My Daytime Adventure

I tried to breathe slowly and quietly as I made my way forward again. My legs were a little wobbly and that familiar, wonderful fear was making me tingle all over. It must have taken me about a minute to reach the end of the trail, but eventually I covered the last 20 metres or so. I stood as still as I possibly could, eyes scanning the opposite bank, ears straining to pick up further clues. But I saw and heard nothing. I was fairly well hidden now, at least from above. I began to relax, then turned around and looked up at a small rise which hid me from the main path, about 10 metres away. That was where I was headed.

I wasn't sure how far I could walk up the rise without being visible from the main path, so I leaned against a tree for a while, listening for the slightest sound of activity. Nothing. I pushed off from the tree and edged my way uphill as quietly as I could manage.

When I thought I'd climbed high enough to be clearly visible from the main path, I immediately increased my pace until I was standing on the path itself. Okay, good. So far so good anyway. Now I had a choice to make. I could make my way back the way I had come, with little chance of discovery. Or, I could screw up my courage and do what I'd actually come here for. After thinking things over for maybe a few seconds at most, I took the fun option.

I headed along the main path in the direction of my clothes, wondering what pace was best. If I ran, there was a good chance I'd miss any noises and run headlong into people without warning. However, if I walked, there was a far greater chance of someone coming along before I got to the turn-off to the creek...

I settled on a compromise and walked as quickly and quietly as I could, even though this strategy seemed to have a fatal flaw - there just wasn't anywhere to get off the path to hide. If someone came up behind me, I would have to start running, something I doubted I could do for long enough to reach safety, especially if I was racing a bike. Come to think of it, if a bike was coming towards me, I was screwed anyway. What was I gonna do? Lean forward and rest my hands on my knees, as though I'm exhausted, holding my shirt down as far as possible....and hope they don't turn around to get a rear view of my naked arse? Despite it being a ludicrous plan, it was seemingly my only option. Knowing this, and trying to put it out of my mind, I carried on. There was now about 100 metres or so before I got to the creek turn-off and what I considered to be relative safety...

The sweat was beginning to bead on my skin as I moved forward, a few quick steps followed by a couple of slower ones, my head swivelling constantly in order to detect signs of people. That alone would have been a pretty funny sight, I realise now. Never mind the fact that I had no pants on...

I came to the bottom of a small rise and my tension eased a little. The turn-off I sought was just at the top of this small climb, maybe 20 metres or so. I was practically home, I remember thinking...and then I heard them. Voices. On the path ahead.

I froze immediately. I don't know for how long. I tried to gauge how far away they were, to assess my options and take the best course of action in order to minimise the risk of exposure....well, I wish that is what I'd done, but in reality I just panicked.

My heart thudding like some teenage virgin getting felt up for the first time behind the church, I dashed forward, praying to a God I didn't believe in for just this one small miracle - that I would somehow get away with this lunacy.

I crested the rise as quickly as I could, my eyes rooted to the ground so as to avoid tripping over or making obvious noise, but I glanced up just as I dashed to my right, at the turn-off. No one. Yet. Thank God.....But the voices were awfully loud now. I only had a few seconds to find cover...