Thank you isseii for allowing me to write this little fantasy for you. Isseii made application on my thread to be my photographer in the faux job offer. Quite a few women did. I was very pleased with the response to my little contest.
~~~
I couldn't pass it up. Three thousand dollars for three days work staking a mineral claim and a quarrying claim for a mining company. Rumour had it opal had been found in the area. I packed up my kit including my sleeping bag, food, and a few personal items. I checked the fluid levels in my pickup and climbed in. The defender shotgun's just a precaution. It can be used to signal for help or protect you from an aggressive predator. I'd loaded it with alternate rounds of triple-ought buckshot and slugs.
I drove four hours before I arrived at the ferry landing and crossed. I marked the location of the truck with the GPS and struck out west along the river toward Grizzly Mountain. The breeze whispered through the canopy above my head and the birds sang their atonal songs as I walked by. Occasionally a squirrel would berate me for invading what it felt was its territory, not seeming to care if I out weighed him by a thousand times or not. He'd have responded to a bear in the same way.
The breeze was light, but was rising in intensity. I hate when that happens. In this country, you know you're not at the top of the food chain. I always get agitated when it happens. A hard wind means you don't hear the rustling of an approaching predator. Bears and cougars are always an issue here. The storm was coming quickly.
I was almost to the coordinate where I'd turn east to the prospector's cabin that I'd been told about when I saw her. She was standing in the river with her shirt off washing herself. I chuckled softly. This was not what you expect to see deep in the bush. I wondered if I should quietly move around her so I didn't embarrass her, but her body was amazing. I hesitated. Sue me. I'm a guy. She was a beautiful voluptuous girl with long auburn hair. She turned suddenly and saw me. Her eyes were filled with fear.
"Help me. Please, help me!"
That's when I saw her shirt on the bank of the river. It was covered in blood and torn. It was easy to see how she'd gotten hurt. One slip in these rocks and you were almost guaranteed a sharp rock would tear you up. I surveyed the terrain, picked my path, and put on my leather jacket in case I fell. Better the jacket than me.
When I got to her she was trembling. I'm not sure if she'd thought about how cold the water was. I pulled a clean shirt out of my pack and wrapped it around the arm.
"Keep pressure on it." I checked her eyes. Her pupils seemed okay. Pale green. Gorgeous.
"Shouldn't we make a tourniquet?" she asked.
"No. Just keep pressure on it."
I dug through my pack and found the first aid kit. "Let me see it?"
She pulled the shirt away. It was a bad gash nearly four inches long. It was deep, but it was just in flesh. I poured some Everclear from a small flask over the wound. At 190 proof it was 95% alcohol. She tensed up but withstood the sting very well. I closed the gash as best as I could with a series of small butterfly bandages. I'd do a better job later. Her nipples were hard and tight from the cold.
"I have to get to a hospital."
I looked at the sky. It was clouding up fast. I checked the GPS. "No. We have a bad storm coming. There's a cabin not far from here." I hoped my information was correct and the cabin would be there.
"Well just point me in the right direction."
I considered that. It was a five miles back to my truck, but it was rough going. "Do you have a GPS?"
"No."
"Do you know where you are?"
Her voice came back as a quiet whisper. "No."
"You're lost and you want me to point you in the right direction?" I tried to fight back a smirk.
She swallowed. Her breasts rose and fell from a huff of frustration. Magnificent. "Okay. The cabin then. Tomorrow you can get me out of here."
"Do you have three thousand dollars?"
"What?"
"That's how much I lose if I take you out tomorrow. What the hell were you doing out here anyway?"
"I'm a photographer."
"What were you taking pictures of?"
Her breasts jiggled and bounced as a giggle escaped her lips.
"Let me get another shirt for you out of your backpack."
"I don't have one," she said.
"Youβwhat? You have a backpack and a camera bag and no spare shirt."
Her eyes fell. "No, not really."
"Not really? What does that mean?"
"It means I don't have a spare shirt."
"Spare bra? Do you have a spare bra?" I hoped she could here the sarcasm.
"Those I have."
"You're kidding."
She shook her head. What kind of woman is this I wondered? No spare shirt but a spare bra?
"Food. Did you bring food?"
She bit her lip. "No."