There's an old badly-maintained footbridge out on the North Side, at the end of Phelps Avenue. It crosses a rather deep wooded cut in the hills, with a small stream at the bottom. I like to walk there, especially around sunset, and stand on the bridge and think. It's always deserted, and especially in the autumn and especially just at dusk, there's a calm contemplative wind that blows there.

Sounds float out from the city, and as the sun sets it hits the apartment tower beyond the crest of the hill, a bright brick reminder that this spot is just a temporary forgetfulness of the city's, that it'll be swallowed up before long. But in the meantime the crumbling concrete sidewalk and the ancient steel bridge over the stream are a pocket of almost wilderness.

I was standing there on an unseasonably warm afternoon in late winter, staring pensively down at the brown ground and the bare grey trees, when a low female voice said "Hi!" behind me. I turned around.

"Oh, hi, Tanya!" Tanya is a friend of Julie's. We'd met socially, and I'd admired her from a distance, but somehow we'd never gotten to know each other. "I didn't know anyone else ever came down here."

"Oh, sure," she said, "I use it as shortcut back from the gym." She put her gym bag down on the cracked pavement, and I let my eyes wander over her. She looked like someone who works out; her body fairly radiated fitness and health. From her sandaled feet, up her long slender legs, her wide hips and big lush breasts in a short cotton dress, she was a picture of young healthy blonde animal.

We both stood for awhile, leaning on the cold rusty railing and looking down at the stream as the sun sank slowly west. A flash of white caught my eye down in the trees. Below us, probably sixty feet away, a woman was sitting on a rock, reading. She was young, probably twenty, with deep brown skin, black hair falling around her face in thick masses of curl, wearing a long white dress with buttons down the front, and sandals like Tanya's. The hand not holding the book was in her lap. I got a glimpse of bare brown leg, and I had just realized what the woman was actually doing when Tanya spoke. "Isn't she pretty? Must be a hot story she's reading!" I looked at Tanya, then back at the woman lazily stroking herself on the rock. "Uh, yeah. I guess, umm..."

Tanya chuckled. "Do you want it?" she asked.

"Sorry?!" I said, turning my head, startled, to face her.

She said it again, or rather she whispered too low to hear, just moving her red lips and her pink tongue to frame the words.

"Do you want it?"

I looked away from her, back at the woman on the rock. As I watched, she slipped off her sandals, and began unbuttoning her dress. She did it slowly; the fabric fell farther open with every button. She had nothing on underneath.

"Come on," Tanya said, low and hoarsely, and her hand crept in between my legs, and she rubbed me softly until my penis was stiff. The woman below us moved her dress out from under her, so it draped down her shoulders and over the rock behind her. Her slim brown ass and long naked legs pressed against the stone; it must have been cold on her skin. She lay back and spread her thighs slowly apart.

Tanya also slipped out of her sandals, standing barefoot, her strong feet on the cold pavement. Then she reached up under the short skirt of her dress, and took off her white thong panties, tossing them on top of her gym bag. She leaned on the railing, facing away from me, watching the brown woman in the woods.

I ran my hands up the backs of Tanya's legs as the woman began to touch herself. She gently moved one hand down between her thighs, and the other played over her small dark breasts. The cheeks of Tanya's ass were warm and solid; as I slid my hands under her skirt, a flock of small loud birds went by overhead, their wings cracking loudly in the reddening light. Tanya arched her back and pressed herself against me.

Below us, the woman had both hands on her breasts now, pulling her nipples and squeezing the soft flesh. Her eyes were closed, her hips gently beginning to rock. The wind moved her hair softly around her face. A gust flipped Tanya's skirt up onto her back as I undid my pants and freed my hardening cock. I could smell the hot musty scent of her sex.