Sailing into the Wilderness

After cleaning, as the sun was starting to set, she headed back out into the cockpit with a glass of wine. Sunset was, by far, her favorite part of the day. The colors were usually incredible and there was a peaceful quiet that settled over everything at dusk.

Suddenly, somewhere off to her right, there was a light splashing.

"Fish jumping," she thought to herself and turned her head slightly. Then sharply. There, a bit more pronounced than before, was the unmistakable peak of a tent. A yellow bear sack was tied up high in the branches of a tree and there was just the slightest point of a yellow kayak sticking out from a clearing.

Charlotte was surprised, but then again, she wasn't. She knew the kayaker was on the lake now. But 15 miles? In two days? She had to hand it to him, he had more strength in him than she could imagine having in herself. She took a contented sip of her wine and turned again. He was in the water. He was the one who she'd just heard splashing. The first (and only) time that she'd seen him, he was in a life vest and wetsuit. Now, he was bathing on the other side of the anchorage from her, waist-deep in the water wearing nothing more than something black around his wrist and the hair on his body. She sipped her wine slowly. She could see him okay. She wasn't sure if he could see her. She was partially hidden by the canvas that covered the entry to the boat cabin. It had been a while since she'd seen anyone -- certainly a long time since she'd seen anyone bathing in the most natural of settings. She felt kind of sneaky, watching the tips of his fingers dancing along the surface of the water. Small, slight ripples of water radiated from his torso and even smaller ripples danced underneath his hands. She took a long, slow sip of her wine and slowly reached for her binoculars -- as if any sudden movement on her behalf would startle him and he'd skip out of the water into the depths of the pine trees.

Setting her half-empty glass of wine aside, she brought the binoculars to her eyes and gasped once she focused in on him. If he had been out hiking and kayaking around in the wilderness for months it had done his body good.

"Wow..." she gasped to herself and the air around her. With his back to her, she made out the muscles of his shoulder and back. She imagined that if Poseidon inhabited Lake Superior she was looking at his back right now. The small of his back tapered down into a smooth, muscular triangle and...well, she could only imagine the tight ass that the man must have, but the surface of the water prevented her from seeing any lower.

She made a small noise as he quickly submerged himself. She knew that the water around her vessel was cold, perhaps it was warmer closer to shore? The top of his chestnut brown head bobbed at the surface for a few moments before he came bursting back to the surface, water pouring down his face and sculpted chest and down to his...

"Oh my god," Charlotte breathed, making no effort to cover her open mouth.

She had been perfectly happy with Greg and his physique -- after all, she had been under the impression she'd be with him forever -- eventually everyone's body takes a turn for the worst. At least that was what she always told herself. He wasn't the fittest man in the world. Long working hours left little time for him to go to the gym and he ate his lunch out nearly every day (even though Charlotte offered to make him lunch all the time). He had a bit of a belly, but his arms and legs were muscular. His ass was soft and his dick was...well, it left a bit to be desired, but it was fine. It always pleased Charlotte.

But this. The mystery kayaker had officially cleared any thought of "Greg" from her mind completely. His body was as close to Charlotte's definition of perfect as could be! She could tell -- even through her binoculars -- that he had amazing upper body strength. Not that it came as a total surprise given the effortlessness in his kayak strokes. He didn't have rock-hard abs, but his stomach was nicely defined -- no beer gut, not even a little bit. His chest had a nice, light covering of dark hair which neatly trailed down his middle, down below his navel and down to a larger expanse of hair.

"Wow," she breathed again, long and slow as he took a couple of steps backward, the water shallowing to the point where she was able to see what, deep down, she really wanted to see.

She didn't have the experience of having come in contact with a lot of cocks in the course of her life. Greg had been her fourth. Her first, she'd been with once, and she didn't remember what he was like except that he felt way too large for her to handle. The second and third were both small. The third had even experienced unfortunate erectile problems. In retrospect, Greg really had been the best lay she'd had, but looking at the man in front of her in the water... If the water was as cold up close to shore as it was at her boat, it was not evident. He was thick, decent length -- considering he wasn't aroused -- and, Charlotte sighed, for the first time in several months she desperately wanted to be close to a man again.

Her binoculars trailed to his face again and she froze. She may have even let out a cartoonish, "Meep" before quickly lowering the device to her lap. He was staring right at her, even without the aid of magnification, she could see a very slight smile on his face. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest and she felt a hot flush sweep through her entire body when he gave her a small wave. She buried her head in her hands and could have sworn that she heard him chuckle from across the water.

There had been times on the trip that she had felt eons older than she actually was. At this very moment, though, she felt as if she was a giddy teenage girl all over again. And she'd been caught. Redhanded. WITH binoculars. She felt like crawling up in a ball out of embarrassment.

***

She'd slept on it. Was it really so bad? They were both adults. Maybe he had been doing it on purpose. After all, she hadn't even noticed him in the water until she heard a small splash. He had clearly seen her and the boat out at anchor. She grinned to herself in the hours of early morning.

"Two can play this game," she said quietly to herself as she pushed off the covers from sleep and headed out of the cabin to the deck to hook up the sun shower that she had just been waiting to use.

**

Charlotte stood in the cockpit and squinted towards the shore. She had thought that she'd seen the man walking around with a cup of coffee -- she had definitely seen a small trail of smoke from a campfire, so he had to be awake and around. At the first glimpse of peachy, tanned skin and dark hair, she slowly lifted her tank top above her head. For the first time, well, ever, she was thanking Greg for his infidelity and the divorce and most of all, the boat. She was young. Young enough to still be in college. Her body was still in perfect shape -- ideal, even. Her breasts were still firm and high, her stomach and arms were toned from hours spent at the gym in utter frustration. She was tan from weeks spent on the boat and in the sun. Her usual light brown hair had turned into a golden brown with golden blonde streaks and as she lifted her arms to let the small spigot of water trickle down between her breasts, she swore to herself that she had never felt so beautiful.

***

"I don't believe I introduced myself the other day," Charlotte said as she stepped into the flattened camp circle the kayaker had set himself up in.

He'd watched her from the shore, that much she knew. He'd sat on a large boulder off of the sand beach, coffee mug in one hand and the other casually placed on his thigh. After getting dressed, she decided that she'd spent too much time on her boat and needed to stretch her legs. Normally, she would have never considered herself so bold but now after seeing him the previous evening and watching him watch her while she bathed, she felt an ache and desire so deep in the pit of her stomach that she needed to make a move.

He spun around, surprised to hear a voice behind him. Surprised to hear HER voice behind him. He was shirtless, tidying up his campsite and throwing some food items into the yellow bear sack. Up close, Charlotte could see how well tanned his arms were and she noticed the twinge of golden highlights in his hair.

"Hi," he breathed, caught off guard, of course.

"I'm Charlotte," she introduced herself, very straight to the point.

"Uh, Adam," he said, wiping his hand against his pant leg, brushing off the dirt before he extended it to her. She took his hand into her own and smiled. His hand dwarfed hers and she was suddenly embarrassed by the roughness of her palm against his. Normally, her hands were as smooth as silk, but with the boat, she had neglected them more than usual and the boat lines had roughened her palms.

"Sorry for disturbing the peace here," she mimicked from the previous day. He chuckled softly and nodded.

"You should be," he deadpanned, "us kayakers like our peace and quiet."

"How long are you staying?" she asked, seriously.

He sighed and attached the yellow bag to a rope hanging from the tree, "What about you?"

Charlotte shrugged, "Depends on the weather, I guess."

"What did I tell you about the weather?" he asked as he effortlessly hoisted the bag up into the tree. "Or wait, did I tell that little pearl of wisdom to another lone female sailor?"

She smiled and kicked a small pebble at her feet. "I needed to get off the boat. I need to walk around a bit, stretch my legs."

Adam simply nodded and turned to Charlotte, visibly looking her up and down, taking her in completely. She'd dressed to impress before heading into shore. She was wearing a light pair of capri pants that accentuated her trim thighs and calves and a tank top that was fit her chest perfectly and highlighted her tight waist. She smiled, enjoying the brief moment of undivided attention before purposely clearing her throat.

"Anyway," she continued, "I don't have a map of the trails so I was hoping you might come with?"

She could feel a magnetism between the two of them. She wanted so badly to reach up and touch his jaw where it met his earlobe and run her fingers lightly down the length of his neck. She wanted to touch his bare chest while leaning in for a deep, long kiss. She imagined he tasted like the woods and campfire.

"You want to borrow mine?" he asked, glancing back towards his tent. "I pretty much know this area like the back of my hand."

Charlotte shook her head and took a step closer towards him. She wondered where she had gained the courage to approach a stranger like this. Still, she felt awkward and when she looked into his dark, green eyes and saw the way he drank her in, she felt herself stepping back like a nervous freshman about to sit next to the cute boy in class.

"No," she said, trying to find confidence in her voice. "I'll just...wander."

He smiled, "I'd love to take you to some of my favorite trails, but I really need to do some things around here." He looked around his campsite, and Charlotte nodded, wondering what one could possibly have to do around a campsite.

"Okay," she said tentatively, "well..." she took a bold step, "I don't know how you are on food but I have plenty and...you want to come out for dinner?"

He smiled and nodded.

"Sure," he said. "Dinner."

"Come by whenever," she said, feeling a flush in her cheeks. "I mean, after I'm through with my little aimless walk in the woods here."

"Sorry I can't come with," he said, turning back towards his tent.

**

Charlotte hadn't even thought of the possibility of dates when she was packing for her trip. She'd packed the basics for making herself look nice for the times that she was amongst civilization, but she'd left some of her favorite "date" items behind.

She hadn't seen Adam on her way back down to the water's edge, but everything of his was still at his campsite, so she knew he hadn't run off. She wondered if she should have offered to pick him up from shore, but he had his kayak.

*knock*

The familiar sound against the hull.

"Come on up!" she called from down in the cabin as she stirred a pan of spaghetti sauce. She had racked her mind trying to figure out what to make, it wasn't as if she had a lot of space or options in her galley kitchenette. She thought about all the things that Adam was probably eating while camping and kayaking and decided relatively homemade spaghetti was a safe choice. Dessert would be the best though, a small apple cobbler.

"Wow," Adam said, hopping into the cockpit as if it was second nature. "Swanky digs."

"Thanks," Charlotte said, trying to ignore the lightheaded feeling she had from some wine and simply being in close proximity to such an attractive man.

"What do you do again?" he asked, making himself comfortable in the open air.

"I never said," she replied. "Elementary school teacher."

He whistled, "One well paid teacher. Where are you from?"

Charlotte laughed, "Chicago."

"Note to self," he said, drumming his fingers against fiberglass, "find teaching job in Chicago."

"You want a drink?" Charlotte asked, waving her half-empty glass of wine in front of the entryway.

"Sure, absolutely," he replied. "Don't get many offers for those out in the wild."

"Spaghetti okay?" she asked, handing up a glass.

"Oh yeah," he replied, taking a short sip of the wine. "Been living off jerky and hardtack for the last couple weeks."

"You're kidding."

"I am. Freeze-dried meals are a bit more my style."

**

Charlotte giggled in a way she hadn't in months. Naturally, she blamed the wine she was drinking and the presence of another human being -- but there was something else. She wasn't one to doubt the presence of pheromones between two people of the opposite sex, but it had been a long, long time since she'd felt the overwhelming pull of them.

"You still haven't answered the biggest question I've had," he said, giving her a long gaze from across the small cockpit table.

"And that is?" she giggled, knowing full well what the question was. Why was she out here alone? How did she get here? Why was she here at all? The truth was, earlier in the evening, she had been too embarrassed to disclose information about her divorce, but after a few more sips of wine and the orange-red glow emanating from the treetops from sunset, she felt her guard slowly slipping away.

"I've asked you at least three times now," he said. "I know you're not that drunk."

"Why are you out here alone? Why are you here? Where are you even from?" she teased right back at him. His smile slowly melted away and he turned his gaze down towards his empty plate. He had asked for seconds -- which Charlotte happily supplied him with -- but she was only nearing the very end of her first serving and had no intentions for another.

"I'm sorry..." she said quietly, a forkful of spaghetti dodging the corner of her mouth before finding its way inside. "I just...you want to know things about me."

"No, I know," he nodded. "Fair is fair. I just...it's difficult."

"Well, maybe I should start with the easier question," she said as she swiped her napkin across her cheek. She wondered for a fleeting second why she felt so uninhibited. "How long have you been up here?"

"Since March," he said quietly, twirling his fork around in some leftover spaghetti sauce.

Charlotte sat, starting with her mouth slightly agape at his answer. "Seriously?"

Adam nodded. "Started out from Minneapolis. Hitchhiked my way to Duluth, befriended a couple fishermen there, made my way to Isle Royale, went from Isle Royale to Thunder Bay and started working myself this way."

"That's...why?"

Adam sighed this time and Charlotte could have sworn that she saw his head sink a little.

"My fiance...well, no, I guess she'd be my ex-fiance now," he said quietly. "She left."

"So you left, too?"

"We had a daughter," he said, even quieter this time if it was possible. "Just...middle of the day. Gone."

"Oh," she said it quietly, as sympathetically as she could. All the sudden, her divorce story didn't seem quite so sad anymore. Hell, she'd gotten a boat out of it. The man sitting across from her though had run away from everything. As far as she could tell, he'd lost everything.

"I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head and regaining his composure. "It's not usually something that I talk about. And usually after a long day of kayaking, I don't even think about it. The lake is challenging and it keeps my mind off of it. Off of everything."

"When did she...leave?" she said 'leave' in almost a whisper.

"December," he replied. "Early December. Just left a note on the counter."

"And you didn't search for them?"

He simply shook his head like he was trying to shake a bad dream from his mind. Charlotte bit her bottom lip and nodded.

"Well, you and I are one in the same then," she said quickly. "Oh yeah?" Adam asked, his smile slowly creeping back across his face.

"Well, I guess," she replied with a shrug. "Divorced."

"What?" he gasped, his eyes narrowing and his gaze quickly zooming in on her left hand. "You can't be any older than what? 22?"

She smiled, but her smile was quickly replaced with the former shame she felt -- the irrational shame of being such a young divorcee.

"Twenty five," she said. "He..." she swallowed away the lump in her throat. "Screwing the receptionist."

"Wow," he said.

"I won the boat," she finished, rather flatly. "And I decided that it was better to just get away from everything."

"Wait, you won the boat?"

"In the divorce."

Adam chucked to himself, "Oh, I thought that you'd won it in some contest or something."

Charlotte smiled this time and shook her head. "Not quite that easily."

The boat slowly started to swing with a slight wind shift and Charlotte leaned back to gaze at the swirling colors of the sunset over the tree line.

"Do you mind?" Adam said, standing halfway to join her on her side of the cockpit.

Charlotte shook her head and moved to the side to give him room to sit next to her. He quickly slid in next to her, relaxed and turned his gaze to her instead of the sunset. They sat quietly for a moment, before she turned to him with a puzzled look in her eyes.

"What?"

"You have sauce on your...in the corner there...," he said, lifting his hand to the side of her face, brushing a spot of sauce away from the corner of her lip. She blushed, thinking that she'd cleaned it all away -- feeling silly that she'd left some in a spot she could have easily cleaned away with the tip of her tongue.

"Thanks," she said quietly, feeling a weightiness settle in around her head. His thumb had barely moved from the corner of her mouth and he was so close to her that she could smell and sense things about him. He smelled like the outdoors -- he smelled like the lake and the trees and there was a slight lingering scent of peppermint and tomato sauce. She wanted to reach over and touch his thigh, his arm, something, but she was too hesitant and she couldn't figure out why.

"Do you do this a lot?" she asked quietly, a little hesitantly, quickly wondering how many sailors and campers he may have encountered on his journey since March. How many of them were eager to take him in and feed him a meal? How many of them were young like her and felt this attraction to him? How many of them might have fucked him?

"Not exactly," he said, his thumb sweeping over her chin and up to her bottom lip. He parted her lips slowly with his finger and pushed his way to the teeth. She gladly allowed him to, the very tip of her tongue just barely sweeping over his thumbnail.