Chapter 2: Know Me

What you tryin' to say? You don't want to play, What you want and what you need don't mean that much to me. - TOOL

The memories of the first weekend were driven from Brenda's thoughts as the sound of voices and crunching gravel intruded on her reminiscence. Two couples had come off the trail and were now stowing some light gear in a bright red Ford Explorer. She watched them through barely opened eyes and she was pleased to see them leaving. While the family Brenda had observed earlier would never venture more than a yard or two from the hiking trail, young people in their early twenties were more adventurous and inquisitive. They might scoot up to a ridge-top to see what's on the other side.

As the two young women teased one of the men on some issue, the other young man had been diverting some of his attention in Brenda's direction. His manner of conducting himself was as if he was canvassing her for a break-in. He had openly stared at her for a few periods that were several scandalous seconds in length, but most of his inspection had been done as poorly disguised peripheral studies. As they climbed into the sporty truck, Brenda saw that her bold admirer was the driver.

The truck backed out of its space and lurched forward ten feet. This maneuver aligned the driver with Brenda as she sat with her back against the tree, a mere four yards distant from him. As he leaned his head out the window his torso shook and Brenda believed it was caused by a playful punch to the arm or ribs that was delivered by the girl with the long and straight brown hair who was sitting next to him.

"Excuse me, would you like a ride somewhere?" he ventured. Again his body rocked, and the girl at his side rose up in the seat to gain a better view.

"No thanks" Brenda replied. "I'm waiting for my son and a couple of his buddies." Then she added, "Perhaps you seen them back on the trail. He has red hair and they're all about your age."

A Cheshire cat grin flashed across the female passenger's face as she lowered herself back into her seat. A moment of uncomfortable silence spread between Brenda and the driver. Finally he flashed a wry grin and said, "Nope, we saw no other people on our walk. Just trying to be of friendly assistance." The red truck jumped forwards a foot and he tossed Brenda a low, mid-door wave.

With a grumble of loose stones, the Ford made its way to the gate, and the highway beyond. Brenda licked her lips and once moistened, slid them in a sensuous pucker. She could have had that young stud for the asking, and his young minx of a girlfriend might never know.

The world became quiet again, and Brenda checked her watch. Only ten minutes had passed since the family with children had entered the trail. Ten minutes of memories that left her with a dampening crotch. Her moistness was more pronounced because she had shaved herself in preparation for this evening's intimate expedition. Brenda wondered if the young man in the truck had sensed the arousal upon her. Was there a cloud of pheromones surrounding her like a burning mist? Had there been a revealing huskiness in her voice as they talked? Would he think that it had been for him?

If this location had not been so public, Brenda might have let her hands drift down to touch herself. She knew where that would make her yearn to go. Not yet, she thought, she must save every bit of herself for later. The day's unseasonable heat had reached into the mid eighties, but Brenda knew that the evening's temperatures could plummet to the high forties.

Closing her eyes again, Brenda recounted the events of the following weekend, when she returned to the Old Man of the Woods.

It had been a Saturday's late morning, and her car was not parked alone in the lot that day. There had also been a bright yellow Jeep Wrangler parked near the trailhead. The canvas roof was off of it, exposing a large padded rollbar. A chromed pair of handcuffs had been attached to a ring on the passenger side of the tubular brace. A bumper sticker on the tailgate displayed a naked female form in glitter on a black background. In white letters it proclaimed, "GAS, GRASS OR ASS- NOBODY RIDES FOR FREE". As she strode past it, Brenda noted that a dozen beer cans littered the topless vehicle's floor.

That day, it was a little cooler than it had been a week earlier. Brenda had decided to go bra-less again, but this time she wore an oversized green T-shirt. The backpacking woman also had on a pair of loose fitting cargo shorts and light deck sneakers. Brenda had no plans to walk far on that day.

Her final accessory was a medium sized frame pack. This held a large towel, a bucksaw, two canteens filled with Gatorade, ten sheets of assorted grit sandpaper, and her digital camera.

Not three hundred yards up the trail yet, and Brenda encountered what she surmised to be the owners of the Jeep. They were two middle-aged men. One was six and a half feet tall and blonde with close-cropped hair. He wore a red Izod crew necked shirt and khaki Dockers shorts. Brenda's first impression of him was that he looked like an Arian Nation's poster child. The other man was black, six feet in height, with gray sweatpants and a black tank-top shirt that exposed large well-muscled arms. The black man's shorthaired head was banded with a red kerchief like a macho sweatband. True B Movie stuff here, thought Brenda. As she drew nearer, Brenda noted that both men appeared to be in their mid-forties and packed more than a little paunch at their midsections.

The men were lounging at a bend in the path that occurred just before the grade of the climb would grow steeper, to a twenty-percent incline. She saw that the guys were already perspiring as a result of climbing the few small hills half that challenging.

Brenda was sweating also, but she had been carrying a pack. A pack, which she now saw with a downward glance, had straps that were pulling her T-shirt taut against her jostling nipples with each step she took. This caused her to feel exposed before them and her face felt the warm rush of a crimson blush crawling across it. Brenda noted that they carried no packs and wondered if they had stopped here with thoughts of turning back.

The two males didn't attempt to make her feel comfortable either. Brenda was the only piece of eyecandy in sight and they both ogled long and hard at her. When Brenda was ten yards away from them, the blonde man fumbled with a cigarette as he stepped a half step into the trail. Brenda started to veer to the other side of the path, making a fanning motion with her right hand that she hoped would signal the smoker away from her. He seemed oblivious. The fellow in the bandana arose and pitched his chin skyward as her queried, "Nice day for a friendly walk, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is." stated Brenda, she wanted to keep the conversation brief and never broke the pace of her stride. There was a nervous tone to her voice that she had hoped to conceal.

"Will you be going all the way today?" asked the smirking blonde giant, as she passed him on the trail. The yeasty scent of lager was on his breath. The double entendre was not lost on Brenda, or the tall man's companion who emitted a snort at the line.

"I'm going to hike to the top and have a lunch." She responded in a way that she hoped would disarm a tense situation. "My friends will be coming through here soon. Please tell them that I went on?" she added as a defensive statement more than a request. Brenda was past them now, and she was aware that her perspiration-dampened shorts were clinging to her ass like a second skin. She also knew that the guys would not see any panty lines, because on that day, she wore none.

"You can wait here and keep us company!" The blonde giant called after her. " I don't think your friends are coming any too soon!" chided the man in the bandana. Brenda silently cursed herself for forgetting that a person could view a mile of back-trail from that bend. The men's discussion became low in tone as they bantered privately and the alarmed woman hoped dearly that there would be no further action taken on their part. Fifteen yards later, Brenda heard a gravelly grating on the pathway behind her and the black man's rising voice as he said to his friend loudly "All the way... hike with a GREAT VIEW!" "Havin' somethin' to eat, then goin' down!" added his friend.

Stepping out to nearly double her previous pace, Brenda dared not to look back on her pursuers. It would be a waste of time and might cause them to put more energy into their endeavor. At the midpoint of the first incline, the sound of small rocks being kicked up behind her had signaled to Brenda that the men following her were only twenty-five or so yards behind her. They were so sure of themselves, that they were not putting too much energy into their pursuit. She tried to push herself to go even faster, and felt her thighs start to swell and burn under the increased strain.

As she gained the top of the first hill, Brenda glanced backwards and saw that the two males chasing her were only about thirty yards behind. There was a level space here spanning four yards of the trail, then the path hooked right and an incline similar to this one for two hundred yards. After the second hill, there remained one shorter rise. At that point, Brenda would be at the bridge where the brook coming from the pond ran under the trail. She had to lose them before then.

Brenda sprinted across the level ground and used her momentum to gain good distance on the second hillside. She was now sweating heavily and she was beginning to mouth-breath in big gulps. Her efforts caused her heart to drum loudly against her fear filled bosom. When Brenda finally slowed down to what she believed was her fast-hiking pace, she stole a glimpse back and saw that the two bucks were still on her back-trail, nearly sixty yards distant. Then to her horror, she saw them beginning to change their pace to a jog. They clearly meant to overtake her. Perhaps she had underestimated them, she thought with a growing apprehension.

What if those awful men caught her, Brenda wondered. She envisioned them dragging her off the path and pushing her down. Brenda could picture the two burly men tearing at her clothing and she saw herself struggling. Her strength was being sapped however and she had to admit that her struggles would be weak. Brenda could visualize them taking her simultaneously and repeatedly on the forest floor. A dark thought moment made her weigh if that would really be so bad.

She remembered the handcuffs that had been fastened to the Jeep's rollbar. At least one of these guys could be a serial killer or a serial rapist, and their intentions had been broadcast clearly along that line already. A surge of fear-inspired adrenaline rushed through Brenda's system and she surged onward, up the graveled ramp.

The gap had closed to thirty-five yards by the time Brenda had gained the next plateau. Her upper legs felt pumped and leaden, Brenda's calves were starting to feel knotted up also. This was it she decided. It had to be all or nothing. Sprinting across the twenty-foot level trail section, she continued to run as fast as she could up the next fifty yards of ramping lane. Brenda stopped and turned to face her back-trail as she gained the summit. The men stalking her had just come into view from the previous incline. She needed to do something that would keep them going for a while. A means to cloud their judgement and logic. Gripping her sopping T-shirt's lower hem, she hoisted it up to her neck. Brenda's two unfettered and spectacular breasts were exposed to the light of day, and to their lecherous viewing.

The two males froze in their tracks. The men's eyes grew round and foolish grins grew upon their faces. Their demeanor told Brenda that both of them were nearly winded and spent. "Can you boys hike with a little hard-on for me? " she chided down to them.

At first there was no response. Then, the shorter said something to the other that she could not hear. Both men started running uphill, but the big blonde who was in front slipped and fell. His pal tripped over the sprawled body and the forest air rang with loud oaths voiced by both men.

Brenda didn't enjoy seeing this moment of amusement, because she had already turned back in the direction of the bridge ahead. Ten quick steps later and she edged her way into the dense undergrowth on the pond's side of the trail. The concealed femme moved into brush a few yards, then sat down with her back to the pathway. Brenda removed her pack and bent over to tuck her head down towards her crossed legs. Her racing pulse had caused a deafening throb to sound in her ears as she struggled to control her breathing.

As the men hunting her had gained the hilltop, Brenda could hear their epitaphs that were punctuated by deep gasps and wheezes. "... Put a smile on her face that Jesus Christ couldn't take off!" (Cough! Cough! ) "No woman's worth this..." (Snort!) "Did ya see those?..." (Grunt, hack-hack)

From her wooded sanctuary, Brenda heard heavy footfalls on the planks of the bridge. Then one man yelled, "Here! Look here! She's there! " Brenda shivered and her flesh was instantly prickled with goose bumps. She didn't dare turn around.

"Under there? " his buddy responded, then added, "Ohhhh yesss ".

"You take that side!" directed the first male again, and then declared, "No, she's not under there. She must still be ahead of us."

The hidden beauty realized that they had been searching under the bridge for her.

"C'mon lets catch her ass, " said the second. "We're almost at the top. We'll catch the bitch there or overhaul her on the downhill leg."

"Overhaul her hard." Added the first man's voice, sounding a little more distant than a moment ago.

The men were both so winded and hoarse that Brenda finally realized the first man had been the blonde. She smiled a wicked grin also, knowing that they were not even halfway to the highest elevation of the trail yet. As she heard the sweet music of their departing steps, Brenda also knew that there were at least a dozen more bridges on the trail. Every one of them would be a thrill for those boys.

After resting for a few moments, she gingerly arose. Brenda moved slowly and listened often as she scaled the Birch studded hillside and it was not until she had gained the sanctuary of Pine grove on its crest, that she experienced a return of security. Descending the pond-side of the bluff, Brenda saw that the vernal basin was still lacking of water. The returning nymph threaded her way through the Mountain Laurel maze and arrived at the grassy oasis of a beach.

The enormous Maple reared in its twisted magnificence before her. The space it took from the hot August sky was truly a blessing, she thought.

Brenda sat down and removed her sneakers and socks and fished a canteen out of her knapsack. She drank all of its contents with long, slaking gulps. Brenda returned the pack to her aching shoulders and made her way out onto the dry pond bottom, memories came flooding back to her. There were vivid recollections of last weekend's adventure here, yet they seemed to have occurred years ago.

She scanned the muddy bottom beyond the Old Man of the Woods and saw the gaping holes left behind from her caper last Sunday. They looked like sad and empty sockets, left behind as if teeth had been pulled from the earth.

Brenda had a feeling that she belonged to this place. She thought that if she could strip down and fill one of the mucky orifices with her naked yearning body, it would be in the natural rhythm and order of this environment. Brenda also knew that she needed to have the fear in her heart, that she was getting in over her head, to make the magic work. The musing matron decided that she couldn't return to a comfortably safe location. If she were going into the bog today, the place would have to be new and unknown, for the same reason that a bee goes to different flowers.

Brenda strolled up to the Maple and slid off her pack. She eased her body between the sapling and the main trunk and enwrapped the huge tree with her arms. Its roughness pressed in contact with flesh, veiled only by the thin damp fabrics she wore as she embraced the twisted wooden titan. The sapling's pressure against her buttocks seemed harder than it did a week ago, as if it had grown a little closer to the primary body of the tree.

"I'm back." She whispered with the rasp of excitement tempering her tone.

"I told you I would return, and now I'm gonna help you to know me better. To unite with me as only we can do. But, first I'm gonna have to do something to make this happen for us." Brenda solemnly promised. "It might hurt, I hope not."

Brenda returned to her pack and took out the bucksaw. She bellied up against the sapling and made a light cut in its bark about two inches lower than her navel. Dropping the blade one half of an inch, Brenda sawed upwards until she had cut half way through the sapling and to her mark. She repeated the same procedure from the other side and separated the young trunk at the finish. The trunk was almost three inches thick at the point of cut and the ten feet of treetop that came loose was an awkward and heavy package. She dragged the cumbersome foliage back to the grass-covered rise on shore and concealed it deep in the Laurel.

This had been hard and heated work. Brenda stopped to take a few sips from her second canteen, then she traipsed back to the Old Man of the Woods. As she approached him, the sweat dampened lady stopped a few yards away to admire her handiwork. The magnificent brute looked more than ever, like the Alpha-tree in this forest. Climbing in its twisted majesty, it now had an obviously phallic member protruding from the bowels of its roots. The rest of the job was time consuming and gentle labor. She fished a three-inch long, Case pocketknife from a pocket in her cargo shorts and carefully opened its razor sharp blade.

Two hours later, with sawdust clinging to her moist arms and a few wooden chips in her hair, Brenda backed away from her project to access its grade. A smile slowly spread across her full mouth, and leaning back on one foot, she slowly licked her upper lip.

The sculpting female had shaped the appendage so that it had a large and circumcised shaped head at the tip. Brenda's efforts at sculpture had reduced the penis's tip to a width of an inch and a quarter. It still bent in to the trunk so that only three inches distance lie between it and the Maple's main torso. Below the head, the sapling had been systematically grooved so that it thickened with a conical swelling that ended in a locking flange, every inch and a half. Each bulge was twenty percent larger than the one before it. The diameter if the limb increased to four inches at the location of its carved base, which was ten inches down from the nip.

"Ladies prefer ribs." she had mused, as she carved the notches and rings into its girth. Brenda had sanded the shaped stump until it had a silky smoothness, completely absent of even the smallest spur. At the base of her arrangement she had feathered its emergence from the tree's craggy bark with sandpaper, making the wooden member appear to be a natural growth.

Brenda strode over to her pack and returned all her tools to its keeping. She then brought the pack back to where she stood moments earlier in her moments of admiration. Brenda removed her camera from her pack and fell to one knee on the pond's bed. The tree was so immense and the distended limb appeared so small in her viewfinder, Brenda arose and advanced to a range of two yards before the subject's size looked appealing.

She had snapped off six or seven shots at various angles, but wanted one with the unbroken skyline against her creation. That meant Brenda had to lie on her stomach at the parched pool's bottom, in order to clear the surrounding area's tree tops. Brenda's T-shirt was still moist from her chase and her woodwork in the hot Sun. If she lied down on the pond's bed with it on, silt and leaf dust would stick to it instantly. The result would be a suspiciously dirty woman walking out of a State Park. Carrying the equipment that she was, Brenda did not consider it to be a good idea.

She wriggled out of her swelter-soaked T-shirt and placed it on top of the nearby pack. Returning to the base of the endowed Maple, Brenda lie down supine in the dusty leaves that carpeted the dry pond. She enjoyed the heat that the baking sun had deposited into the parched earth throughout the afternoon. Brenda felt its warmth radiating into the tops of her feet and up the length of her exposed legs. She enjoyed its ardor as it bathed her exposed tummy and nestled the comely globes on her chest.

Brenda had to crawl on her belly to get a foot closer to the roots. She wanted a clear shot of her labors cropped in a manner that would be revealing and yet obscure. This was to be a picture that would furnish wallpaper for her PC's desktop. It was to excite her, but remain a secret from other viewers.