Men in Shorts: An Erotic Anthology (6 page)

By C. Margery Kempe

"This lovely lady is the barred owl," the young ranger said, flashing a grin that melted Christine's heart—or maybe it was just her knees. The bird seemed to look right at her with those giant-sized eyes as she reached up gingerly to stroke its feathers. What a wonderful sensation. She'd never felt anything quite like it.

"What does she eat?" Barb produced her highest wattage smile for the ranger, Christine noticed. Was it just out of habit or had she decided that she was interested in this one as well? It was not out of the question that her fellow Junior Leaguer would be stirred by competition as much as lust. Taking in the boyish but chiseled features of the ranger, Christine knew there was a lot to lust for.

"Well, mostly she eats voles, some moles and deer mice as well. But when it comes down to it, barred owls will eat a wide variety of things." He was smiling, but only at the bird. Christine could sense Barb's irritation that her first line of offense had failed to register. "They'll go for large insects or even frogs and fish if they're hungry enough," he continued.

"Hunger makes you do strange things," Christine murmured, rewarded at once with a flashing grin from Ranger Tom Rafferty, according to his name tag. "I suppose you can't be too picky if you want to survive."

His chuckle was warm and friendly and she felt her knees tingle again. Oh, come on, Christine scolded herself. He's got to be at least ten years younger than you. Never mind that her tennis-toned body easily negated that difference. She usually didn't have time for younger men.

But from the first glance at those powerful thighs as he walked into the education center, the thought had been there in her mind. Ah, summer uniforms. Whether it was the FedEx guy or the college kids in their baggies, Christine enjoyed seeing all those bronzed legs walking around her, drawing her gaze to the curve of their asses, leading her into idle daydreams. As Ranger Rafferty walked around sharing the ruffled owl with the others in the group, Christine admired the play of his muscles. He must do a lot of hiking. The hair on his legs had bleached as much as that on his head. There was a scab on the back of his left calf that looked like a scrape from a fall. She wondered what those legs would feel like wrapped around her.

Christine felt the familiar rise of lust along her spine and grinned. Sneaking a look at Barb, she saw a similarly hungry look on her rival's face. A flush of irritation filled Christine's thoughts, but she pushed it away. It was all in her head anyway.

But after the informational session ended, Christine found herself lingering to try to chat with the dishy ranger. Unfortunately, so did Barb. The two did not allow their glances to meet, but both were aware of the other's interest.

"My nephew is thinking of working for the park system," Christine lied. "Is there some kind of internship program?"

"Yes, there is," Rafferty answered as he handed the beautiful bird to the wrangler. "If you can wait a few minutes, we can go to the main office and get you an application form and a brochure. It's really great training."

"Oh," Barb piped up. "Could I get one, too?"

Christine winced. Would she not be able to get this guy alone for a minute? They waited patiently and then trooped behind him to the office where, friendly as ever, Rafferty recalled his own experiences as an intern. "There's great camaraderie, as well as a fantastic learning experience. You make a lot of friends and see amazing beauty everywhere."

Christine saw some amazing beauty as he bent over to shuffle through the low file drawer for the forms. She knew without looking that Barb was enjoying the show as well. He did have a near perfect ass that made her long to run her hands over the twin cheeks. She wondered if her neck was visibly pink as he handed her the papers and decided it didn't matter. "Oh, thanks so much. My nephew will be pleased."

"I was wondering," Barb cut in when Christine ran out of inventions. "Could I get you to identify some plants for me? I was inspired to make over our garden with more indigenous plants and there were a couple I thought might be good, but I'm not sure what they are." She didn't quite bat her lashes at him, but Christine was sure the intent was clear,

"Oh, sure, sure," Ranger Rafferty said affably, gesturing for Barb to lead the way. The two of them waved a farewell to Christine and walked off on the western path. Christine sighed, shrugged and turned her steps toward the car park. As the path wound upward, she kicked herself for letting the opportunity slip through her fingers so easily. Surely those well-muscled thighs were worth more of a fight.

She paused to lean against the path's railing and cool her thoughts. It's silly really, she told herself with a shake. Plenty of fish in the sea, always a pool boy or a delivery guy around the next corner. She heard a noise below her and looked down expecting to see a deer or a rabbit.

Instead she saw Barb and Ranger Rafferty appearing from between a bank of small firs. They both looked around surreptitiously and then Barb grabbed his hand and pulled him over to a big rock screened from the path they had just left by the pines. He plopped down onto the rock and Barb moved in between his knees with deliberation. A flush of heat rose up from Christine's chest.

Catching their secretiveness, she, too, looked around. No one was coming up the path at present, but she moved closer to the lone bush that might hide her from the pair below. Christine felt a bit like a predator poised for the attack as she gazed down on the scene, but she didn't care. Barb's hands were on his shoulders. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but she could imagine well enough.

In a fluid motion, Barb sank to her knees and reached up for the ranger's belt. Christine could already anticipate those short falling to the ground, released by Barb's quick fingers, so she was surprised when he stood and pushed Barb gently, but firmly away. From his downcast eyes, she guessed that he was feeling embarrassed, but Barb seemed to take her failure in stride. She brushed off her knees, slung her Prada bag over her shoulder and walked away as if untouched by what had happened. Ranger Rafferty shook his head a little, as if in disbelief, then parted the firs and disappeared.

Christine smiled to herself and decided she might walk back toward the ranger station. It was important to look like she was just wandering, so she dawdled by the display on indigenous creatures of the region. The cougar pelt looked deliciously lush, which probably was not the message the conservators had in mind. But aroused by the dalliance Barb initiated, all she could think of was spreading a few skins on the floor of a secluded cabin and slowly undressing Ranger Rafferty in front of a roaring fire.

"Impressive, isn't it?"

She jumped at the sudden sound, not expecting to find the object of her fantasy beside her. Covering her surprise, Christine nodded vigorously, "Oh my, yes, certainly is," even as she wondered what he was referring to with the comment.

"That was one of the largest cougars ever seen here. A pity they shot it, but you know how the farmers are. They always see a beautiful creature like that as a predator."

"I suppose it has a lot to do with expectations," Christine murmured, using the moment to reassess Rafferty's face. Tanned from the sun, he was more wrinkled than she expected, but his eyes crinkled above his easy smile. The summer-bleached hair framed a face whose features were not individually perfect but somehow assembled into a pleasing neighborhood, the sharpness of his nose softened by the apples of his cheeks. The slightly pointy chin giving an mischievous elfin look to his face.

"I was sorry you ran off before," he continued, a slight flush creeping up his neck. Christine tried to smother the grin that wanted to spring to her lips. "I thought you might like a little more detail about the, ah, internship program."

Christine, whose nephew was as likely to apply for the internship as he was to win a Nobel Prize this year, nonetheless answered, "I would. That would be really helpful."

"Well, uh," he coughed, "Have you been to the Roundhouse? It's a bit rough looking, but the food is fresh and I think it's going to be a beautiful night. We could eat out on the terrace."

"Sounds perfect," Christine said, allowing herself to smile a little, but holding back from grinning like an idiot, which is what her mouth wanted to do—that and fasten itself on his lips to see how he tasted. The Roundhouse was on the north end of the park, a popular spot despite its rustic ambience. "What time?"

"Seven?" She nodded. "Looking forward to it."

He touched her arm, but said no more but she could see the glow on his face. He waved and walked away. Christine enjoyed watching him go, his strong legs striding across the path and up the slope toward the ranger station. She hoped he wasn't going to change out of the uniform before seven and deprive her of those blonded knees.

Christine, however, did change her clothes after a dreamy session with her Hitachi, picturing that shy smile and those bronzed legs thrusting between her own, and a nice warm shower that left her feeling a pleasant languor. She made sure to be early so she could order a martini in the tiny bar and see him arrive. Christine wore a simple Land's End blouse and skirt, figuring it would be the best choice. Somehow Rafferty didn't look like the dress-up type, which was just as well.

She saw him through the window as he arrived, still clad in his work wear. Christine felt a thrill of excitement as she raised her hand in a wave. He smiled and stepped into the bar, laying his hand on her arm in a kind of greeting.

"Sorry if I'm late!" he apologized a little breathlessly but with a dazzling smile. "There was a group of teens that proved to be a real handful. We only just got them all back on the bus and headed home. I didn't have time to change," he complained, picking at the front of his green shirt.

Christine laughed. "Not to worry. I don't think there's a dress code here and anyway, I think you look great." She let her eyes drift down to his dusty shorts and back up to that singular face.

Rafferty seemed to be pleased by her interest. "Shall we see if we can be seated now?" He took her elbow in his arm, a gesture that surprised her in someone his young age. He must have a great mother, Christine mused. A pleasurable sense of anticipation grew with the heat of his hand on her arm, so it was a jarring moment when she realized Barb was waving excitedly at her as they walked up to the maître d's podium.

"Christine—and Ranger Rafferty! How funny to see you both here." Barb's voice betrayed a tang of bitterness, but Christine saw Rafferty blanch a little at her effusiveness. "Join us! Oh, you must!"

"Us" turned out to include another of Barb's boy toys, a taciturn young man named Tad. Christine tried to demur, but Barb was insistent and the four of them sat down together at a choice table.

Over
hors d'œuvres
and a bottle of too-sweet Chablis – Barb's choice – conversation flagged frequently despite Barb's attempts to dig into Rafferty's life. Christine admired the way he sidestepped her persistence, deflecting a question about girlfriends with claims of being too busy with his work. "Oh, I can't believe that," Barb insisted. "You must meet so many women ready to share the wild life with you."

"No, never happens," Rafferty said, trying not to betray the growing irritation that Christine shared.

"Well, it's nice that you're willing to spend an evening with a mature woman," Barb said, laying extra emphasis on the final two words.

Christine nearly spit out her wine when Rafferty answered coolly, "I'm flattered that you invited us to share your table, ma'am. I'm sure we'll benefit from your wisdom." Barb's eyes flashed her anger, but Christine had to admire her ability to maintain the polite expression otherwise.

She made sure to order a tangy Shiraz to drink with the entrees, although Barb tutted about drinking red with trout. There was no way Christine was going to swill another insipid white with the fresh catch. Sure enough, the waiter delivered the tray before her with a flourish and a heavenly aroma rose up to tantalize her senses.

"Wow, I should have ordered that," Rafferty said, although his frittata looked excellent as well, stuffed with fresh mushrooms and sweet red peppers.

"Try some," Christine offered, gesturing with her fork.

"I'd really like to try some of that," he said looking into her eyes rather than at her plate. Christine felt a thrill of excitement in her chest and a matching twinge in her thighs. He took a healthy bite and closed his eyes with delight. "Wonderful, just wonderful."

"Yes, it is," Christine said. "Can I try some of yours?"

"Of course, of course!" His grin made her sure that he knew exactly what she was thinking. She speared a piece that had a big hunk of mushroom that felt like flesh between her teeth. While Barb tried to get the two of them engaged in discussing the local zoning issues, Christine found herself stealing looks at Rafferty, who was quick to pour more wine when her glass got low, or quickly pass her a condiment or a piece of bread whenever she reached for something.

When he finished his meal, Rafferty laid his silverware on the plate and leaned back in his seat with a happy sigh. Christine was leaning forward for another spoonful of pilaf when she felt the weight of his hand resting tentatively on her thigh. She managed to not drop the spoon, but Barb's words flew right through her head and out the other ear. "What was that, Barb?" she said while she slowly dropped her own hand to cover his and give it a squeeze of encouragement.

"I just think the town council had better get there priorities straight if they want Main Street to stay vibrant!" Barb said with a trace of indignation, though it was hard to tell whether it was aimed at Christine, the morose Tad, or the town counselors themselves. Christine was too distracted to care as Rafferty's hand began tracing circles on her thigh, creeping toward her panties that were already getting sodden with her excitement. His pinkie brushed her against the soft fabric and Christine tried to hide her gasp with a cough, throwing a glance sideways to Rafferty, but he was looking across the table and smiling at Barb. Wicked boy!