High Tea

It was one heck of a climb from the abandoned tungsten mine where they had parked: several thousand vertical feet, and several miles of rough-rock trails.

Angela and Kirk had made most of the altitude the previous day, camped early, and arrived here at mid-morning. They surveyed the high-alpine scene that suddenly spread itself before them when the trail topped a final rise and emerged from the low woods. The site was beautiful in the clear sunshine, nearly pristine, a small bowl-shaped clearing in low woods just below tree-line. They had timed the camping trip perfectly to catch the multi-species carpet of quick-blooming flowers.

This destination was Kirk's idea. He told Angela about it, that he'd been to it years before and thought he could find it again, how it was near the beaten path but offset in such a way that few people ever made the necessary little whoop-dee-doo to get there. He hadn't told her that he had been taken to it himself, that first time, by a former lover, a backpacking addict, who had discovered it with her husband back in the dark ages before she and Kirk had become involved. Nor had he mentioned how on each of several later visits over the years they had fucked themselves silly on a big flat rock in the bright, cool air - no need to put together too complete a story!

Angela snuggled up to Kirk as best she could given the awkwardness of backpacks and other gear. She smiled happily to herself: Kirk didn't see it. This morning, during breakfast, she had declared them members of the "Two-Mile-High-on Terra-Firma" club. High altitude and vigorous sex produced an interestingly different high! Her bottom still tingled after their evening's entertainment the night before: she had never been a sexual adventurer until this man came along, and practically the first thing they ever did was to teach her how to buttfuck. Talk about unexpected, and delicious, intensity! Now they entertained themselves with frequent half-hour sessions of it, replete with rapid-fire climaxes for her. And an occasional climax for him too, of course.

She pouted slightly when she noticed the bright-orange little tent set up in the primo spot. They weren't alone! Oh well, there was plenty of room for two tents here. Although, she thought, the presence of other people just might inhibit some of the sounds she would like to release if she could. She wondered if anyone, or anything, had heard her last night, sitting atop her man? Hey! Maybe this orange-tent person wouldn't stay through tonight... or at least, maybe they wouldn't stay through the whole three days she and Kirk planned to spend here?

Kirk seemed disappointed too, but shrugged, and led them over to a perfectly good spot. It would be a comfortable place to sleep: level, with a foundation of soft meadow and spongy near-peat. Together they dropped packs and set about erecting Kirk's new tent. Although Kirk had set it up at his home once, their only pair-wise experience had been in the twilight the night before, so they were putting on a distinctly suboptimal performance.

They were struggling gently with compound multi-section poles when there was a tiny cough behind them. They turned to find a solo woman standing a few feet away, carrying fanny-pack and binoculars. She looked slightly older than themselves, small, slender, properly accoutered: shorts, good boots, serious flannel shirt, Swiss army knife, canteen, heavy-duty oversize sunglasses.

And she was also wearing the most amazing, amused grin.

Kirk goggled at the apparition, his expression and body making it very clear how nonplussed he was, and that this was in fact no stranger. Angela looked back and forth between the newcomer and Kirk. Clearly something was up that she didn't understand. The stranger broke the silence: "Well, Kirk, you certainly do seem to be short of tent-pitching practice these days. We'd have had that thing up in about thirty seconds flat, you and I!"

The hairs on Angela's neck stood up: this was weird!

She looked at Kirk, silently questioning. Kirk's face was flaming red: that was even more foreboding. Kirk finally managed to get a breath and said "Um. Hello, Janet! Fancy meeting you here. Er, Angela, meet Janet, Janet, Angela." From ten feet apart, the women eyed one another. Neither said anything. Kirk squirmed visibly: that didn't please Angela in the least. Secrets!

Finally Janet giggled and said "Hi, Angela. Please, don't be upset. This really, truly is the damnedest thing! Kirk and I are old friends." She looked at Kirk, then back at Angela, who continued to say nothing. "Very old friends."

The emphasis on "very" bothered Angela even more; it was almost as if... well, maybe Janet was teasing at something, or even baiting Angela, looking for a rise? She held herself firmly in check, thinking "Neutral, girl. Collect data first!"

Janet kept on: "We've known one another since undergraduate days. Close to forty years that is. He was best man at my ex's and my wedding way back when. We all used to go camping together. I believe I even showed him this place his first time, didn't I?"

Kirk nodded. He was still beet-red, and Angela was desperately curious about the mysterious relationship that had him so flustered all of a sudden. Or, more realistically, should she perhaps not even want to go that direction?

Kirk finally regained some semblance of composure, walked over to Janet and hugged her hard enough to further disquiet Angela, who was really beginning to feel like a fifth wheel, and was increasingly unhappy about it. Janet hugged him back, looked over at Angela and smiled, giggled a bit, and then walked over, extended her hand, and said "I'm sorry, Angela. Kirk and I really have known one another for nearly forty years, and I love to tease him whenever I get the chance. Which isn't often these days. I don't think we've seen one another for, oh, nearly four years now. Not even Christmas cards for contact. That's stupid. So meeting him, and you, up here is both a nutty coincidence and a real treat. I hope I haven't embarrassed you! I certainly didn't mean to. It's a rare woman who is both intelligent enough and good looking enough to attract this guy, well, so I guarantee you'll rate highly with me. I do know his taste. He's pretty damned picky."

Angela relaxed at the explanation, and the compliment both rang true and settled nicely upon her. They shook hands, exchanged short pleasantries. Perhaps she could like this woman? After all, if she and Kirk could be friends for forty years, that certainly said something pretty positive about her, didn't it? At least, it did if Angela were to trust her own judgment.

Kirk was relaxing, but slowly. Angela thought to herself about how old friends could twit one another in the weirdest ways, and any outsider to a long-established relationship was always at a serious disadvantage. At least Janet seemed interested in (not upset by) the fact of Angela's relationship with Kirk, which was nice of her. But there had been an edge of intimacy-remembered about the hug: that gnawed a bit.

Then Kirk spoke. Finally, thought Angela, he's found his tongue. Wait 'til tonight and she'd grill him for certain. Cough up information or else there'd be no bottom-games? Nope: too overt. Dream up something more subtle, and besides, why threaten to deprive them BOTH? That would be dumb!

"Well..." he began lamely, "Janet, Angela and I have been together for over a year now. If you and I had ever managed a steady e-mail relationship, I'd have told you all about her. I think you two will find that you have a lot in common..."

Janet cracked the tiniest little smile, momentarily almost a near-smirk, and Angela's hackles rose instantly again despite her best intellectual intentions. What a rush, this sexual territoriality was, and how unsettling! How long had it been, anyhow, since she'd had to deal with it?

Kirk's next statement didn't blot out the unease, but at least he piqued her curiosity enough to smother it for the moment.

"You're both plant biologists! Angela, Janet started out as a flowering plant taxonomist, even wrote a big text and guide to Midwestern plants, less the grasses. Then she did radar remote sensing, and now, at least the last I knew, she's head of satellite launch systems development for a big outfit in the aerospace industry. An engineering mega-team leader. Serious career change for an undergraduate French lit major, don't you think?"

Angela was impressed: clearly here was another woman who might keep up with Kirk intellectually. That had to be a rarity.

Then it was "Janet, Angela here is a professor of biology, specialist in woody plants and wood ultra-structure." He paused, grinned, and said "So. Either my tastes are fairly predictable, or there's a hell of a coincidence here. Looky: two physically similar plant-ologists."

Angela snagged mentally on the idea of Janet and herself both fitting Kirk's "tastes in women": that could mean almost anything, none of it particularly good. But she avoided speculation; that way, madness lies.

Janet volunteered to help with the tent. Keeping her best face on things, Angela accepted and the two of them worked together, opposite Kirk, to complete the setup. With the partly erected tent isolating them from Kirk, they faced one another up close. The two ladies studied one another, quickly, in detail, as only women can. They were not that dissimilar in age or physical appearance. Both quite attractive, past childbearing, in good physical condition, and with short blond hair. Differently complected, Janet distinctly but not badly weathered from lots of time outdoors, Angela much less so, nearly unmarked by sunlight. Angela a bit wider of hip, maybe a little shorter in the rise and waist, not much difference in weight. Above the waist, they could undoubtedly exchange clothes without problems.

Each had her own personal disquiet with her own body, and each of course studied in the other that with which she was herself dissatisfied. Angela found herself behind and below Janet, looking at the woman's legs. They were quite nice. Damn her anyhow!! Janet had long since made her own observations about Angela, but more focused on complexion: she'd always envied women with smooth skin. Especially women this age! When Angela moved, Janet could see that she hadn't a bra on. But then, neither did she, herself. They operated very nearly as a team, each seemed to anticipate the other's moves and needs. As Angela set one pole into its socket, her arm brushed Janet's calf: solid muscles, smooth skin.

Angela was perturbed at the electric tingle she got from the touch. She rationalized to herself that it was undoubtedly a reflection of the vaguely-implied close relationship between Janet and Kirk, or so she thought, anyhow. She had never been attracted at all to women, and this felt rather erotic in a strange way. She shook herself, stood up beside Janet, stretching for the over-the-top strap.

Janet said to her, loudly, "We seem to make a good team! That's unusual." Then, in a gentle whisper, "Look, Angela, I can tell you're a bit upset about the relationship between me and Kirk. I'm sure it caught you totally by surprise, and that's awkward. I wouldn't have wanted it to happen that way, and wouldn't like it myself if it happened to ME! The relationship between him and me, well, it's a long story, which you're welcome to have if you wish. Preferably in private, though. But believe me, you don't have anything to worry about! Really, truly, cross my heart."

She stopped, reached out to squeeze Angela's arm, and said "I meant it about Kirk's taste. I've followed his relationships for decades: he's a serial monogamist, you know. And so far you've much more than met my expectations and hopes for a "Kirk woman". That is rare thing and quite a compliment!"

Angela did feel somewhat comforted, and also intrigued. Her affair with Kirk was intense, and both unique and long-standing: it had started the day they met, and was now well into year two. And very important to her. But there were lacunae. Although she knew a lot about Kirk in general, and that he'd had lots of lovers in his life, she had never pumped him for any details. And he'd never volunteered any, either. Gentlemanly, but frustrating. So here was a potential source of information... the question was, whether she could ethically tap into it? And, too, whether she really wanted to do so! She didn't want to be seen as taking advantage of Kirk's friend, or as prying. But then, Janet had just volunteered, hadn't she? Besides, as they looked at one another, something seemed to pass silently between them.

Just at that moment, Kirk let fly a string of curses from beyond the nylon wall, and abruptly they found themselves locked into a silent fit of mutual giggles. It felt like the leading edge of a "girls' bonding experience", and Angela felt herself relaxing both physically and psychologically.

While Kirk continued his flail with the tent, Angela whispered to Janet, "I'd like to know. He doesn't talk very much about his history, it's the male-reticence thing I guess. We could talk. Girl to girl, that is. And not to pry if you don't want me to know or would be uncomfortable. If you meant the offer seriously."

Janet looked at her with an intensity that startled Angela, then said "I meant it." She looked up at the sky, said "It's mid-morning, I doubt either of us have any pressing engagements on our calendars, and it looks like a clear day. Good time for two old-lady plant biologists to go biologizing, maybe? Perhaps we'd find something wild for brewing a nice tea over at my tent, in privacy? Shall we abandon Kirk for a while? I think he'd put up with it if we insisted!"

The sudden co-conspiracy locked them into instant girlfriendship. They linked arms like little girls, Angela's breast pressed against Janet's bicep. Janet thought she felt a whisper of hard nipple beneath the fabric, but it was gone instantly. As they began to move, she wondered why she'd gotten that odd little tingle from the touch?

Then, arm in arm, they stepped around the tent and confronted Kirk just as he snapped the final piece of the rig into place. He seemed half pissed-off at himself, half mister-macho proud of having helped provide shelter. He looked at the ladies, obviously startled by their closeness.

Angela announced "You, sir, have just lost us for a while. You said we'd have things other than you in common, and it's true. These two old-lady biologists are going out to do some biologizing together, and to have a private girls-only tea-party. Janet says she thinks we can find some high-altitude herbs for tea, and we're off on a private expedition of our own, probably for the rest of the morning." She grinned at Kirk's expression. "It's that "girl stuff". You know." Together, still arm in arm, they started across the meadow. Janet tossed over her shoulder "Kirk, you can just go sit somewhere and read the book I know you brought with you. Or watch birds. I suspect we'll be back for lunch, so have it ready. Bye!"

Angela goggled at Janet, and asked "Jeez! That's bossy. Do you think he will?" Janet nodded, and said "We've been camping a lot, and he and my ex and I used to rotate the cooking and dishwashing. I even taught him to use native flavorings, and sometimes to find edible plants. Although he's no botanist, so I'd never fully trust his judgment on that! He's not likely to sample an amanita on his own, but beyond that, who knows? He can do the cooking, and he probably will... I think he'll find this all pretty amusing and fun, actually. Once he gets over his screaming-meemie embarrassment, that is."

Janet knew the area's flora in detail, and suggested that the best place to search for brewable materials was on the sunnier slopes across the swale and around a rise, so they wandered purposefully that direction, chatting about plants as they went. Janet knew her stuff, and Angela's knowledge of the local species was just enough to let her hold up one conversational end. To their mutual surprise and relief, they seemed to get along nicely, at least on the neutral ground of phyto-taxonomy and alpine ecology.

Shortly they were out of sight of both tents: Janet pointed out what she called the "edge of the world" a few hundred meters away, a nearly vertical cliff dropping away from their plateau, and then showed Angela the two species she was seeking for making tea. They dropped down on their knees, seeking flowers and fresh young leaves from the short plants, gathering them into Janet's hat.

In minutes they had a double-handful, plenty for the moment, when the blast of cold air preceding the downpour took them from the rear and totally by surprise. Together they stood up and turned to face the distant woods: over the top of the ridge, at full gallop, came a little mini-front of clouds with its hanging curtain of heavy rain.

As they watched, the rain obscured the woods entirely. Then it swept down upon them like a cavalry charge, making the meadow disappear beneath it. In seconds they were drenched to the skin. They eyed one another through the dense population of cold raindrops, and started laughing. Angela said "Wow! Just like bodysurfing. Never face away from the waves, I guess. Even if it's a sky-wave on top of a mountain! This sure came up FAST!" Then, "Well, at least it wasn't a thunderstorm. Since we're the tallest things around here, we'd have been fried before we knew what hit us!" By the time she was done speaking, the squall was past and the sun was out again.

Behind the storm a brief, intense rainbow glittered, then faded as the air cleared. They watched the cloud scud towards their campsites, and Janet muttered "I hope it gets him, too!"

They laughed at one another's' appearance, rain-soaked clothes clinging, hair plastered down: "Drowned rats unanimous!" said Angela. The rain had been high-altitude cold: both ladies' nipples were obvious hard bumps against their blouse fabrics. Both women noticed: neither said anything about it.

Janet looked around, scanned the entire 360-degree horizon: they were utterly alone. She shrugged and said "God but I hate wearing wet flannel against my skin. The only way to get dry is to take it off and let it flap in the breeze. It'll dry in just a minute or two at this altitude. Do you mind?"

Angela shook her head, and wondered again at the unexpected little zing in her belly.

Janet unbuttoned and removed her blouse. Angela was startled at Janet's pair of inverted-crescent nipple piercings: she had never seen nipple jewelry in the real world, only in occasional pictures. Up this close, on a real human, these items were exquisite, and except for the idea of the piercing process itself, she immediately understood why people might wear them. The left one was gold, the right silver, and each was kept from sliding out by a pair of contrasting metal beads that capped the crescents' tips. They were bright, the polished metal was faceted and glittered in the sunlight. Below them, a small but heavy silver circle decorated Janet's navel. Angela had a long flash of thoughts: hadn't it hurt to get those installed? Why would one do that? Did they add some erotic twinges when diddled at the appropriate moment by one's partner? Had they perhaps been a gift, and if so then from whom? And, what about this lady's "other" body sites? Were those also pierced? She shivered, partly from the thought of the pain, partly erotic twinges, well intermingled.

Janet saw Angela's glance and smiled, twisted the crescents with her fingers until each nipple was wound into a full-turn spiral: she pulled on them, making her breasts into upward-pointing cones. She wiggled them, then giggled, and said to Angela as she let them snap back into position, "Feels good! Makes me feel sexy all the time, carrying a little secret around with me. Much better than just fancy frilly underwear..."