I was heading up into the mountains for a weekend of relaxing and fishing. I'd booked a place near a mountain lake that was supposed to be full to the brim with trout and I intended to get my share. (More than my share if possible.)
The place I'd booked was a little off the beaten track and, quite frankly, I got lost. I arrived at my supposed destination to find myself at a dead end. Completely dead, not even a track leading off from it. I backtracked to a store I recently passed and asked if they could give me directions.
I took notes. I blasted well wrote down what they said in the shop and I still got lost a second time. Where I finished up was not where I wanted to be. I was backtracking down this old dirt road when I ran into this girl walking towards me. Think Ellie May Clampett. Think Daisy Duke. This girl was in that category. Blonde hair, blue eyes, tatty but well filled t-shirt, and tatty old skirt that showed of a pair of lovely legs.
I pulled up and rolled down the window, smiling pleasantly, and politely asked if she could direct me to Frenchies Cabins, as I seemed to have been misdirected. She smiled, said no worries, and proceeded to give me complex directions that depended on extensive local knowledge.
"It's not far," she finished up. "You can't go wrong."
"Miss," I said with a sigh, "if it's possible to go wrong, I will. I have already, twice. Would it be too much of an imposition to ask you to hop in and direct me? I'll give you a lift back after I know where I'm supposed to go."
"If you were on foot," she said, laughing, "you'd just about be there. A car just takes longer. I'll direct you there but you won't have to give me a lift back. I can just cut through the woods and I'll be home."
She slipped into the passenger's seat, her already short skirt riding up higher, showing a lot of thigh and the curve of her bottom. While I suspect that she probably had panties on they were not immediately noticeable.
I leaned back slightly to get a better look at her, taking in her luscious figure.
"Has anyone ever told you that you are really quite lovely?" I asked, and she blushed, waving the compliment aside.
"It's true," I insisted. "Your skin is flawless, like warm silk."
I knew exactly how her skin felt because my fingertips were lightly brushing it. On her leg. On her thigh to be a bit more precise, trailing lightly along.
"Um, I don't think you should be doing that," she said in a neutral voice.
"You're right," I said with a sigh. "I probably shouldn't. How old are you?"
"I'm eighteen, but that's not the reason I said you shouldn't be doing it."
At age eighteen she was fair game as far as I was concerned. If she said no I'd accept it, but she hadn't actually said no. My fingers continued running lightly up and down her leg, sliding across her skin, close to her skirt, but not actually touching it.
"You don't like it?" I asked, my hand slipping between her legs and softly stroking the soft flesh on the inside of her leg.
"I like it fine enough," she said, still sounding completely casual, "but I don't think Paw would."
"But your Paw isn't here right now," I pointed out, my fingers flirting with the edge of her skirt. She was wearing panties because I could see then now.
"Brother Ben wouldn't like it either," she told me.
"That is so true," said a very nice sounding voice from behind me.
I slowly turned my head. A hillbilly wearing overalls and chewing on a straw. What, he was trying to be a caricature of a hillbilly? I will admit the man had two things going for him. A really nice baritone and a rifle that was about two inches from my nose.
"Brother Ben, I assume?" I asked him.
He smiled and nodded.
"Yup. That's me. And just why is Cindi-Lou in your car?"
"I'm lost. She kindly offered to direct me to Frenchies Cabins," I explained.
"Why not just tell you? Only an idiot would get lost between here and there."
"That's me," I admitted.
"Well, idiot, perhaps you can tell me why your hand was on Cindi-Lou's leg. Still there, I see."
"I was hoping to persuade her to play with me for a little while. Why don't you move along and we'll see how we get on."
The answer to that suggestion was a gentle prod from the rifle. Just a nudge, sort of a reminder that the rifle was there.
"How about I give you ten dollars and you take your rifle and go hunt a rabbit. That will leave your sister free to direct me."
And play with me lay unspoken between us.
He looked at me thoughtfully, weighing the situation up in his mind.
"Each?" he asked.
"Each," I agreed.
He nodded and lowered the rifle, his other hand facing me, palm up, and I withdrew a ten and slapped it onto his hand. He promptly pocketed the ten and then his hand was back.
"I'll hold Cindi-Lou's ten, as well," he informed me.
"No dice," I said, shaking my head. "Cindi-Lou can manage her own money."
"You don't trust me with my own sister's money," he snarled, sounding seriously offended.