessons when I got there a week from that day.

So, there I was, hightailing it up into the Rockies to get away from civilization, the paparazzi, and everything. It would take me about three days of hard riding to get to where I needed to go. But I didn’t mind. Riding out on a deserted highway with the wind in my face is better than hiding in a car with the AC on. All my cares are put on a top shelf when I ride. It’s perfect.

The ride was fantastic. Even the fact that I crossed the border into Colorado in the middle of a snowstorm didn’t bother me. Although I did have the common sense to pull into a motel when the going got too bad. I made sure that my bike, Little Brother, was covered before I went into the room to unfreeze my riding leathers so I could get out of them and into a warm shower. That and a warm bed made all the difference.

For some odd reason the mountains made me feel more alive, more aware of myself. It was almost Spring and the mountains were still dressed for Winter. Yet I could almost feel life stirring as my bike roared away from the last hotel within a very large surrounding area. At least any ones that I knew of. I wasn’t too worried. I knew how to rough it and camp out even in snowy weather.

Fifteen miles from my destination and the sun starting to go down behind the mountains, my bike decided to have a tire problem. Namely, it hit a sharp stone in the center of the icy highway and blew out. Luckily for me, I had on chaps and sturdy jeans under that. Laying a bike down on black ice is not my idea of a fun time. Having no choice but to lay it down on your leg is painful and will ruin anyone’s day. Using one booted foot, I managed to shove Little Brother off my right leg and slide away from it into a snow bank.

My bike slid a little bit further down the road and stopped, its motor still purring away like a passive, yet playful kitten. “Why me?” I asked to the growing darkness, “I haven't done anything bad this time around.”

I groused and cursed fluently as I stood up, only to have my right leg buckle slightly. Testing it, I found I could put weight on it, even walk on it, but it was going to be a slow painful process. It was just one piece of shredded mess. The reason it buckled is because the kneecap was skewed slightly out of place and the whole outside of my leg, from hip to thigh, was missing a good patch of skin.

By the time the moon came out from behind the trees, I had the bike off the road and into a small clearing. The emergency pouch I always keep with me had a small pup tent and two solar blankets, along with the requisite all weather matches. With the temperature dropping rapidly, I managed to get set up and a fire going in no time. Then I turned to little brother.

The cause of the blowout was easy to spot, though it was quite a surprise to see. A spearhead shaped stone was wedged nicely between the rim and the tire itself. It took a bit of work, but I got it free and amazingly enough the tire was still intact. No tears, no bent rim, nada. It was strange to say the least. I set aside the stone an the tire and gazed at the fire, pondering my next move.

Sleeping was on my mind, but so was staying alive. So I sat there and rubbed fresh snow into the road rash on my leg, gritting my teeth at the cold and pain. The injury wasn't that bad, but I wanted to stop the bleeding in case it attracted hungry animals. I didn’t feel like being a meal for anything cute and fuzzy that had very large teeth.

I must have dozed sometime around midnight because I woke with a start, grasping the spearhead stone I had set aside earlier. It was dark and there was a heavy fog surrounding the area, like a huge cloud decided to land on top of the spot I was sitting in. The wispy tendrils of the fog drifted in and out of the trees like wandering ghosts searching for something. There was something mystical about sitting there next to a bed of red coals and watching the forest through the haze of the fog.

The silence was absolute except for the drums in the distance. Wait a minute, Drums??? I stood up and started following the sound, hoping someone would be there to get a message to the lodge so they would worry.

How long I walked, I don't know. But the drums seemed to beckon me onward into the night. I followed the sound to the shore of a lake. For some odd reason, it didn’t seem strange to me that there was a lake in the middle of a place where I rationally knew there wasn't one on the map. Suddenly, out of the trees came women dressed in buckskins. They all disrobed and waded into the water without a word. Two of them beckoned me, inviting me to join them in the water.

Urged on by the drums, I removed my clothes, carefully folding and laying my clothes off to one side. The shredded pant leg gave me a bit of a fuss, but I got them off to one side. The only thing that wasn't coming off was the necklace.

Turning, I waded into the icy waters of the lake, gasping as goose bumps worked their way up my spine. My nipples stood straight out like mini pointers and gave my nether regions a reason to shrivel and hide.

The moment I got comfortable and completely wet in the water, the women converged on me. Gently, they lowered me until I was floating on my back. One of them produced something that looked to be a bar of soap, but smelled like sage. I was like a babe in arms as they gently and thoroughly washed my body and my hair, making me moan softly as their hands left nothing untouched.

When they were done, they helped me to stand and leave the frigid waters. By now my blood was heated by the touch of the women, the cold that forced my circulation to adjust, and the thumping of my heart in time to the drums. I looked around for my clothes and found that they were missing. In their place was a belt with a beaded flap in front and back and a pair of buckskin leggings.

Confused, I turned to ask the women, only to find that I was alone and only my foot prints were in the sandy shoreline. “I’m dreaming,” I thought as I donned the unfamiliar garments, having a slight problem with the unfamiliar buckle. But soon I was ready for whatever came next.

Out of the fog came what appeared to be an old man dressed as the others had been. He walked with a staff and had feathers braided into his silver hair. Neither of us said a word as he motioned me to join him. Without questioning why, I came over to him and we stared at each other while the beat of the drums wrapped their sound around us and drew us together.

The old man reached up to trace the scar on my face with a frown. Then touched the love bite on my neck. I couldn't help it. I blushed and the old man laughed and winked. But his eyes caught sight of the chest scar and and his hand splayed itself to cover it. Amazingly, I saw tears in his eyes as he traced the puckered edges. I found myself reliving that day and its aftermath. The old man pat patted my chest and grinned a tooth less grin as my mind played out the rest of the story to him. It was like he was reading the memories of the scars through his touch. I had to smile.

After a moment or two, he took my arm and together we went towards the sound of the drums. I was a bit self conscious about being topless amongst a group of people, but somehow I couldn’t make myself form the words to voice it. We came upon a clearing, one that looked familiar yet didn’t because my tent and my bike weren’t there.

In their place was a ring of trees. In side the ring were what appeared to be shuffling bears. As we approached, I could see this first image was wrong. It was a group of dancers, male and female, wearing bear skins with the head pulled low over their brows. The forepaws were draped over the shoulders and tied with a thong, the back legs were allowed to swing free.

We got to the outermost ring of trees and stopped. Out of the fog came a warrior, tall and strong. I glanced at the old man, then at the warrior. Without asking I knew that this was his son. The family resemblance was unmistakable. In the warriors’ arms was a bears kin. Not just any skin, mind you, but the mighty grizzly that used to inhabit these mountains long ago.

Not a word was said as the warrior draped the fur over my shoulders and tied it into place. The feel of the skin against my flesh was electrifying. The four inch long claws were laying directly over my nipples. As if the cold water hadn't made them hard enough, the tips of the claws tap tapping them as I moved made them painfully tight.

Once I had the fur settled comfortably on my shoulders, the warrior and the old man pointed to the dancers. I nodded and placed a hand over my heart and lowered my head to them in gratitude. Looking up, I saw the old man wink at me, then make shooing motions at me. Laughing, I stepped across the threshold of trees to join the dancers. It was like entering a room filed with nothing but the sound of a heartbeat.

Not knowing what to do, I swayed to the drums, finding the rhythm, letting my body do what it felt like doing. Because somewhere along the line, my rational mind went to its room to hide. I closed my eyes and the steps came to me. In the darkness, I danced an ancient dance of welcoming and of spirit. I felt all my fears, my concerns, my past pain, everything, flow out of me and into the ground.

I don't know how long I danced, sweat pouring out of my body, but soon I became aware of a ripple amongst the dancers. I didn’t stop dancing, but I opened my eyes to see a large white form moving through a sea of brown. It was taller than the rest only because of the size of the robe.

It danced around with first one, then another of the dancers. Male and female, it made no difference. It seemed like eternity before the dancer got around to me. The face was in shadow and yet, his body was familiar. If only I could have placed it. But I was captivated by the dance and rational thought was not an option.

After what seemed like eternity, I became aware that the drums had stopped long ago. I glanced around the circle of trees and found that the dancers had disappeared. All of them except for the man in the polar bear skin. In the silence we both moved in sync with each other to a beat only the two of us could hear. In the center of the circle of trees, we danced.

Suddenly, the man stopped and reached out with a hand towards me. But it was not a human hand that was placed on my chest over my heart. It was a massive polar bear paw. Gasping, I looked up the fore paw of the bear to see the dancer had raised his head to me, revealing a face that was almost as much of a shock as the paw on my chest. It was Kiefer’s face and naked body beneath the huge skin he was wearing.

My heart beat a little faster at his image and I reached out to him. My hand hovered over his bare chest, then put my hand over his heart. It was human skin I felt, not the fur. When I opened my mouth to speak, he put fingers over my lips, then covered them with his own. I melted into his arms, arms which were now human. And yet I could still feel the paw of the polar bear pressing against my chest. I tried to pour all my feelings into that kiss. I wanted, and needed, him.

I felt it then, a change. He pulled back and looked down with a grin. In my hand was a pulsing light. His heartbeat. In the polar bears paw was mine. With infinite slowness, we brought the two together to beat as one. A moment later the polar bear paw was a hand again, carrying part of the combined light to his chest. It was my hand that morphed into the polar bear paw and pressed the essence into my chest. It was only then that I realized that I now wore the visage of the Polar bear while he was wearing the Grizzly.

Suddenly, a lethargy stole over my body. I was highly aroused and on fire, yet I couldn't do much about it as I fought to keep my eyes from drooping. In the far off distance, I heard that husky and all too familiar laugh. I thought I heard Kiefer’s voice say, “Soon, keeper of my heart, soon we will be together again. Never fear. But rest for now.” How could I ignore that? In seconds even conscious thought was gone.

I woke with the morning sun peeking over the horizon and hitting me in the face. The memory of the night before, a vague memory of moving shapes and pounding drums. Though the lingering, and tingling, feeling of desire was still there. Just to make sure I was truly awake, I pinched myself, and winced. Yep, I was awake and still in the clothes I was wearing when the bike went down.

Shaking my head in disbelief and passing it off as a dream, I stuck a can of fixaflat on Little Brother’s front tire, then began the process of cleaning up the camping area. Everything was fine until I got ready to leave after burying the ashes and making sure everything was as it was before I disturbed it.

The first thing I noticed was the bear claw dangling from the handlebars on a beaded necklace. It wasn't there last night. The second thing was that my leg had been cleaned and neatly bandaged. I hadn't done that either. Last, but not least, the stone spearhead that had been on the ground next to my had last night, had somehow become attached to my front fender.

Frowning, I looked around the place for whomever had messed with Little Brother. All that met my eye was pristine forest and tall trees. The sounds of birds and squirrels arguing or playing in the trees was enough to fill my heart with joy as I repacked the saddlebags and wheeled the bike out to the road. Thankfully, it was warm enough to melt the ice from last night into slush. I could live with that. Now all I needed to do is get the Harley running so I could get to the lodge.

I checked little brother over. Except for a few dings and scrapes, it looked to be in good shape. So, after putting the necklace on and making sure it didn’t tangle with the locket, I secured my helmet on. Saying a prayer to the skies, I hit the starter switch. The resulting roar and vibration had me cumming all over the seat in spite of myself.

The suddenness and the power of the orgasm almost had me dropping the bike like a novice on her first ride alone. I locked my legs in place and rode out the waves of delirious pleasure while growling out, “Damn you Kiefer!”

The only man that ever got me going that much was Kiefer Sutherland. Just the thought of him made me ache with desire.

Finally, I was able to kick the Harley in gear and make it the rest of the way to my destination without mishap. I got a few raised eyebrows at my appearance and an offer to have a doctor look at my leg. But I shook my head, explaining what happened. Oh not everything. I didn’t want to get locked up in the loony bin. Just that I laid my bike down on some black ice on the road up. That seemed to satisfy them.

I took my key and went to the bungalow. The front desk said that I was their only tenant, which was fine with me. It was nestled into the trees away from the rest of the other cabins. It looked the same as any other secluded cabin in the area. Log cabin design, hardwood porch, sturdy door. Yep, if you’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. I parked the bike in the space provided and unlocked the door.

Yes, it was the usual rustic cabin set-up. I started a fire in the fireplace and set about making myself comfortable in this hidey hole. I unpacked the saddlebags, removed my soaking wet clothes, and stood under a hot shower for a half an hour to get my body back to some semblance of normalcy. I checked my leg in the full length mirror and winced as I saw the extent of the `road rash’. But it was healing, thanks to the bandaging earlier, that I had removed to clean up in the shower.

I fished out a new set of jeans and a T-shirt. Checking the info my brother gave me, I was scheduled to get snow boarding lessons tomorrow around noon. Great, I had an entire day to myself and nothing to do. My hands itched for a camera, or at least a lap top!

I sighed, pulled on some boots, and slogged through the snow to the front desk. When I got there, I got directions to the nearest store. But I was advised to go slowly once I got near the ski lift area. I was told that some TV channel was taping an episode of some some sort. I smiled and shrugged.

“Probably some documentary on the dangers and evils of Skiing,” I said. That got a chuckle or two.

Ten minutes later, I did have to slow my bike down and stop actually. The local law had everyone stopped and parked along the side of the road and out of the way. It was fine by me, I wanted to see what was going on. Actually, I was the only person the cops had stopped because I was the only vehicle coming down the road from the lodge.

They told me it’d be about an hour and I couldn’t go back or forward, now that the filming had started. Grumbling I flipped up the collar of my duster and tried not to feel the cold. I looked over in time to see a pair of guys working on the set looking at me. They put their heads together in a muted conversation before walking off into a tent. Shaking my head and stomping my feet to keep warm, I resigned myself to being very cold for at least an hour.

I was keeping to myself off to one side of the road when yells and gunshots erupted from the other side of a screened off barrier. Startled, I jumped OVER my bike and into a ditch, covering my head with my hands. Hell, I didn’t know what was going on. For all I knew someone was killing everyone on the set.