Chapter 2

Although it didn't seem so at the time, the Gods of the desert were smiling when partnering me with a slutty little twenty-six year old Japanese American named Brooke for a six-month stint as a wilderness ranger. Completely isolated in the midst of Utah's redrock backcountry, the two of us couldn't help but spend lots of time alone together at a small mobile home containing an office on one end, and my colleague's living quarters on the other. Staring continuously at her lithe and lightly clad frame drove me nearly crazy with lust.

Brooke was a first class prick tease and knew it, dressing accordingly. By late spring, my number one unrequited fantasy was to wrap that girl's glossy raven colored hair all around my dick. Just thinking about this mane, which dropped all the way down to her tight little buttocks, made me hard! A set of nearly imperceptible breasts were more than compensated for by a pair of fat protuberant nipples that I'd inadvertently discovered were pierced by tiny barbell shaped pieces of jewelry.

Public visitation at the ranger station dropped off significantly as the season's temperatures became increasingly oppressive, and those intrepid hikers that did show up inevitably got an early morning start to beat the heat. Virtually nobody else other than seasonal rangers were around from 10 AM onward. So by late morning, Brooke got in the habit of changing out of her official tan colored ranger uniform, choosing instead to wear a pair of casual looking cut-off denim shorts, coupled with a t-shirt or halter top of truly negligible proportions. She suffered from what I secretly thought of as Erect Nipple Syndrome, and even when not fully erect they formed very obvious and provocative bullet points beneath the various thin cotton tops she wore. Initially this was a delight to watch, but as the weeks wore on Brooke's ENS problem became my problem. There were times when I got a pronounced stiffie just being around the girl. I couldn't tell if she was deliberately provocative or simply ignoring the toll her actions where taking on me.

During the first three weeks we worked together, there were many times when I'd given serious thought to jumping my colleague's bones. But the so-called "flat rock incident" was the key reason I'd so far kept my dick inside my pants. Our boss Jerry, whose air conditioned office was in Cortez a hundred miles distant, made it clear on the first day of hire that fraternization between the sexes wouldn't occur, and that if it did we'd be sent packing. The rational was simple -- a year earlier, some local anti-government folks out to kill the ranger program videotaped some seasonal rangers screwing atop a flat slab of sandstone. A major flap occurred when these images were handed over to a right-wing member of Congress. So now, the future of the government program that employed Brooke and me was dependent on our ability to keep our pants buttoned up and libidos in check. For the time being, I limited myself to covert voyeurism and just watched the girl.

My resolve at celibacy was pushed to the limit as monotony and the summer's heat set in. It didn't help matters that Brooke was a confirmed exhibitionist, now in the habit of removing every stitch of clothing while watering and weeding a little vegetable garden we'd planted. Some Japanese have dark skin to begin with and she was one of them. And as the weeks went by, every inch of her became very brown, leading me to believe that somewhere along the way there's been a crossing of Asian and African bloodlines. Before long, I too was stripping naked on those days when it was my turn to weed and water. But in my case, it was essential to first lather up with SPF-30 sunscreen. I'd learned the hard way that failure to do this led to painful reddening of my exposed skin. Soon, we were both masturbating right out in plain view once the daily gardening grind was completed.

Brooke and I never discussed this increasingly perverted behavior, but we both knew we were spying on each other using a powerful set of government issued binoculars. Indeed, the girl had nearly been caught in the nude down by the garden by another government employee who'd unexpectedly stopped by the ranger station for a visit. I didn't know how much further we could push the envelope without violating our supervisor's prohibition against outright sexual relations.

In addition to profound exhibitionist tendencies, my partner had behavioral issues that would ultimately affect both our work and personal relationships. At times, Brooke possessed tremendous levels of energy but then she'd shut down completely. Back in college I'd learned to deal with a roommate's abrupt mood swings, and Brooke's behavior led to suspicions that she had similar mental health issues. So one day while she was away from the ranger station, I snuck into her living quarters and after poking about discovered prescription medications such as Compazine, capable of relieving episodes of mania and depression. Although she hadn't yet shared this secret with any of the ranger staff, Brooke clearly suffered from bi-polar syndrome.

But in a round about way she alluded to this, commenting again that she took this job out here at the edge of civilization to dry out, sort of a self-imposed sobriety. Brooke also claimed to be looking forward to a few months of abstinence from men, believing this would reign in an impulsive streak of risqué behavior. But as I would discover, a symptom of her mental condition -- especially during a manic stage enhanced by illicit drugs -- was a compulsive need to have sex and lots of it, especially when being watched by others was part of the bargain. But this was at complete odds with the number one rule of our employment, stressed time and again by our boss, that carnal relations between members of the ranger staff were strictly verboten.

Initially, at least, a principal part of our daily routine was to meet and greet backpackers and day hikers, ensuring they got off to a safe start exploring the region's numerous wilderness hot spots. Business was been brisk during April and early May when temperatures were moderate and desert wildflowers thrived. But things slowed down dramatically as the outside thermometer began to rise and the colorful blooms all went to seed.

Brooke and I were frequently alone in the little office trailer for hours at a time, so for a change in scenery we often took out the Jeep and patrolled a myriad of narrow dusty roads strung like ribbons across the top of sagebrush and juniper covered mesas. Many of these unpaved tracks led to spectacular views — Muley Point being by far the best -- and it was often possible to see distant mountains ranges spanning several states.

I was tiring of jacking off all the time to "Mr. Hand" since back at my North Carolina college a steady line of girlfriends proved ready and willing to satisfy my twenty-two year old libido. In fact, I was angling to fly one of these babes out west to pay me a conjugal visit. God, I so badly needed a fuck! But then I received a dreaded Dear John letter, which basically said distance made her fond heart wander. I wanted desperately to patch things up but the ranger station's isolation meant there was no Internet, with communication with the outside world confined to a county-wide radio telephone system on which all conversations were open for anybody to hear. The nearest reliable landline telephone connection was at a gas station almost forty miles away, so even attempting to call my ex-girlfriend proved an unachievable ordeal.

I eventually did get through to the girl's answering machine, but couldn't even give her a return phone number for the ranger station. In reality, the best links to the outside world were limited to either U.S. postal snail mail or an internal government radio net. Using my cellular phone was also out of the question since I couldn't get a connection -- with a customer base of less than 200 people scattered across a wilderness the size of Delaware, it wasn't worth the expense to erect cell towers. Brooke on the other hand, was by my side virtually every day of the week. But all I could do was look on as she regaled me with an array of skimpy clothes, or at times, outright nudity.

Despite my partner's vow of abstinence from men, one guy from Arizona and two or three from Colorado periodically drove hundreds of miles just to fuck her. They weren't boyfriends; rather, they seemed to come all this way just to get laid. And they took advantage of Brooke's natural affinity toward drugs by bringing lots of the stuff, particularly cocaine. God, what type of crowd did this girl run with before deciding to become a ranger? These guys looked creepy and I didn't like any of them, my jealousy palpable. It didn't help matters that the walls of the trailer were paper thin and from the noise Brooke and her fuck partners made, they could have been in the same room as me.

Indeed, even in the middle of a workday she would drop everything just to fuck, if this was when one of guys happened to show up at the ranger station! I liked it best when Brooke got screwed in that little streambed down by the vegetable garden. Those were the times I honed my skill at using the big government-issued binoculars. Listening to the girl's moans — or better yet, covertly watching her get porked, was always prelude to a quick nasty jerk off. But this still left me horny, and my only plan to import somebody out west and get laid had turned to ashes. As the local expression went, I was hornier that a two-peckered billy goat! It wasn't all fun and games for Brooke either, since after a guy left and took most of the drugs away with him, she would crash in the dark confines her bedroom for a day or two afterwards. I'd not experienced it personally, but it seemed that cocaine withdrawal was a bitch.

Brooke's most regular visitor was an anemic looking Asian guy named Tim, although what she saw in him was beyond me. He was a pasty-skinned wanna-be biker dressed all in black, completely ill at ease out here in the high desert wilderness. Furthermore, he smoked cigarettes and constantly gasped for breath at our 7,000 foot elevation. Despite his tough looking demeanor, the remote possibility of stepping on a poisonous rattlesnake or scorpion really rattled the guy and he kept pestering Brooke to blow off the job and move back to a city.

To tease Tim, I regaled him with all sorts of imaginative stories about lions and bears, even though I'd never actually run across any of these creatures outside of a zoo back east. I suggested that with one false step, Tim could be vulture meat! But damn it, he still got to fuck my work partner, whereas I raged with testosterone stranded thousands of miles from any of my long time friends!

Tim's next visit was timed so Brooke could take a couple of days off with him. They were heading to Telluride, a Colorado mountain town founded by gold miners, ostensibly to escape the desert's summertime heat. I couldn't blame the girl since she would have an opportunity to eat in restaurants and get a decent hot bath -- just what cowboys of old did upon first hitting civilization. After Tim's arrival at the ranger station, Brooke excused herself to go change out of her uniform and pack. As we sat out at the picnic table waiting for Brooke to finish dressing, Tim pulled out a six-pack of beer he'd been chilling in a small cooler, and although I didn't like him there was no way I'd refuse his offer of a bottle.

We were both well into our second beer when Brooke flounced outside to join us, wearing a sleeveless and incredibly short floral print minidress, accentuating the tattoos on her biceps and virtually all of her long coffee toned legs. The girl was hyper to begin with, becoming even more frenzied as she downed one beer after another in an effort to catch up with us. We were all working on a major alcohol buzz.

To my surprise, Tim then laid out several lines of cocaine on the picnic table and proceeded to toot one of them up. Brooke joined him, but when it was my turn I declined, saying that I still had an hour left in the workday. I didn't admit it, but the dry desert air exacerbated a propensity for nosebleeds (this was the real reason I begged off). So Brooke shrugged and did a line that was meant for me. The drugs and alcohol were having a serious effect on Brooke and she became completely manic.

Tim opened the doors to his car, stuck some hip-hop in the CD player, and my co-worker gyrated with a sensuality causing both Tim and I to gape at her in open mouthed amazement as one strap of her dress and then the other slid off her bare shoulders. She didn't bother to pull them back up and as the top of the dress slipped further downward, I had the fleeting fantasy that she enjoyed doing strip tease. Indeed, there was a minor wardrobe malfunction as one erect pierced nipple and then the other popped into sight. Soon, the front of Brooke's dress was completely down to her hips! She was a born natural exotic dancer!

Unfortunately, it became apparent that Tim was the sole object of Brooke's lust. The little wench acted as if I wasn't even there! Regardless that I sat at a picnic table just a few feet distant, the girl pressed her torso hard against Tim, literally grinding her pelvis into his crotch. Although buzzed by alcohol, was I the only one with enough sense to glance around to see if anybody else was viewing this performance? There were several day hikers driving out of the parking lot below us, but nobody came our way! This was a good thing because Tim responded to Brooke's aggressiveness by pressing his crotch hard against her pubic bone. Soon they were panting and doing the dry hump routine as she began to straddle Tim's hips, his hands reaching up beneath the fabric of her short dress. The girl finally acknowledged my presence with a brief and very wicked look. I'm sure the two of them would have fully disrobed right there at the picnic table had I not coughed before escaping through the door of the ranger station.

It seemed the beer and coke neutralized whatever medication my co-worker used to keep her manic tendencies in check, and her increasingly ribald behavior made me all tingly inside. In other circumstances this would have been a good feeling, but right now I was bursting with hatred for the two of them! I'd get around to fucking this bitch soon enough! So I watched from inside a window with dick in hand as they wandered a discrete 30 feet away from the trailer, eventually ending up leaning against the outside wall of a small utility barn. Brooke stopped and turned to face Tim, pressing her back against the building's painted wooden siding. They hadn't bothered to move completely out of sight of the ranger station and after a few minutes, I went back outside and again sat at the picnic table, proceeding to pop open a final neglected can of warm beer.

Tim was facing away from me and didn't seem to care that I was there, but Brooke was in a position where she could look straight into my eyes. Seeing that I was staring at her, she again gave me a wanton smile as if to finally acknowledge all the times she'd pretended to ignore me as I'd spied on her while she weeded our little garden in the nude. Then she refocused on her partner, leaned bare shoulders back against the side of the barn and thrust her chest outward, the tips of her nipples protruding outward. God, what a show!

Brooke pressed the sole of her foot against the barn and raised her knee so it made direct contact with the crotch of Tim's pants, causing the hem of her diminutive dress to slide far enough up her leg to expose a couple miles of brown colored thigh. She was poking her knee directly along the turgid shaft of the guy's penis. Tim responded by rubbing his fingers up and down the bare leg that continued to push against him while pressing his lips into Brooke's in a passionate tongue entwining kiss.