Maybe it was the sunset.
Maybe it was the impending rain.
She didn’t know what it was, but there was something different. Something electric. The dying light bled down through the trees across the face of a man that she thought she knew. There was something in that filtered light of early evening that made him even more desirable. A way that urged her to act on those fantasies that she had kept hidden in her secret heart.
She could smell the coming rain on the wind as it drifted lazily through the maze of trees and brush, the smell of summer. Maybe spring was known as the time for lovers, but the summer had always done it for her. Hot and moist, at times pungent. Like the light scent of his sweat that teased her nose.
The Man in the Woods exerted a kind of benevolent control over her. He had since the day she had met him, standing against a tree and watching her walk along the worn path beside the creek that led through the deep, dark woods. She asked his name many times, but he would never tell her, and he never asked for hers. How many weeks had she been walking with her new friend? Three? Four? And she still didn’t know what to call him.
This day had been different from the start. For one thing, the way he was dressed. He was leaning against his tree, as always, but gone was the rugged flannel shirt and heavy boots. He stood there nonchalantly in nothing but his faded blue jeans. His feet were bare against the floor of the forest and his triangular shaped torso disappeared into the narrow band of his pants. For the first time she was being given the opportunity to take in the sight of the muscles that had teased her waking dreams for the last few weeks. She was tortured with wonder at the thoughts of what was under his tight shirts, the muscle apparent, but modestly covered.
She liked what she saw. He was well built, but not overly large. His skin was a deep tan, probably due to the Native American blood that obviously flowed through his veins. His hair was long and black, and for once, unbound. It spilled over his shoulders and down his back.
“Can I walk with you?” he asked. He always asked the same question, never presuming. She smiled when she said yes. Could this handsome man be so naïve as not to realize that the only reason she walked in the woods everyday was to see him?
Her blonde hair was tucked deftly away from her face, underneath the hood of her red sweatshirt. The red of the shirt was the only splash of color to stand out amid the lush greens and earthy browns of the woods. She wore cut off denim shorts and ankle socks and sneakers below the red sweatshirt. The flapping tails of her white cotton blouse fluttered in the breeze where they hung from under the sweatshirt.
They walked along the edge of the creek together for some time, watching as the sun began it’s descent in the western sky and the rainclouds began to gather darkly in a line to the east. The scent of copper came on the wind as the smell of the distant rain blew through the forest. The leaves turned their white undersides skyward with the updraft of the wind.
And that was when she came to the full realization that she wanted this man. Right now. This quiet, unassuming man who walked and spoke with her for hours, never needing anything from her in return. That he didn’t need her seemed to make her want him more. He wasn’t aloof; he was just comfortable, confident. The smoothness of his walk and the grace with which he moved belied a sense of pure unselfconsciousness. The Man in the Woods was truly at home in his skin. At home in the forest.
He looked her in the eye and knew what was on her mind immediately. She looked away nervously, wondering how much truth he had seen in her face. She had nearly been lost in his steel gray eyes. Lupine eyes.
“I want you,” he said matter-of-factly. “Will you have me?”
“What?” she asked, incredulously. She knew she heard him, but his words had stunned her. “What did you say?”
He stepped closer to her and she involuntarily backed away from him. When her back came into contact with the trunk of a large oak tree she abandoned her thoughts of flight. Where would she run anyway? Did she even want to run? The unexpected nature of his advance caught her off guard. It wasn’t how she was used to being approached by men. It wasn’t a corny line in a city bar. It was an honest statement and a serious question, spoken with a purity of mind and an innocence that was out of place in such a lustful proposition.
“I said, ‘I want you. Will you have me?’”
She didn’t move, the stability of the huge tree at her back helping to hold her up on wobbling knees. She didn’t speak, her lips merely trembled.
He leaned against the tree, an arm on either side of her head, as he leaned slowly down, putting his face level with hers. He whispered again, “Will you have me?”
