Chapter 4

We picked a trail at random and hiked up it for maybe half a mile. It was steep going in places, but both of us were in good shape. We stopped at a huge boulder that jutted out into empty space. Kelani climbed out onto it and tried to see over the edge, but the radius of the curve was too steep.

"I wish I had a rope," she called back to me.

"We can probably check one out at the camp," I yelled back.

She came back toward me and, on impulse, I snapped a picture of her on the smooth curve of the rock. She dimpled and smiled.

"You'd let me climb down over the curve?" she asked, jumping off onto the dust beside me.

"You're a big girl," I said. "I'm not your father."

"Well that's for sure," she said.

We heard voices coming our way and I pulled her around so that her back was to my front. I put my arms around her, with my hands flat on her stomach. When two hikers appeared below us, it looked like we were just standing there, looking out over the beautiful vista. I glanced over my shoulder. It was Blondie and her husband.

"Guess who can't seem to stay away from us?" I whispered.

"You're kidding," she said.

She turned suddenly in my arms and put her arms around my neck. She pulled my head down, her lips reaching for mine. It was a very nice kiss, and somehow my hands ended up on her butt, pulling her against me as she extended the kiss much, much longer than was necessary. When the kiss finally broke, Blondie and her husband were standing right beside us, looking on with obvious interest.

"Hi," said the man. "I'm John Keystone. You've met Jennifer already." He sounded confident. "I'll get right to the point," he said. "Jennifer and I are swingers. We don't do it all the time, but when we get away from our normal territory, and meet a couple we're interested in, we like to spice things up a bit. And we're interested in you. I know this is a bit bold, but we've only got a week, so there's not really time to ease up to it, if you know what I mean."

He stopped and they looked at us.

"No thank you," said Kelani, her voice frosty.

"Oh, come on, loosen up," said Jennifer. "You said you were from the south pacific. Everybody knows how casual you people are about sex. And I'm sure Bob here has been around the block many times before he met you. We just want to have a little fun."

"Are you deaf?" asked Kelani. "I speak fluent English, and I said no thank you. You know what I like to do for fun, Jennifer? I like to kick box. That's what I do to mix things up a little. And if you lay one finger on my man, Jennifer, I'll kick you so hard your puke huruhuru ... short and curlies ... will look like a mustache." She left no question as to what she meant by pointing at Jennifer's crotch.

Jennifer backed off, her hands up.

"Now, now. No need to get testy about it. We just thought you two looked like you might like to expand your horizons a little bit. No harm done. You can't blame us for trying. You're both gorgeous."

"Thanks," I said, reaching for Kelani's elbow. "We'll take it as a compliment. But we're not interested."

"All righty then," said John, who didn't seem at all disturbed that we had reacted the way we had. "If you change your mind, you know where our cabin is."

They turned and walked back down the trail.

"Can you believe that?" gasped Kelani.

"It takes all kinds," I said.

"Didn't that piss you off?" she asked.

"Why should it? They think we're gorgeous."

"Oh yeah. I forgot," she said.

"Forgot what?"

"Nothing." She seemed to blush a little. "That kiss kind of took me by surprise."

"Um ... you're the one who kissed me," I said.

"Well yes. I guess I just didn't expect you to be as good at it as you are."

"What the hell does that mean?" I asked.

"Nothing." She backed away from me. "I'm suddenly in the mood to get a workout. Race you back down?"

"That would be insanity," I said.

"Chicken?" She grinned.

She took off.

I took my time.

I found out later that she passed John and Jennifer on the way down, and that she stopped long enough to castigate them with tongue in cheek for "getting me going" so much that I wanted to have sex with her right there in the open. Then she said "And wouldn't you know it? I went off and left my diaphragm in the cabin!" Then she took off again at breakneck speed and left them, no doubt staring at her as she ran and jumped down the precipitous slope.

She was playing horseshoes when I got down. It was obvious she'd never played. One of the "nice young men" who worked there was showing her how to throw the shoes. He was standing behind her with his left hand on her waist while he moved her right hand backwards and forwards, trying to explain that he wanted the horse shoe to make one horizontal circle on its way to the pin, forty feet away. I watched as he stood aside - reluctantly, I thought - and watched her swing her arm back and then forward again, to launch the horse shoe, spinning end over end high into the air. It landed with a plop about five feet short of the pin.

He moved in to "help" her again and I approached. "I'll take it from here, sport," I said.

He looked at me, guilt all over his face. I said "Thanks," and smiled. He ducked his head, mumbled "No problem," and hurried off.

"This is a stupid game," she said, launching another horse shoe, again end over end. It landed with the ends of the shoe straddling the stake.

"That's three points," I said.

"Really?" She got excited. "Just for doing that? Maybe it's not so bad after all."

"The trick is doing that every time," I said.

"How long until dinner?" she asked. "I'm starving."

She had to wait another hour and a half for dinner, which we did in our cabin after she pulled me toward it urgently, in case Blondie and John were watching. The wait was worth it, though, even if supper was served buffet style. The first night was steak, baked potato with a variety of toppings, fresh tossed salad, steamed asparagus, with the choice of five kinds of pie for dessert. The cook was a huge black woman who came out of the kitchen to make sure everybody was happy with their meal. She announced that her name was Eartha Toomey, and that if anybody wasn't happy, she wanted to know about it. She was formidable looking enough that I doubt she got many complaints. At the same time she was personable as she chatted with this or that diner before returning to her kitchen.

Janice ate with us, and announced that there would be dancing that night, for those interested. She reminded us that the hot tub was open, and that it was possible that black bears were in the area, and to take precautions accordingly if we were going to be outside the camp during darkness.

About half the couples drifted away. I noticed that Jennifer and John had apparently made friends with one of the couples I didn't know. They were heading off toward the Keystone cabin. I was surprised that their approach had actually worked. Then again, if you used that approach with someone who was like-minded, then it would work very well. Cut through the red tape and get on with getting down to business. Still, it seemed odd that they would be so open about it with strangers.

I suddenly wondered if this camp had some sort of reputation that we didn't know about. If it turned out that swappers made this a regular on their list of places to visit, I was going to laugh my ass off.

"The kids" as I called them, were setting up for the dance. All that meant, really was folding the tables up and moving them along one wall. The chairs were stacked around the walls. A karaoke machine was wheeled out and set up. One of the girls stayed with the machine to work it, and the other kids drifted out to go do whatever the young staff did during the evenings. I walked over to the karaoke machine. The girl's name tag said "Melanie."

"What do you have on that thing, Melanie?" I asked.

"Pretty much anything you want," she said. "What's your pleasure?"

Kelani joined me.

"Do you have anything by the Moody Blues?" she asked.

Both Melanie and I stared at her.

"Who?" asked Melanie.

"Where'd you hear about them?" I asked.

She glanced at me. "One of my ... um ... boyfriends ... before I met you."

"How about Queen?" she asked Melanie.

"Them, we got," said Melanie and she pushed buttons. We Are The Champions began issuing from the box.

Kelani pulled me away from the machine a few steps and into a standard high school, rub-your-bodies-against-each-other clinch.

"Where'd you learn how to dance?" I asked, putting my hands on her lower back. Her cheek was lying just below my chin.

"The same boyfriend," she said.

"You going to tell me about him?" I asked.

"Now? Here?" She looked up at me. "That's probably not a good idea."

"Why not?" I asked.

"Because I miss him," she said. "And thinking about him makes me ... emotional."

"Well, we wouldn't want that," I said.

"Are you making fun of me?" she asked.

"No ma'am," I said. "You do not have to kick my ass."

"You don't make things any easier," she said.

"Why's that?"

"Because you remind me of him," she said. "You've reminded me of him ever since the first time I saw you."

"So he was ... what's the right term these days? ... mature?"

"So I like men with a little mileage on them," she said. "That's not surprising. It's common in Maori culture. Elders are revered and respected. Older men are held in high regard because they have survived. Many marriages are of older men to younger women."

"Makes sense," I said. "Here in America, a hundred years ago, there was a group called the Oneida Community. They liked to match young women with older men and young men with older women."

The music stopped. We were still the only ones dancing, and we had been dancing slow, so Melanie put on another slow number. Kelani started moving us again.

"We talked about that in my sociology classes in college. The males are at their sexual peak at the same time the women are," she said.

"I guess that's the theory," I said.

"Sometime, maybe I'll show you Maori dancing," she said.

"What's it like?" I asked. "Hula?"

"It has similarities," she said. "Hula tells a story. Maori dancing has a different purpose."

I was about to ask what the purpose was when two couples came into the room. One was not-so-Little Orphan Annie and her husband, whose name I couldn't remember, and another of the couples I hadn't been introduced to yet. That problem went away as Annie brought them over to us.

"This is Kelani and Bob," she said to the couple with her. "Kelani is from New Zealand and Bob does something for the government." She smiled at us. "And this is Rhonda and Ted Breckenridge. Ted owns a Radio Shack store."

Hands were shaken all around. Annie's husband produced a bottle of bourbon and a bottle of sloe gin, which Annie snatched from his hand. Melanie abandoned the karaoke machine long enough to point out a cart with cans of soda on it, and a pan of ice. There was also a selection of Hostess treats. I noticed everything was name brand, and all prime brands. No cost cutting was going on in the edibles arena. Tom, as Annie's husband turned out to be, mixed drinks for everyone. The ladies all got sloe gin mixed with Sprite, while the men got bourbon and Coke.

Rhonda and Ted were probably in their thirties, and were looking for more upbeat music. Melanie had it, and soon rock and roll was blasting from the speakers. Kelani wanted to dance but I shook my head. I look like a robot low on oil, and with severe joint disturbances when I try to dance fast. Annie pulled Kelani away from us men and, like they were at a high school dance, the women started gyrating.

It was interesting. It had been a long time since I watched two women dancing. It was fun. Kelani was her normal beautiful self. Annie was taller and much bustier. I decided Annie wasn't wearing a bra either, based on the shimmy under her shirt. Kelani's breasts also moved, but not as much.

Tom leaned in. "So what do you do for the government?"

"Contractor," I yelled back. "I have some defense contracts."

"Really? What kind?"

We had decided that, since Kelani and I both knew all about trash bags now, that's what I'd say I did. I told Tom about it, and how many bags we produced every year, and what mil thickness they were. Pretty soon his eyes glazed over, just as we thought would happen. I stopped talking.

He leaned in again. "My wife thinks you're hot. You got me laid last night."

My errant thought about this being a haven for swapping couples, graduated into a theory at that point.

"Happy to be of service," I said, smiling. "I got laid too."

"I bet you did," said Tom, his eyes on Kelani.

On a hunch I just asked. "Are you guys into swapping?"

He looked at me. I could tell he was already on a buzz from the whisky. "Hell yes," he said.

"And you already know Jennifer and what's his name?"

"John," he said. "Yeah, we've known each other for a few years. Do you know them? Have they been holding out on us?"

"No. They propositioned us up on a trail this afternoon. We're not into that kind of thing. Is that why people come here or something?"

"Well, not here, exactly. I mean sometimes here. There is kind of an informal group of us. This is the second time for us here. But we kind of keep in touch, and if somebody has an idea of where we can all meet, then the ones who can make their vacations work or whatever get together. This is just one of the places."