One of my coworkers at the university library needed to trade a few shifts to go home for a long weekend, as her brother was getting married. That meant that I had a Monday off, although I would end up working the following Sunday. Still, it would be nice to have a weekday off for once.
Eric thought so as well, and arranged to get the same Monday off from work so that we could go canoeing on a local river and actually enjoy ourselves. Being a Monday, we reasoned, there would be far fewer people on the river, so instead of dodging other canoes, we could actually pay attention to the scenery around us.
That Monday morning, we awoke to rain. Fortunately, there was no thunder and no lightning. We had expected rain, but still, it was a little disappointing.
"Remember," my big brother reminded me as he gave me a loving squeeze underneath the sheet which covered us, "rain is wet and so is the river. We're going to get wet anyhow, so we may as well go, so long as the forecast hasn't changed to include storms."
We checked
WeatherBug
, and fortunately the only change in the forecast was to increase the percent chance of rain during the day. By the time we left the apartment, in fact, the sun was piercing through the clouds, although to the west, another set of darkened clouds were approaching.
I wore my bikini and had added a pair of shorts, so that I would have pockets in which to keep a little money as we descended the river. It did sadden me a little, as we were checking in and then waiting for a lift upriver to the start of the canoeing run, that some of the staff β including two of the women working there β seemed to think less of me because of my small breasts.
There was an older couple with us in the van as we rode to our starting points. They were only doing a four-mile trek, while Eric and I had opted for the nine-mile trek. Since we were younger and smaller, Eric and I sat in the back of the van, allowing the older couple to sit in the row by the sliding door. If they or the driver glanced back to see Eric's hand on the inside of my thigh, they did not react.
The ride to the four-mule starting point was a bumpy one along a dirt road which was really only used to take canoeists to their starting points. Even my smallish breasts seemed to bounce a lot as the van rolled along that particular road. I had purposely tied my hair into a ponytail for this adventure, and the way the end of the ponytail brushed across my shoulders and my exposed upper back was quite sensual, making the bumpiness of the road worthwhile.
The rain began to fall again lightly as the driver helped the older couple unload their canoe from the trailer. When he got back into the van after having helped them to push off and begin their journey, he looked in the rearview mirror at me and smiled. "At least you're already dressed for getting wet, young lady."
We all smiled at that. After five bumpier miles of friendly banter and tips about the first part of our trek, we arrived. The rain had abated by the time we had the canoe in the water, but it was clear that a light warm sprinkle would accompany us for a long, long time.