Dark Handsome

She remarked on it as I drove, weaving in and out of traffic. "This thing is really zippy."

"Yeah, it's great for urban traffic, and has enough juice to travel the interstate pretty easily. I have universal tires, and unless it's really rough, the four wheel drive can take me anywhere."

She shifted the conversation. "How big is your tent?"

"Well, it's supposed to sleep four, if three of them are midgets or kids. I had to buy that size because of my height."

"Good. I should fit then. And before you get any ideas, I have my own sleeping bag."

"I haven't said you could come yet. If you do, I need your promise to be civil. The last thing I need is to get into a raging argument in the middle of nowhere."

"I already gave you my word," Sharon said in a tight voice. "On second thought, just forget the whole idea."

I grinned, wanting to needle her. "Tell you what. You can come along, if you clean the fish."

Her laugh surprised me. "Deal. You probably won't catch anything anyway. But, if I clean, you cook."

"Agreed. I'm leaving at ten tomorrow morning. Can you be ready?"

"Come by at nine. I'll have breakfast ready and we can pack my gear, and still be on the road by ten."

I agreed, letting her out in front of her apartment building, wondering if I was going to regret doing this.

*****

It had been five weeks since we'd broken into the safe. There had been no hue and cry, so Benny and I were pretty sure no one knew about the safe yet. The evening before we left for the camping trip, I dropped by a college campus, and hung around the computers until a student left without signing out. I directed the tip to the cop in charge of the investigation, as well as Benson, asking him to keep it confidential until they went public. I couldn't hide my height, but I wore a fake goatee and a wig under a cowboy hat, the hair brushing my shoulders, just in case.

Sharon met me at the door, the smells wafting out of her apartment. Country ham, eggs, homemade yeast rolls, and buckwheat pancakes. I'm a big guy, so I did the breakfast justice. Sharon laughed; telling me the food would really sit heavy while we were hiking.

"Oh, we won't hike until tomorrow. We're going to get there late, so we'll just stay at the campground until the morning. It will give us a chance to rest after the drive; maybe do some fishing in the lake. You made breakfast, so I'll do dinner. Ready?"

I had insisted in doing the dishes while she gathered her gear. She packed surprisingly light, just a backpack, a sleeping bag, and a small cooler. I put the bag in the back, and judged the weight at thirty pounds. I hoped she didn't overestimate her endurance.

All but the last thirty miles were interstate, so we made really good time. We broke for lunch in a little town just off our course. I'd discovered it last time, and they made some of the best burgers I'd ever tasted. They were big, too. Sharon took one look at the menu and ordered a grilled chicken sandwich, thinking it would be lighter. When she got it, the flattened breast drooped over the large bun about three inches. She ate half, asking for a box and taking the rest with her. I ate every bite of my burger, and we both skipped side dishes.

We got to the campground at five-thirty, and I registered while she picked out a site, using just my name. The spot she picked was on a little knoll, surrounded by trees, and a good distance from anyone else. With her help, it took very little time to assemble the tent and stow our gear. I pulled my case out that held two breakdown rods and lightweight reels, with a small tackle box, and walked to the lake, Sharon right behind me.

"There," she said, pointing out a pine tree that had fallen into the water. "They'll be hiding under that. One of those rods better be for me, mister."

I asked, and she showed me her fishing license. She'd bought it at the gas station/bait shop we'd stopped at when we got off the interstate. I wondered what had taken her so long.

We talked as we rigged them, both going for a white fly, something that would work well in the dark waters of the lake, we hoped. Sharon started talking as we worked.

"I was kind of a tomboy when I was little. I was the only child they had, so I got to be both the son and daughter they both wanted. It was fishing with Dad, beauty pageants with Mom. I would have much rather fished, and when I turned twelve I refused to enter any more pageants, but I did agree to keep doing dance competitions. There, all done. I'll make a wager. If I catch the first fish, you cook breakfast in the morning. You catch it, it's all me."

We cast at the same time. I jigged about four times when I got a hit, pulling a nice sunfish out of the water. I turned to smirk at Sharon, only to see her holding a little bass.

"I like my eggs over easy. Keep or release?"

"You want fish for dinner?"

"Oh yeah."

Great. Remember the deal, you clean and I cook."

Her grin slipped a little, but she put both fish on a stringer. It took us about forty-five minutes to catch enough for dinner. I marveled when she pulled a four inch fillet knife out of a scabbard she wore on her side. I hadn't seen it beneath the loose shirt she'd worn. She gutted and cleaned the fish on the spot, throwing the offal into the water, to bait more fish in, as she put it, dropping the rest in a plastic bag she had in her pocket.

We went back to our campsite, and she washed the fish while I prepared to cook them. While the oil was heating, I rolled the fish in seasoned flour, and set them to the side while I fried potato chunks to a golden brown, dropping the fish in as soon as they were done. It doesn't take long to fry small fish, and after I put them aside to drain I dropped about a dozen hushpuppies I'd made into the oil. When they were done we had our meal, simple but very satisfying. Sharon stayed true to her word, cleaning the dishes while I repacked everything we'd used.

Then we hit the shower house. I came out in light sweats and a tank shirt, perfect sleeping gear. I had to sit and wait on Sharon, of course. A woman, obviously waiting for a shower stall, sat on the bench with me, striking up a conversation that went quickly into flirting. I was getting uncomfortable, but then she came out. She was wearing skin tight yoga pants, and a tank shirt matching mine, without a bra. She grinned before pulling a lightweight sweatshirt over her head. The blond that shared my bench took one look, blurted out, "You have a beautiful wife!" and scurried into the showers. "I think so, too," I called after her.

When I turned back to Sharon she had a funny look on her face. "What? She had no idea who I was or even if I was with someone, she just started hitting on me. Surely you of all people know what it's like."

She just grinned, and later, when the blond walked by our site, Sharon was in my lap, giving me a little PDA for her benefit. She jumped up and sat down in her chair as soon as she passed.

"You could have stayed, you know. I, for one, was very comfortable."

I could make out her smirk in the light of the campfire. "So was I, until you started getting a little too comfortable."

I flushed. A beautiful woman is on your lap wriggling around, and you're not supposed to get an erection? It would have been just plain rude not to. I told her as much.

"I'll take that as a compliment. Time for bed if we want an early start tomorrow."

I had inflated the king-sized air mattress while she'd gone to the bathroom, laying our bags out. "You know, we could zip our bags together, for more warmth."

"My bag is rated to 0 degrees. I'll be fine. Don't stare while I take of the sweatshirt."

Of course, I stared. She flushed when she saw me. "Pig," she said gently.

"Goddess," I said, just as quietly. Five minutes later we were both snuggled into our bags, and she went to sleep almost immediately. I listened to her soft breathing for a while before I drifted off. I woke about three, finding her snuggled against me. I moved my arm to make her more comfortable, and she slid under it, laying her head on my shoulder, and her arm across my stomach. I went right back to sleep, thinking how good she smelled.

She woke me with a little start, moving off my arm. I opened my eyes and yawned. "Time to get up?"

"It's a little early yet, but I'm not sleepy. Come on, let's get up, get the fire started. I have a surprise for breakfast." She was staring at me intently, wondering if I was going to say anything about the way we slept last night. I never said a word, just rolled out and stowed my bag. She sat with her bag hugged to her chest until I went out of the tent.

I made the fire, pulled my battered little four cup percolator out, dumped the coffee in, and sat it on the back of the fire. She came out, dressed for the day, tight jeans, tee shirt under flannel, her hiking boots on, hair swept back in a long ponytail. She looked like an LL Bean commercial waiting to be filmed.

She grinned when she smelled the coffee, then opened the small cooler, pulling out two ribeyes. "I was planning on having them last night, until we caught those fish. They need used, and it will be a great breakfast."

I put the marinated steaks on, watching them while I scrambled the eggs. Soon we were feasting, hot cups of strong coffee in our hands. She cleaned the dishes while I struck the tent. We packed what we weren't going to take with us in the back of the Bronco, donned our packs, and started up the trail.

We made pretty good time, stopping at noon for a lunch of sandwiches, chips and bottled water. We saved the empties, planning on filling them when we got to our campsite. She had a small camera, and was snapping away. I grinned and handed her the binoculars I used for work, explaining the camera to her. After that, if she thought she could have she'd have hiked with them glued to her face, she would have.

We saw a bear and two cubs on an opposite mountain, and I had to wait while she took a couple of dozen pictures. They were feasting on wild blueberries, and when we came onto a patch, I stopped and made her pick some with me, sliding them into a plastic container I'd brought along. "No need to let the bears have them all," I told her. She was more than anxious to continue when we had enough. We reached our designated site, one of three on the edge of a little lake, and set up.

We took the rods and fished, getting nothing until it started turning dusk, when we both got hit at the same time. They were trout, a very good size for the time of year. Sharon immediately cleaned them, pulling out yet another plastic bag. It was her turn to cook. I surprised her by handing her a large lemon, and she put slices on top of both fish, wrapping them in foil and setting them on the back of the grill top that was provided.

We'd didn't need to hunt firewood, the Forest Service provided it from downed trees that had succumbed the year before. She boiled water in a small pot before adding instant potatoes. I pulled one of the two bottles of white wine I'd carried up out of the lake where they were chilling, and we had a glass with dinner. We sat and watched a brilliant sunset fade to darkness. We sat, talking about anything and everything unimportant, until it was time for bed. Normally I wouldn't have carried the extra weight, but I'd brought the air mattress and a small pump, so we would be more comfortable. She took the little battery powered lantern into the tent, and I watched as she stripped in silhouette. Turned me on something fierce. She came out in her yoga pants and tank, her flannel over it. She looked at me, I grinned and it suddenly occurred to her what I'd seen. I grinned as she flamed red, then grinned and said "Pig."

"Goddess," I replied, grinning back.

"Your turn, and leave the light on."

I went in and stripped down to my boxers, moving slowly. I took the boxers off and did a slow turn. I heard her gasp as I came round, wondering if she could see the outline of my semi-erect cock. I slid into fresh boxers and my sweats, coming back out. I grinned at her flaming face.

"Pig."

"Whatever. Time for bed."

We got into our bags, and sleep took a long time coming. I woke up to her sniffling. "What's wrong, honey?"

The crying got louder, then subsided to snuffles. In the tiniest voice ever, she spoke. "Dirk, can I snuggle with you?"

"Of course you can. We need to get up for a minute, so I can zip the bags together."

She stood, passively as I did up the bags, laying them out on the mattress. "All right. I get the right. You better not snore or I'll be poking you."

"I've never snored!"

"All right then, we're good to go. Zip up." We lay together until she touched my arm.

"Can we snuggle now?"

I reached out, pulling her to me, until her head rested on my shoulder and her arm was across my stomach. I felt the tears start again, and I stroked her hair and cheeks, telling her to let it go. The full on bawling started them, followed by snuffles and later, hiccups. She cried for a long time. I never said a word, just held her and kept up the caresses. When she finally stopped crying, she started talking. "I'm sorry, Dirk. I haven't been in a man's arms since a year before I... did what I did. Afterwards, I just felt so used and dirty I didn't think a man would want me. Plus, I would freeze up every time a man touched me, thinking he just wanted to use me. Pretty screwed up, don't you think?"

"No I don't. What you went through had to be pretty traumatic. Just a suggestion, but maybe you should see someone professionally. Maybe they could help you."

"I don't have insurance, and I can't afford it on my salary."

"Would you mind if I try to help? I know a few people through work. Maybe I could get you a discount or even a free session or two."

She was quiet for a while. Then she spoke in a voice so soft I almost didn't hear her. "Let me think on it, okay? Right now, right here, is the best therapy I can get."

She went to sleep soon afterwards, snuggling even tighter. I drifted off, trying to think of ways to help her.

I woke alone the next morning to the smell of coffee. I got up, and didn't see her for a minute, until she moved. She'd changed into a brighter pair of yoga tights, and was sitting on a rock overlooking the lake, actually doing yoga. She was breathtaking, backlighted by the breaking sun. I grabbed my binocular/camera, and zoomed in, getting some pretty amazing shots as she went from position to position. She finally saw me and jumped up, pissed.

"What are you doing?"

"Taking pictures. Wait until you see them, you look phenomenal, backlit by the sun. Grace and beauty in a fuzzy warm glow."

My appreciation must have calmed her. "If any of them look sleazy, I'll delete them myself."

"Agreed. Breakfast? I've got a treat for you."

I poured her coffee, and got out the pan. I'd brought premixed pancake batter, so I stirred it up and as they were frying I added the wild blueberries we'd picked. There was enough for two large ones apiece, covered with the little squeeze bottle of honey I'd packed. I cooked half a package of bacon on the side. Sharon ate like she was starving, eyeing me as I started on my second. I grinned and fed her every other bite, and she didn't once make a snarky comment.

We cleaned the site, packed everything away, and started on the last leg of our trip. We had made a circuit, and our last stop was half way between where we were and the campground. We walked silently most of the time, only occasionally saying something about a view. I was very happy, I'd taken girlfriends on camping trips before, and they were intimidated by the silence, which made them talk almost nonstop. Sharon was just happy to be in the moment, and words weren't necessary. It was a short hike, and we got to the last campsite just after noon.

The site was at the bend of a fair sized river, running fast and shallow in places, before rounding a bend and widening to a deep, placid pool. Old hands by now, we worked well together, getting the site situated and the tent up. Lunch was half a tin each of ham and a bowl of ramen noodles. Not gourmet, but filling. I got the rod case out.

"Interested?"

"Sure you want to be outfished by a girl?"

I laughed and handed her the rod. We worked the shallows and the fast parts, before ending up in a secluded glen, beside a deep pool that had a little sandy beach. We'd caught a few, too small to keep, but fun to land nonetheless.

Instead of fishing, we just sat for a bit.

"I'd love to have a bath. Washing off is okay, but I feel a bit grungy."

I told her I'd be right back, dashed back to the site, grabbed the soap and towels, and a little bottle of shampoo. I shook the bottle at her.

"I'm not getting naked." She looked defiant.

"Be kind of hard to bathe then, but your choice." I yanked off my shirt and stood. I'd already removed my boots, so I grabbed my shorts and boxers, stripping them off, diving in as I heard her loud gasp. A gasp that turned to laughter as I surfaced sputtering.

"Jesus! This water is COLD!"

I splashed around a bit before grabbing the soap and lathering up. "Don't look!" I said, grinning, as I got into shallow water and completing my bath.

I was sluicing water over my head when I heard a splash, followed by a scream. "It is COLD!"

She'd taken off her top and bottoms, but had left her sports bra and thong on. Like the thong hid anything. I watched her swim for a while, as graceful in the water as she was on land, occasionally diving down, her scrumptious rump all that was above water for a few seconds. I'd gotten in deeper water, and she slid underwater to me, rising with a splash right before me. "I'll do you if you'll do me."

I was looking at her erect nipples, my mind out of gear. "Huh?"

She giggled, completely at ease. "Pig," she said gently. "I was talking about shampooing our hair."

She did me first, pretty quickly because I kept my hair short, pushing my head underwater unexpectedly when she was done, laughing.

She held the bottle out. "Now do me."

"Ooookaaay," I said drawing it out.

She giggled. "Pig!,"

It was probably one of the most erotic moments of my whole life, washing her long hair, as she leaned against me, sighing as I massaged her scalp, the beauty of the pool a backdrop. I admit I took a long time, and she seemed content to let me. Finally finished, she dipped her head under the water, getting all the soap out. She popped up grinning. "You didn't happen to bring conditioner, did you?"

"Sorry, no."

She shrugged. "Well then, if I frizz, and look awful, I'll just tell everyone we meet this is the look you like on me."

We moved to a smooth rock, and she climbed out without a pause, and lay down on her towel, after spreading both out. "Come on, the heat of the rock feels great after the cool of the water. It won't take us long to dry."

We lay for a bit, enjoying the warmth. "I have to turn over now, dry my back. Don't look!"

"Okay," I said smirking, enjoying the sight of her almost bare bottom tremendously. She popped one eye open and looked at me. "Pig."

"Yep."

"Whatever."

"I'm getting up now. Don't look."

I shrugged back into my boxers, looking around to see her propped on one elbow. I grinned.

"Pig."

"Whatever. I guess I'm dry enough now. I'll get dressed, too."

I watched as she slid the tight top on and adjusted it, and watched open mouthed as she shimmied into her leggings. "What?," she said, crossly.

"Don't get mad. I've always wondered how women got into those things. Now I know."

"I'm changing your name to Pig permanently. Now come on, let's do a few more casts before we go back."

The next pool down, I snagged a pretty good trout. Holding it up, I was about to brag when her rod doubled. It took her almost fifteen minutes to fight the fish into the net with the lightweight rig, but it was a beauty. Easily the largest trout I'd ever seen. We admired it for a while before she gently placed it back into the pool. "He's just too beautiful, I can't kill him. I hope the next person who hooks him feels the same."