HPL Book 2: Depth of Field
Ryan Sylander
Depth of Field
Hook ,Pick ,and Lens – Book Two
Ryan Sylander
This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to real people or real events is purely coincidental.
This story contains explicit descriptions of sexual activities between adults. If this type of material offends you, or is illegal where you live, please do not continue to read. The material would be considered NC-17 in the United States.
This story may not be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the author.
Copyright © 2006–2019 by Ryan Sylander.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Contact information:
ryansylander at yahoo dot com
https://www.patreon.com/ryansylander
Table of Contents
Part I: Initials
Chapter 1 – Splash a Little Water on It
Chapter 2 – Been Caught Stealing
Chapter 3 – Summertime Rolls
Chapter 4 – Strays
Chapter 5 – Price I Pay
Chapter 6 – Jane Says
Chapter 7 – Idiots Rule
Chapter 8 – Thank You Boys
Chapter 9 – To Match the Sun
Chapter 10 – Suffer Some
Part II: Electric Counterpoint
Chapter 11 – Pigs in Zen
Chapter 12 – Mountain Song
Chapter 13 – Obvious
Chapter 14 – I’ll Hit You Back
Chapter 15 – Stop
Chapter 16 – No One’s Leaving
Chapter 17 – Everybody’s Friend
Chapter 18 – Had a Dad
Part III: Red Herring
Chapter 19 – Up the Beach
Chapter 20 – Then She Did…
Chapter 21 – Just Because
Chapter 22 – Ocean Size
Part IV: Trilogy
Chapter 23 – Irresistible Force
Chapter 24 – Of Course
Chapter 25 – Classic Girl
Part V: El Tango
Chapter 26 – Hypersonic
Chapter 27 – Wrong Girl
Chapter 28 – End to the Lies
Chapter 29 – Twisted Tales
Chapter 30 – Superhero
Chapter 31 – Underground
Part VI: Reflections
Chapter 32 – The Riches
Chapter 33 – Three Days
Chapter 34 – Curiosity Kills
Chapter 35 – Ain’t No Right
Chapter 36 – Broken People
Chapter 37 – True Nature
Chapter 38 – Words Right Out of My Mouth
Chapter 39 – Ultimate Reason
Extras
Character List
Song Lyrics
Extra Images & Floor Plans
Riddle-Poems & Solutions
Alternate-Universe Reflections
Side B
Side A
Preface
Summary:
Matt’s interest in fishing, music, and photography brings him close to friends both new and old. A summer camping trip challenges him with new experiences and blurred lines. As he tries to untangle the mischievous schemes of his long-distance girlfriend and his sister, Matt finds that sex, drugs & rock’n’roll are a heady but dangerous mix.
This story is the second part of the Hook, Pick, and Lens series:
Book I: Looking Through the Lens
Book II: Depth of Field
Book III: Shutter Release
This story relies heavily on material from the previous book in the series. If you enjoy this novel, please take a minute to let me know. I always appreciate reader feedback. I can be contacted through email at ryansylander at yahoo dot com. For more information and stories, visit my website at:
https://www.patreon.com/ryansylander
This is the second version of Depth of Field. The story was greatly improved by the input of my editor, pcb. In addition, the comments and suggestions of several anonymous readers are deeply appreciated. Finally, thank you to those readers who have taken the time to write with their comments on my stories over the years!
Cheers!
Ryan Sylander
December 21, 2018
Version history
First edition: March 2014
Second edition (additional edits and formatting): December 2018
Part I: Initials
The end is in the beginning and lies far ahead
- R.E.
Chapter 1 – Splash a Little Water on It
“Are you just going to stand there and watch me all day?”
I raised an eyebrow at my sister and smiled slightly. “Is that what you want me to do?”
Lara grinned impishly before turning back toward the lively river, stepping onto the larger rocks that jutted out from the rapids. The sudden lift of her fishing rod gave away the fact that she’d settled too quickly on an unsteady stone. Her toned leg muscles twitched as they tried to make mechanical sense of the wobbly perch. In the end, the extended pole tipped the balance in her favor and she remained dry.
“You’re allowed to step in the water, you know!” I called out.
“Really? I didn’t know that!” The playful sarcasm in her tone soon transformed into mock helplessness. “I’ve never fished before, Matt! Please tell me how it’s done?”
I snorted. “Nothing wrong with getting a little wet.” I’d muttered this statement, but evidently Lara heard my words over the endless commotion of the riffles. She eyed me for a moment.
“A little wet, huh? Daydreaming of Heather, are we?”
I gave her no answer, so after releasing her teasing stare, she continued across the rocks. Eventually she found a flat slab of stone, used a toe to check that it was well-seated in the riverbed, and hopped onto it. She turned toward me, a touch of victory in her eyes.
“I’m still dry,” she announced, pointing her water shoe out.
“For now. But when your hook gets snagged, you’ll have to get in anyway.”
Lara smiled sweetly at me. “Nah, I’ll just call you for help.”
“No way. I’m going upstream.”
“Go then,” she pouted dejectedly. “Leave me here, all alone… and all wet!”
I chuckled and shook my head. “Whatever! Good luck!” I called out as I climbed through the bushes on the bank.
“Bye!”
The end of summer is not the best time to go fly-fishing, because the lazy streams run shallow and warm. The trout are sluggish and tentative, content to wait out the doldrums in deeper pools and cooler nooks. To have any chance of catching a meal, you have to visit the river either very early or very late, hoping that the fish are partial to a fly that you can barely see in the half-light. On the Esopus Creek, there is the added inconvenience of occasional groups of inner-tube floaters who ‘brave’ the Class II rapids.
Since it was a hot afternoon in late August and a cluster of orange doughnuts could be seen approaching from upriver, I clambered along the bank with very low expectations. Not only was the time of year unfavorable, but my fly-fishing abilities were still somewhat novice. My own experience amounted to a half-dozen weekends, the last of which had been several months ago. My total lifetime catch using fly gear was three small trout, so in truth the inner-tubes and weather probably would not make much difference in my lack of success today.
I eyed the riffles and eddies as I hiked, put off by the presence of overhanging limbs from the trees that grew on the banks. Although I theoretically knew some casting techniques for working a fly in tight quarters, I wanted to find a broader spot where I could ease into the fishing without worrying about an errant backstroke tangling my line in the greedy and unforgiving leaves above me.
After a time, the watercourse widened somewhat and escaped the grip of the trees. The rapids here looked promising. An older angler in hip waders was just stepping out of the shallows nearby, offering me an opportunity to check the conditions. I issued the standard greeting.
“Any luck?”
“A couple,” she replied with a patient smile, casually opening the creel that hung at her hip.
I was impressed. “Nice ones. What were you using?”
She carefully pulled a fuzzy black hook from the woolly patch on her vest, holding it out in her palm. “Ants.”
I eyed her quizzically.
“Put them under the overhanging growth up along there.” She indicated a section of the opposite riverbank where some bushes and tall grasses arched over the water’s edge. “Then let them float down with the current, right next to the bank.”
“Cool, I’ll try that. Where did you get the ants?”
She eyed me with a grin. “Tied them myself. But they’ll have them at the fly shop in town, too. Look, I’m leaving for the afternoon, so go ahead and take this one.” She dropped the ant into my palm.
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “A ‘Mary J. Special’, all yours!”
“Wow, thanks! I really appreciate it!”
“My pleasure. Good luck to you!”
The woman ambled off as I examined the fly closely. It was a fine piece of work. Fuzzy thread was wound tight for the head and the abdomen, and the black hackle on the thorax made for a decent imitation of ant legs. I glanced one last time at ‘Mary J.’ as she disappeared into the trees. A good fishing tip was always welcome, I knew. The sight of the two rainbows in her basket had suddenly given me more hope for catching dinner. Her generosity with the ant also had produced a warm feeling of happiness.
After the cluster of people floating on the inner tubes splashed by, I waded out into the stream. I didn’t bother with the care Lara had taken to stay above the playful surface, instead finding a submerged path to reach the middle. The feel of the cool creek around my legs was delightful. Unlike the angler I’d just met, I wore a bathing suit and water shoes, since I didn’t have the money for a pair of hip waders. I did own a fishing vest, though, a proud birthday acquisition from just over a year ago.
I glanced downstream at Lara, catching sight of a silver flash shooting through the air in front of her. She’d probably have better luck than me, although the fish that had the energy to chase spinners at this hour were usually young and small. Not too little to eat, though; even an eight-inch rainbow was worth throwing on the pan with some butter. My stomach growled at this thought, so I spooled some filament off of my reel, watching it loop onto the surface. I cast back and forth, letting the line grow longer in the air with each pass. The feeling was strange at first, but soon my muscles remembered how to await the weight of the rod. Then I took aim and let the thick line unfurl onto the water in front of me. The black ant was hard to see, even after I dropped my polarized glasses into place. I allowed it to travel in the current until it started to drag unnaturally, at which point any trout would be onto the ruse. Time to pull the fly into the air again.
I worked the rod in the classic back and forth motion that defines fly-fishing. I’d been attracted to this type of angling by that very technique. The gentle snaking of a bright line overhead looked like more fun than the cast-and-reel-in approach that typical tackle required. Not only fun, fly-fishing was also challenging. Aside from the complex art of choosing the proper mock insect, the casting demanded a certain rhythm: too fast, and the fly would snap in the air like a whip; too slow, and the line would lose power and fall to the river in a tangle. Just right, and you could put an imitation bug exactly where you wanted it.
Thump.
I’d lost sight of the fly in the current. At first, the slight pulse felt like a snag, causing a pang of disappointment within me. Nothing was as disruptive to the peaceful rhythm of fly-fishing as having to wade across the water and dislodge a hook from a submerged branch or patch of moss. Besides the personal annoyance, this also spooked any fish in the area, what with my legs thrashing through their living quarters.
But it wasn’t a snag! I felt life on the other side of the line and my disappointment immediately turned to excitement. If the fish had made a splash when it inhaled the ant, the motion had been lost in the natural chaos of small rapids. It was luck, then, that I’d pulled on the line right after the trout took the hook. I kept the rod tip high as I slowly reeled in, feeling the vibrations on the other end. It was a short fight and I soon spotted silver flashes as I drew the catch close. Even though I was optimistic enough to carry a net on my back, this one was too small for that sort of trouble. I pulled it up into the air and smiled. A nine-inch rainbow. Could be worse, I thought.
A minute later I was on the bank, fish in fist, hurrying to where Lara was still working the river. I didn’t have a creel, so my only option was to take the prize to her bucket of water. This would prove to be time-consuming if I caught a lot of fish, but for now this first one was a good opportunity to show off. Apparently Lara had seen me approaching, since she was hopping back to shore. I noted that she was still dry and sporting a large grin. Hah, she saw my catch!
“Got one!” I exclaimed proudly.
“Me too!”
I gawked at her in surprise as we met at the bucket. “Really?”
“Two of them!” she clarified.
I peered into the container. Indeed, a pair of trout were swimming therein. One was over a foot long, a nice catch by any standard.
“Whoa! That’s a big one, Lara!”
“Yeah, they must be hungry today. A few other bites, too!”
“This is awesome! We’re going to feast like royals tonight!”
Lara eyed my fish as I dropped it into the bucket. “Two to one,” she said simply.
“No way, I’m not playing that game with you!”
She widened her eyes as she laughed. “Sensitive, are we?”
“I’m not sensitive,” I answered patiently.
“Still angry that Heather always kicks your ass at fishing?”
“Angry? What are you talking about? I was never angry that she won. Besides, we’ll see what happens when she comes to fish on my turf.”
Lara sniggered. “I wouldn’t count on any advantage. I’m even beating you!”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re not fly-fishing, first of all. And anyway, it’s kind of early to be claiming victory.”
“Oh, so we’re on, then?” Her eyes glinted mischievously.
“No, we’re not on.”
“Fine, save all the fun for her,” she rejoined.
“I’m going back to my spot.”
“Good luck finding your spot!”
I was a dozen yards away when she called out, “Two to one!”
“Not playing!”
I looked back with a grin, prepared to stick a tongue out at her, but she was already bouncing along the river stones. I returned to the same area where I’d caught my fish, fluffed up the lucky ant, and returned to it. To save face, I knew I’d need to catch at least as many as Lara did this weekend. Even if there was no formal contest in play, Lara wouldn’t hesitate to let Heather know the unofficial outcome. Of that, I was sure.
Lara and I were on our own for this trip. After returning from our three-week vacation to Montauk, I was eager to go fishing while school was still out for the summer. If I was going to teach Heather how to fly-fish when she came to visit sometime this year, I would need to be in good practice myself. Since we’d only been back from my aunt’s house for less than a week, my parents nixed a family camping outing due to household duties they needed to tend to. However, they suggested that if I could persuade Lara to go with me, they would drop the two of us off at a campground for a couple of days. Lara was surprisingly easy to convince, so it was decided. As long as we were safe and acted like adults – ‘Of course we will!’ – our moms said that there was no reason they needed to be there with us.
The Esopus Creek was less than an hour from our house. Sarah had dropped us off at our campsite near the river a few hours ago. My mom was a skilled hand with outdoor equipment, so the setup went swiftly. She was on the road back home an hour later, leaving Lara and I sitting at the picnic table, grinning at each other like little kids. Alone for two days. It felt like a big moment. Freedom!
A bump on the line brought me to the present. I caught another one! I gave an excited pull on my fishing rod, groaning when it tightened up, taut and unmoving. Damn it. I caught the earth. Reluctantly, I started wading over toward the far bank where the hook was invisibly snagged, reeling in line as I went. Not everything was easy.
My early luck hadn’t persisted. A few hours later I was still sitting on the nine-inch singleton. I’d gradually wandered upstream over the course of time, lost in the lazy feel of summer’s late afternoon warmth. The bank had stopped offering overhanging brush from which imitation ants could pretend to fall, so I switched flies to a slate drake pattern that the tackle shop had recommended that morning. The ruddy bug was a little easier to track on the surface than the ebon ant was, but still nothing took the bait. At one point, Lara came by to let me know that she was going to read back at camp, having had no further success. She took a moment to remind me of the score, before skipping off through the woods.
I was sitting on the bank tying on a complete new leader – damn overhanging tree – when I heard silvery voices floating above the bubbly swishes of the water. It sounded like a group of girls laughing and generally having a good time, so I scanned the opposite bank. Sure enough, they soon came into view through the trees. I got a clear look at them as the trail wound down to the edge of the stream, delivering their happy faces into a little clearing that was free of undergrowth. The three girls looked to be just a bit older than I was. Even at my distance of perhaps fifteen yards, I could see that they were sweaty from a long hike, skin glistening in the beam of sun they stepped through. They were also cute and most certainly in shape.
The trio caught sight of me as they passed, one of the girls sending a wave and an honest smile my way. I half-waved back, amused, slightly intrigued, and even a touch nervous, because her gesture had crossed the river much too easily. After they slid into the forest, I absently waded into the water. I tried to let the vision slip from my mind, but I found myself glancing to the clearing whenever the rapids teased me by mimicking their voices.
Eventually my fly grew waterlogged. Even a generous application of floatant couldn’t prevent the riffles from pulling the furry hook under the surface. I knew it was time to pack it up, dry out, and fry up our catch. I glanced upstream, scanning the expanse of unfished water with a pang of longing. Would the evening bring better luck? There would be a fishable hour of light after dinner to try again, so perhaps I’d be able to even the score before bedtime. Not that I’m playing, I had to remind myself.
Again I heard the melodious sound of laughter. Peering against the glare from the river, I spotted the three girls standing atop a giant boulder, brightly outlined in the sun. I squinted to get more detail of their movements. Just as I was about to turn away and head for the bank, I realized what they were doing.
Even though I was at some distance, I could see the bending of waists as shorts were peeled off. Arms unfurled as tank tops were removed and discarded. They were clad in bikinis. Or is it underwear? One of them suddenly leapt off the tall rock and splashed into a pool of water below. The two other girls stood at the edge, looking down at their friend. Then they backed up, took a quick step, and jumped. They didn’t seem as sure of themselves as the first girl did, though, since they issued a pair of shrill screams.
The sense of intrigue returned. My fingers blindly grabbed a random fly from the patch on my vest and hastily tied it onto the leader, indifferent to whether the trout might like it. As I drew nearer the bathing sirens, I resumed casting, even though the splashes from trio’s repeated jumps were surely frightening all fish in the nearby area. Whatever. I steadily made my way toward them, my fishing being a perfect pretext to intrude on their playful swim and get a closer look. They glanced at me several times when I was quite near, but seemed unconcerned with my approach, continuing their conversation as well as their cannonballs.
After tiring of the leaps, they lay down on the top of the rock to sunbathe. I gathered my confidence and fished my way right up to where the river deepened into the pool that earlier caught their jumps. Now what? Things were slightly quieter here, since the rapids were behind me. Suddenly feeling like a lecherous intruder, I resolved to give up the silly visions that flitted through my head and head back.
Before I could take a step, though, a fish decided my fly was the real thing. It was luck again, because my cast had been essentially random. I quickly took control of the line and let the trout fight its way onto the hook. Ebullient excitement filled me, since landing the fish with spectators would be an unexpected bonus, especially when they were three cute and mostly naked females!
A moment of grand daydreaming followed as I turned the crank noisily, grinning slightly as one of the girls raised herself up on one elbow and looked toward me with hand-shaded eyes. I was very glad that my cheap plastic reel gave off the sound of small firecrackers. A quieter, top-line reel would not have drawn nearly the same audience. With more show than necessary, I brought the trout close, pulling it out of the water with some exaggeration. For a moment I forgot about the girls, because the catch was a beauty, comparable to Lara’s larger one.
“Hey, look! That guy just caught something!” the girl called to her friends.
The other two sat up to watch.
“Eew, there’s fish that big in here?” another said.
“And bigger,” said the third girl, her voice clearly wise to the ways of river. “Eels, too.”
“Shut up!”
“Serious, Meg.”
I held the prize up and examined it, keeping my face sober despite the elation I felt. Wishing more than ever for a creel, I stood uncertainly for a moment, considering what to do with the fish. Unwilling to turn and make the long trip back to camp right then, I made my way over to the opposite bank, aiming for the rocky shore at the base of the large boulder. I steadily climbed out of the pool with the intention to… do what, exactly?
A single splash punctuated the stream’s quiet monologue. Oh great. Someone had jumped off the rock. My stomach fluttered as I realized I was probably acting creepy. I wasn’t really sure how far you need to stay away from girls swimming in their underwear. Still, I’d made the decision and there was no turning back now.
As I sat down on the shore, the erstwhile jumper was getting out of the water. She was the third one who had spoken. She was also the one who had waved to me earlier. My heart started beating faster as I realized she was coming my way, her eyes locked on me. Even though I only dared the quickest of glances as she neared, the sight was intoxicating. It was abundantly obvious now that she was, in fact, wearing underwear. Her shapely body was hardly concealed by the plain lingerie, being made out of fabric that was clearly meant to stay dry. She also was completely unconcerned at her state of undress as she congratulated me.
“Nice catch.”
“Yeah, not bad,” I agreed, keeping my voice even. Luckily, I had a fish to fix my eyes on. I set the trout on the pebbles beside me. After thrashing about for a few moments, it lay still, trying in vain to breathe the air. “I’m just taking a rest break before I head back to camp,” I explained lamely. As if fishing is such hard work. Should I pretend to be breathing harder too? Doofus.
The girl smiled and then turned toward the boulder. “Meg!” she called.
“What?”
“Throw down my towel and some food, will you?”
A furl of color flew from the sky, followed by a granola bar. She deftly snatched them out of the air with a little jump. The towel was not for modesty, because when she finished drying off she spread it out nearby and sat cross-legged, facing the river. She turned to look at me as she opened the bar and took a bite. I suddenly was very self-conscious about the situation.
“Jumping off that rock looks like fun,” I said quickly, gesturing toward the boulder. Then I felt silly, since it was enormously obvious which rock I meant.
“It is. Refreshing after a long hike.”
“Cool.”
“You can jump off too, if you want. It’s not like it’s our rock or anything.”
I laughed a little. The ensuing awkward silence was thankfully salvaged by a last burst of flapping by the trout. We both eyed it. The way she had set up her towel near me reminded me of a vulture. A very good-looking vulture, though.
“Are you… going to eat it?” she asked, too casually.
“Um, yeah. I’ll cook it up tonight in some butter.”
“Nice,” she remarked. “Sounds really tasty.”
I looked at the fish with pity, wondering if she wanted it. “I left my bucket of water at the campsite. I hate letting it suffocate, so I better get moving.”
She shrugged. “You’re going to kill it anyway. Just bash its head a few times if you’re worried. Heads up!”
I glanced up, abruptly realizing that she’d tossed me a softball-sized river stone. I barely managed to catch the projectile before it hit me in the privates. After arching a brow at her grinning face, I looked at the trout again. Is she serious? I set the rock down, deciding suffocation was easier. Well, maybe not easier for the fish, but easier for me.
“Are you here with friends?” she asked.
“Just my sister. We’re camping for the weekend.”
“At the campground down there?”
“Yeah.”
“Cool. Us too.”
“You live around here?”
“I do. Well, I used to live near Kingston.” She vaguely gestured to her companions. “They’re from other parts of New York. We go to college in Albany. Start back on Monday. Woo-hoo!” She twirled her finger in the air and rolled her eyes.
I laughed, trying to keep my nerves cool. “That good, huh?”
She shrugged and grinned at me, catching my glance. For a moment, I felt a twinge as we held the stare. Then I looked away.
“Are you roommates?” I asked, stabbing for topics to discuss other than wet cotton.
“Yup. You in college, too?”
“Yeah… Grad school, actually.”
She eyed me suspiciously. “Grad school.” It wasn’t a question.
“Just kidding. Still in high school.”
She nodded, smiling a little. One of the other girls appeared on top of the rock and called down to her friend.
“Alana, what’s the plan?”
I had the vague feeling that her statement might have really meant ‘Who is that kid and why are you even talking to him?’
Alana turned to look up at her. “I don’t know. Are you hungry?”
“Starving,” both friends replied. “And thirsty!”
Alana inadvertently eyed the fish that was expiring at my side. “Guess it’s time to eat,” she sighed. It seemed like there was a slight uncertainty in her voice.
“Yeah, I’m getting hungry too. Do they like trout?” I asked quietly, indicating the pair who were still standing on the boulder.
“No idea. I really doubt Meg does.”
“Well, feel free to come to our site and share.”
Alana looked at the fish again. “That’s not even enough for one person.”
The way she said that reminded me of Heather so strongly that my eyes snapped up to hers, instinctively looking for that spark. And it was there.
“I have a few more trout back at the site,” I explained, forcing my glance away again. For some reason it kept wanting to linger on her face. “Caught them earlier.”
Her friends had descended from the boulder and neared before Alana could answer my offer. One girl was already clad in her clothing and watched me warily, while the other one toweled off her short hair. Her colored underwear was only slightly more modest than Alana’s. I kept my eyes moving as I stood up, feeling like an uninvited bug.
“Uh, I’m going to go eat. See you later. Or not. No obligation,” I managed, stumbling over my words like a dork.
‘No obligation’? What the hell was that?
“What site are you at?” Alana asked me, coming closer.
I tried to visualize the wooden sign. “Um, thirty-six C, I think?”
She eyed me for a second, grinning slightly. “Thirty-four, actually, but close,” she murmured.
I frowned at her, confused. “Huh? We’re neighbors then?”
She giggled. “You sure it’s all right? If we come hang, I mean?”
“Yeah, no problem. Come by if you want.”
She held out her hand. “I’m Alana.”
I looked at her for a moment, then considered the catch I clutched in my right fist. “Matt,” I replied, offering the fish as a joke.
To my amusement, Alana shook the tail, snickering. “Nice to meet you, Matt. Oh, and Megan, Sophie,” she added, only absently indicating her two roommates as she named them. The two other girls weren’t even paying attention to us. Alana kept her vivid eyes on mine.
Before I said something stupid or got caught staring, I took my leave. I moved downstream to cross through the rapids to the opposite bank. As I ventured one last glance at the girls by the rock, the whole incident felt dreamlike.
At least I knew her name, though.
When I returned to the campsite, Lara was setting up the Coleman stove.
“Hey, check it out,” I called, holding up the trout.
“Mmm, nice one! More fish! Now we have a meal. Here, give me a hand. I can’t screw this thing on.”
I put down my gear and helped her connect the propane tank. “By the way, some people might stop in to eat with us,” I said quickly, popping Led Zeppelin’s third album into the boom box.
“What people?”
For some reason I felt nervous. “Just some girls I met on the river.”
Lara eyed me dubiously. “Girls?”
“That’s what I said.”
“Were they fishing?”
“Swimming.”
“Really. How many is some?”
“Three. I kind of invited them to have some fish. They were hungry.”
Lara looked at me strangely. “And what, they don’t have their own food? Have they been lost in the woods for the last month or something?”
I shrugged dumbly. “Yeah, I think they were.”
“Are they also sleeping in our tent?” she asked, sarcasm creeping further into her voice.
“Quit it, Lara.”
“You just invited them because they were cute,” she stated.
“No! I have a girlfriend. You, on the other hand…”
Lara smirked. “Oh, I see! You’re so considerate, Matt! How old are they?”
“College girls, so maybe twenty or so.”
She clearly was not expecting that. “Get out,” she dismissed.
“I’m serious.”
She considered me for a moment. “Hmm. We better bust out the pasta, then.”
I held out a hand. “Well, hold on. Let’s wait and see if they actually show, before we make extra food.”
Lara looked at me knowingly. “Ah, thought so.”
“Thought so, what?”
“You’re making shit up.”
I shrugged, suppressing my grin. “Whatever. I’m showering.”
“Go for it. I’ll wait for the big party to arrive. You’re funny, Matt.”
I laughed as I gathered my jeans and a fresh shirt from the tent, looking forward to the evening.
Chapter 2 – Been Caught Stealing
Lara wore the most priceless look as I approached a campsite that was now occupied by three extra girls. Alana greeted me warmly, that same honest smile on her face. For a second I imagined I had x-ray vision, since I could easily strip away her short shorts and form-fitting tank top to imagine her in her translucent underwear. Then I put the thought out of my head.
Things were awkward for a bit, but once I reminded everyone that we were all hungry, we got to work. Sophie unpacked a paper sack that was on the table, producing some chips, a jar of dip, and a few smaller paper sacks that appeared to contain bottles of wine along with accompanying cups. While Lara went to fill the large pasta pot with water, Alana approached me.
“How are you going to cook the fish?” she asked.
“I was going to fry them up. In butter.”
A mischievous grin crossed her tanned face. “Let’s smoke them instead.”
“Smoke them?” I was dubious and I was hungry. Smoking sounded like a long process.
“For a little bit, yeah. Do you have any wood?”
“Under the tarp there.”
“Can I get a fire going?” she asked, her eyes twinkling.
I shrugged. “Sure, go ahead.” There was no way I would deny her anything, not with that look.
Alana moved to grab some logs. “Megs, please… Don’t exert yourself!”
Megan was sitting in one of the camp chairs, stretching her legs onto another one, the picture of comfort. “What should I do?” she asked lazily.
“You can help Matt clean the fish,” Alana suggested, an evil twinge in her voice.
“Me? No way!”
“Come on, I’ll show you,” I called, taking the hint from Alana’s eyes.
I had the feeling that Alana was a deft hand at gutting fish; her friend, not so much. Megan reluctantly rose from her recline and took a seat somewhat near me at the picnic table, already scrunching up her face in disgust. I unceremoniously plopped one of the trout onto a sheet of newspaper in front of her.
“All right, just grab the head,” I instructed, feeling like Melissa might when she taught me some new cooking technique.
“Eew!” Megan squeaked as she poked a finger at her fish.
“Oh, come on. It’s dead.”
“City girl,” Alana explained as she stacked logs in the fire pit. “Scared of nature.”
Megan shot her friend a glare before gingerly grabbing the head. I laughed to myself. Megan sure did seem like the kind of person that wouldn’t even know what boiling water was.
“Okay, now what?” she asked warily. She seemed fixated by the gelatinous eye that stared up at her.
“Cut off the head.”
“What?” she blurted out.
“Just watch.” I grabbed another trout, drew a careful cut behind the gills, and pulled the head free.
Megan was watching with a look of extreme distaste. “I’m not doing that,” she announced, dropping her knife to the newspaper.
Sophie laughed as she came around the table toward us, each hand holding a plastic cup full of wine. “Here, drink. Maybe that’ll make it easier. For both of you!”
I had to laugh as Megan took a desperate swig of the ruby liquid and made another face.
“You said you wanted to help,” I reminded her, taking a sip myself.
With a disinclined glance at her clean white t-shirt, Megan grasped the fish again. With some encouragement, she managed to lop off the head. Her knife work was appalling, though, so it ended up looking like a blind bear had bitten it off. A rusty spurt of blood leapt onto her sleeve as she wrenched the body free.
“Eew! Eew! The head juice got on me!” she cried, pulling the fabric away from her skin. “That’s so gross!”
I heard Alana guffaw from behind me. The fire she’d built was burning solidly.
“Aw, it’s just a little blood,” I consoled. “Look, now you need to cut open the stomach. Put your knife in like this and give it a slice.”
That was the end of her assistance. She abruptly stomped off to the bathroom to wash the offending glob from her shirt, gooky hands held fearfully out to her sides.
Alana took Megan’s place at the picnic table. She sat much closer to me than her friend had. “Mind if I take over?” she asked cheerily, Megan’s discarded knife already in her palm.
“Do you know what you’re doing, or are you going to freak out on me too?”
“I’ve fished a few times.”
Deft hand, indeed. Within five seconds, she’d removed the guts and bloodline. She tossed Megan’s fish on the plate.
“Next!” she called loudly.
Grinning, I handed her another trout. We speedily finished cleaning the four, after which we took them to the river to rinse off the remnant bloody bits.
“Do you fly-fish, then?” I asked her.
“Nah. Mostly lake stuff. My family owns a boat shop near the Ashokan reservoir.”
“In Kingston, you said?”
“In West Hurley, actually. But no one knows where the fuck that is, so I say Kingston.”
“I don’t even know where that is, and I’m from around here!”
Alana giggled as she massaged one of the trout under a tiny waterfall. “See? Most people hardly even know where Kingston is!”
“Yeah, we definitely live in the sticks,” I agreed. “How’s Albany, then?”
“It’s funny: Megan thinks Albany is a small town, but I still see it like a giant city. Luckily it’s pretty close to here so I can sneak back and get my outdoor fix. You know what they say: you can take the girl out of the woods, but…”
I sniffed. “Yeah.”
Alana grinned at me. “You understand, right? Being in grad school and all?”
“Funny.”
Back in our campsite, Lara had the Coleman fired up and was heating the pasta water. She gave us a grin as she took a long swig of her wine.
“Can you clean that up? It’s gross!” Megan complained, pointing at the spattered newspapers that still lined the table like a crime scene. Sophie, while not petrified like her friend was, also kept her distance as if the guts might jump onto her shirt if she got too close.
“What are you talking about? That’s actually our tablecloth,” I deadpanned, getting a laugh from everyone except Meg. She only offered me a patently sour look. I disposed of the newspaper in the fire, noticing that Alana was searching our site for something.
“What do you need?”
“Grill?”
I winced. “Crap. I didn’t bring one.”
“Hmm.” Alana pursed her lips, glanced at her friends, and then said, “I might have some skewers at our site. I’ll be back.”
She gave me a look as she started to head off. I felt the urge to go with her, but I didn’t say anything. With a small smile, she walked away.
“How old are you guys?” Megan asked, sitting at the table after checking the area for anything that might have escaped my casual cleanup.
“Seventeen,” Lara replied, before I could answer.
I stared at my sister, but she ignored me.
“So you’re going to be like, seniors next year then?” Sophie asked.
“Yeah.”
“Sweet.”
Megan said, “Yeah, that’s the best time, you know. Especially after you get accepted to college. It was non-stop partying in New York. Good times, for real. Do you party much out here?”
“Sure,” Lara answered, shrugging.
“But you don’t have like clubs or anything, right?”
“Pfft. No, not here.”
“I didn’t think so. It’s hard to find a decent place in Albany, even. So what do you do?”
“We go to people’s houses, or up into the woods. There’s lots of places to drink and hang out.”
“That’s cool. The clubs get boring sometimes. But aren’t there like, bears and stuff out at night?”
“All the time,” I said. “There’s tons of bears in these woods.”
Lara gave me a look of both amusement and disapproval. The other two girls stared at me.
“Get out,” Sophie finally dismissed.
“Serious.”
The two friends eyed each other for a moment. “Really?”
“You can hear them thrashing around in the woods at night. Are you staying in a tent?”
“Yeah, why?” Megan answered, her mind seemingly racing.
“Then you’ll probably hear them tonight.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You’re shitting me.”
“I’m not.”
“People wouldn’t be in tents if there were bears,” Sophie observed pointedly.
“Exactly,” Megan agreed, nodding with confidence at her friend’s logical conclusion.
“Really, they don’t bother you,” I continued, “unless you have food in your tent, or if you have the smell of food on your clothes. You know, chocolate, or bread, or… fish guts.” I couldn’t stifle the laugh completely.
Megan was close enough to slap my arm with her free hand. “Oh, whatever!” She then sniffed at the red spot on her shirt, recoiling at the smell. “Ugh! Are you sure this will come out?”
I shrugged. “Never said it would. You should probably rinse it out as soon as you can, though.”
“I think he wants you to take it off, Meg!” Sophie teased.
I immediately felt my face heat up as Lara and Sophie hooted.
“I didn’t—That’s not—” I stammered a few more words before realizing that Megan was giving Sophie a look of disapproval, not me.
She eyed the ruddy spot and then sighed. “Ah, whatever. It’s not my favorite shirt anyway. I’ll just trash it after dinner.”
Alana returned with some skewers and a pair of metal rods. “Old tarp poles,” she explained, as everyone eyed the collection.
“What the hell are you doing?” Sophie asked her.
“Rigging something up for the fish.”
“We actually want to eat, like, tonight, MacGyver?”
“Don’t worry. What’s the hurry anyway?”
“I told them about the bears that live around this river,” I elucidated.
For a moment, I could see her debating whether she was going to act like a city girl or a country girl.
“Matt,” she chided, “I wasn’t going to tell them!” She was grinning at me even as she faced away from them.
“Sorry. It’s not a big deal, though,” I added, stifling a smile of my own.
Megan maintained a dubious look, but she also took a piece of paper towel to her shirt and tried again to rub the spot away. Lara looked on with amusement.
I helped Alana drag one end of the picnic table closer to the fire. She then placed one of our camp chairs on the opposite side of the fire ring, allowing her to span the two long poles in parallel over the flames, forming a trestle. After pressing the skewers through the fish tailbones, she set them to rest across the poles. The trout now hung head down above the blaze, out of the direct heat but enveloped by the rising smoke.
“Nice,” I murmured, admiring her improvised setup.
Megan came to get a closer look. “Seriously, this looks like some fucked up pagan ritual. Hmm… Actually, this explains a lot about you, Alana.”
“Shut up, Megs,” Alana retorted with a grin. “Wait until you taste it.”
“I don’t think that’s going to happen, babe.”
We spent the smoking period drinking wine and picking at the chips and dip. Sophie and Megan admitted that they’d never been camping before. Sophie seemed mostly unperturbed about roughing it, just as she’d been mostly indifferent to me seeing her in panties and bra earlier. Megan brought up the bears again, but as the wine took hold of us even she began to relax. That lasted until she shot up from the picnic table, shrieking and swatting at her arm.
“Eew! What is it? A slug! Get it off me!”
At last she managed to flick the offending slime from her elbow. Sophie eventually figured out that Meg had set her arm down on a glop of fish innards that had escaped my table cleanup.
Alana was fully enjoying the scene. “Relax, Meg. It’s not like it’s the fucking Blob coming to get you!”
We all burst out in fits. “The Blob!”
Only Meg glared at me, still shrill. “You said you cleaned the table!”
Sophie didn’t help me out by adding, “You’re going to be popular with the grizzlies tonight, girl!”
I was saved by a hissing sound as the pasta pot started to boil over on the camp stove. While Megan stamped off to the restroom yet again, the spaghetti went into the water. Alana wanted to shift the fish lower over the fire, which had mostly settled down to embers. We rearranged the table and chair carefully, allowing the catch to sizzle in the newfound heat.
“Time to eat,” Alana announced a minute later, using a stack of newspapers as a makeshift glove to grab the scorching hot skewers. She slid the four smoked trout onto a plate and placed them on the table.
Megan started complaining at once. “Gross. Do you have to eat the skin?”
“You don’t have to eat any of it at all,” Alana answered, cleanly slicing off a filet from one flank and laying it on her plate.
After long consideration, Megan served herself a small section. Warily she put a piece into her annoyed mouth, but straightaway removed it with her fingers. “There’s bones in it!”
“Jeez, Megs, just pick them out as you eat!”
Megan held her hands up in exasperation. “That’s too much work! Shit. I mean all that, and now you have to pick out the bones? Fuck that. I’ll just wait for pasta.”
“More for us then!” I sang.
Megan rolled her eyes as she shoved her plate across the table at me. Alana and I glanced at each other, shrugging happily before splitting the bonus serving between us. The trout was exceptionally good, far superior to the butter fry I was going to do. It disappeared quickly amongst the four of us.
Conversation and laughter flowed easier now, due to satisfied stomachs and a wine buzz developing in our brains. After we devoured the pasta, which Megan did eat, Sophie wanted to roast marshmallows. While the three girls went to their site to fetch the treats along with some camp chairs, I added some logs to the fire and got it burning nicely again.
“Bears?” Lara asked, once they’d disappeared into the gathering darkness.
“Seniors?” I retorted.
We both laughed.
I nudged her elbow. “You dig Sophie, huh?”
She raised an eyebrow at me. “Why do you say?”
“You do! He calls it!”
“She is cute,” Lara admitted. Then she nodded at me with some respect. “Pretty good, for a blind guy. When did you get all observant?”
“I could just tell.”
“I figured you were too busy flirting with Alana to notice.”
“I wasn’t flirting.”
Lara sniffed in amusement. “Okay, you still are blind, then.”
“Well, I wasn’t flirting,” I repeated. “Not everything has to be about that.”
“Then what is it about?”
“She’s cool. I like someone who doesn’t mind cleaning fish.”
“So you’re into Megan, then?”
I laughed. “She is a bit annoying,” I agreed, keeping my voice down.
“Yeah, I’ll say.”
I spotted some shadows moving on the road. “They’re coming back.”
“What are you going to do?” Lara asked.
I frowned. “With what?”
“With them?”
“What are you talking about?” I whispered.
Our new friends had arrived at our site again, so Lara just shrugged as she took a seat. Marshmallows were distributed as we gathered around the reborn blaze.
“This is the life,” Alana mused, watching me as she pulled a perfectly melted creamy ball from the heat. The lightly toasted orb quivered on the point of her whittled branch as she took a bite. Some dribbled out of the center to run down the side of her mouth.
“Oops!”
Alana wiped at the mess and then cleaned her finger with her tongue. There was no deliberateness in her movements to suggest any innuendo, and yet it seemed like something Heather would’ve done, on purpose. Just to tease me.
Megan and Sophie talked of raves, while Alana and I spoke of fishing. Lara remained unusually quiet. A third fifth of wine was consumed, so the banter grew more fluid. In the darkness, the flickering fire painted everyone’s visage with an unsteady orange glow. It seemed like Lara and Sophie looked at each other often. Perhaps I even caught them exchanging smiles? No, I was fast getting drunk, so it was surely my imagination.
Headlights in the night startled me as I abruptly realized that our parents could have changed their minds and come to check on us. Here we were, getting fucked up with some college kids, drinking wine. If not my folks, a ranger or even the camp host might notice us and start to wonder if we were of age. We’d been far too cavalier about the revelry.
“Who the hell is that?” I blurted out, squinting against the brilliance.
“Camp security?” Sophie offered.
“I hope not, or we are so busted,” I said nervously.
“Why?” Alana asked. “I have no blood in my alcohol stream!”
We all laughed at that as the car drove past and went to a different site, but I decided a little more surreptitiousness would serve us well in case of any unsolicited visitors. With the excuse of having to pee, I slipped the three empty wine bottles into the paper bag along with some other trash and carried it all to the restroom with me, where I furtively dropped it into the garbage can.
Upon returning to camp, Megan was standing at the table riffling through her purse.
“Hope you didn’t set that down on the other glob of fish that Matt left for you!” Alana was saying.
“Ha-ha, babe!” Meg retorted. She soon returned to the circle holding a pack of cigarettes. “You two smoke?” she asked Lara and me.
“Sometimes,” Lara answered, to my surprise. This time I wasn’t sure if it was a fib.
Megan pulled out a hand-rolled cigarette and said, “Talking about pot, right?”
She lit the joint and toked it to life. After a couple of puffs, Sophie took it from Meg’s outstretched hand and put it to her own lips. As the weed passed to Alana, I realized I had a decision to make, and soon. A few tobacco cigarettes were the extent of my experience with burning plants. I’d seen older kids smoking bongs at some parties the previous school year, but pot hadn’t diffused down into my own group of friends yet.
I glanced at Lara for guidance, but she was poking at the fire with a thick branch. Alana took a last, long drag. She raised her brow at me as she held out the white twig. There was a pregnant pause as she kept the drug within her. Finally, I took the offering from her. My head seemed to spin as I put it to my mouth. I was aware of Lara watching me as I inhaled a drag of the smoke. A strange sensation coated my insides as I reached full breath. Rather quickly, my lungs expelled of their own accord, unsure if this new thing was a heavenly insult or a devilish delight. Feeling self-conscious, I passed the joint to Lara right away. To my relief, she also took a hit.
“Good shit, huh?” Sophie said, intently watching my sister.
“Yeah,” she agreed, her voice throaty as she exhaled. She gave the joint to Megan, completing the circle.
“Meg scored us some prime leaf last week, down in the Bronx,” Sophie explained.
I laughed a little, though I didn’t know why. My perception was already changing slightly. It was an odd sensation, but not unpleasant.
“Come on, Meg! Don’t bogart it,” Sophie called out.
Megan was taking her third pull of the joint. “Chill, Soph.” She flashed her the open cigarette package, which was stuffed with five joints as plump as the one we were working on. “There’s plenty to go around.”
After some twenty minutes, I understood the term ‘stoned’. I found myself speculating if my blood had stopped moving through my body. Everything was so incredibly relaxed. We talked of things I couldn’t recall later, but I did remember laughing a lot and eating an excessive amount of chips. At one point we all became captivated by watching marshmallows burst into flame. The dance of the conflagration was intoxicating to watch. The dripping remains seemed to stretch out time as they sagged into the embers like a living, rustic Dali canvas.
Megan fell off her chair at one point, laughing uncontrollably despite a close call between the iron fire ring and her right temple. It was very funny, for reasons none of us could have explained, then or now. Once she regained her seat, she pointed to the splotch of fish blood on her shirt.
“Look! The bears are going to get me tonight!” she blurted out.
That started more laughing and more making fun of Megan with her ludicrous ‘head juice’.
Things settled down after that. Sophie asked what time it was. Her voice seemed to come from across the river and also from inside my head.
“It’s, um,” I started, squinting at my watch in the faint light of the dying fire. “It’s eleven… No wait, it’s almost one.”
Has the little hand grown? What the hell? The girls laughed at my inability to read the time.
“Yeah, it’s almost one,” I repeated, although I still wasn’t sure.
There was another period of quiet as the crackling of the logs unhurriedly gave way to the singing of the nearby stream and the chirping and buzzing of night insects. I found myself contemplating the situation, still puzzled, because I hardly knew these girls, yet here we were, stoned and drunk together. Why were they hanging out with us? They could just as easily be spending their evening around their own fire. Even if they believed Lara’s feint about our ages, which I doubted, the whole thing was surreal.
Alana kept regarding me through the haze of the high, smiling lazily in the dim golden light of the embers. At times she looked so very much like Heather. Maybe they were cousins? No, Heather would’ve told me if she had relatives living near me. Time passed with the occasional odd comment, but everyone appeared to have fallen into unhurried contemplation.
“I’m going to bed,” Megan eventually announced, standing unsteadily. “It’s getting cold.”
I looked at her bare legs and arms and nodded. For some reason, I was glad I had jeans on, even though I felt like I was in a cocoon of perfectly still, perfectly temperate air.
Sophie stood up too. “Yeah, let’s go.” She stumbled over to the table to grab her things.
With reluctance, Alana rose. “Thank you for sharing your fish with us,” she said warmly. She seemed remarkably lucid, considering she’d smoked and drank at least as much as the rest of us. Her tone sounded more like she was taking her leave of a fine afternoon tea serving.
“No problem,” I replied, unsure if I’d manage to pronounce even half of those syllables.
I pushed myself out of my chair, surprised at how the world felt on two feet. Alana was embracing me before I realized it, a warm hug that I returned, unaware of how long it lasted and unsure of how we didn’t tumble to the ground with her atop me. When she pulled away, I wondered if she’d rested her head on my shoulder or pressed her lips to my neck. I didn’t notice her doing these things, but after she let go, there was an echo of her in that way. Then the three girls were off, a single wobbling flashlight showing the crooked path to their site. A few bursts of laughter accompanied them and then all was quiet.
I turned to Lara, who was still sprawled in her camp chair. “Let’s get ready for bed,” I offered, taking her hands.
She resisted my pull. “Sit down for a bit.”
“No way. We’ll end up passing out here. Come on.”
She finally rose with my help, shaking herself back into reality. “That was pretty fun.”
“Yeah. You all right to walk?”
Lara laughed wearily. “I’m okay, I think. I have to pee, though.”
“Go for it.”
“I’m just going to do it over there.” She indicated the edge of our site.
“I don’t care. That’s what I’m going to do.”
I stumbled to a tree and relieved myself. “Just don’t fall in the puddle when you’re done,” I called out.
“Shut the fuck up, Matt!” she sang back.
We were soon settled in our sleeping bags, unwilling or unable to change out of our clothes. Lying down, my body felt exceptionally tranquil.
Lara’s voice was ethereal when it came. “I thought she was going to kiss you at the end there.”
“What?”
“Alana.”
“Oh, nah. Just a hug.” It seemed like I was listening to someone else say those words.
“She digs you. I was thinking that I’d have to go sleep in their tent with Sophie and Megan.”
“Lara, please. I would never do that.”
“I know. I was just messing with you.”
“Okay.”
“Does she remind you of Heather at all?” she asked, after some time.
I was silent, her words amplifying my own observations of Alana.
Lara continued, “Sometimes she does. To me anyway.”
“Yeah, me too,” I admitted. “A lot.”
“Is that a… good thing or a bad thing?”
I had no answer.
“Do you miss Heather?” Lara asked quietly.
“Like crazy.”
“One week down…”
“Who knows how many to go,” I finished.
There was a long silence, during which I thought Lara had drifted off. Then she spoke.
“Pot makes me horny.”
Several responses went through my head. All were thoroughly rejected. I finally said, “Maybe it’s Sophie, not the weed.”
“No, it’s the pot, at least. Maybe Sophie too, but this is the third time.”
I turned to her, barely making out her silhouette against the tent wall. “You’ve smoked weed before?”
“A couple of times, back in the spring.”
“You never told me.”
“I know. It was with Ronnie. I didn’t feel proud about doing it.”
“Wait, I thought you didn’t have sex with him.”
“I didn’t,” she confirmed. “But it still made me horny.”
“Then why didn’t you have sex?”
“Because he was being an asshole. We did other stuff, but I just couldn’t go all the way.”
“Why did you smoke then? I mean tonight, if you didn’t feel good about it last time?”
“Because you did.”
“Oh.”
We lay in silence for a while.
“Does it make you horny?” she asked.
I thought about it, unable to settle on an answer. “I don’t know. I’m super relaxed right now. Just kind of floating through my thoughts. And wondering if my body really weighs nine-hundred pounds. Because I think it does.”
“You did eat a lot of chips.”
“I know, right?”
“How did you meet those girls, anyway?”
“They were swimming in the river. I told you.”
“Skinny dipping?” she asked, giggling.
“Almost, actually,” I admitted.
“Really? I was just kidding.”
“I’m not. I was fishing along, minding my own business and there they were, swimming in their underwear and bras.”
“And you just went up to them?”
“Not really. I just happened to find them. While I was fishing.”
“Yeah right! You were checking them out. Perv.”
“I was strictly paying attention to the water,” I murmured righteously.
“Whatever! What was Sophie wearing?”
“Sophie?”
“Yeah. You know I like to picture people in my head.”
“Oh, right. Well, like I said, bra and panties.”
“What color?”
“Uh, they were blue, I think. Maybe they had some pattern on them.”
“What kind of pattern?”
“I don’t know, Lara! I wasn’t staring and taking notes!”
“Why not? You had your sunglasses on, I bet. But you were too busy looking at Alana, huh?”
“No, I took my glasses off when I was on the bank. Keeping them on would’ve been creepy.”
“Totally,” Lara agreed.
“Although, Alana didn’t seem worried about me being right there. Neither did Sophie, for that matter.”
“No?”
“They were walking around like they were in bathing suits.”
“Underwear is basically the same.”
I laughed. “Not when it gets wet!”
“True,” Lara breathed. “But Alana would probably go skinny dipping without a second thought. She’s pretty confident about things, seems like.”
Skinny dipping… I was again reminded of swimming naked in the ocean with Heather. Now I was feeling aroused. Lara shifted her position. After a moment, I could just barely hear her sleeping bag rustling in rhythm.
“What are you thinking about?” I asked.
“Just stuff.”
“I’m pretty sure you mean Sophie,” I clarified, grinning in the darkness.
The rustling stopped abruptly.
“Carry on,” I ordered.
“What?”
“I know what you’re doing over there.”
Lara giggled after a period of silence. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. Go ahead.”
“Doesn’t that weird you out?” she asked.
“Why should it? You do it all the time around me.”
“I do not!” she exclaimed.
“Oh yeah? How about in your room at Aunt Beth’s that morning that Heather came over?”
“You just peeked in from the doorway. It’s not like you were lying in bed next to me!”
“On the beach, then,” I fired back.
Lara paused. “When?”
“When you were giving me the tour of female anatomy this summer.”
“The tour? What…? Oh, yeah. Wait, I didn’t know you saw that!”
“You were right there with your hand down your bikini. You really thought you were being sneaky?”
“I was just making sure I told you where things were,” Lara clarified in an academic tone. “Correctly.”
I sniffed. “Oh, a likely explanation. You were just wanting to touch yourself.”
There was a moment of quiet, then the rustling resumed.
I laughed as Lara cried out, “These damn sleeping bags are too noisy!”
“I don’t care, Lara. Really. Knock yourself out. Pretend Sophie is down there in your bag, licking you, touching you, fingering you. Whatever you want.”
The swishing sounds increased. After a while, her voice came slightly labored. “Are you playing with—”
“No,” I interjected quickly.
“Why not?”
“What’s the point?”
“Um, because it feels good? Duh.”
“Great, and then what the fuck do I do?” I asked.
“I don’t know. Do you shoot out a lot?”
“Oh my god! What the hell question is that?”
“What? I don’t know. You mean you never masturbate in bed?”
“Come on, Lara!”
“Well, do you?”
I huffed. “Sometimes. But I go to the bathroom. To… you know, finish up.”
“That sucks.”
“Maybe, but at least I can take a piss in the woods without peeing on myself.”
Lara laughed richly. “I didn’t pee on myself.”
“This time. Anyway, how do you wash your hands when you’re done down there? You have to get up in the end anyway, just like me.”
“Nope. Baby wipes.”
My mind shifted slowly to this new information. “Oh. I thought those were for makeup or something.”
Lara giggled. “You thought wrong. Do I even wear makeup?”
“I don’t know.”
“Hardly. But definitely not when I’m camping.”
“All right.”
The rustling increased again. “So are you going to do it?” she asked.
“Do what?”
“You know.”
“No! I’m not going to the bathroom at this hour. Not worth it.”
“Just go outside to finish,” Lara pressed. “Unless your afraid of getting it all over yourself?”
“Oh shut up. I’m not doing anything. I can barely move my arm, let alone get up and find the tent zipper. And even if I did, I’d probably end up falling in the river.”
“You can just—”
“I’m fine, Lara,” I interjected. “Really. You do your thing. I’m good.”
She was quiet, save for the continued sounds from her sleeping bag.
“I’m thinking of Alana,” she whispered.
“Great.”
“What did she look like?”
“Alana? You saw her,” I said evenly.
“I mean in her panties.” She was breathing harder.
“Lara—”
“Could you see through them? Like… could you see her nipples?”
I was silent for a few moments, desperately trying to push the image of Alana out of my head. It was hard, though. Less than twelve hours earlier she’d been standing before me, her hips at my eye level. It had been impossible to miss the darkened triangle that showed through the thin fabric of her panties, nor the way it clung to her mons. And her simple cotton bra had been just as effective at revealing the shape of her round breasts and those erect nipples.
“Um, yeah, a little, I guess. I don’t know,” I stammered, struggling in vain to not give in to her lede. “I wasn’t really looking.”
“I know you weren’t. But she’s hot, huh? Is her flesh all smooth?”
“Lara, quit it.”
“I thought you said I could do my thing.”
“Yeah, but keep it to yourself!” I spurted out.
“Well, that’s no fun.”
“You’re just teasing me.”
“You’re picturing her, aren’t you? Standing there, dripping wet in her see-through bra and underpants? Smiling at you? Wanting you? You were looking, and you know it.”
Lara knew me too well, of course, but I still fought off a growing arousal.
“I’m going to sleep,” I muttered, trying to keep my voice even. I turned on my side, facing away from her.
“What if Heather was here now?” she murmured.
Heather…
More rustling from behind me, larger movements.
“Would you let me sleep in the tent with the two of you?” Lara continued. It sounded like her mouth was right next to my ear. “Would you and her try to do something under the sleeping bags if I was here? Secretly? Would you?”
Heather would…
“What would you try to do? Just some kissing? Nah, Heather wouldn’t stop there. She’d want more. A lot more. You might get to feel her up, or… Or she could be stroking you. Slowly. Just slow enough that I couldn’t hear the rustling. Do you think Heather could resist going faster? These bags are so loud. But… Could she go slow enough to keep me from knowing what she was doing? Could she?”
Heather could…
“You could even have sex and I’d probably never know it,” Lara went on, lust thoroughly pervading every whispered phrase now. “If you were both lying on your sides and you got behind her, pulled her shorts down. Or how would you be sleeping? Just in underwear? Maybe she would’ve already taken off her shorts. Or all of her…? oh, all of her clothes would be off. It’s summer, and she’d be hot. Really hot. What do you think, Matt? Would she be nude already? What about you? It would be easy. So easy… Pull your pants down, just slip right in. Flesh against flesh, just going… God that’s so…”
There was a slight gasp behind me. I could’ve sworn that I felt the expelled air tickle my neck. My stomach was a twisted knot. I could almost feel Heather with me. I’d forgotten the feeling of ecstasy that being with her gave me. No, that was not true. I hadn’t forgotten, but instead, I hadn’t experienced the high since that last night in Montauk. Now Lara was channeling it, somehow, and it was lighting up every tingle I had on my skin.
“In and out, so slow,” she continued. “So slow you didn’t even make any noise with your sleeping bag. How slow would that have to be, Matt? To be completely quiet, so no one would know? Can you move that slowly?”
“Lara,” I warned.
“In and out…”
“Hey!” I shrieked, at the same time that she triumphantly exclaimed, “Caught!”
Her hand had snapped over my wrist near my hip before I had the chance to stop moving it. And now, she knew.
“Lara, that’s—too much!” I spluttered, shaking off her grip.
“What were you going to do?” she asked with quiet but thorough excitement.
I could hear the amazed sparkle that was surely splashed all over her eyes. I shuddered deeply and took a few breaths. “I don’t know. Get up and go outside. Or stop and try to sleep.”
“Do it,” she urged, mischief in her voice. “Finish. I know you were into it.”
“No!”
“Just do it for a bit and then go outside to finish.”
I took a few more deep breaths and then said, “It’s embarrassing, all right?”
“What?”
“Knowing that you know.”
“Why? You knew I was doing it a minute ago.”
“I know, but… Somehow it’s different.”
“No, it’s not, and you know it.”
I thought for a few moments. “I guess it’s weird doing it at the same time. Both of us.”
“Why?”
“It just is,” I said vaguely.
“Let’s take turns, then. You go first.”
I laughed at the absurdity of her reasoning, but also felt relief that we were receding from the precipice of intensity a bit. “Lara, quit it.”
“Set the timer thing on your watch, even. That way we get equal time. We can see who can hold out—”
“Okay, enough!” I blurted out. “This is ridiculous. I’m going to go outside, do my thing, and come back in five minutes. You can do your thing, and then we can sleep. I do want to get up early and fish in the morning. Deal?”
“All right, that’s a deal, bro,” she said, her voice victorious.
I struggled to get out of my sleeping bag but it was alive, twisting itself around my legs, tangling my arms. Eventually I extricated myself and threw the frustrating thing into the corner. It lay there, dead. I kneeled in the center of the tent, gathering my bearings and breath, making sure to point away from Lara so she wouldn’t try anything ridiculous.
“What are you going to think about, when you do it?” she asked me, still impish.
“Private things,” I said emphatically.
“Okay. Do you… Do you want to know what I’m going to think about?”
I started laughing. I had a good idea of the answer and I didn’t really want to hear her say it. This evening was already going to look much stranger when the wine and pot wore off in the morning. Extremely strange.
“No, just do your thing,” I answered, unzipping the tent flap.
I stepped outside unsteadily and moved to the picnic table, sitting myself on the top. I stayed there for some time, immediately realizing how much I missed Heather. I missed her like crazy.
And then she was there, seated next to me on the table, smiling that smile of hers that I could look at forever. It was going to be difficult to be apart for such long stretches of the year.
“I can’t wait to see you,” I said quietly.
“You don’t know how much I miss you,” she replied.
Heather and I sat there for some time, our heads tilted to lean on each other, until the crackle of Lara’s package of wipes brought me back to earth. I took a deep breath and stood up, stretching my slow limbs. One last look at the empty table where Heather had just been sitting… I shook the hallucination away. I had to get some sleep.
I paused with my hand on the tent zipper. “Done?”
“Yup,” Lara replied.
I unzipped and crawled in.
“Who were you talking to?” she asked.
“No one.”
“Hmm. So was it good?”
“Great.”
“Cool.”
I settled into my bag, suddenly feeling quite tired.
“You know,” she said, her voice serious. “You have it a bit easier.”
“What are you talking about now?” I asked, trying to keep my ears awake even as my mind shut down.
“Like tonight. With Alana. Or Sophie, or Megan, even.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Chances are you could’ve gotten with one of them.”
“I told you—”
“No, I mean, like, if you weren’t already taken. But I had nothing.”
“You mean with Sophie? You didn’t do anything about it.”
Lara sniffed. “Because it was so unlikely. How many girls do you think are that way?”
It took some effort to process her words. “I don’t know, honestly.”
“Not many.”
“Well, you like guys, too,” I managed to remember. “Maybe you have it easier.”
“Do I?”
“Combined, yeah.” I was finding it hard to stay conscious.
“I guess. But the part of me that likes being with girls is having a hard time lately.”
There was a long pause. I felt like this was something significant, but I couldn’t formulate any coherent thoughts, let alone speak them. Lara’s words ended up hanging in the air for a long while.
Much later, her voice broke the night once more.
“Matt?”
“Yeah.”
“Promise me you won’t do anything stupid with Alana?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“Okay. Goodnight Matt.”
“Goodnight, sis.”
Chapter 3 – Summertime Rolls
If I’d learned the meaning of ‘stoned’ the previous evening, then the morning’s vocabulary lesson was ‘cottonmouth’. Except for this sensation, though, I felt surprisingly good as I stretched into a seated position. Lara was still locked in a deep slumber, her lower body submerged in her bag. Her awkward sprawl made her seem dead. Before I could check, she shifted to a more natural position. I looked at my watch, astonished to see how late it was. So much for fishing at dawn. Then again, I found that I didn’t care that much.
The tent was getting warm and stuffy since the sun had been working hard to heat up the morning air. I was glad that we’d chosen a shady spot for our shelter or we would have been roasting. I unzipped the flap quietly. Stepping out, I inhaled the smell of pine, field and stream, and it was wonderful. Parched, I filled a cup from our reservoir and ambled over to the river. As my eyes took in the playful water, so did my mouth. I downed the liquid, feeling like I absorbed more with my tongue than I swallowed.
The glimpse of a trout swishing the surface of a little pool made me realize that I was famished. After I set some bacon to slowly sizzle in a skillet, I crawled back inside the tent, nudging Lara a few times.
“Hey, do you want some breakfast?”
She croaked something unintelligible. I laughed knowingly as I scooted outside once more. When I returned, it still took her a minute to sit up. At last she roused, staring about and clearly disoriented.
“Here, drink,” I offered. “I don’t know about you, but I was dying of thirst when I woke up a few hours ago.”
“Thanks,” she said, after exhausting the cup in one long gulp.
“Breakfast?”
Lara gave me a grateful smile. “Sounds good.”
“Should be ready in ten.”
The bacon sent its enticing aroma through our campsite. I cracked some eggs into a bowl and whisked them with some salt and cheese, and soon they were scrambling over the other burner. This was the life, I knew. Some tasty food, good times with some college girls, the wild energy of the outdoors… All that was missing was Heather.
Lara emerged from the tent, her hair in complete disarray. She gave me a playful scowl when I chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” she asked.
“Nice hairstyle.”
She nodded contentedly and stood there, looking around. “Do I have time to go pee?”
“If you hurry,” I said, giving the eggs a final stir.
She sat at the table instead. “Too early to hurry.”
“It’s eleven. Hardly early.”
“Whoa, serious? Holy shit.” Then she shrugged. “That was a fun night, though.”
“It was.”
“Are you okay?” she asked.
I looked at her, wondering if I detected an apologetic tone. “I am.”
She nodded and smiled humbly. “Just checking.”
The food was welcome. We ate quietly, still waking up to the sound of the breeze in the trees and the splashing of the nearby creek.
“Those girls forgot their chairs here,” Lara remarked, glancing at the vacant seats that ringed the gray ashes of the lifeless fire.
“And their marshmallows. I thought they said their site was next door, but there’s no one there.”
“Maybe they left?”
“Nah. They’ll be back for the chairs, I’m sure. I probably heard wrong.”
“So what’s the plan?” Lara asked.
“I’m going to go fish.”
“Cool. I might come out later. I’ll get the dishes this time. Then I’m going to read for a bit.” She rose and took my plate. “After I pee,” she added with a grin.
“Don’t pee all over yourself,” I called.
The fish were lazy when I began my fishing. I tried the ant technique again for some time, but none were interested. Despite the minimal action, it was still relaxing to cast about and enjoy the surroundings.
A few hours after I’d hit the river, I heard a call from the shore. I turned to find Alana standing on the bank. I waved, reeled in my line, and made my way toward her.
“Hey,” she greeted, once I was close enough that she didn’t have to yell.
“How’s it going?”
“Lara said you’d probably be up here.”
“Here I am,” I said, fidgeting with my fly reel. “Getting a bit hot out there, though,” I added, glancing up at the high sun.
“It is hotter today,” she agreed, mopping her brow. “Cooler in the river, I bet. Catch anything?” she asked, almost expectantly.
“Nah. I think I got out on the water too late. They’re all taking a nap now, I guess.”
Alana smiled. “Sorry. My fault, since we crashed your camp last night and kept you up.”
I waved her apology aside. “We had a good time. I just forgot to set an alarm last night.”
She raised a dubious eyebrow, doubting the success of such a strategy. “If you say so. Well, I just wanted to say hi. I won’t bother you anymore.”
“I think I’m done for now. Nothing’s biting. Getting kind of hungry, too.”
“Want a granola bar?” she offered. “I know it’s not smoked trout, but it’s what I have.”
I shrugged. “All right, I’ll take one.”
Alana pulled two bars from her waist pack as I stepped out of the stream and leaned my fly rod against a tree. Once seated on the bank, Alana removed her white sneakers and dipped her bare feet into a cool pool. She splashed some water onto her calves with one hand as she munched on her bar with the other.
“So how old are you?” she asked between bites.
I kept my face straight. “How old do you think I am?”
She looked at me. “Meg said you were seniors. Seventeen?”
Her tone was unconvincing, so I laughed a little. “I don’t look it, huh?”
“No, you could pass for seventeen. But you don’t have a car at your site.”
“My folks needed it this weekend, so they dropped us off.”
“Oh, okay.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “So have you ever smoked pot before last night?”
I hesitated. “No.”
“I was wondering. But damn, we corrupted you then!” Alana exclaimed with a grin.
I laughed. “No, I don’t care. It was going to happen someday soon, I’m sure. Even, my sister has done it before. A few times.”
“Cool. So… do you want to go do it again?”
“You mean smoke?” I clarified.
Alana nodded expectantly. “I have some.”
“Oh, you mean, like, now?”
Another nod.
“Uh… sure.”
She scanned the area and then hopped up in the pool at her feet. “Let’s cross the stream. People walk the trail here all the time… Actually, I know a better spot. Come on!”
I grabbed my fishing pole and followed Alana out into the shallow rapids. She carried her sneakers in one hand, using her other arm for balance.
“Woo, it’s cold!” she cried, as the water ascended past her knees.
Her cutoff jean shorts were quite short, so there was still a ways to go before she’d have to worry about getting wet. I watched as she easily found her footing under the surface. Sometimes the stones I stepped on were uncomfortable through my water shoes, so I marveled at her poise, given that she was barefoot.
“Don’t the rocks hurt your feet?” I asked.
“Not really. It’s a matter of balance and grace,” she answered. “You just have to keep moving! Don’t stop!”
We entered the central current and the options grew deeper. The greedy water line crept up on her thighs, close to the hem of her shorts now. She held her sneakers out to her sides as she balanced, traversing the invisible path to the other side.
Just as she started to make her way out of the thickest current, she erred. A slight “Whoa!” made me look up. She was fighting to hold her balance on the underwater perch she’d chosen, turning to face the flow. A few waves of her arms were not going to be enough. She was being pushed backward as if in slow motion. She blindly placed a foot behind her, hoping for salvation, but only to find an even deeper section of the stream there. She winced as the water started to swallow her, a resigned look crossing her face as she realized that her careful attempt at keeping her clothes dry was swiftly coming to an end.
Laughter danced in her eyes as her glance met mine. I hesitated for a second and then hastily stepped downstream and waist deep into the stream, lunging out to take hold of her elbow. She was already submerged chest deep and sinking into a hole. She managed to slip her free arm around my waist, still clutching her sneakers high in her other hand. She held to me as I tried to steady us in the current. For a few moments, I thought we were both going to lose the battle and end up completely submerged, but then I found a better foothold.
Alana was still laughing as I endeavored to stabilize us. It was awkward, what with the fishing pole and Alana’s floating body pulling on me like dead weight. The current was just strong enough to oppose what leverage I could manage, so we stayed in place for a bit, a temporary truce.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Definitely,” she replied, almost serenely. “But I didn’t think that little hole was that deep!”
“All about balance and grace, huh?”
She looked up at me, mirthfully shaking her head. “I can’t get my legs down in this current. So are you pulling me out, or am I dragging you in?”
“Hopefully I’m pulling you out.”
“Either way is fine with me,” she chimed, her eyes glinting. “I’m already wet. Although it would be nice to keep the shoes dry. They’re my only pair on this trip.”
“Want me to toss them to the bank?” I asked.
She scrunched her face up at me. “Come on. Where’s the fun in that?”
I laughed. “All right. It’s us versus the river. We’re about to find out who’s going to win. Hold on!”
Feeling a surge of adrenaline, I made a push with my legs, leaping through the water toward the far bank. Just as I started to sink again, my shoe discovered a firm rock and I powered through, moving across to shallower footing and out of the brunt of current that raced within the narrow channel. Alana held me tight until her legs found solid ground. After some awkward pushing and pulling, she was finally erect again.
“Close one,” I breathed as we stepped out of the water.
“Dude, close one? For you, maybe!” She looked down at her drenched body in amusement. “I mean, look at me!”
Since she asked, I regarded her clinging clothes, finding it hard to look away.