Orion, My Beloved Hunter

1

The Call

As he thought back on it, he thought he could remember her from several years ago when he first downloaded her gorgeous pictures from the All Over 35 internet site. She was the most beautiful and arousing creature he'd seen, and that included several girls he dated in college.

Laurel Madison was a beauty somewhere in her thirties or early forties. She had coal black hair that fell thickly about her striking face and to her shoulders. Hers were the most piercing blue eyes Hunter Carroll ever felt drill into his, and though it may have been partly because of the manner in which she applied her eyeliner and mascara, she mesmerized him.

Her face was mature, yet she radiated a lusty desire for whoever might be viewing her erotic pictures. Her lips were a slash of wet red that he longed to taste and feel. Her body was simply stunning, and she had a gorgeous creamy skin that he'd never seen characteristic of any other woman...'Believe me,' he thought, 'I've got the files of ten thousand selected erotic photos to bear that out.' He'd collected every picture of this beauty he could scarf up from anywhere and carefully titled them, then filed them in her folder in his computer.

Then she vanished. Completely. It was as if she had never existed. Hunter even tried to contact the All Over 35 site to see what had happened or if she would continue making pictures. No answer. Big surprise, that...these days nobody cares enough to respond to a customer. That was four years ago.

At any rate, he went on about his professional life as a financial advisor with a couple of sidelines, one in antique and modern weapon repair, the second in photography when he had the spare time. Financial advisor was not exactly a babe magnet when it came to meeting new girls, though he had done extremely well; overall his experience there resembled a desert wasteland.

'Yep,' he thought, 'I'm pretty sure it had a lot to do with the title of the job and whatever it was that girls are looking for today. Nope, I don't think it had much to do with me personally, at least appearance-wise.'

He'd always worked hard physically, training himself for some time in the future when he imagined he'd be a sort of "equalizer" as another sideline. He envisioned himself being strong, skilled, dangerous, and willing to fade into the background to aid some helpless or defenseless person who had been royally screwed by one of the 'elites' and they had gotten away with it. Just the sort of characteristics that an equalizer would have to have.

'I believe I actually overdid it on the fade-into-the-background aspect of my plans,' he mused.

Hunter Carroll was over six feet tall and had a powerful build, thanks to his parents' fine genes. He was good-looking in the generic sense. A lifetime of summer part-time and then full-time hard work on loading docks reinforced that characteristic during and after college. Along the way he earned three black belts in Isshin Ryu, an Okinawan martial art, because it had always been a dream. That along with some detailed and friendly but exceedingly painful instruction by a couple of SEAL friends he'd made along the way gave him the specific tools necessary to come out on top of most dangerous situations a person might encounter.

But if you're smart, you don't advertise those as you walk around daily. To be effective, they have to reside deep in the background, to be brought into action only when you must surprise an enemy and protect yourself or someone else. Not exactly date material a guy can advertise.

And so here he was heading for the mountains of northeast Alabama in mid-fall for a few days' break at a cabin he'd bought from a friend, one located near Little River Canyon. He needed to do some planning and strategizing for his businesses and wanted to simply kick back on the deck and listen to the forest. 'I'm like that,' he thought with a smile.

He had just stopped for gas and a soda at a little railroad stop called Valley Head when his cell phone chimed the "Song of the Volga Boatmen," something guaranteed to get stares at lunch but not women.

"Hunter, this is Reagan Laribee. You probably don't remember me, but I'm your aunt on your father's side of the family. For that matter, you may not even know me." She stopped, waiting for my response.

"Reagan, actually I do recall Dad mentioning you, but I don't think we've ever met, have we?"

"No, I regret that we haven't. Hunter, I need your help. I would never inconvenience you like this if I didn't need you badly. I wonder if there is any way I can get where you are, even for just a few hours. I need your assessment of something special and an idea about something I must do for my safety. This is a matter about which I can't get to first base with the police."

"Reagan, of course I'll be happy to meet with you. Where are you right now?"

"Chattanooga, at this minute. I'll go anywhere you are."

"Reagan, Lady Luck just shined on us. I'm on my way to a cabin I bought near Little River Canyon in northeast Alabama. If I tell you how to get here, could you join me for however long you wish? It's quiet here, and nobody else will want us because nobody else knows where we are."

"Oh, Hunter, that's a godsend. I am familiar with that area, and if you'll tell me where you are, I'll program it into my Garman GPS system. I'm finishing a conference here and I can be there in about four hours. Is that all right?"

"It's fine, Reagan. I'm just arriving in a few minutes, and that time will give me what I need to get us some food and open this place so that it doesn't smell like cross between a locker room and an abandoned warehouse."

He heard her chuckle at this, but underneath he heard something else, a note of worry or pain or...something. They said their goodbyes and hung up. He then set about throwing open the doors and windows to air out the place and plugging in the refrigerator and oven; in about an hour he closed up made a trip down the mountain to the local general store where he jawboned with the folks there. After that he bought a healthy stock of groceries. The first was, of course, miles out in front of the second in importance.

Although the day was beautiful as the sun began its slow descent through the trees of yellow, gold, red, brown and green, the word at the store was that a storm was coming from out west and would lock everybody in starting late tonight. Might be followed by a cold snap, too. He collected the phone numbers of the sheriff, store manager, his all-too-attractive and physically blessed teenage assistant who had no compunction about staring a hole through him, and the local towing service. Then he headed back to the cabin.

A chill lightly frosted the air as he arrived at the cabin, so he started a fire and brought in logs to keep it going. You just never knew.

2

Taking Care of Business

An hour later, following his unpacking and getting a bed ready for Reagan in the only bedroom, he heard her vehicle crunching the gravel in front of the house. He went to the door and opened it to welcome her as she got out of her Hyundai Santa Fe, but his welcome turned to concern when he saw her stagger and nearly fall. He hurried down to assist her and then stood there stunned as if someone had slapped him.

Before him stood the exquisite clone of Laurel Madison at whose throne he'd worshipped for those delightful years he'd collected her erotica. But this lady was in trouble. He put his arm about her and guided her up the few steps and into the cabin where he led her to the couch before the fire.

"Reagan, you are burning up with fever. We can talk later; right now the job is to get you settled and get some help before the storm sets in later tonight."

"Oh, Hunter," she smiled wanly and whispered in obvious pain, "I am so sorry for this. I would never...," she began. Then he interrupted her with a smile.

"Reagan, this is no trouble for me. I'm going to call the doctor down at the store; he was there an hour ago when I bought groceries for us and I suspect he still is, given the intensity of his tall tale telling."

A quick call found the doctor indeed still holding forth in the store. He promised to arrive in half an hour, and was as good as his word.

"M' dear, you have a royal case of the flu and you are dehydrated. This is a good place to be, 'cause you aren't going anywhere else for a spell."

Doc Campbell gave Hunter instructions about taking care of her and promised to return in a while with a prescription to ease her pain. On his way out of the cabin, he whispered to Hunter, "Where, oh where did you find a gorgeous lady like that? Son, there isn't anything else on this mountain that can hold a candle to her. Wish I was going to be locked in with her," he grinned and winked.

"Welll, you wouldn't believe me if I told you how this came about," said Hunter, "but I...we...really appreciate your help."

Back inside he sat on the couch to talk with his guest. "Reagan, you are a sick lady. You've got the flu, and you need rest. So with your permission, here's what I'm going to do. I've made the bed for you in the bedroom, I'm going to unpack your bag and arrange your things, and then I'm going to fix you something to eat. Let's start with soup, how about that? And some crackers with cheese. Sound okay?"

She nodded painfully, and he went to the bedroom to start unpacking. During his work he kept thinking how closely Reagan resembled Laurel Madison; despite her being sick, the woman in the next room looked just like her, add a few years that had done nothing to alter her appearance. She was almost intimidating, she was so beautiful.

When he returned, she was asleep on the couch, so he arranged her feet in a more comfortable position, removed her shoes and pulled her short skirt out from beneath her to straighten it. She whispered, "Thank you, Hunter," so low that he barely heard her.

The night closed in around them as she slept and the wind rose outside. The house was built well and tight, and they were at least ready for whatever came during the coming week. Before starting supper, Hunter sat back in his chair across from his sick guest on the couch. He knew her; it had to be her, yet the likelihood of him actually running into the woman of his sensuous imaginings and his desires was so remote as to be ridiculous.

There was that coal black hair, now longer, framing that unforgettable face. The mascara and eyeliner was the same and the first thing he had noticed about her was those piercing blue eyes. They always seemed huge. The red, moist, inviting lips were the same. Under her open black distressed leather jacket she wore a sheer white long-sleeve blouse and beneath it something that passed delightfully for a light, airy brassiere. It concealed her shapely full breasts, yet it didn't. He could see the outlines of her nipples.

Then there was that still-flawless white skin. In the years after she had vanished from the internet, he still had never seen another woman with such creamy smooth flesh. And not a sign of any body hair other than those heavy locks on her head. At least that was all he could see for now with her skirt on. Her nails were painted the same liquid red.

It had to be. This was his Laurel Madison. But how had she ended up here? And what could he do to help her?

At that moment she moaned with the rising pain in her joints and the unrelenting fever. One thing was certain...if she were to be comfortable, he would have to undress her and get her ready for a time in bed.

"Reagan, I'm not sure how you feel about this, but you are really sick. I need to take off your clothes to make you more comfortable. I saw a lemon-colored gown in your luggage; may I undress you and put that on? Kinda presumptuous, I know, but still necessary."

She heard him through her fog and nodded weakly, offering no resistance to his seeing her completely naked. At his urging and with his help she sat up for him to remove her blouse and bra. Her breasts were milky white, large and beautiful; her nipples were firm and he couldn't tell if she was slightly aroused or they were just naturally pointed like that. He hoped it was the latter. 'You are gross,' he thought to himself, 'getting aroused with a truly sick woman. Grow up, okay?'

He removed her shoes, noting that she wore no hosiery, then he unfastened her skirt and drew it down. She wore a tiny white thong panty; he had planned to leave whatever underwear he found, but she shook her head and whispered, "Please, take it off, too. That's alright."

He drew a sheet over her, ensuring that her feet were covered, then bent low to speak to her. "Reagan, I'll get the soup ready. Rest now and I'll wake you when it's ready."

She nodded slightly, having heard him but without the energy to speak.

He stood and headed for the kitchen area. This was that woman. She was that stunningly beautiful woman once separated from him by the vast distance between real presence and pictures on a website. She was Laurel Madison.

And all his questions would have to wait. The wind continued to rise, first sighing heavily through the surrounding pine forest, then bringing a hammering rain. The cabin was warm with the fire's glow, three wall lamps and one balsam-and-cedar-scented Yankee Candle. He prepared soup for them, set crackers and small slices of cheddar cheese on a plate, and carried it to the low table in front of the couch.

"Reagan, I'm sorry to wake you, but it's time for you to at least try to eat. I have some sweetened iced tea; would you like to drink that?"

She nodded and sat up. That was unexpected. There she was, topless, completely unconcerned as if being naked in front of a complete stranger was a normal occurrence, and utterly incredible. Even sick, she was a thing of a man's dreams.

He sat beside her on the couch and fed her the soup, then handed her the crackers and cheese one-by-one. "You probably think I am real trash, Hunter, sitting around naked and we've never even met. I'm sorry, please forgive me. I just feel so awful that I don't care."

"Wellll, actually," he smiled rather sheepishly, "it's a pleasant break and a real treat compared to what I usually have to deal with. But I promise to not hold it against you."

She actually laughed at his double entendre, and only then did he realize what he had said. He reddened with embarrassment, and she drew his face to hers, kissing him lightly on his cheek.

"Thank you, my sweet friend. And do not be embarrassed. I appreciate the compliment more than you know."

A few moments passed in silence as she ate, punctuated by the groaning and sighing of the weather outside, then she said softly, "That's enough, Hunter. Thank you. Help me to lie down again."

"Would you rather I get your gown and help you into the bedroom?"

"No, no. This is very nice. And being near the fire and having you close makes me feel secure. It's been a long, long time..."

Her voice trailed off as she collapsed back into a fitful sleep. He tried to not notice that as she turned on her side her breasts shifted softly, heavily to lie upon her right arm and the lucky cushions of the couch.

"Just got to be a teenager, don't you, Carroll?" he muttered disgustedly.

3

A Rainy, Windy Day and Reagan

Hunter awoke well before his guest and set about trying to quietly prepare for their day without disturbing Reagan. Easier said than done, He managed to get dressed in a gray tee shirt, black jeans and casual shoes, then he trimmed the wick on the scented candle and lit it. He noticed that she was quietly watching him.

"Well, hello there!" he announced, hoping to cheer her on this gray but cozy day.

"Hi," she answered shyly as if she were a small girl. She sat up and brought her feet around to the floor, the sheet falling away as she did so. She seemed to not notice. "Hunter, please come and sit by me."

"You know, a gorgeous woman must be careful with such acts; otherwise, a clumsy younger man in the same room might come apart completely with sexual shock and awe," he goofed to her, trying to keep from focusing on what both of them knew he desired.

He sat down beside her and stared into her eyes. "I know you, Reagan," he whispered to her. "I have every picture of you that you ever mounted on the internet. Forgive me for being so crass as to say that I have always thought you are the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

She was silent for a moment, then she smiled again and said, "Yes, I am Laurel Madison. I thought no one remembered me from those pictures. Does it matter to you now, Hunter? If it does, I'll leave. I cannot make it difficult for you, and you have been so gracious to me."

"I don't ordinarily order people around," he remarked slowly with a wisdom that, to her, seemed to transcend his years by a huge margin. "but you, Laurel Madison Reagan Laribee, are going nowhere but right here."

To his surprise, she drew him close to her again, this time softly kissing him on his mouth. He felt her tongue slide wetly between his lips with an intimacy that made his blood boil. "You are a delight to me, Hunter, in a time when there has been little but grays in my life. Only one night has passed, yet it seems as if it has been a year, it has been so precious to me."

"Perhaps I need to be clearer, then," he chuckled softly as he stared into those blue eyes, instantly getting lost. "Do you have somewhere you have to go, Reagan? Because if not, will you stay here with me for a while? You said you needed my help, and in just this short time I've realized that I need yours."

"Yes, Hunter, I will." With that, she casually lifted his hand and placed it over her left breast, moving his fingers to massage her nipple.

"Then I'm expecting you, lovely lady. If a young stranger, intimidated by this beautiful woman, were to offer her breakfast with eggs, bacon and blueberry muffins, would that please her?"

"You know, said beautiful woman in considering the young stranger's offer has nearly forgotten her illness in light of his delectable suggestion. Yes, he would please her immensely, so much so that she would certainly feel it necessary to express her gratitude in some meaningful fashion." She smiled brightly, at his humor, despite her obvious discomfort.

With that they both laughed, and it seemed to him that something almost tangible fell away from the woman beside him. He also realized that she was still holding his hand on her breast and staring into his soul.

"Hunter, this is sweetly intimate and I want it to continue. But I do feel somewhat better. Maybe it's just that daybreak is here. Why don't you go ahead and get breakfast while I go into the bathroom and get more human? Do you have any recommendations for the dress for today?"

"Only suggestion I have is to be comfortable and casual. There is nothing about this day or this place that would remotely suggest anything else."

He stood and drew her up to her feet. The sheet fell away from her body and there she was, the same perfect, deliciously smooth body exposed and she not concerned at all. There was one difference; in her photos she was clean-shaven, but since that time she had grown a lush, deep, black sculptured bush of wavy, curly pubic fur. Every bit as dark in color as that of her head, her hair was a perfect contrast to the creamy texture and color of her tummy and thighs.

Even in this era when the clean-shaven look seemed to dominate women's intimate parts, this was the sort of forest that beckoned a person to bury their face in its thick softness before plunging into the moist warmth beneath.

To keep from totally losing it, Hunter turned to the kitchen area, remarking as he and she headed in opposite directions, "Give me a heads-up about ten minutes before you come back; that way it'll still be hot for us. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you."