It Isn't Just an Orgy

"You know what I mean. You are a good person, and caring. I hate to see you alone," he said. He was moving up her legs, moving from side to side. His fingers dug down into her thigh muscles. They were even tighter than her calves. He spent the extra time needed to loosen them up.

"I'm not alone," she replied. "I date as much as I want and don't sleep alone most of the time when I do." While her legs were starting to feel very nice, there was a growing tension in her upper body. Hawk was forcing her to think about things that she preferred to ignore.

Hawk frowned as he moved upwards to touch her back. He wanted to relax her, not get her muscles tied up into knots. He began to massage along her spine, spreading his fingers and kneading outward. He didn't talk anymore. Past experience taught him that if someone wanted to talk about their issues, they would without his prompting.

They could hear people around them talking, catching up with each other on all the changes in their lives. Isabel tried to just let go and enjoy what Hawk was doing, but the thoughts didn't go away. "It isn't like he's in a great space either," she told herself. She knew him well enough to see that his partner wasn't quite right for him. Willow was clingy and possessive, which was a problem for someone whose job was to touch other people in intimate ways. Without even looking, Isabel knew that she was keeping a casual eye on them, despite her being much older and lesbian.

When he began to knead her shoulder, she let out a little sigh. "That feels good," she murmured.

"It's supposed to," he said, keeping his reply short.

She sighed again; this time it had nothing to do with her massage. His comments cracked open the barrier she kept up that usually stopped her from sharing what had happened. Knowing him as long as she did, Isabel felt like she could let a little out. "Sometimes, it's just too late, Hawk," she softly said.

He remained quiet as he contemplated her words. There were many ways to take them. His fingers went around the back of her neck and worked their magic there. While he did it, Isabel couldn't speak. It felt too good, although the rest of her body tightened up. It traveled down to the tips of her curling toes. When he released his hold there, she fell limply against the table. He continued to move all around her back, although somewhat more gently.

"Does that mean you met someone, but lost her, and now it's too late to get her back?" Hawk asked.

"It could, but that isn't what I meant," Isabel answered. "It means it's too late in my life for her; twenty-five years too late." Her voice was barely above a whisper.

Hawk paused for a second before digging his thumbs into the spot just below her shoulder blades. Finding a knot under the left one, he worked at undoing it. "Ah, she's younger. You know I'm younger than Willow," he said.

"Yes five years younger, not 30," Isabel said. She was a little louder now with a harsh undertone to her voice. "It couldn't work."

"Did you try?" he asked. When she didn't answer, he grunted. "How do you know then?" he finally asked.

Lifting herself up a bit, she turned to look at him, completely ignoring her exposed breasts. "In 13 years, she'll be your age and I'll be 66. In twenty, I'll be 73 while she is still in her early forties." Her voice choked off. The tears she'd stopped shedding threatened to return. Sinking back down, she buried her face into the towel beneath her. When she was back under control, she spoke again.

"It wouldn't be fair to her. She doesn't understand," Isabel told him.

"So you took the choice away from her, Moonshine," Hawk said. His voice held more than a little chiding.

"Yes," she whispered as a tear wormed its way past her defenses.

As much as Hawk wanted to argue, he didn't. It wasn't his war to wage. He liked Isabel, although other than Burning Man, they didn't have a lot in common. It bothered him that she could walk away from the possibility of happiness. Instead he just asked a question. "When was this?" They hadn't seen each other since last fall. Although he was certain that it was since then, he couldn't tell how fresh was the wound.

"During the ski season, about six months ago," she answered. For most of that time, she hadn't confided in anyone. She feared that her friends would fall into two categories; those that would think she was foolish not to take advantage of having a young woman in love with her, and those that just thought she was foolish. So she kept the brief fling to herself. The one time she mentioned it to her daughter was as bad as she expected. She fell into the latter category, and was appalled that her mother was with someone even younger than she was.

"In a way, it was good," she said to Hawk, after telling him about it. "It confirmed my expectations. She wouldn't have accepted Chelle."

"Is that her name?" Hawk asked. "Chelle, that's pretty."

"Well, it's Rachel, but I called her Chelle," she said. Without realizing it, Isabel's face lit up as she pictured how the young blonde woman looked when she called her that. Hawk was glad that she wasn't looking at him, because he couldn't help his expression of sadness over her unwillingness to try.

After a moment, he gently patted her on the shoulder. "How's that?" he asked. There were others waiting, and even though he wanted to spend more time talking, they needed his help too.

"It's great! Thank you so much, Hawk, for the massage and the talk," she said as she got up. Facing away from the crowd, she slipped her coat back on. She glanced over at him and then looked away. "I'm going to leave something at the temple, and I hope it helps me to finally let her go."

Hawk reached out and pulled her close, giving her a long hug. He could hear her sniffle, and knew she was probably crying. "Whatever gives you peace, Moonshine," he said as he gave her a kiss on the forehead. Without looking, he guessed that Willow was glaring at him but he didn't care. If she couldn't understand his comforting someone in pain, then they had even bigger problems than he thought. Finally she was the one to pull away.

"Thanks. I hope it will," she said as she walked back towards her tent. It was still relatively early, but she wasn't in the mood to be social. It would be long week. Starting it with a full night's sleep was a good idea.

As was typical, she woke up early, although the sun was already lighting up the desert community. Yesterday, she just had on normal clothes that were good for working. Today was different. It was time to dress for the Burn. After washing up and brushing her teeth, she pulled on a pair of red panties and a matching red bra. She pulled out a short brown miniskirt and slipped it on, followed by a white vest. Only buttoning a single button below her breasts made them look even more generous that they were as well as exposing her belly. It wasn't as firm as Chelle's but it was still flat. She pulled on a pair of almost knee high boots. They were lace ups and took her a few minutes to get just right.

Before leaving her tent, she put on a pink cowboy hat and dark blue bandana. It actually had a dust mask built into it so that it would filter out the fine dust that the strong winds frequently blew across the playa in dense clouds. The final thing she needed was a pair of dark goggles that protected her eyes from the dust. She had a clear pair for night time. Fully prepared, she stepped out and felt the heat from the sun hit her. It was still early but it was quickly getting warm.

She started to walk away when she realized she still needed one more thing. Reaching into her tent, she grabbed a piece of wood. Carrying it with her, she put it into the basket on the front of her bike. She smiled as she looked at it. The basket was a faded white with chipped pink trim. What was once a bunch of plastic flowers was now just a single worn daisy, carefully wired to the basket. Losing the others had gotten her a lecture on MOOP her first year, so she made sure it couldn't happen again. Along with the painted board, there was a water bottle and a plastic cup. Just before she got on her bike, she halted abruptly.

"Fuck," she said under her breath. "It takes time to get back into the groove." She went back to her tent and picked up a small backpack. It was heavier than it looked as it held a bladder full of water. She slung it onto her back. Compared to the pack she wore as a ski patrol, it was nothing, but it was at least as important here. She sipped from the tube that extended out of it. Getting back into the habit of driving so much water was a challenge too.

Now she was truly ready. She got on her bike and pedaled off. At this time of the day, the streets were fairly empty. Even when the city was fully populated later in the week, early mornings were a quieter time. Despite wanting to get out onto the open playa, Isabel forced herself to slow down and take her time. Back home it was common for her to rush through things and not bother to look around. Even though she found it hard to truly live the 10 guiding principles of Burning Man in the default world, she did her best to embrace them when she was there.

She cheerfully greeted the other people on bikes as she passed them. "Have a great Burn," she said repeatedly. Looking from side to side of the street, she took in the various camps. These were as varied as they could be. There were tall structures with lots of space for dancing; short tents that offered shade; an open area heavily in pink and full of exercise stations; and various tents that would be serving things to eat at different times of the day.

There was a couple sitting in front of their tent who waved at her as she passed. She slowed to a stop. "It's a gorgeous morning, isn't it?" she said to them.

"It certainly is. Nice start to the Burn," the man said. He had on tank top and shorts with a bandana providing protection to his bald head. He held a cup of coffee in his hand, as did the woman next to him. She was wearing a one piece bathing suit with fairy wings in her back and a halo above her head. The aroma of the coffee drifted over to Isabel, reminding her that she left camp without making any. Noticing her wistful look, the woman grinned.

"We have some extra coffee, if you have a cup," she said.

"That'd be lovely. Thank you. And of course I have a cup," Isabel said. She put down her kickstand and got off her bike. Retrieving her cup from the basket, she took a seat next to the woman who poured her a cup from a thermos.

"It's French press, hopefully you like it strong," she said.

"No other way. That's fine," Isabel said stopping her from filling it completely up. She had to pee enough with all the water; too much coffee would make it worse. "I'm Moonshine," she added.

"I'm Hannah, and this is Joe," the other woman said. "Welcome, Moonshine!" Isabel took a seat on an empty chair and relaxed. It was a nice reminder that her favorite part of coming to Burning Man was the people she met.

The couple looked to be in their early 40's. Isabel soon found out that they were from Ohio, and it was their second Burn. Like her, they had taken a break. Even though she continued to feel the pull of getting out into the open, she kept talking to them as she savored the taste of the coffee.

Joe noticed the piece of wood on her basket. It was colorfully eye catching. "What do you have there?" he asked.

She followed his gaze. "Oh," she said softly.

"If you don't mind my asking," he quickly added, sensing that it was something personal.

"It's fine," Isabel said, getting up and going to the basket to grab it. It was flat, about two feet by three. It only fit in the basket by turning it on its corner. About half an inch thick, it was painted in colorful swirls with pictures covering it. She carried it back over to them. "I'm going to put it up at the temple this morning," she said as she handed it to him.

Joe and Hannah looked at the pictures. Every picture had a handsome man in them, spanning the length of his life. In many of them, Isabel was recognizable, even as a young girl. Towards the end of his life, the pictures were clearly in a hospice or nursing home. He was still handsome even looking gaunt. There were words too, sometimes running over the pictures.

"He passed away from a stroke a couple of months ago. There are some of his ashes in the little pouch there," Isabel said. The other two people were quiet as the read the plaque. The words were deeply personal, talking about how much he meant to her, how he supported her even when others turned away when she came out, and then helped her to reconcile with her mother and grandparents. There was a picture of her on her first day skiing with him and on his last day skiing. In the center was a full length picture of him with a snow covered mountain behind him. It was the same spot that the rest of his ashes were spread.

When they looked up, both of them were crying. "That's beautiful, Moonshine," Hannah said as she got up so she could hug Isabel. While she'd managed not to cry while they read it, the long hug was enough for her to start weeping too. When Joe hugged her, she buried her head against his shoulder and enjoyed the feeling of support. Anywhere else, the hug would have seemed too long, but at that moment and that place, it was perfect.

When Joe finally let go, he wasn't crying anymore but his eyes still shone with moisture. "We've kept you long enough," he said. "You've got somewhere to be."

"Thank you," she said as she moved over to her bike and secured the plaque in it again. She was extra careful with the pouch.

"Oh, I have something I'd like to give you," she said, turning back to them. She fished two pendants out of a pocket in her pack. Hanging on black cord, they were bottle caps with a small picture from the plaque glued into the centers. Each one was a different picture, with the same words in black pen, "Live well! Love, Moonshine." She handed one to each of them. "They're my playa gifts this year. A little bit of Dad that I can share and keep his memory alive," she said.

They all hugged once more and then she got on her bike. She pedaled in a circle in front of them a couple of times. "Don't forget, we're just down the street and we have drinks and music every night until Friday, except Wednesday. I hope you'll stop by," she told them, and then she rode off.

Although she continued to greet people, Isabel didn't let herself get distracted again. Turning up the 9:00 Street, she could see the Man straight ahead. It was impossible to stop the goofy grin that she got. "Oh, now I really feel home," she thought as she rode towards it.

The Man was impressive this year. Standing on top of a flying saucer, it was immense. The saucer was even wider than she expected. "Fuck, when that burns, it is really going to burn!" she thought. As soon as she thought it, she banished it from her mind. There was still almost a week until the Man burned. That was the end; today was the first day.

In a few moments, she was in the innermost circular street. The Esplanade ran from 10 o'clock to 2'clock and was where many of most impressive camps were. Among the camps were huge music camps, roller skating rinks, and a nudist camp surrounded by walls to keep the less bold from ogling. For Isabel, there would be time to explore them, although this was probably not the year she would go into the nudist camp.

"Right now I want to get out to the temple," she said aloud as she passed over the edge of the Esplanade and headed out towards the deep playa. She could see the Temple in the distance, rising up in a pyramid. If the Man was at the center of the clock that made up Burning Man, the Temple was at 12. It was a ways out, but there were still more things beyond it. While not going at top speed, she rode at a fair clip, passing art pieces. She noted them, and promised to investigate them at a more leisurely pace later.

The main pyramid rose up over 60 feet with four small ones at each corner. As she approached, she saw the fence perimeter that showed where the bikes needed to be left. She pulled up and came to a halt a ways away from the fence. It was easier to find her bike there. Locking it securely, she walked to the front of the Temple and looked at it. It was impressive.

"It's very different from the pagoda like temples," she thought to herself. As she came closer, she saw that there was a big piece of art made of black stone in the center. She smiled as she recognized it as an Inuksuk, an Inuit creation that meant "you are on the right path."

It had also been the symbol of the Vancouver Olympics. She smiled. The picture of that last ski day with her father was taken at Whistle, just below where there was a similar statue. "I wonder if it's a sign that I'm on the right path," she thought.

She strode in to the Temple. As the wind moved through the holes in the structure they set off a series of bells with different tones, each seeming to last impossibly long. Again she smiled. Her hardnosed business man father had been a spiritual man. Though not religious, he found a lot of meaning in the Tao. "He'd like this," she whispered.

Other people already had memorials in different places, but the Temple still mostly clean with the white of the wood the dominant aestetic. That would change over the week. "Because of people like me," she thought. She moved to the opposite side of the Temple and found a flat surface. Using wire through holes in each corner, she secured it to the place she chose. She tested it by pulling on it, wanting to make sure that even 70 mile an hour winds wouldn't pull it off.

She stood back and looked at it. She felt the prickling of tears again, but this time she didn't resist them. The tears that ran down her cheek were the only evidence of her grief.

There were still two holes on the bottom of the plaque. Reaching into her backpack, she removed a small wood box that was wired shut. It had two eyehole screws coming up out of it. It was plain except for some writing on top. She ignored that as she attached it using a couple more wires. Finally, after it was tightly attached, she looked down on it.

"Chelle, I'm sorry that I'm not brave enough to take a chance. I hope you can be free of me. And I hope that I can let you go."

She sighed. Inside the box was the wrinkled piece of paper from her desk. Try as hard as she had, she still struggled to let go and move on. "It's time," she whispered and turned to walk out of the Temple.

For the next couple of days, Isabel stayed away from the Temple. She explored all over the playa. There were a lots of art pieces that she loved, ones that she could come back to over and over. Her favorite was a very tall mesh statue of a woman, bending backwards as if she was in a yoga pose, called Truth is Beauty. At night it was lit up with thousands, maybe millions of LEDs that changed colors. She loved it anytime but she got up early on Wednesday morning to see the dawn. David got up with her and the two of them watched as the dark sky slowly took on color and the sun rose behind it. The sky was a dusky amber color with the disk of the sun visible though the mesh. At first it was a fiery red, but then it turned golden.

She and David sat on the ground as they watched, leaning against each other. Over the last two days, they spent a lot of it together. He was just as curious about seeing as much as he could. While he was feeling comfortable with his campmates, the bond forged on the trip down was strongest.

As the sun rose up above the statue, he looked over his shoulder. "I'd kind of like to go see what the Temple looks like in this light. Do you mind?" he asked. He'd made one trip out to see it by himself.

Isabel blinked. Her eyes had been shut and she was lost in thought. She already felt the warmth of the sun on her face, despite the early hour. She too looked over at the Temple. Slowly she nodded. "Alright," she said, and then stood up. She dusted herself off as best she could. Her pride rainbow striped leggings were partially obscured by the grey dust that clung to everything it touched.