Feral (2 page)

He ran with her like that for forty-five minutes, then slowed to a jog. A few minutes more and he slowed to a walk. Julianne felt his breathing return to normal, but he showed no sign of putting her down. Whenever she began to slip, he hitched her back up onto his hips without breaking stride. When they were about an hour's walk from the end of the trail, he stopped and loosened his grip on her thighs. She slid down his back until her feet were back on the soft ground. The forest air was unexpectedly cold on her chest and she felt the sudden absence of his body heat acutely. She would have to walk the rest of the way alone.

III

He became something of a minor celebrity at Yale, something she had never intended. She got him a job as a research assistant in the anthropology department. In reality, he was more of a research subject. People came from all over to see him, touch him, study him. When she got home from her classes, she sometimes found him naked and sitting on the floor, relieved of the clothing he wasn't comfortable in, hands over his ears to block out the sound of cars on the street, the hum of the refrigerator, the creaking of old floorboards overhead.

IV

Julianne worked the rest of the week, but her encounter with the strange man was never far from her mind. She listened more closely in the hallway and in the break room, in case others had seen him. She volunteered to sort the visitor comment cards, normally a thankless task. Every third visitor to the park saw a "mountain lion." Every day, at least one person saw Sasquatch, and some people even saw—gasp—deer. But Julianne eagerly sorted through the cards all week, hoping on one hand to see a mention of him and on the other, fearing that she would.

At night, she had vivid dreams of being carried through the forest on his back or lying in his lap, his long fingers raking gently through her hair. At dawn, she awoke, breathless and bereft.

Saturday morning, she returned to the lean-to with a small bag of apples. He was sitting on the edge of the lean-to, looking for all the world as though he'd been waiting there all week. He watched her closely as she approached, not smiling, wary but curious. He still wore nothing but his animal skin loincloth, but there seemed to be fewer twigs and leaves in his hair. She wasn't afraid today, and she let her eyes roam over his well-muscled body.

She set the apples down on the lean-to floor. It was then that she noticed the pile of animal skins in one of the back corners. She looked at him and mimed sleeping, a questioning look on her face. He glanced back at the skins, then nodded to her.

"You live here."

He gave no response. Instead, he opened the bag of apples and took out one shiny red fruit. He turned it around in his hand, inspecting it. Julianne wondered whether he'd ever seen an apple before. He held it out to her but when she reached her hand out to take it, he withdrew it. Julianne was confused. Was this a game? Was he hostile now?

He held the apple up to his lips, then extended it toward Julianne again. Ah, she got it. He wanted her to eat it.

She leaned in and plunged her teeth into the crisp flesh of the apple, which tore away with a sharp ripping noise. With the back of her hand she wiped a trickle of apple juice from her chin.

He fed her the entire apple, watching her face intently with every bite. Julianne felt naked under his stare. None of her boyfriends had ever fed her this way, and it was strangely intimate. Erotic, even. 

"Thank you," she said when the apple was denuded down to its core. He tossed the core far into the forest.

"Why are you here?" She knew he couldn't understand her—or if he could, he was an Oscar-worthy actor—but she couldn't help herself. She had no other way to communicate with him, and she wanted desperately to communicate.

"My name is Julianne." She pointed to her chest. "Julianne." She pointed again. "I work in the park." She waved her hand vaguely at the trees. Did he even know he lived in a park? Doubtful, of course.

She prattled on and on about Brooklyn and Montana and Yale, until he reached over and ran his thumb over her bottom lip. Julianne nearly fainted again, as his touch sent a shock that burned straight from her mouth to the pit of her stomach. He caressed her lips for a moment, then opened her mouth and rubbed a finger over her teeth, as if testing their sharpness. He tasted of apples and smoke. He pulled his finger out and traced the outline of her lips again. He made that barking noise again, only this time softly whispered. Julianne wondered what he was trying to say. She looked at him apologetically.

He spread out his palm and cupped the side of her face as if he were blind and trying to see her through his hand. Her eyes closed and she surrendered to the feeling of his skin against hers. With his free hand, he traced a light trail over her brow, her cheekbone, her fine straight nose. Julianne's breathing grew ragged. This was the most sensual thing anyone had ever done to her. No one had ever just touched her face like this, explored its every curve and bone. The boys she had slept with in college never seemed to have a second glance for her face, once they realized they were about to get laid. They all rushed to get her clothes off, her bra unhooked, her underwear down around her ankles.

Suddenly, his hands left her face and plunged deep into her long chestnut hair, tugging sharply at the roots, leaving Julianne gasping for air. She let herself fall into the exquisite pleasure of it, of his fingers weaving through her silky strands, testing the texture between his thumb and forefinger. Blood rushed in her ears, her pulse pounded in her neck, bringing back the delicious memory of her breasts pressed against his hard back as he carried her on the trail.

Her eyes flew open when he nuzzled his face into her hair, inhaling deeply. He seemed fascinated by her hair. With the benefit of shampoo and a comb, hers had a much different texture than his. Julianne couldn't help herself. She touched his hair in return. It was too tangled to run her fingers through, but she longed to feel the coarseness of it.

His hands froze on her scalp.

She could no longer hear him breathing; he was holding his breath. He leaned away from her, causing her fingers to slip from his head. A low, guttural growl came from deep inside his throat and his eyes dropped to his lap. Julianne's gaze followed. The animal skin slung around his hips was tented with his erection. He looked back up at Julianne, his face twisted with alarm and confusion.

Julianne smiled. "That's okay—" she started to say but he had already jumped up and loped off into the trees.

Julianne sat there patiently and waited, expecting him to return when his body was under control. His innocence was appealing, and it made Julianne want him. She wanted him that very minute, and—god—there must be something wrong with her. She wanted this strange, wild man.

She waited hours, but he didn't return.

V

Her daughter was fifteen now, and wild. The wildness that ran, barely checked, through her veins terrified everyone. Teachers. Schoolmates. Herself. It always had. Ever since she was a toddler, she'd been the problem child in school, the one other mothers tsked tsked about. They tried to work medication into every conversation with Julianne. Only Julianne understood her daughter's wildness, and she hadn't the heart to tame it or medicate it or therapy it away.

VI

Julianne rose at dawn the next morning and filled her backpack with bread and cheese, grapes and chocolate. She dressed in jeans and a yellow blouse patterned with tiny blue and green flowers. After hours of hiking, she found the lean-to empty save for the skins piled in the back corner. Disappointment swelled in her chest. She looked around the wooden structure, trying to determine whether he had ever come back yesterday. He had so few things in it, it was hard to tell.

Then, in the distance, she heard his by now familiar barking. She jumped from the lean-to and headed off into the trees, not sure from which direction the sound had come. She stilled and listened carefully. If she concentrated, she thought she heard the sound of running water. There was a good-sized stream around here somewhere, she knew. She closed her eyes and tried to visualize the map.

When the barking came again, she followed the sound, pushing aside branches and scratching herself in the process. After several minutes of tramping off-trail, she found herself on the low bank of a clear mountain stream. He was in the water, his back to her, the water up to his waist. His animal skin outfit was neatly laid out on a rock.

Julianne quickly unbuttoned her blouse, stepped out of her jeans and underwear and waded into the stream. The water sent a knifing stab of cold straight up into her chest.  He turned at the sound of her splashing. She held her breath for a moment, uncertain of his reaction. Did he want to see her again? Would he run away today? He watched her as she waded closer to him, his eyes roving up and down her body, taking in her breasts, her hips, the nip of her waist.

Then he smiled, the first smile Julianne had witnessed from him. His teeth flashed white in the late morning sun while he waited patiently for her to reach him. She waded through the water, the cold stream flowing between her legs, a sensation she found arousing.

She watched his face cautiously, trying to read what was going on behind those dark eyes, and waiting for his gaze to drop down to her breasts. If he'd been any other man, that would have happened immediately. It was hard not to notice that her breasts were rippled with gooseflesh and her nipples drawn up into tight little nubs by the combination of cold water and air.

But his eyes didn't stray from hers. He seemed to be trying to read her mind as much as she wanted to read his. His calm demeanor let Julianne relax. She had wanted so badly to see him today. Still, the hike here had been one long exercise in worry and regret and anticipated disappointment. He'd been startled by her yesterday—and by his body's reaction to her—and she didn't want a repeat of that. 

He looked tenderly down at her as he stroked her hair with a wet hand, an act she interpreted as an apology. She allowed him to stroke her hair for several minutes, before pulling his hand down and covering her mouth with it, kissing his palm. He closed his eyes, as a low moan rolled up from his chest. The sound unleashed a wave of warmth in her own body, a flush that spread from her neck all the way down to her hips.

The urge to slide his hand down her neck and place it over her breast was overwhelming. Normally, she had no problem going months without sex if there was no one around she was interested in. Julianne wasn't boy crazy by any stretch of the imagination. But suddenly her body was all aching need, every inch of her skin howling to be touched.

She was seconds away from winding her arms around his neck and pressing her ravenous body hard against his when he playfully flicked some water at her. She jumped back in surprise. His barking laugh vibrated like a tuning fork deep in her abdomen.

They played in the water this way for awhile, chasing and splashing, but careful not to touch each other. It was the most fun Julianne had had in she couldn't remember how long. To be outside, beneath a canopy of green treetops, in a sparkling clear stream and with a damn near perfect specimen of man—she'd been right to take this internship, that was for sure. Even if she still didn't know the perfect specimen's name. At this point, she wasn't sure he even had a name. She might have to christen him herself.

By the time, Julianne stopped to catch her breath, her skin was pink and her teeth beginning to chatter from the cold water. He rubbed his shoulders and she nodded. Julianne followed him to shore, where he perched himself on a large grey boulder to dry in the sunlight trickling through the tall trees.

He watched, interested, as she drew her fingers through her wet hair, working them gently through the tangled clumps. His eyes followed the movement of her hands around her head. She wasn't sure whether he was oblivious to her nakedness or studiously trying not to look at her. He hadn't put his animal skin back on and Julianne struggled not to look at the dark trail of hair leading down to his flaccid penis. After what had happened yesterday, she worried about drawing his attention to it.

He ran his fingers through his own hair. He hit a snag immediately and frowned, holding out a lock of hair to look at, frustrated. Julianne moved behind him and began gently teasing apart the worst of the tangles. He yelped in pain as she worked through a particularly twisted hank of hair. She stopped and walked around to face him, trying to convey with her eyes that she did not mean to cause him pain.

She ventured to rub the tight muscles in his shoulders for a moment before continuing. His head fell forward with a moan and Julianne couldn't help herself. She leaned down and planted a soft kiss at the base of his neck, smiling at the shudder that rolled down his spine.

He turned to face her, his lips pressed tightly together and a look of strain clouding his dark eyes. Julianne glanced down. Sure enough, he was now hard and big. His thighs began to tremble and panic surged in Julianne's chest. She looked into his frightened eyes. She didn't want him to run today. She wanted to show him that this was natural, that what his body was doing was good.

She smiled, shyly so as not to appear too aggressive, then ran her thumb over his lips, coaxing them open. When he was breathing normally again, she leaned in slowly and pressed her lips to his. He jerked his head back, causing her to fall forward, toward him. Instinctively, he grabbed her hips roughly and steadied her, but now she was straddling his legs. His erection brushed against the soft skin of her inner thigh and she watched as his jaw muscles tightened.