Chapter 4

As we moved farther from town, the farms and homes thinned out. Our pace accordingly picked up. Our intersection drill completed at the next road crossing, we continued, unnoticed as far as we could tell, reaching State Road, and our turn west. We approached the woodlot slowly, pausing perhaps 100 meters from the eastern edge. I whispered to Emily, that we needed another listening stop. We waited what seemed like forever, but was only 20 minutes per my wristwatch, before I motioned her closer, and pointed out our route.

“I think we ought to creep north, along the eastern margin of the trees. Once we reach the northern edge, turn west maybe another hundred meters, between the pond and the trees, and then move south, into the midst of the trees. Let’s set up our camp there.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it be simpler to just go into the center from the road?”

“Yep, and likely to leave a trail for anyone who is curious what a fresh trail, into that particular woodlot, is doing there. Likely to be way more obvious in the daylight, than at night, and therefore more difficult for us to obscure at night, against daytime curious eyes.”

She nodded, and gestured for me to lead. Once we had turned south, the litter of dead leaves and dry branches was considerably more dense, and so we slowed our pace, attempting to blend the sounds of our passage into the background noise of the rural night. We found a small clearing, and I settled us into the base of a fir tree at the edge. I tied a tarp low overhead, and scooped leaves into a two person pile, before laying my poncho atop. Laying our packs beside the nest, I placed my sleeping bag on one side, folding her blanket onto the other. Emily watched all this. I beckoned her in.

She eased into the hollow, and removed her shoes, slipping into the blanket. Now that we were not moving, it sure seemed colder than it had been. She was soon shivering. I presented a suggestion. “If we were to lay on our jackets, and place your blanket and my sleeping bag over top of us, it might be warmer.”

She ghosted a small grin. “Is that part of your evil plan to take advantage of me? Take me on a romantic tour of rural Michigan, wine and dine me, and, now that you have me, helpless and alone, have your wicked way with me?”

“Maybe,” I returned. “In any event, don’t you think you’ll be more likely to fall victim to my wiles, if you are not so cold? After all, I want you shivering, but with anticipation, not hypothermia!”

We re arranged the bivouac, and she seemed to like the change. I took another tour around the clearing, and, seeing nothing threatening, joined her. She snuggled against my back, and withdrew, complaining, “Something stuck me in the tummy!”

I felt around my belt, and identified my pouch for spare pistol magazines. Taking her hand, I led her to it. “Feel familiar?”

“Yeah! Do you have to wear all that to bed?”

“I hope not. Why, are you still cold?”

She paused, and whispered, “Yeah, kinda. How could I warm up some more?”

“Well, if we were not wearing clothes that we’d walked in all evening, that moisture wouldn’t serve to chill us further. Skin to skin is an old back country treatment for hypothermia, you know.”

She whispered back, “You know I don’t get naked with some random guy, right?”

“Right,” I agreed.

“And, this is simply so I can get some sleep without shivering all day, and keeping you awake, right?”

“Right. You’re simply thinking about our journey, and how to accomplish it. Nothing more.”

“I knew you’d understand!” She started to wriggle, and soon passed pants, and shirt, to the head of our bedding, settling them in a pile near her head. I followed suit, placing my pistol into my unlaced boots, and laying my pants, firefighter style, over the boots. I laid my shirt out next to the pants, and turned to face my companion.

I was in my shorts and “wife beater” undershirt, and was surprised, to say the least, to find that Emily was nude. She embraced me, and hummed her approval of the warmth I contributed to the clutch. I reached, tucking in the blanket behind her, and settling the sleeping bag more closely about her. She wriggled in approval. I settled my hands on her back, thinking that would be taking less liberties with her nakedness, than, say, drawing her butt in, closing her with my growing hardness.

“That’s so much better!” She sniffed my neck, and continued, “I like the way you smell, and you’re so warm!” She paused a moment. “Have I told you how grateful I am that you are getting me home?”

“No, but I can imagine.”

“No, I’m not sure you can imagine. I think I’ll have to show you!”

She began to slip beneath the coverings, and for some reason, I stopped her. It seemed clear to me just how she meant to demonstrate her appreciation, and it looked to be remarkably similar to the way women have shown select men that they appreciated them, since the dawn of time. Drawing her up to eye level, I looked into her eyes. “You don’t have to do anything, to thank me for my efforts to get you home. I have to pass nearby your home, with you or without you, and a second set of eyes makes me more safe as well. Frankly, I’d feel just a little bit guilty if I thought that I manipulated you, or coerced you, into being intimate with me. I don’t often go out of my way to act like some sort of kind Christian, but, walking you home is simply one thing I can point to when I get finally judged, to try to establish that I’m not a complete jackwagon.”

She lowered her eyes, and considered, before responding. “Suppose I wanted to?”

That made me pause. I had lusted after her, since shortly after starting at that job. She was bright, and confident, and capable, all of them things I find attractive in a woman. Emily was around 5-3, making her 6 inches shorter than me, trim, and curve-some. Her breasts, which from the information freshly gathered I guessed to be a “B” or “C”, were firm, and well proportioned to her figure. Brown hair brushed her shoulders, and her hips, caressed by her scrubs, were taut and full. Being older, I had tried to be surreptitious about ogling her. She soon let me know how well THAT had worked.

She continued. “I’ve seen how you look at me. Yeah, you tried to be coy, but a girl knows when a guy is ogling her. So, I know you’re interested. Just so you know, I’ve been interested in you, as well.”

“I know why I haven’t done anything about my admiring you. What is your reason? And, why open up about it, now?”

“I found out, last week, that John is cheating on me, with some slut at his work. I don’t know how long he’s been catting around, and I don’t know what I’m gonna do about it, if anything.” She ground her pelvis against my own. “Except, now that I have you where we both want you, and we’re all alone, and,” another wriggle punctuated this last revelation, “Now that I have a ‘free cheat’ card from John, whether he knows he gave it to me or not, well, now I’m gonna try to unravel the mystery that is Mark Evans.”

“Mystery? Really? I’m like most guys, about as deep as a puddle. I work, I go home, I visit with my wife, my kids and grandkids, and I do it all over again. I pretty much live a quiet, boring life. I’ve grown to kinda like it.”

“No secret life? Just you, work, family, and work again?”

I frowned. “Nope, no secrets. I simply don’t talk about every detail of my life, particularly on line. If that makes me mysterious, so be it. Back to you: do you really want to cheat on John? Is that really going to do anything you think is good?”

“I do. I want to, now, with you. You have been my protector, my mentor, this trip. I want to thank you, and, besides, I may not get an opportunity like this anytime soon, even if the power does ever come back on!” She paused. “Did you just try to talk me out of fucking you? Really? I have never, ever, had this sort of conversation with a man, not once!”