Caroline was in paradise, or at least as close as she was ever likely to get in this lifetime. She sat under a large billowy canopy, made from an old silk parachute suspended from the live oak trees surrounding their campsite in the Texas Hill Country. Solar cafe lights criss-crossed the awning, giving a warm cocoon like atmosphere to their cozy evening. She glanced around the circle of camp chairs, filled with a kaleidoscope of hippies, and smiled.
Caroline had been coming to this music festival since birth. Her parents were artists in the truest sense of the word. Her mother was a dancer, stained glass maker, and gardener; her father was a musician, woodworker, and general tinkerer. They'd met hitchhiking along the New York Turnpike on their way to Woodstock. She really had no choice - she was born for this life. Folk music... music festivals... they were in her blood.
At thirty-four, she'd matured beyond expecting her own festival romance. Too many summers of disappointment.
Certainly there were the camp boys she grew up with, children of her parents' friends, each of whom had tried their hand at her. As the sole girl in the group, she fascinated them. Similarly, as the sole girl in the group, they fascinated her. But in her case, it was much in the way one was fascinated by the behavior of animals in a zoo. She never saw them as potential playmates in the game of romance.
And then, as she grew older, there were the occasional one-off flings.There was the night a tornado touched down mere miles from their tents. After cowering in the cement-blocked bathroom for hours next to a handsome (if slightly questionable) purveyor of organic mild-altering substances, she spent the evening in his arms in a hammock. But as anyone out there knows, hammocks do not lend themselves to much coordinated physical movements...
She did back track one night. Too many beers and too few orgasms led her to reconsider a man, once a boy, she had spent many summers with. He had Texas in his mouth and the Alamo in his actions, but as endearing as he was, she could sense his infatuation was more than hers. They'd gotten to third base in the back of his truck before she realized her mistake and fled to her own tent.
She'd grown a lot since then, emotionally and sexually. After years of disappointing and unfulfilling attempts at online dating, Caroline relocated to another big east coast city and found herself lonely and looking for companionship without complications. That's when she found the lifestyle. A friend had tipped her off to a different type of dating app, one where sexual desires and proclivities were first and foremost, and she was hooked.
It had been a year, and she was only just scraping the surface at exploring her desires.
And now, it was as if the festival was aware of this evolution inside her. Sitting directly across from her in the song circle was someone new. Someone tall, tattooed, and talented. Everything about him was long: his hair, his limbs, his fingers... The way they slid over his Dobro Resonator made her wonder what they would be like sliding over something - or someone - else. She wanted to find out.
His name was Rhett Anderson. He was a musician and writer from Austin, and a friend of a friend.
It was custom, after the acts at Main Stage wrapped up and folks had drifted back to their various camps, that impromptu concerts or song circles would spring up all over the festival grounds, often lingering into the wee hours of the morning. Musicians with their guitars, fiddles, banjos and more would roam around, join a campfire, trade songs and then move along. But he'd been here song after song after song. Not that she was complaining.
That is easily all it might have been, her watching him, had fate not intervened. Caroline didn't consider herself naturally forward when it came to men, even with her new found sexual confidence. She knew she would have been content to admire him from afar, but as the song circle drew to a close, the fire was banked for the evening, and campmates sought their tents, their mutual friend made a suggestion that Caroline jumped at.
A journey to Hedon Hill.
Hedon Hill was notorious after dark as a place where lovers and dreamers played in the shadows. Any and every type of vice could be found there. She'd never partaken of said vices and was curious if tonight was the night. To her disappointment (and to yours as well, I'm sure, dear reader), the rest of the evening stayed quite innocent. The four of them stayed there, playing music and swapping stories, until the sun peaked above the canyon wall. Slowly, with joy, music, and not just a little arousal fused to her bones, Caroline made her way back to her tent. Alone.
Thankfully, fate offered her another chance.
Over the next few days, life seemed to keep bringing them back together. She ran into him filling canteens from the fresh water spigot, shared a Texas Two Step to some raucous music at Main Stage, and even happened upon him at the shower house. He would also periodically just stop by their camp, take a seat, and spend an hour or two chatting with her and her campmates. It was during one of these sticky hot Texas afternoons that she mentioned she was making a quick trip into town for supplies.
"Would you mind if I tag along? I need to grab a few things myself."
"Of course!" She replied, excited for a chance to spend more time with him one-on-one, and in the day time no less!
As they drove into town, the road winding through the picturesque landscape, an easy silence settled between them. Caroline was eager to take advantage of her time alone with her mysterious musician, but she also found herself naturally nervous. She had a tendency toward awkward chatter, and she didn't want to scare him off.
After a moment, she finally spoke, her voice light. "So, Rhett, how did you end up at the festival this year?"
There. That was simple. Safe.
"A friend of mine mentioned it a few months back. Said it was something I shouldn't miss." Rhett replied, glancing over at her with a warm smile. "And you?"
"Oh, I've been coming here since I was a kid. It's like a second home to me. My parents were festival regulars." Caroline chuckled softly.
"Really? That's incredible. It must be nice to have such deep roots in a place like this."
"It is. I mean, it's changed over the years, but in a lot of ways, it still feels the same. There's a certain magic to it."
Rhett nodded in agreement. "I can see that. The atmosphere here is unlike anywhere else. It's been a while since I felt this... at ease."
"I know what you mean. It's like the outside world just fades away."
"Yeah, exactly. It's like you can just be yourself here, without any judgment."
They shared a smile. They ran their errands about town, quickly finding a comfortable banter, and Caroline found herself more and more at ease around Rhett. Oh, she still found him drop dead gorgeous, but instead of finding his attractiveness intimidating, she was drawn into his easy manner and simply enjoyed his company.
As they were leaving the grocery store, they noticed more festival goers, dressed in some risque and outlandish costumes. Caroline found herself smirking.
"Speaking of being yourself..." She pointed out the group.
Rhett chuckled. "Oh yea. It's something, isn't it? Kinda liberating, embracing the unconventional."
They climbed in the car and headed down the road back to the festival. Caroline realized that she had an opportunity, a chance she'd normally pass up. Instead, she decided to be bold.
"Speaking of unconventional, what's the most unconventional thing you've done at a festival?" The implication was clear. She wasn't just talking about clothing.
"Well, that's a loaded question. Let's see. If we're being honest, I once ended up at a very... open-minded camp. It was an eye-opener, to say the least."
"Oh, come on. You can't just leave it at that! What do you mean, open-minded?"
"Let's just say, I discovered a side of myself I didn't know existed. A more adventurous side."
Caroline playfully harrumphed. "Adventurous could mean you added hot sauce to your huevos rancheros."
