Please enjoy!
I'll take comments, thoughts, and improvements for the next story.
This is meant to quick to show the impulses we all have.
What if we acted on them?
*
She woke with the dull thudding between her thighs.
Goddamn it.
She hated this.
She loved this.
A glance at the clock. 9:30 am. Sunday. Fine. She would have to address this thing one day for real, probably with psychiatrists or doctors. But for now? Let's just indulge. She realized she told herself this non-stop, too. The inner monologue advocated change but remained the same.
She slid out from under the covers, nude, and walked to her dresser on the other side of the room. Her boyfriend was still under a pile of covers, snoring lightly. He wouldn't care either way, she told herself. She acknowledged the inner monologue following the same path every time.
Sunlight flooded in from the floor-to-ceiling bedroom windows. They faced out to the line of houses immediately behind her small back lot and she took no special effort to cover nudity. She hoped some deserving dog-walker got a thrill sneaking a peek at her.
Now at her dresser. Black bikini bottoms on first, then denim shorts. They showed generous amounts of her long, lean legs, tanned nicely. Next came a thin white bra. A black sleeveless halter top covered that. The crew neck dipped down low enough to show some skin but a quick glance at the mirror told her she didn't present much cleavage. That was fine. She considered it camouflage from authority. White athletic socks came up to her ankles. She went downstairs.
Breakfast? Nah. The tugging ache between her legs dragged her outside. It was like she was being led by a leash attached to her clit. She considered a laundry list of adjectives and searched for one that didn't sound cheesy. Throbbing? No, that sounds stupid, like some sad old woman's bodice-ripping erotic novel. Horny? Maybe, if she were some high school teenage boy. She sometimes wondered if she were channeling the dead spirit of a high school teenage boy. This was uncontrollable for her. She felt the need and simply satisfied it, like eating when she was hungry. She knew she was being reckless but ... oh, well. Biology.
Her feet slid into the brown hiking books. She laced them, grabbed her pack with water bottle and birding notebook in the mesh pocket on the side. They were easily identifiable. She had considered hanging binoculars around her neck but she left them for show in the other mesh pocket of the pack. The pack itself was filled with old clothes to give the whole get-up some weight, some ass, to look legit. She tossed the rig through the open window onto the passenger seat of her truck.
The tugging ache pulled her around to the driver's side. She climbed in, keys in her hand. She turned the ignition and she pulled out of her driveway and drove down the street.
(SCENE)
She spotted the deputy through the mud-caked windshield of the Jeep. He was on foot, next to his cruiser, reading the bulletins on the trailhead sign. He was tall, handsome, rangy, and she appreciated how well he fit in his brown uniform. She liked his Smokey-the-Bear hat. He glanced up as her tires crunched through the parking lot gravel. She got out. Surprise flickered behind his sunglasses but he controlled himself. She would have missed the moment if she hadn't seen it many times before from any number of law enforcement officers.
She smiled and acknowledged him.
"How's the Sheriff's Department today?" she called out. He nodded toward her and walked over.
"It's a beautiful day, isn't it, ma'am."
"Indeed," she said, "Thanks for keeping me safe,"
"Keep an eye out when you're out there," he said, sobering.
"Oh, I will. The spotted grouse are supposed to have come back and I haven't seen one this year," she said, missing his meaning on purpose. He fixed her with a look, evaluated her. He almost said more but didn't. She knew what he was going to talk about. The park had a reputation. There were plenty of quiet spots in the miles of paths that wandered in and out of the trees, marshes, and water. Pick your poison, sex, drugs, or the ever popular 'other', it probably happened back there somewhere. She relied upon that fact. She had her poison, her vice. And, given there were other empty cars in the gravel parking lot, she hoped she would find what she was looking for.
She stepped away from the Deputy with a casual wave and pantomimed reaching for her binoculars. Once she walked down the path into the high brush, she put them away. She pulled the pack off her back 100 feet down the narrowing path and took out the small spiral-bound notebook. She hid the pack behind a rock, unconcerned about it being stolen, and moved lightly down the path. Her boots whispered on the mulch. Nature surrounded her.
It was amazing that one could escape the city with only a 15-minute drive. The only sounds out here were the droning of insects, the buzzing of cicadas, and the chirp of birds calling to each other. The day would be a hot one and the humidity was settling in like a wet blanket. The path unrolled in front of her and led her into a copse of trees and the air stopped moving. Ahead of her was a bench and she trembled slightly as a shot of adrenaline coursed through her body. Sitting on that bench was a man.
She was barely a half-mile in and it was this easy. The man wasn't dressed for hiking, nor for running or birding. And yet he sat here, head on a swivel, looking left and right. He saw her, admired her legs for a second, and looked away. Her camouflage was effective. She couldn't be here for the same reason as him, right?
