Chapter 2

Brad had been staring out at the tail cypress trees and watching the water rise up their trunks. He was wondering if it had been such a good idea parking the camper where he had. Judging from the wetness of the sand when they'd arrived early this morning, it seemed as if the tide would reach only the large grove of trees far to the right of them where the water was lapping against them now. That left a huge expanse of water between them and the rest of the land, eventually leading to the road. The only problem would be getting cut off from the forest behind them, should the tide rise that high. Brad looked up in the sky, relying on his intuitive knowledge. The moon was full, a sign which predictably indicates high tides.

Well, he thought, churning the fire and wedging another splintered log close to the coals, no use worrying Sally about it. If the tide does come up this far, the worst that could happen is not being able to drive out until it goes down again. His eyes scanned the darkened trees in back of him. There was some higher ground where they could move the pick-up if necessary.

"Hey! Where's the wine?" he called out, cupping his hands like a megaphone to call over the sound of the ever-approaching water.

Blonde hair sweeping through the air reflected the fire's glow as Sally strode toward her father, digging her toes in the still warm earth.

She unscrewed the cap on a half gallon jug and poured out a paper cupful. "Here you go, Daddy. Drink up!"

She poured another cupful and was joining him, mesmerically staring into the fire.

"Hey, I thought you didn't drink. Miss Chastity and all that," he teasingly berated.

"I'm so thirsty from the sun I'd drink swamp water if I had to," laughed Sally, taking a long pull on her wine. She swallowed, not enjoying the taste, yet savoring the wetness. "You think we're the only people camping down here?" she asked, surveying the tree-darkened horizon where the phosphorescent-tipped cypresses gleamed under the moon's shimmer. Craning her neck, she looked behind them, a sudden shiver shooting up her spine. "You don't think we're too close to the water, do you? I mean I'm not afraid or anything, but I'd hate to wake up under water," she chuckled half heartedly.

"Naw, just means you're gonna have to go potty in front or me if you can't get to the trees."

Sally rounded her shoulders and made finger prints in the soft earth, looking up only when her father patted her on her knee. She'd always been shy.

"Come on, honey. This is called communing with mother nature, enjoy it!" That little girl, scared look in her blue eyes had not eluded him. Jesus, she was voluptuous even when she looked twelve years old -- like now. Suddenly, he wished he'd met her hitchhiking or in a bar, that she was a total stranger. Then he could lay her down and fuck her the way his cock screamed for him to do. Again, he wondered if she was really a virgin. Waiting for her to speak, he pulled a strand of golden silk away from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. He wanted to see that uptilted nose and high cheekbones in the heated glow of the fire.

Sensing his heated gaze, Sally built tiny mounds of moss, smoothing it with trembling fingers before poking holes in the miniature hills and finally smoothing them flat again.

"You're thinking about something, what is it?"

"It's spooky here being alone, don't you think?" He loved the way she wrinkled up her nose when she talked and wanted to take her picture as she was now, bathing in oranges and reds.

"It was either camping down here on our own, or pulling into one of those state park campsites. That's not what I call fun. This is Bayou country, honey, the most beautiful spot in Louisiana. Only problem is, everybody knows it and fill those campsites with their screaming kids."

Sally sniffed, wiped her nose on her sweat shirt sleeve and nodded in acquiescence. Something ominous about the dark trees, the moon and the spooky lapping of the tide made her quiver. Ah, probably just because I've never camped, out before, nothing to worry about.

"Tell you what, tomorrow night we'll see if we can get rooms at a motel close by. Give you a chance to..."

"Oh, Daddy, that costs a lot of money. You don't have to do that," she countered with an angelic smile, showing off her perfect white teeth.

"Okay, a deal. We'll go have dinner at that place that serves Shrimp Creole." Unexpectedly he rose to his feet, brushed off his sand-covered pants and offered a hand. "Let's get the beds laid out. I'm bushed ... too much rowing and sun today." Reaching up to touch his sun charred nose, he winced.

Reaching for his hand, she strained to her feet and once near the camping gear, unzipped the side pouch of her backpack and delved within for, the Vaseline. "Here, use some of this. Doesn't smell so good, but it'll help your sunburn. Your nose looks like a cherry tomato."

He accepted the blue two-toned plastic jar, wondering again why in hell with those hot tits she had to be his daughter, and twisted the cap.

A sound of yokes, not the water this time, alerted him to the fact that they were not alone. In the far distance, he could see two, three, or was it four figures rowing in a boat in their direction. He raised his hand to shade his eyes from the glow of the fire.

Sally noticed his sudden watchfulness. "What is it?" she asked.

"Your prayers are answered, my sweet. We have company."

With mixed relief and fear at the sudden intrusion, Sally joined him in his vigilance. Suddenly stories of campers in the swamps, grizzly alligator hunters with knives, and bodies dumped into the bayous reeled through her mind. Impetuously, she grabbed her father's arm and held tight, a tit pressing into him.

"Come on, honey, nothing to worry about. It's just a bunch of people like us trying to get away from the crowded campsites." Brad drained his wine and threw the paper cup in the small garbage pile accumulating near their camper.

"Hey!" boomed a voice from the rapidly approaching boat. "Want some company?" The voice was less muffled with each approaching slap of the oars, hardly leaving time for consideration, not to mention choice. What could he say, no?

Brad could sense his daughter tensing at his side.

The four shadows revealed themselves to be three men, all between the ages of 35 and 70 from what Sally could approximate. All were sun-weathered and very rough looking, as if they spent a great deal of their time outdoors. The fourth figure was a female, a few years older than Sally's age. The knowledge that she was not the only female seemed to encourage Sally into being more friendly and accepting the uninvited guests.

"Sure is getting cold," shivered one man, holding his hands, palms-up to the warming fire, when they had slipped from the boat and tied it to a tree. "You been camping here long?"

"Nah, tonight's the first night. We're from New Orleans," offered Brad. "Parked in the woods because the camper sites are too crowded and noisy."

"Good thinking," chime the wizened 70 year old. "They get real loud sometimes. Not like being out in the bayous at all."