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  “Said the spider to the fly?” she teased.

  “Something like that,” he said.

  They entered and the cramped quarters automatically pushed them into each other’s arms. “We need to get these wet clothes off,” he breathed. They started where they left off. His tongue caressed her lips and darted into her mouth. Their body heat intensified along with their passion. Easing her hoodie off her slim body, he began kissing her lips, and then sucking and licking the sensitive spot near her ears and neck as he lifted her t-shirt over her head. Her breasts lay trapped beneath her wet sports bra.

  It clung to her like a wet t-shirt. Her kissing had stoked the flames of his desire. His hands roamed her back, seeking the clasp that would free her full, tantalizing breasts. There was none. Kissing her some more, he pushed one full breast out past the tight elastic. He lifted the other breast and tried to squeeze it out. The bra snapped back into place, so he pulled on the straps. Nothing changed. The y of the back did not give.

  Taking a moment, he kissed the exposed skin of her breast, and then sucked the nipple through the material. When he moved and pulled the bra up, it got her arms stuck in the straps. Then he tried rolling it off to no avail, and when he tried to lift the uncompromising fabric, he succeeded only to have it roll up into a tight, thin cord. Yanking on it, he tried to get it over her neck.

  “You’re strangling me!” she cried. Their frenzied tussle made her foot hit the tent pole and it collapsed in a heap. She pushed the damp fold of the tent off her. Dragging her sleeping bag out with her, she said, “I’m so done.” Searching through the mess, she found her shirt. Whipping the bra off, she threw it at him. “Catch,” she said. She donned the t-shirt, stomping off in the direction of the trail shelter. “I’m outta here.”

  Craig sighed deeply disgusted with himself. Desire thwarted—by a frickin’ sports bra! What the fuck!

  Craig groaned as the memory of last night’s fiasco flashed in front of his eyes. Damn bra! Stupid, stupid, stupid. At least the rain had stopped and the sun was peeking out. Finally, he pulled his sleeping bag out of the tent and prepared for the return hike down the mountain. Spying some daisies, he longed to pick some as a peace offering but refrained. The fine for disturbing wildlife was $500.00, and he followed rules. It was who he was. As a lawyer, he didn’t take the law lightly, and this was a wildlife sanctuary. Instead, he hoped to ply her with a mocha chocolate protein breakfast bar.

  He hiked over to the trail shelter. When he saw her curly hair poking out of her sleeping bag, he pounced. As he landed on top of her, he tickled her awake then kissed her and slipped his hand underneath her t-shirt. Finding no offensive bra, he began covering her breast with soft, quick kisses that ended when a camper on the upper bunk yelled, “Get a room!”

  * * * *

  They packed their things and went down the mountain. The stream tumbled over huge gray backs, large rocks left behind by the glaciers, and downed logs as they walked. It was like being in a cathedral of green. The trees made a canopy that made the birdsongs echo softly. It was as close to God as she could ever hope to come on this earth.

  They made good time. Craig dropped her off at the lodge. She went to her cabin and showered. The lukewarm water seemed to warm as she pictured Craig joining her, as she wanted, no, craved the feel of his hands on her breasts like they were this morning. What would their lovemaking have been if they had been alone? I bet it’d be hot! Hot! Hot!

  She dressed and grabbed her laptop to review past expenses and see how that would influence her developing budget.

  The work took all afternoon, and as she stretched her back, she noticed it was dark outside. Closing her laptop, she went down to the bonfire. Delighted to see Craig, she sat down beside him, and he gathered her into him, encasing her in his warmth. The tree frogs and katydids sang as they tried to attract mates. One section of hills sounded their chorus which was answered, a few minutes later, by an echo from the opposite hill. It was nature’s symphony.

  “I missed this,” she whispered.

  “Me holding you?” he teased.

  Playfully swatting him, she said, “No, nature’s nightly chorale. We don’t have this up north. I’ve missed it.” The fire danced in the fire pit. One by one, the others slipped away. Lightning rent the sky and thunder roared.

  “Looks like nature’s doing the fireworks tonight,” she called as she ran for cover.

  “We could make some fireworks of our own,” he suggested.

  Beckoning, she stretched out her hand and pulled him into her cabin. They ignited a fire in the fireplace and then kindled the fire burning within them. In seconds, she was out of her jeans and into her bed with a very hard, very naked Craig beside her. Every square inch of her was caressed and softly kissed, and she returned the favor, teasing him with her fingertips as he pleasured her. “I’m so wet, I hope you don’t slip out before you even get in,” she whispered.

  Smiling, he said, “The latex from the condom should give me a good grip.” They rolled on that thin old mattress as their loving assault on each other continued. One minute she was riding him, soaring like the eagles in the sky. The next minute, he was in control, hoping to drive her wild. Continuing the onslaught, she gave as good as he. When their orgasms came, they were mountain hot and mountain strong, causing tremors to shoot through them.

  * * * *

  He held her in his arms, loving the feel of her and cuddling before they slipped into sleep. Before dawn, he awoke and kissed her goodbye before he left for his house. Don’t want anybody gossiping about us. Not going to give them anything to talk about.

  Chapter Five: Uh Oh

  Storme had slept in late but still decided to take a bath instead of a shower. It had been a long time since she’d last made love, and she was sore. The warm water caressed and embraced her much like Craig when he cuddled her at the end of their own fireworks display. Though parts were tender, she was happy and content. Did people sing in the bathtub like they did in the shower? Not caring, she belted out Singing in the Rain and The Sound of Music. Her hills were happy as well as alive with feelings created by Craig’s handy tongue.

  Her cabin was far enough away from everyone else as to not bother anyone judging by the sound of things. Betting all the other residents had begun their day long before she woke up, she slipped quickly into leggings and a long top that she knotted and then rushed to the lodge.

  Mercifully, Millie had fresh coffee in the pot, and she didn’t run into her sisters. Not having seen them for a while was fine with her. After scarfing down a piece of buttered cornbread, she went off to look at the books, knowing that would help with understanding the previous fiscal reports.

  * * * *

  On silent feet, Craig stole into the office and spied her at once. How lucky can one guy get? There she was in her trademark heels, short skirt, and to all appearances, no pesky bra. He crept behind her and began kissing her neck. Moaning, she reached behind her and held his hands in place as if to say, right there, stay right there. Then he began sucking on the thin skin he found on her delicious neck. Letting his hands roam freely across her breasts, he was about to turn her around to face his kiss when Storme looking like a thundercloud burst in.

  “What the fuck! What the hell’s going on here?”

  The woman in his arms froze. Craig turned her around, thunderstruck himself, and froze. What the fuck!

  Suddenly flashbacks of all the shit Sunny had pulled through the years came rushing back in vivid detail. Craig remembered that Storme recently told him the conversation she had that summer long ago when Sunny said, Let’s both fall in love with Craig. Apparently, Storme did so not knowing Craig and Sunny had been making regular trips behind the smokehouse. He wondered whether Storme got over that crush. But who does that? Lifelong crushes? Let’s write Craig a love letter, Sunny suggested but never did it. But Storme had taken her at her word and did write the note that still got her teased. But this time, Craig realiz
ed Sunny stepped over the line.

  “Who said you could wear my shoes?” Storme screeched. “Who the hell are you to kiss my boyfriend? Just what do you think you’re doing, Sunny?”

  “Opps! My bad,” Sunny said. “Craig, I’m happy to find you haven’t lost your touch.”

  “Are you outta your fuckin’ mind, Sunny?” Craig bellowed. “You used me. Why didn’t you stop me? You knew I thought you were Storme. How could you?”

  “How could she? What about you?” Storme ground out.

  “In my defense, she’s dressed like you,” he said. “You’re identical twins. I saw her from behind.”

  “In my defense,” Sunny said sheepishly, “I’m horny.”

  “Of all the lousy, low down, rotten things that you’ve done in your life, Sunny, this one takes the cake.” Storming from the office, Storme let the old screen door slam behind her.

  He knew from experience, she was mad as hell.

  “I hope Storme put that door on her list of repairs,” Sunny said.

  “That was despicable and inexcusable,” Craig said, going after Storme. Thinking he knew where she was headed, he started his truck and took off after her, breaking the speed limit.

  Chapter Six: Hooking Up

  Storme was spittin’ mad as Gram would say if she were here and to prove it she was ready to take Sunny, shake her with her bare hands, beat her to a pulp, and then throttle her! How dare she! The nerve! The absolute gall. Kissing my boyfriend! Storme’s car seemed as if it were on auto pilot driving up Little River Road as if the car knew her destination, she turned right on New Found Gap Road, passed the Chimneys, Morton Overlook, drove the Famous Loop and didn’t stop until she got to Clingman’s Dome. There she parked her car and grabbed her hoodie. At a higher elevation now, it was much cooler outside. The lot was filled with tourists from all over, but she was too upset to pay any attention to them.

  Beginning the hike up to the dome was easier said than done. The climb was strenuous. It was the highest manmade structure in the Great Smoky Mountain National Park, and she fumed all the way up. When she reached her destination, the view was panoramic. This section of the Park mimicked the Rockies. The view was clear and spectacular. Mountain tops stretched for miles unbroken by anything manmade. Here was nature at its most rugged, at its most beautiful, at its best. The sight calmed her as it always did and moved her when she peered into the hills. Sometimes the view was obscured by the mountain fog, other times it was completely socked in as Gram would say. It was never the same view ever changing and new, and she loved it.

  Once she reached the top and went off by herself, the tears came. A big gulping, ugly cry for Gram, Sunny, and Craig. There all the responsibility of carrying the weight and continuing the legacy of the lodge came pouring out of her. With Gram gone, she felt terribly alone which kept the tears flowing because she did not know what to do or where to turn. Seeing Sunny in Craig’s arms made her more than crazy jealous, it made her heart break into a million shards. She cried because she had never outgrown her childhood crush. Then of all things, she spotted Craig walking up carrying a fishing pole. Why?

  Craig drew Storme into his arms, murmuring comforting words. He held her and allowed her to sob her heart out. She accepted the handkerchief he offered and the fast food napkins that followed. Finally, all cried out, she asked, “Why do you have a fishing pole?”

  “You said you wanted to learn to fly fish.”

  “I said that?”

  “Yup. You did. Besides, do you know any better way to handle stress than fishing?”

  “I come here when I’m upset, who needs fishing? Don’t we need a license or something?”

  Reassuring her, he patted his pocket. “Got it right here. I know you come here to get perspective but desperate times call for desperate measures.” For the first time since her personal storm had passed, she noticed he wore his khaki fishing vest. “I have everything we need. Shall we fish?”

  Nodding, she let Craig drive to a stream, which in reality was a shallow river not far from where they were, and he began teaching her the basics. “Wear these,” he said and handed her polarized glasses for safety. “The thing you have to know about fly casting is, it’s not in the wrist. It’s in the forearm. Now stand like this.” Modeling how to stand with her left leg slightly in front of the right, he asked her to try it. Repositioning her, he stepped beside but a bit behind her. “See?” he said. “Feel how grounded you are.” He bounced her side to side and up and down. Then he let her shake out the stance. “You try it.” Her feet were parallel. Drawing closer beside her, he corrected her stance. His arms went around her and she leaned into his body. Then he tried to show her how to hold the rod not the pole.

  “I know how to hold a rod.” She demonstrated that she did indeed know how to hold his rod. “And this,” she said, getting to her knees, “is how you hold the pole.” Taking the long length of him into her mouth, the fishing lesson ended and the how to make love next to the river began.

  They spread their clothes as if they were a blanket and lay behind a gray back. The afternoon light was fading and cooled the air, making Storme’s nipples pebble. Claiming he was warming them, he took one then the other into his mouth. She wriggled in his arms but didn’t protest. His hands touched her skin and everywhere they touched, they caused a small fire within her as the trail of kisses over her flat stomach and across her pelvic bones turned her into an inferno of need. Then he reached her springy black curls, entered her with one finger, then two as he stroked her nub then he kissed her and ever so lightly he sucked her clit. The gentle touch of his lips and hands sent her into hyperspace. Her skin burned beneath his fingers and finally, he smoothed the condom on that he’d wisely packed in his fishing vest and drove them both wild with requited, burning, hot love.

  They lay panting when they finished. They were so hot, they had to rinse their skin in the cold mountain stream. They dressed and then, holding the fishing rod, she said, “Again?”

  Throwing his head back, he laughed and swatted her firm behind. “What, night fishing now?”

  “I just want to show you what I learned.” She made big, sad, puppy dog eyes at him until he gave in. First, he zipped up her hoodie and planted a kiss for luck on her now swollen lips.

  To his delight, she stood correctly. Her left foot slightly above her right, and then she drew out some line. She got into the ten and two o’clock mode and abruptly snapped the line back to ten o’clock. Craig let out a yelp! He was hooked—literally! Then she got tangled in the pool of line she left for when it was needed, and the next thing they knew, they had a full immersion into fly fishing.

  Talk about an immersion experience, this was a full-on sensory experience. The fireflies in the area sparked, the cicadas sang and the cold water stimulated them. When they climbed out of the stream, he cut the line and she fished the lure out of his back. Fortunately, he had blankets in his truck, and they dried off as best they could. Craig turned the heater on and they drove to his house as night covered the mountain.

  The lights of Gatlinburg lost to the light of the fireflies but they too were pretty. Craig said, “Gatlinburg’s a pretty town by day or by night. But not as exciting or as pretty as you, sweetie pie.” They went through town with its colorful signs and lights but they were focused on each other.

  Craig drove the Spur, a section of roadway between the towns of Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg and turned where the National Park Welcome Center was to drive Wiley Oakley to his round house. It was raised fifteen feet on posts sunk in concrete, lifting it in the air affording a 180-degree view. A wrap around deck surrounded the entire house. Hearing about it was one thing but seeing it was beyond belief.

  “This is spectacular! The view is breathtaking. All you have to do is come home to regain your perspective.”

  It boasted floor to ceiling windows that looked out on a breathtaking view. They climbed the forty-five-degree path to the house. It was tastefully dec
orated in country mountain style with big log constructed couches, love seats and comfortable chairs all facing the view. A bear on its back legs holding up a glass tabletop was the unique coffee table. Art from the local Arts and Craft Community graced its walls but it was the bedroom that Storme wanted to see. There were four but he led her to his and it boasted a round bed in the center of the room that lay under a moonroof that let the sparkling night sky in. The full moon’s beautiful glow outlined a fireplace in the bedroom. A Jacuzzi tub graced the full marble bathroom. Where to look first? The bed was covered with a lush alpaca spread with a huge American Black Bear on it. He tore her damp clothes off and led her naked to a small back balcony with a view of Mt. LeConte by night where there was a hot tub.

  Helping her into the tub, then he excused himself. He returned fully aroused and very naked with two flutes and a bottle of Asti Spumante. After the glasses were filled, they drank to everything under the sun beginning with, “To fly fishing!” Craig said.

  “To use of the forearm,” she said and that led to more kissing

  “To fireflies.” They drank some more and kissed between sips. His hands caressed her full hips.

  “To Sunny.” His hand slipped between her thighs.

  Storme stiffened in his arms. “Sunny?”

  “Made it possible for this make-up sex,” he explained.

  “This is make-up sex?”

  “Oh yeah,” he sighed.

  “To lures.” As she grabbed his cock and moved her hand up and down quickly, his panting grew louder.

  “You keep that up much longer and this will be a short-lived experience.”

  “I’m not worried. I have a fix for that.” She fiddled with his balls, and they reviewed all she learned about fishing poles and rods. To urge him on, she kissed his neck and sucked a spot that drove him nuts last time. So he taught her about hot tub sex and the beauty of well-positioned jets and bubbles. Turned out those bubbles delighted them both. “Come here often, lady?”