Maenad

The air has been heavy and close these past few weeks.

Normally this time of year there would have already been a month of sun and heat that urged the plants into bloom, enticed those less-familiar with the typical regional weather patterns into packing away their sweaters and planning camping trips and outings to the lake; only then, after the uninitiated began to believe that summer had truly arrived, would the days cool down again and bring the rain. False summer in May, a second spring in June, and then perhaps the weather would truly brighten up in time for July.

So far this year there has only been cold and rain, punctuated by a day here and there where the sun chooses to shine as a meteorological practical joke before the thunderstorms roll back in. Somehow, even amidst the unseasonable chill, the humidity makes the air feel stagnant and too warm. Too thick. It wraps itself around her like a boa constrictor, tightening relentlessly until she feels like she can't breathe. Her skin prickles and itches no matter how many fans she turns on.

She finds that the best remedy for the humidity, funnily enough, is to go near water. Moving water, ideally; crisp and cool, nature's air conditioner. The river lends its power as well as its name to the city and runs through the center and beyond. Downtown sprung up along its banks two centuries ago, looking down at the falls from natural cliffs and crossing its rushing breadth with a series of bridges that arc across the landscape. But it's not safe to access the water in the middle of the city. It flows too fast, with too many locks and dams that tamper with the current. No. Her favorite way to touch the river is in the state park just a few miles down the highway that runs behind her neighborhood. A popular spot, often crowded, but by late afternoon there's usually just a few folks hanging around. Mostly people staying at the campground, and skittish hermits like her seeking a little relief- from the weather, from the city, from any aspect of life that ails the soul.

She wouldn't normally hike in a dress, but her skin is so sticky and desperate for relief that she can't bring herself to put on jeans, shorts, or even underwear. Standing at the top of the trail in soft casual cotton and sneakers without socks, she is anything but fashionable, but at least she can already feel the breeze winding around her legs. The hike down the hill is a little steep. Her steps are small, cautious, and she stabilizes herself on the occasional tree branch or boulder lining the path. Sunlight fights valiantly to break through the clouds, weaving threads of gold where the overcast sky grows thin before vanishing again behind the dark gray veil. If the sun were visible in the sky she would see that late afternoon is shifting into evening; the park closes at dusk, but the sun has been setting later and later these days as the planet tilts and swings its way towards solstice in the Northern Hemisphere. She has plenty of time.

The river is fast here, too, and pockmarked with large basalt boulders throughout, mementos of the area's Hephaestian origins. But the water winds its way through the canyon and swirls into shallow pools here and there, creating miniature beaches of gravel and sand where the intrepid might choose to swim, or at least dip their toes and cast a line for fish. The first of such beaches is at the bottom of the hill, just to the right of where the path becomes a large suspension bridge that spans the width of the river. She ignores this beach; it's the easiest one to access, and so usually the most popular, and today (sure enough) it is occupied by a family with several small children. She smiles to herself and crosses the bridge, stopping in the middle for just a moment to look out over the water, look up into the sky in hopes of spotting an eagle or an osprey, then continues across.

The next beach is larger, situated under a picnic area with a broad wooden pavilion and several tables. She bypasses this place too. She sweats from her hike in the thick moist air, but it will be worth it. There is a beach a little way down the hiking trail and a few hundred feet off the path that people seldom visit, one that is more secluded than the others in the park; more sand than gravel, tucked between a thick stand of trees and a large outcropping of rock. It's a bit of a hassle to get to and not immediately visible from the path or from across the river. In all the times she's made the trek to the spot, she's never encountered another person either coming or going. She moves off the path and follows a faint trail down to the riverbank, winding her way through trees and wild jasmine, fallen logs and rocks, the sound of the water growing louder with each step. Cool air rises off the river and teases her skin, urging her forward until she clambers over one last rock and sets foot on the beach. Finally, relief. She grins and kicks off her shoes, makes her way to the water's edge, breathes deeply. Steps in.

In this part of the country, lakes and rivers never really "warm up" in the summer. The glacial melt runs its way down to the wild dark ocean, both source and destination agreeing to maintain a sharp chill throughout. Her submerged feet threaten to cramp at the cold and she gasps, but the air is crisp for the first time in days. No way she's stepping out now. She walks out into the river, careful to stay where the water pools and slows; at the deepest part it only comes up just above her knees, not even high enough to reach the hem of her dress, but it's enough. The cold shoots up her legs, through her core, down her arms; for the first time in weeks, that claustrophobic feeling she can't escape is gone. The breeze moves through her hair and she sighs, closing her eyes. For a moment she is an extension of the river, part of nature, fully grounded in the earth.

But just for a moment.

That irritating prickle is back. Even as her skin erupts in goosebumps from the cold, the sheen of sticky sweat remains. Her arms, her back, every crease and crevice of her body tingles with the need to submerge into the river. An absurd urge. The park is public, and she didn't bring a towel; besides, the air is too cool. She'd be miserable once she got out.

Except that there's nobody around... And it would be such a simple thing to pull off her dress and take off her bra. She would only need a moment to sink into the water. It would be too cold to stay in for any longer. And the sun is starting to make a few breaks through the clouds; there, shining on a large rock on the beach, the perfect place to sit and drip dry...

Swiftly, before she can change her mind, she steps out of the water and pulls her dress up over her head. Tossing it onto the beach, she follows suit with her bra. Standing there in the sand she realizes that she's never been nude in public before; fear and excitement and shuddering arousal twist up her spine, and she rushes back into the river as her stomach fills with butterflies. Wades out to the deep part, back where the water flows around her knees. Takes a deep breath, and sinks her body down.

Lets out a sharp, involuntary yelp as the cold water meets her hottest parts.

Her heart pounds in her chest, adrenaline coursing through her veins from the cold and the thrill of being naked in the river. She registers the sensation of her own arousal, her nipples rock hard and her pussy starting to throb, and she laughs out loud. So she likes to be naked outdoors. Who would have guessed? The chill is starting to ease, or maybe her skin is just going numb; regardless, she stretches out in the water, her bottom resting on the riverbed, her breasts breaking through the surface as she arches her back. The sweat rinses off her skin and floats away with the current, taking with it momentarily any self-consciousness she might have felt. Who is here to judge, anyway? The birds and fish don't seem to care. She imagines herself as one of Homer's sirens, lying in wait to pull Odysseus' ship off its course and dash it against the rocks. Well, maybe she wouldn't dash it, she thinks. Maybe she would just lure a sailor or two for the company and call it good. Nobody has to die today.

The cold tingles her scalp, and she is sure that her lips are starting to turn blue. Reluctantly she rises, droplets of water beading up on her frigid flesh, and wades back out of the river to sit on the beach. The sun has already retreated back behind the clouds again, but at least for the moment the air is comparatively warmer than the water; she doesn't notice that she's been shivering until it begins to subside. She settles on the large warm boulder that holds her clothes, feeling euphoric and still intensely aroused. Her eyes close and she breathes in the fragrance of water, wet earth, green growth and blooming flowers.

A twig snaps nearby.

Heart pounding, she reaches for her dress and drapes it over herself, eyes darting frantically left, right, up, searching for the source of the sound. Suddenly she is keenly aware of her nakedness, every flaw on her body, and the potential that she could face a certain degree of trouble for being nude in a state park. Maybe it's just a squirrel, she thinks, or a particularly hefty bird. Her gaze settles on an unmistakable pair of shoes at the edge of the woods and she groans, mortified, curling up to make herself as small as possible under the fabric of her clothes. Her skin is still soaking wet, her bra and shoes somewhere behind the rock she rests on, and now... company.

The newcomer steps boldly out from the trees, his face flushed but his gaze determined. "Don't cover up." His voice is stern, commanding. She lowers her hands, letting her dress fall away once more, and raises her eyes to meet his. He walks toward her slowly; it registers, as she sizes him up, that he's likely a head taller than her. Intensity is etched across his face, in his posture, in every muscle in his arms and legs. He stops just in front of where she sits on the sun-warmed rock. The air is thick again: thick with the tension and excitement of the unknown. She studies his face and feels fairly certain that she could tell him to fuck off and he'd respect her. He would apologize, turn around, and hike back up the path. He stands before her now, not moving, his gaze locked onto hers. She could ask him to leave right now.

She sits up straight, arches her back proudly, and smiles at him.

It's all the encouragement he needs to lean down and capture her lips in a hungry kiss. She moans into his mouth as his teeth tease her bottom lip, moans again as his hands settle on her breasts, his fingers probing and caressing her skin, tweaking her nipples. Eagerly she scoots forward until she sits perched on the edge of the boulder, spreading her thighs in invitation. Her hands fall to his waistband, her fingers dancing along the button and fly of his shorts, hinting but promising nothing. A low growl rumbles from deep in his throat as his hand drops low to her aching sex. "Fuck, you're so wet!" His lips are at her neck now, and he whispers in her ear. "You like this? Baring yourself to a stranger in the woods?" Whimpering, she nods, and begins to unbutton his shorts.

Suddenly he backs away, chuckles at her exasperated huff, drops to his knees in the sand. She gasps in anticipation as he gently opens her thighs even wider and inhales deeply. The scent of her arousal is stronger than the rich perfume of the forest around them, wafting up and overwhelming her senses. Her eyelids flutter shut as his fingers stroke up and down her slit, his hot breath following closely after. Using one hand to spread her pussy lips wide, he laps at her vulva before latching onto her clit and sucking hard; she gasps, arches her back, hangs onto his head for dear life. His tongue sets up a delicious rhythm matched by the fingers of his free hand, thrusting in and out of her pussy, teasing cries and moans from her throat until she's convulsing on his tongue and babbling to the sky, nonsense words and desperate begging. After an eternity, and far too soon, he lifts his head and smiles a crooked grin. "Look at me," he orders, and she opens her eyes to see his mouth slick with her juices. He stands, looming over her again, and she can't stop herself from devouring his lips, savoring the taste of herself on his tongue. His hands cup her face and he pulls her away gently, staring into her eyes until he's certain she can see through the tail end of her orgasmic haze. "I'm going to fuck you now," he announces, his voice rough and his eyes dark with desire. She nods enthusiastically, aching for more; she has never felt this wanton, this alive and desirable before.

He grabs her hips and pulls her close. Their bodies, his standing and hers on the rock, line up perfectly. She can feel his erection through his clothes and she releases it from its constraints with a triumphant smile. The sounds of their heavy breathing, of his clothes dropping to the sandy riverbank, mingle with the rush of the water and the birdsong ringing from the trees. The head of his cock lines up with her entrance, teasing her hot flesh. She looks down at where they're about to join, back up to see the question written across his face, and smiles widely. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

One fluid movement and he's buried deep inside her. She can't stop the cry of pleasure from escaping her lips; as he picks up the pace, her hands frantically tug his t-shirt upwards, desperate to feel his skin on hers. He obliges, pulling it up and over his head, then returning his hands to her hips. His fingers digging into her soft flesh are already leaving marks, bright red ovals taking ownership of her skin. She wraps her legs around his torso, eagerly meeting his thrusts, urging him to go deeper, harder. His lips and teeth and tongue play up and down her neck, his growls and moans sending shivers down her spine. As she begins to feel her orgasm growing, she feels him start to speed up and she closes her eyes.

A hand grips her chin, and she opens them wide again. He is sweating, flushed and frantic. "Look at me," he pants. "I want you to look me in the eyes when you cum, I want to see what I do to you..."

Those words are all she needs. Climax takes hold of her, crashes through her like thunder, and she screams. He follows close behind, moaning his orgasm as he pulses inside her, his body rigid, his grasp desperate. Her body goes limp in his arms and he joins her, spent, collapsing on top of her for a few silent moments. The forest is silent too, a faint breeze and the ever-present river the only evidence that the world hasn't stopped entirely.

Gently, reverently, he extricates his body from hers. She lays still, catching her breath, only sitting up when he returns with her clothes in hand. "These must be yours?" His smile is lopsided and a little bashful. She blushes- absurdly, given everything they've just done- and accepts his offering with a murmur of thanks. They dress in silence, and she stands with a groan of protest; her muscles ache from a cold water bath and vigorous stranger sex. She runs a hand through her half-dry hair, working out the worst of the tangles with her fingertips.

He waits patiently for her to make eye contact again. When she does, he holds out a hand and gestures with a nod to the trail that leads back to the main path. "Are you ready to hike back up? The park closes in about an hour."

She takes his hand and laughs. "Are you a park ranger?"

Blushing, he shakes his head. "No, nothing like that." As they walk, he bends branches out of her way, lends support as she steps over logs. "I'm the campsite host this summer. I like to do a courtesy sweep in the evenings." His smile is quick, thrilling and adorable. "And what are you? A forest nymph?"

"If you'd like me to be." The offer lingers in the air between them, and she notices with delight that he's already aroused again. "I like to hike by the river when it's hot or humid."

They walk in silence for a bit. Down the path, across the bridge, until they stand at the base of the hill. At the top lies the campground, the parking lot, her car. "You know," he remarks, squinting up at the sky, "I hear it's supposed to be pretty humid all night. Into the morning, too."

"Is that so?" They begin their ascent up the hill. She can see the host cabin there, just through the trees. At the parking lot now, and her car is the last one remaining. She drops his hand. "Well then. I'd better stick close to the river." Twigs and pine needles crackle beneath her feet as she turns to walk through the trees, his footfalls thudding behind her after a moment's pause, moving quickly to catch up.