"How did you know?" I murmur beneath your ear. "This week's really taken a toll. How could you tell that I needed to get away for a while?"
You smile. "Don't I always know? I can see it in your eyes...the set of your mouth. How could I ever miss it?"
Gently I nuzzle the hollows of your throat, grateful that you're here, and that you understand me so well. "Should I wait inside while you do that 'preflight thingy'?" I ask, looking around the small bush terminal for an unoccupied seat. "Or should I come out on the tarmac with you? Is there something I can help with?"
You stifle the urge to laugh, knowing that help is the last thing I would be in getting your bright red Stearman airborne...but you know I'm serious, so you resist. "You can keep me company. That always helps...with anything," you whisper into my hair. "Come on out to the tie-down. We'll be out of here in no time."
I laugh the laugh that you so tactfully resisted. I knew what you were thinking...what you're thinking now. It isn't here on the runway in Barrow that you crave my company, or even up there in the blue arctic sky. It's our weekend together that has your juices flowing...and mine. As much as you're looking forward to our flight into the clear, cloudless sky, you're anticipating our weekend alone in the Gates of the Arctic more...a wilderness preserve so rare and unspoiled that much of it has never seen the hand of man.
"Why don't you get in?" you offer, guiding my feet as I make my way into the forward cockpit. I feel your hands linger on my derriere as I leave the chill surface of the pavement...warming much more that my body. Again I smile. An unspoken message has passed between us...an understanding...a promise. This weekend is for us alone...all else will be left behind. The only thing to touch us...or be touched by us is...
I blush as the thought of us in the wilderness for two days fills my mind. Two days...two days...a lifetime for a fruit fly...yet a microsecond in the timelessness that will surround us on this trip...but time enough.
Gratefully, I slide into the relative comfort of my leather-clad seat, watching as you check and recheck the countless tiny considerations that must be secured, approved and adjusted before we may make our escape.
Finally, you're through. You flash me a brief nod, then climb up beside me, checking to be sure that I too am secured for the flight. Once again your fingers linger...quivering slightly as they slide beneath my shoulder harness, tugging, testing... caressing my breast in their passing. My nipples harden in anticipation, wishing even now that the flight was over and that we were lying naked together beneath a starry sky in each other's arms...far from the eyes of man.
I stifle a cry as you break contact and climb in behind me...the warmth of your fingers imprinted in my mind...on my yearning form. I feel the rumble of the engine...the slow growl of the craft as it comes to life and begins to make it's way down the deserted runway. It fills me...it stirs me...it offers the promise of things to come.
Slowly you taxi into position, turning us into the wind, and preparing to defy the laws of gravity once again. This is not new to you...but every time I see you take to the air I'm amazed at the renewed wonder in your eyes. You were meant to be here...of this I have no doubt. I'm but a visitor...someone with whom you've chosen to share this special would of yours...and the thought means more to me than mere words could ever tell you.
Tugging my goggles into place, I feel the wind stiffen against my leather flight jacket as the craft picks up speed. Faster...faster we race until at last we break free from the earth below, soaring ever skyward like gulls on the wing. We rise weightlessly into the thin, clear air, gaining altitude, leaving the soddies and prefabs of Barrow far behind. I feel the plane shift as you bank sharply to the right, heading for the shoreline, our guide on the first leg of our journey.
Within seconds we're following the Arctic coast eastward...past the lagoon...Browerville...the Point where we've spent so many intimate moments. Below us the ocean caresses the land, lapping gently at timeless shores, the small white "calves" of icebergs-past gently lolling listlessly in the lethargic chill of the blue-gray sea.
A bowhead breaks the surface, spewing water into the frosty air as it makes its way westward toward the Bering Straits and its mating ground far, far away in the tropics beyond. We smile, knowing full well the primal urges that drive this massive beast toward its ultimate destination. My pulse quickens. Am I like that? Are you? Is this bright, red bird a part of our mating ritual as well?
The ice cap...ancient beyond reckoning, lies to the north...it's pale contours heralding the edge of no-man's land. But that isn't for us...not today. You tap my arm as the silt-laden delta of the Coville River passes beneath our wings...its intricate by-ways crossing and recrossing in a lazy flow to the sea. You bank once more, and we head southward...following its course past the prefabs of Nuiqsut...the oil rigs of Prudhoe Bay falling away to the east.
We travel onward, the Coville narrowing, picking up speed as we begin to leave the tundra behind and climb the foothills of the Brooks Range. You pull back on the stick, and I feel the plane rise...the earth above...the sky below as you guide the Stearman through a series of loops...a farewell to the flatlands. I howl with delight...laughing as the world rights itself and my pulse strives to regain its rhythm. It's good to be alive...so good.
Slowly we climb, past Anaktuvuk Pass...Umiat...until the final bastions of civilization lie far behind, and we're free at last. The blue-white crags of the Brooks Range flow beneath us...the passing of man serenely absent. Finally and completely, we're alone.
You tap my arm once more and point out a narrow strip of beach...the afterthought of some long melted glacier...abandoned now by the still depths of a deep mountain lake. You point downward, and I feel the Stearman begin to lose altitude, our bird coming home for the night.
Once more you head into the wind as our landing gear gently touches down. Then turning, you taxi back to the far end of this impromptu runway and swing about in preparation for our inevitable departure. But for now...leaving is the last thing on our minds. This place has called us...drawn us to it. We belong here.
Quickly you drop to the ground, then offer your hand as I make my way from the cockpit into your waiting arms. This is what I've been waiting for...longing for. The flight was wonderful...breathtaking, but it was mere foreplay to what awaits here in your embrace.
You gather me against you...your body hard and rugged against the soft contours of my own. You part my lips with your tongue, probing within...a parody of the act we both want so desperately. But we need to show some restraint, some control. Mere minutes of daylight remain, and we have a camp to set up while we still can.
Briefly we scout the area, then select a spot beside a granite cliff, within view of the lake beyond. I begin to lay a fire about ten feet from the base, knowing that when the flame is lit, anything in between will remain warm and toasty. I walk along the shore gathering enough driftwood to last the night, and then return to find all of our gear neatly piled by our campsite.
Ever the nest-builder, I begin to spread our ground cloth atop the sand at the base of the abutment, topping it with the double sleeping bag...soft down...that we've chosen for this occasion. The last of the sun dips behind the mountains, leaving us to our own devices. I turn. You've gotten the fire started. Wonderful!
You give me an impish grin and begin to peel the clothing from your body. I smile at your impatience. What am I ever going to do with you? The possibilities are endless...
Quickly I begin to shed my jeans and panties, dropping them unceremoniously in a heap. Then, crossing my arms, I begin to lift the huge Shaker sweater that covers my naked breasts up and over my head...but where have you gone?
I hear you laugh...your voice calling out to me from the darkness beyond. A splash. You must be crazy! That water is close to freezing!
Quickly I grab a spare blanket from our gear, knowing that you'll be chilled to the bone, and gather my sweater once more.
