Adirondack Audacity (12 page)

“Is this all right?”
“Yes, now go, I’m sick of you. Leave my camp.”
“We didn’t help fix the hut.”
“I don’t care….just go!”
A second invitation wasn’t necessary. We practically
trip over ourselves, leaving in haste, literally running half
way down the mountain before stopping to catch our
breath.
“What the hell was that?” Vic asks bent over double,
gasping for air.
“I don’t know, but I never want to see it again.” My
heart hammering against my ribcage, lungs on fire, and
my legs feel like rubber.
“That guy’s nuts.”
“That’s an understatement.” I glance over my
shoulder, ears perked for any sight or sound of him
following us. “I’m going to have nightmares for a month.
A shower, I need a shower. Hot water, lots of soap and
more hot water…..Ugh! He was disgusting.”
“Come on, let’s go. I don’t want to wait around here
in case he decides to follow us.”
“I’m already gone.” I hoist myself up, ignoring the
burning sensation in my chest. Sheer will forces my legs
down the trail. I’ve never been so scared in my entire
life…..and I’ve been scared before.
…
The episode with Jolib and the broach was eclipsed
by the near tragedy that greeted us back at camp. One of
the six-year old boys almost drowned in our absence. The
lifeguard on duty was distracted by some older kids
fighting in the deep end and he missed the younger child
wade out over his head. Thankfully Burt was near the
beach conducting a pond study with a group and noticed
the child struggling in the water. The irony is……Burt
can’t swim a stroke. On kayak trips he has on so many
lifejackets he looks like the Michelin Man. The little boy
wasn’t in very deep water so Burt was able to pull him to
shore and started CPR. A 911 call was placed and the
child taken to the local hospital for evaluation. The mood
at dinner was somber. Morris reported the little boy was
in good condition, spending the night in the hospital for
observation until his parents arrived. Launching a full
investigation, Morris plans to understand how this
accident happened and ways to prevent future incidents.
Vic is devastated. When Sean, the head lifeguard
returned to college early, Vic was appointed head
lifeguard for the remainder of the summer. In this
position he felt it was his responsibility to ensure the
safety of each camper in the water. His skin visibly pale
under his summer tan, he refused dinner, just sitting with
a cup of coffee in his hand. The muscles in his jaw
twitching as Morris reviewed the water safety rules,
admonishing the counselors to realize our grave
responsibility to the campers left in our charge.
Later that night, I empty my backpack and the broach
falls to the floor. The sight of it makes me shudder,
recalling the events of this horrible day. I want to throw it
out the window, but it looks expensive and antique. So I
shove it in the back of my dresser drawer, out of sight
and out of mind. Good riddance.

The Perseid meteor shower occurs every year on or
about the 11
^th
of August, on nights when the earth’s orbit
passes through a band of space debris that comes too
close to the sun. Each piece of debris is hardly bigger
than a speck of dust, but when entering into the earth’s
atmosphere, it’s transformed into a dazzling arc of light
called a meteor or shooting star and then disappears.

Vic and I planned to hike up the mountain ridge and
watch the meteor shower from a clearing near the top. So
when the
ping, ping,
of small pebbles hits the cabin screen,
I’m ready to go.

“Ella, Ella, my
mia bella, won’t you come out and
play?” floats through the open window to my waiting
ears.
Ping, ping!
“Come on, Elle, I feel like “Chicken
Little” out here with the sky falling. The stars are
incredible.” His voice edged in impatience. Already
dressed, I clattered down the steps and round the corner
of the cabin where I’m swept into his arms. He spins me
around in a circle, my feet fanning out like a carousal in
motion. Placing me breathless on my feet, his lips capture
mine.

“Mia,
mia, bella,” he murmurs between kisses.
“Why?” I pause to catch my breath, my feet barely
touching the ground. “Why do you always call me, mia
bella, isn’t that Italian or something? You speak Spanish.”
I question him, softly peppering kisses up and down his
face.
“Because Elle, Ellen, Ella,” he laughs. “I just like the
way it sounds, you’re my Ella Bella,
querida
.” He runs his
hands down, pressing the length of my body against him.
“Come on.” he says, leading me down the path.
Tucked under his arm is an old green sleeping bag, the
lining covered with camping scenes highlighted on the
red flannel. He found it in the old boathouse along with
the canoe. “The stars aren’t going to wait for you, slow
poke; the bluff off Little Wolf Point will be a great spot
to watch.”
We walk through the dark forest as the stars overhead
play connect-the-dots, forming images of ancient gods
and goddesses. The new moon sheds little light to distract
from the brilliance of the stars. Our footsteps hush the
chorus of chirping crickets as they surrender to silence.
Content, we walk in stillness feeling the peace and beauty
of the forest night.
“Almost there,” he helps me up over a fallen log. I
trip into his arms, causing us to fall onto the ground in a
giggling heap.
“Shhhhh.”
“Who are we disturbing?” he asks.
“Ummmm….crickets?”
“Really?”
Coming out of the trees just above the lake, a bluff
opens to reveal the heavens dropping down to play with
the earth. It’s a beautiful night, cool, fresh and clear. We
stop at a small clump of pines, where seductively soft
shadows provide a hidden cove, carpeted with skullcap
moss, resembling a blanket made of small green stars, an
invitation to touch and sink into the arms of the earth.
Vic shakes out the sleeping bag to cover the moss and
holds out his hand, bowing deeply in a gesture
reminiscent of a prince inviting the princess to his
humble castle. As a true princess I drop into a low curtsy
and step lightly onto the soft carpet as if walking in dainty
ballet slippers. I sit down onto the makeshift
throne……and with one swift tug…….. pull the prince
down with me.
Losing his balance, he tumbles down onto the
blanket. I lean over slowly letting my hands run through
his hair before resting on his shoulders, my mouth pauses
inches from his curved lips, moving to the V of his open
shirt. The solid warmth of him beneath my fingertips is
intoxicating. I slant my lips over his and slide my tongue
inside his mouth and, then he is kissing me back, his
tongue exploring, sending delightful shivers down my
spine.
“Ella, mia bella, make a wish upon a falling star,” he
murmurs in a husky whisper.
“Not a knock, knock joke?” I nibble at his ear.
“Nope, a wish.”
I roll off his solid warmth and stretch out my legs
crossing them at the ankles, head propped against his
shoulder, watching the explosion of stars. The sky is a
blizzard of stars, blurring the perfect darkness of the
night. Horizon to horizon arrayed in a misted veil. A
fireworks display, silent pops of light streak across the
star studded sky, vanishing into thin vapor. If wishes
were treasures, the wealth on this night would be untold.
“Star light, star bright, first million, trillion, stars I see
tonight, wish I may, wish I might have the wish I wish
tonight.” I recite the nursery rhyme, adding a little meteor
shower twist.
“What’s your wish?” Vic asks, lifting his head, his
fingers trace my face, tucking a lock of hair behind my
ear. “You are so beautiful.”
“You’re distracting me,” I argue, fighting the spell of
his hands and mouth, as overwhelming desire threatens
to invade common sense….he presses his body against
mine, proof of his masculinity, evidence of his desire. His
hand tugs the shirt out of my jeans and slips inexorably
upward, causing tingles of anticipation. Trails of fire
follow in the wake of his hands on my bare skin. Slowly
he unbuttons the shirt leaving my skin bare to the night
air as his fingers deftly unhook my bra, removing the
offending article of clothing. His hand caresses the
softness of my breast causing already hard nipples to
throb and burn. His mouth paints a line of fire from my
neck down. Using his teeth, tongue and lips, the effect is
overwhelming, driving me wild with his touch. As his
mouth closes over my breast, hot and warm, I’m spinning
out of control with desire under the flood of shooting
stars.
“What do you wish for Elle?” he murmurs against my
mouth, his voice laden with desire.
I reach up to clasp his handsome face and kiss him
gently, pouring all the love I feel into this one sweet
connection. “I want you,” the words are out, gaining a
life of their own as the idea pulses, growing in the night
air. “Make love to me,” I whisper. His head rears back,
and his nostrils flare in disbelief, eyes glitter with a feral
light.
“Touch me. I can’t wait any longer to be with you,” I
plead with him. “I want the first time to be under the
stars on this mountain overlooking our lake. I want this
moment with you.” Life taught me tomorrow holds no
guarantee and my mother’s death proved tomorrow
doesn’t always come. I want today.
“Elle, Elle,” his voice intones my name in a ragged
breath as desire fights with reason. A desire driven by
questing hands, as I slowly unbutton his shirt slipping
under the material to touch the bare skin above the waist
of his jeans, stroking the soft down of dark hair causing
his belly to clench in longing as he moans. Gently
pushing me away, he stands up, reaches down and pulls
me to my feet. Squeezing my face between his tan lean
hands, he rests his forehead against mine, “Elle, please,
I’m not that strong. Please don’t tease me….” His voice
comes out in a strangled whisper. I take a step back from
him, the trees and stars forming a background canvas, a
temptress of the night, I unzip, undulating my hips to
slither out of my jeans and stand naked, skin a pearly
glow in the luminous darkness, arms held wide casting a
spell of enchantment.
With a resounding groan mimicking a gut punch to
the stomach, he picks up my pliant body. My arms
tighten around his neck and capture his dark hair. I will
take this and give it to him, just this once, gather him
close to me in love.
Bending down, he gently lays me on the faded
sleeping bag. He trails his fingers up and down my spine
as we gaze at each other. He brushes back the long mane
of hair tumbling over my right shoulder, picking up a
lock, inhaling the scent of summer sun. As I move to kiss
the throbbing pulse at the base of his neck, he stands up,
shucking off his jeans, tossing his unbuttoned shirt to the
side, and stands gleaming in the faint light of the moon.
I’ve never seen him completely naked before and gasp in
surprise at the sheer masculine beauty of his body. A
swimmers’ body of wide shoulders wedging down to a
chest defined with taut pectoral muscles tapering to
ridges of abdominal cords cutting across his stomach. He
bends down on athletic legs to lean over me, propping
himself on one arm, as his other arm slides around my
back pulling me close so I can feel the heat of his
strength along my body. His chest is hard against my
breasts making them tingle.
One hand cradles my head, stroking my cheek, as he
pushes back the hair from my face. “I love you,” he
whispers, just before his mouth slides over mine, cutting
off any response. A weakness seems to invade my body
as I melt into him tracing the muscled ridge from his hip
to the smooth curve of his spine. “Love you back,” I say.
His tongue slides seductively into my mouth to coax a
response that is hot and scalding. I cling to him,
devouring his kisses, catching fire as his hands rove up
and down my body, creating a backlash of desire in their
wake. His mouth slides down from my lips to my throat,
nibbling at the hollow of my shoulder blade, then across
my chest. Grabbing the damp tangle of black hair, I guide
his mouth to my breast, searing pleasure races through
me as his mouth closes over the nipple and my back
arches in delight as my body writhes beneath him
succumbing to a spiraling passion. “Vic,” I gasp as
exquisite tremors of pleasure race along my skin.
Unable to remain still under the onslaught of his
hands and mouth, afloat on a frenzy of longing, the
ground beneath me undulates like the waves of the ocean.
He moves down my rib cage to my belly, a skim and glide
of fingers followed by the trail of his moist tongue. His
hands sliding down touching the triangle of curls between
my thighs, then his fingers slide between my legs finding
the tender bud, touching, pressing and driving me
mindless with need. He moves down to kiss the concave
hollow between my hip and stomach trailing kisses lower
and lower. Pushing my knees apart he places small
nibbling kisses up one side of my inner thighs then down
the other. Running his tongue lightly over the core of
desire, my body quivers in response. “Oh, yes,” I gasp,
pulling his head in closer, reveling in the pleasure of such
intimate contact, weightless floating on his touch. When I
can take the exquisite pleasure no longer, he rises to lie
next to me, crushing me in his arms. Moaning with need,
his lips come down to mine bruising with a ferocious
possession. His voice thick with passion, he pauses above
me, “I want you.”
“Love me, Vic.” For a moment he is above me,
looking down, eyes deep and black as I pull his mouth
down to drown in his kiss. Lifting his head, he cradles my
face between his hands and whispers, “Let me in,
caro
.”
And with that he slides into me, deep, and deeper. Long,
slow thrusts until a quick spasm of pain causes me to
inhale sharply, he stops, waiting until I beg him to
continue, carrying me spiraling upward mindless with
passion, feeling more and more until the sky above me
explodes into a million starbursts of delight. “Elle, Elle,”
he cries. Clutching my body to him, he groans in
response finding his own satisfaction, thrusting deeper
into my quivering body.
We are one dancing with the mountains under the sky
of streaking stars in a noiseless display of fireworks. Fate
or destiny, as desire blooms under the flare of a hot
August night.