Barely Comfortable

Most of all, we tried to keep active. We swam occasionally in our apartment's pool (even in a modest bikini, Amanda looked amazing!) We played a little tennis (neither of us is terribly good, but we had fun), we rented mountain bikes a couple of times, and -- most of all -- we hiked.

It may not be well known outside the southern San Francisco Bay region, but we have a lot of good trails, ranging from the easy and popular to the strenuous and remote. Most of them are open year-round, too -- your choice of where to go may change depending on the weather, season, and your mood, but you can always find somewhere to go.

Amanda and I met through our company's outdoor club, and we were hiking buddies long before we became lovers. Now that the winter sports season was past it was only natural that hiking was again our favorite outdoor activity. I've always enjoyed getting out on foot anyway, but except for the company-organized group events, I'd usually gone alone. Now it was the two of us, and we made the most of our time together.

Most weekends saw us outdoors at least once. Since we're both strong hikers, we had a wealth of places to try that we'd never have considered visiting with a larger group: one weekend we'd be walking through the shade of coastal redwoods near Santa Cruz, the next climbing windswept rocky hillsides inland south of San Jose enjoying the spring wildflowers. Beaches; mountain passes; open space preserves; county, state, and national parks: we sampled them all. As the season turned, we watched the early spring blooms fade and disappear while the green hills turned California's summertime golden brown, but there was always something new to see, even on trails we'd visited many times before.

The only drawback of hiking on the weekends is that occasionally the trails get a little crowded -- not like the long lines you see in famous parks, like climbing Half Dome in Yosemite, but enough that you're seldom out of sight of others. One of the things we'd both loved about cross-country skiing and snowshoeing near the cabin was that you could get away from everyone else -- except for the get-to-meet-you weekend with my family we'd had the local trails almost entirely to ourselves.

That wasn't the case in our area. The internet is a mixed blessing and curse: it makes it easier to find good places to hike even if you're not a local. The hidden gems that used to be mostly word-of-mouth are accessible to anyone with decent search skills -- in Silicon Valley, that meant "almost everyone." It helped, a little, to talk to the local rangers -- if nothing else, they could tell us which places to avoid, and which times were the least congested. And they're usually enthusiastic about their job and love it when asked for advice. Generally, I let Amanda handle that part; she's much better with people than I am. Or maybe it's that the guys -- and it's mostly guys -- respond better to a cute woman. Whatever the reason, it worked -- she picked up some interesting tips. Starting with "try to hike during the week, if you can."

So it didn't seem that odd when Amanda asked me to take a day off work in July to go hiking, a week or so after the 4^th of July holiday weekend.

ooOoo

Amanda had been deliberately mysterious about her plans. She'd told me that we'd be gone "all day", so I wasn't too surprised that after breakfast she handed me a loaded backpack, not just our usual day hike knapsack, to take out to my SUV.

What did surprise me was that when I came back in was that she was wearing a bright sundress rather than her usual hiking outfit. Not that it didn't look comfortable, practical, or even that revealing, but from the slight bounce as she moved and the hint of nipples showing through it was obvious she wasn't wearing a bra. That wasn't unusual now when we were staying at home, but unheard of when we were going out. And she did plan to go out -- her hiking boots looked rather odd underneath that dress, but Amanda already had them neatly tied.

I didn't say anything, but my expression must have been ... interesting. At any rate, Amanda giggled and reached up to close my open mouth before leading me out.

At least her directions weren't mysterious. She had us headed to one of our favorite places when we wanted a longer hike, a trailhead that offered access to both a county park and an adjacent open space preserve. I mentally applauded her choice -- even on weekends, the area was remote enough that the number of other hikers was usually limited.

Today, "limited" meant "none". When I pulled off the winding lane-and-a-half access road, the gravel parking lot was empty, even though it promised to be a beautiful day.

Amanda pulled out our hiking sticks as I was shouldering on the pack. I wasn't sure what she'd packed, but it was surprisingly heavy as well as bulky. Once I had it settled in place, she handed me my stick and a photocopied map with a marked route and told me "we're going here."

I raised an eyebrow. "Buried treasure? Did you pack a shovel?"

She giggled. "Aye, me hearty! But I'll have to shoot you once you dig it up for me -- dead men tell no tales!" She mimed shooting me with her hiking stick and giggled again at my theatrical groan. "No, but it's supposed to be a really nice place to picnic -- one of the rangers told me about it."

The first part of the route was familiar -- we zigzagged our way up through chaparral, then ducked into forest cover at the top. This far into summer, most of the spring wildflowers had passed and the grass on the exposed hillsides had gone tawny gold, but there were still patches of green under the trees.

I let Amanda take the lead -- it's easier for me to see past her on a narrow trail than the reverse, even when I'm not wearing a backpack. Really. I'll admit to enjoying the sight of the dress swirling around her bare brown legs. Why is that so much more appealing than shorts, even if it doesn't show any more skin?

The dress was swirling pretty fast, too. Amanda was making good time; this early in the day and shaded from the direct sun, she could push hard without either of us overheating. The one drawback of this trail was poor visibility -- the oak woodland was lovely, but the same trees that shielded us from the sun blocked any long distance views, and the occasional patches of open meadow never lasted long before we were under the canopy again.

Finally, after a couple of miles along the ridgeline, the path led down into the long canyon on the ridge's north side. This part of the trail was wider, an old ranch road, and we could see occasional glimpses of coast range mountaintops through gaps in the trees as we wound our way back down to the bridge across the stream running through the narrow valley's floor.

Past the bridge, our trail ran into another -- we turned right, then left again as the trail forked. I didn't think we were more than half a mile from the destination on the map, but we still had a stiff climb to get there. Watching Amanda's bottom working as she went up the hill ahead of me, I began to wonder; I couldn't be certain thanks to the loose-fitting dress, but I couldn't see any trace of a panty line. A thong, maybe?

There wasn't anything immediately visible when we turned to the corner on the last switchback and reached the point marked on the map. We were just below the crest of an out-thrust spur of the hill we were climbing, but it was hard to see much -- the trail was surrounded by dense manzanita thickets on both sides. After a moment, though, I spotted what had looked like a game trail -- fortunately, free of poison oak -- cutting through the uphill thicket and followed it to the top of the ridge.

I'd guessed right -- though there was no table or place to sit, the small clearing had an old circle of blackened stones on the uphill end still ready for a fire, with a couple of flattened-off logs on the inner side for seating. Unexpectedly this late in the season, the surrounding trees had given enough shade that the grass was still mostly green, and with late wildflowers -- a scattering of poppies and mariposa lilies, spikes of purple-blue or white lupines, and shrubby mounds of orange monkey flowers visible on the edges.

It was a dramatic spot for a picnic. There was a beautiful view down the drop-off into the narrow valley below and across to the long ridge on the far side, the better part of a mile away. It felt remote; despite the long sightlines, until I walked to the far edge of the clearing I couldn't see any sign of the trails we'd followed coming here, or any hint of humanity other than the abandoned Cold-War-era radar tower miles away to the north-west on Mt. Umunhum.

With a sigh of relief, I pulled the pack off my back and set it carefully down, rolling my shoulders to work out the kinks before pulling off my shirt and wiping my face. Despite our early start, by now it was warm enough that my face and body were glistening with sweat from the climb. At least here on the ridge, the breeze kept things comfortable enough, now that we weren't climbing further.

I gave a disbelieving head shake as I looked around, then asked Amanda "Where did you find out about this place? I've hiked that trail a dozen or more times over the years and didn't know this was here."

She looked up from where she was pulling things out of the pack. "I sent Lupe an email about what I wanted to do today, and she recommended coming here."

I waited for more, but she turned back to where she'd spread a blanket on the grass. When she started pulling out picnic food, I surrendered and asked: "Lupe?"

She looked up again and gave an apologetic grin. "Oh! Lupe ... Hernandez, I think. You know, one of the rangers here?"

Given the context, I thought I knew who she was talking about -- I hadn't caught her name, but I remembered Amanda talking to a rather pretty Latina ranger a couple of times. I hadn't realized they'd kept in touch.

I nodded. "OK ... so you asked Lupe. So what did you need to ask her about?"

"If she could recommend someplace like this. Someplace nice for today."

I searched my memory frantically. Had I forgotten something? It wasn't her birthday. Today -- July 14^th was exactly five months after our Valentine's Day engagement, but we hadn't celebrated the previous months. What was I missing? I hoped for the best and asked: "So what's today?"

She flashed her best urchin grin and told me "It's National Nude Day!" I was still processing that when she pulled her sundress over her head.

I'll admit it -- my brain shut down briefly, and needed to reboot. It didn't take long, but by the time I was thinking clearly again Amanda had our picnic neatly laid out. Sandwiches, carrot and celery sticks, a container of olives, a bottle of wine (no wonder the pack had felt so heavy!), and plastic wine glasses ... it all looked good.

And Amanda was totally naked. Her sundress was folded on top of the pack, with her socks and boots neatly arranged beside it.

She had a slight whole-body blush and an equally slight worried expression, but she was looking at me steadily. I was probably goggling back at her owlishly, but at least I hadn't said anything stupid -- yet.

Before the silence could stretch longer, I managed to engage my mouth. For a miracle, I even managed to hit the right note. "I ... see. And you dressed for the occasion. It looks very good on you."

The corner of her mouth twitched. It wasn't quite a smile, and she was still flushed pink, but the worried expression was gone.

"I'm really impressed by the effort you put into this -- you totally blindsided me. So, why?" I was still off-balance, but I was recovering. My voice sounded quite normal now. And I really was impressed -- she'd done a lot of behind-the-scenes preparation, and I hadn't suspected a thing.

I could hear a note of relief, but her tone was whimsical. "Would you believe Susan was right, and I really am an exhibitionist?"

That threw me off for a moment. "Susan who? Oh, your college roommate? No, not really -- you look a little too uncomfortable for me to believe that."

She gave an embarrassed grin. "I suppose you're right." She bit her lip for a moment, then continued. "Actually, I know you're right. I certainly feel uncomfortable! I think I've mostly overcome the need to hide, but I wanted to push myself to prove it. To do something daring, just once. Dramatic, even. Something fun, and maybe a little naughty. Then I saw an article about National Nude Day and said 'that's it!'."

I shook my head in bemused admiration. "Well, it's certainly dramatic! But why here? If you'd wanted, we could have gone to a nude beach."

Amanda actually blushed. "I thought about it, but I was still too embarrassed. I would have had to tell you where we were going, too -- this way, I could chicken out any time up to the last moment." She gave a giggle. "I almost chickened out before asking Lupe for advice. She'd told me about going to nude beaches so I thought she'd listen, but I didn't expect her to be so helpful." Amanda giggled again. "Or so enthusiastic. I think she sunbathes here herself."

Her voice turned a little more serious. "I really like the symbolism of National Nude Day, too. Accepting yourself. Not being ashamed of your body. Being part of nature." She paused. "Care to join me?" She didn't press further.

She seemed more relaxed now, but I'd still caught an uncertain note in her voice. Rather than answer directly, I sat down to pull off my boots and lined them up next to hers. I already had my sweat-soaked shirt off, so I spread it out on a rock to dry before starting to unfasten the waistband on my pants.

"So you don't think I'm crazy for doing this? You're not upset?" Her voice was hesitant, but her face showed relief.

I raised an eyebrow as I folded my pants. "Maybe a little crazy. But I think I understand why you wanted to do this, too." I grinned. "And I generally don't have a problem with you taking off your clothes where I can watch!" I gave her an obvious up and down scan.

"Oh! You -" I'd gotten the response I'd hoped for -- she was laughing hard enough she couldn't continue. She shook a finger at me instead.

"Actually, I like the symbolism too. It feels odd being out in the open like this, doesn't it?"

That almost set off another round of laughter, but after a moment she managed to answer. "I keep feeling like people are watching me! Even if I know better."

"Well, unless they've got a really good telescope I don't see how they could be. Your friend certainly picked a private place for you to try this; the only trail I can see from here is on top of that other ridge, maybe a mile off across the valley. Even with binoculars, they couldn't see enough to matter."

Amanda nodded. "That's what Lupe told me, too. You're both right. But it still feels weird."

"So now that you've surprised me, what are the rest of your plans for today?"

"We eat lunch and enjoy the view. And take some pictures afterward, to remind me of today." She gave another of her impish grins. "I don't think you'll mind doing that. Just promise me you don't share them around!"

"Amanda, I'll promise to never share them without your approval. And delete them if you ask. Much as I'd love to brag about my beautiful fiancé and put them on my computer desktop and as my phone's background."

She grinned again at the last. "Well ... I don't want to deprive you too much. I don't mind if you put it on your home computer. Just never show anyone else, especially my parents!"

"I can live with that."

She pulled a container out of the pack and held it out. "But first, I think we both need sunscreen. Lots of sunscreen. Or we'll have a sunburn in places I don't even want to think about."

ooOoo

Despite the temptation and the impossible-to-hide evidence of my arousal, I managed to give Amanda's body an even coat of sunscreen without pushing for more. Mostly. I'll admit to a few tickles and a little groping along the way. Then again, she teased me just as much applying mine.

By the time we settled down to eat, the tension was almost gone -- despite the novelty, I think we both enjoyed feeling the sun and breeze on our bare skin. The hills and trees made a marvelous backdrop to the woman sitting across from me. Amanda didn't try to tease me further; in fact, she did a remarkably good job of behaving as if this was an ordinary picnic. I tried my best to match her sangfroid, hard as it was.

The conversation was desultory as we ate -- by that same unspoken agreement, we avoided the obvious topic to touch on the food, the weather, the wine ... perfectly ordinary, except for our lack of clothes. Finally, though, I leaned back and raised my wineglass to her.

"Feeling more comfortable now?"

Amanda raised hers back. "Surprisingly, yes. Sitting here bare like this feels almost normal now. I'm still not certain how I'd react if someone else saw me, but it feels good." She tilted her head and considered a moment. "And it makes me feel ... I don't know. In control? Maybe powerful? Anyway, I'm not hiding myself anymore. I chose to do this, and I'm enjoying it." She paused a moment and repeated herself, wonderingly. "It feels good."

I laughed at her expression. "Maybe your friend Susan was right, and you're an exhibitionist and just didn't know it."

She made a face at me, then put her hands over her head and gave a languorous back-arched stretch that belonged on the centerfold of a magazine. I did my best to keep my face straight, but didn't succeed -- she giggled, then stuck out her tongue. "I don't think so, Jack. Except maybe for you, if you're very nice to me."

"Amanda, for another like that I'll do my very best!" I was utterly sincere.

She grinned and attempted a Mae West voice. "Want to take some pictures then, big boy? They last longer."

She wasn't just teasing; as soon as she finished her wine, she walked to the edge of the drop-off and struck a pose, holding it patiently while I fumbled my phone out of the pile of clothes.

Amanda limited herself to the "artistic" rather than the "pornographic" -- no spread-legged crotch shots for her -- but it was incredibly erotic. She looked fantastic -- and a fantasy, the layer of sunscreen adding a faint sheen to her golden-brown skin that almost glowed in the bright sunlight, her black hair, neatly-groomed pubic patch, and dark nipples highlighted in contrast. My erection, which had subsided while we ate, returned with a vengeance, though I did my best not to pay it attention as I concentrated on capturing each pose.

Beyond an occasional smile or teasing wink, Amanda ignored my growing arousal, but it was obvious she knew precisely what she was doing. She might not be a professional model, but she'd given it thought; each new pose was chosen to highlight both her body and the natural setting. If none of her poses went beyond mildly risqué, the sort of almost-innocent naughtiness you might have found in an early-60's edition of Playboy magazine, she still exuded a sense of smoldering passion. Here was a woman who knew she was desirable, was proud of her body, and was enjoying showing herself off to an appreciative audience.

And even if we were both ignoring my reaction, it was increasingly -- visibly -- obvious how achingly appreciative I was. Not that Amanda was immune. She was equally affected, no matter how controlled her expression -- perhaps more so. By the time she struck her last pose she was breathing faster, her skin was flushed, her nipples were puckered, and I could see glistening pearls of dew below her dark pubic thatch.

Though she loves to play games, Amanda's basically a direct person. So after the last pose, she didn't try to pretend indifference or play hard to get -- instead, she gave her urchin grin and held out her arms for a hug.