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Bonsai Hunting

By: eclare



This is a copyrighted original work of fiction. All rights reserved.

All characters featured herein are at least eighteen years of age, even if not expressly stated. Any resemblance between actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.

Song lyrics contained herein remain the original artist's property.

*

I had belonged to the local bonsai club for a number of years and had become known as somewhat of an expert in collecting bonsai stock from the wild. Canada has several tree species that are particularly well suited for bonsai. The Japanese and Chinese have got nothing on us in that department.

For several years I had been receiving coercion to lead a collecting expedition for the club. I hummed and hawed until finally I agreed to give a presentation to the club of what it's really about and to ask who is interested in going.

The presentation went smoothly of course. I explained what species were available, various collecting techniques and tools required. Then I stressed just how arduous a task it really is and just how far away one must travel to get to suitable collecting grounds. One can't simply travel an hour or two north of Toronto and traipse through someone's cottage property or farm field ripping up their trees. One has to travel into northern Ontario and find Crown Land from which collecting is, at least marginally, acceptable.

About a dozen people indicated that they were interested in coming along.

After the presentation I had to corner five of them and gently tell them -- you're too old, I appreciate your enthusiasm, but let's face it, you are not going to be jumping out of an aluminium boat onto slippery granite rock and scrambling, with rope sometimes, around the Canadian Shield. You're walking with a cane right now. It was painful to have to do it, but reality is reality.

Two women and six men agreed to go. I was still a little dubious if three out of the eight, two of the men and one woman, could handle it.

I started a series of emails to the eight. The time was set, second week in May. A day to drive up and a day to drive back and at least two, preferably three, days of collecting -- and hey -- bring some fishing gear too. We would stay at a hunting/fishing lodge and rent boats. I had my own.

On the third weekend in May, which has a holiday Monday (Victoria Day) after it, or as it's better known in Ontario, May Two-Four Weekend (two-four being a reference to a case of twenty-four beer), three things happen in northern Ontario. Number one, pickerel season opens, pickerel being the Canadian term for walleye, a popular game fish. Two, with the fishing season open the fishing/hunting camps have their busiest week with mainly American tourists. And three, and probably most importantly, the black-fly come out.

There are reasons why most of Canada is uninhabited. One of them is black-fly. They are only around for a month or two. Unprotected, you'll only last a minute or two before they attack. Black-fly is a plural term. There is no such thing as one black-fly. Unlike a mosquito that stabs you with a little tube, these tiny little devils cut you and lick your blood out leaving an anticoagulant that itches and hurts. They are attracted by your warmth and your breath. Their choice target is right behind your ears.

There are mosquitoes too, starting in January, but by comparison to black-fly, mosquitoes are tame.

The boreal forest sits atop the Canadian Shield which is a vast pre-Cambrian slab of mainly granite that has been ground down by successive ice-ages leaving an undulating topography broken by the western interior lowlands and the Rockies to the west. With the forest sitting on top, it is basically a massive sponge. Mosquitoes breed in stagnant water, black-fly in moving water, such as the spring run-off.

As I expected, as the expedition date approached, several people backed out. Thankfully they included the three I was skeptical about.

Then there were four going, plus myself. Then, three. Then two.

Then only one. Aya Arslan.

Frankly, I was pissed off. I passed up going pike fishing with my buddies in the second week in May so I could do this bonsai trip. It's during those fishing trips that I buzz off and do my little bonsai collecting as a sidebar. My fishing buds tolerate my kooky little self-indulgence.

Aya was always the most enthusiastic amongst the bunch of them, but there was no way her husband or significant other was going to let her go to some remote cabin with just me for a couple of days. And although I didn't know anything about her personal life, any woman that good looking and that vivacious was not going to be single or somehow not committed.

I phoned her up to break the bad news.

"You mean we're not going up?"

"Well it's just you and me. How's it going to look?"

"I don't give a damn how it looks," she said.

"So you're still okay with going?" I asked.

"Of course," she paused, "are you?"

"Yeah," I answered with I'm sure a little shock in my voice.

It was settled. We'd take my Ford F-150 pick-up truck and my fourteen foot Lund aluminium boat with 9.9 Hp Envinrude outboard motor up on the Thursday and come back on the following Monday. She was going to pre-make and freeze dinner for three nights plus pack whatever else she fancied. I'd bring steaks, potatoes and veggies for the first night. I'd bring booze -- plenty. On our way we would stop and pick-up whatever else we felt was required for breakfast and lunch.

"Is there anything that you don't eat?" she asked.

"Aside from brazil nuts, I'm good with everything."

"Great."

I was clear in my description of what she needed for clothing. In addition to the usual items, she needed to have: quality hiking boots, layers of clothing, rain-gear, boots for snow, hats, gloves, sunglasses, bathing suit, a one-piece nylon jumpsuit, preferably with Velcro sleeve fasteners and good quality thin, work gloves, a mesh anti-bug head net and a good pair of binoculars.

The reality was that during the second week in May I've seen the lakes still frozen and snow on the ground, only once albeit, or it can be eighty degrees Frankenheit. One has to be prepared. Up there, you are not ducking out to a corner store to pick up something that you've forgotten to pack.

Shining Tree, Ontario is seven and a half hours due north from Toronto. The town itself is a quanza hut general store/post office/liquor/beer store/gas station and a couple of small houses. That's it. There are hunting/fishing camps nearby. That is, miles down the gravel highway. There's no electricity down the highway. If you believe in sasquatch, that is sasquatch country.

Culturally, it's northern Ontario. Geographically, it's central Ontario. To get an idea of the vastness of this country...in the Province of Ontario, there is an electoral district that is the size of Poland. It takes pretty much the same time to drive from Toronto to the Manitoba border as it does to drive from Toronto to Florida.

Aya and I were off to Shining Tree. Bonsai hunting.

As arranged, I picked Aya up from her townhouse at 7:30 in the morning.

She was stunning in her tight blue jeans, short tan leather jacket and running shoes. As always Aya's thick black hair flowed like a jet black waterfall down her shoulders and back. Her brown eyes twinkled in the early morning light.

"Good morning Rob," she said with obvious glee in her voice as she packed her bags into the pick-up.

"Good morning Aya, can I help you with your bags?"

I didn't see anybody in her townhouse unit waving goodbye or saying have a great time as I picked up a large cooler from her front hall. She had one more large pack and her purse strapped over her arm as she locked the door to her townhouse.

"Let's go," she said smiling.

We stopped at the Tim Horton's drive-through and picked up two large coffees and some doughnuts and off we went through the morning rush hour traffic, heading the other way. Due north.

We talked about how I got into bonsai a number of years ago. I joined the club to learn more about it than just what I could glean from books. Then I just stayed. I'd always had a need to express myself artistically in some fashion. I love nature, I explained, trees and rocks.

"I guess I'm still playing with sticks and stones, just like when I was a kid," I said, "how about you?"

"I've always loved bonsai. Looking at them. I joined the club about a year ago to learn, just like you. And just like you I wanted to express myself. But I'm still learning." She paused to sip her coffee. "Living in a townhouse like I do, I'd love to have a big garden, I guess bonsai is one way to do it, to have a garden in miniature."

"I don't see bonsai as miniaturization per se. I mean on the face of it, it is. But I see it for exactly what it's supposed to be. A tree in a pot. End of story. To me it's more like a painting in a picture frame. Or a living sculpture, as some prefer to refer to it."

I reached for my coffee cup.

"You must have a lot, how long have you been doing it?"

"Oh gee," I paused trying to figure it out, "twelve, thirteen years now, maybe fourteen. And no I don't have a lot. I think I have eleven that I could honestly describe as a bonsai. But there are a few being raised in the ground that I'm working on. Most of the stuff that I had either died, or put it this way -- I killed them, or I've given away."

"By not watering them?"

"Sometimes, but it's usually because I've stressed them beyond what they could handle. I'm still learning."

We drove on for a minute.

"One of the funny things about bonsai is this," I said, "you pretty well need two lifetimes to really get it right, the first just to learn the fundamentals, the other to perfect the art."

"Well I only have two and I'm not happy with them. One I made at one of the club's workshops, the other I made myself. Both are from garden centre stock."

"I'm sure they'll be fine. In twenty years or so."

"That's why I wanted to go collecting. I've seen some of your trees. They're fantastic."

"Thank you Aya. It is, I admit, much easier to convey the image of a mature tree when the tree actually is a hundred years old."

"Exactly," she said smiling at me.

We drove on in silence for a while.

"Thank you for taking me on this trip," she said with sincerity in her gorgeous brown eyes.

"It's my pleasure Aya. I just hope everything goes smoothly."

She smiled at me as we drove on.

"Tell me about yourself Rob. Tell me about your job, about your family," she paused for a moment before she added, "if that's okay."

"Well I'm in the construction business. Commercial construction, office buildings, shopping malls that sort of stuff. It's okay, but I wouldn't recommend to anyone that they should get into it."

"Why not?"

"Well for one, you're always working your ass off to finish the project and become unemployed." I paused for a moment before I continued with a sigh, "the other thing I guess, is that it can be brutal on the family."

"Are you married? Kids?" she asked.

"Divorced. Two kids, they're with Mom. They're ten and eight now. Two girls."

"I'm sorry to hear that," she said.

I know she wanted to know what happened. I might as well tell her I thought. I didn't want to hide anything from her. That would just ruin the atmosphere of the trip.

"It's this stupid business I'm in. And I've seen it all around me. What happened was that we got married, Carol got pregnant, then pregnant again. Everything was fine. I was working hard, earning good money. The girls were fine."

Aya was watching me intently as I spoke.

"I finished a project in Toronto and we moved to Brantford so I could work on another. Then that finished and we moved again to just outside Toronto so that I could work in Toronto again. At the airport. When that finished, the girls were three and five, my next project was in Kingston at Queen's University. It had a twenty eight month schedule which meant I'd be lucky to be finished in thirty or thirty two. She refused to pack up and go. I didn't have a choice, I either took the project or I was out of a job. I had to feed the family, so off to Kingston I went."

Aya continued to watch me silently. I think she finished her coffee. I grabbed a doughnut and continued.

"The game plan was that I would come home for the weekends. Which I did. It's three hours each way plus traffic through Toronto. What would happen was that she would get so frustrated having to juggle the kids by herself all week, as soon as I got home she would just throw the kids at me. Of course I missed the kids but that's not the point. And in retrospect I now understand that when I came home for the weekends all I wanted was for everything to be the same as before. It wasn't. She was frustrated and I was frustrated."

I bit into my doughnut and chewed for a while. Aya said nothing.

"Eventually I would find excuses to work the weekend and I wouldn't come home. Eventually too, she learned how to cope without me. Inevitably we just drifted apart."

"I'm so sorry," Aya said.

"After thirty months she didn't even want me to come back. I did, I moved back for all of a month. We fought the whole time. Then I found myself an apartment."

"That's terrible," Aya whispered almost to herself.

"Two years ago we formally divorced. I still have child support payments which I make without fail. She met a guy -- a really nice guy, Aaron, whose wife died of breast cancer at age thirty two leaving him with a young daughter. They've since married and she just had a baby boy with him. Which is great."

"Is that supposed to be a happy ending?" she asked.

"I guess for her. I certainly hope for the best, especially for my two girls."

"Do you get to see them?" she asked.

"Ha!" I shook my head, "they moved out of town." I gazed at Aya who looked back at me intently. "They bought a house in Kingston."

"I don't believe it," she said rolling her head backwards.

"Believe it. That's the Robert Winstanley story."

We both just watched the road ahead of us for a while.

"Aya," I said, "look at that rock right there," pointing out the window.

"What about it?"

"It's limestone. It's limestone from here on south," I said. We were just outside Honey Harbour.

"Okay," she said slowly, probably wondering what I was on about.

"Now look at that rock," I said pointing, "it's granite." Maybe she thought I was crazy. "We've just climbed up onto the Canadian Shield."

"Hmm," was her only comment. She seemed quite interested in the view from the truck.

"Tell me about Aya" I said, or I guess asked.

"I work for my brother. I'm the office manager. He has a small company that distributes and sells industrial heat exchangers."

"Oh how sexy." I couldn't help myself.

"I know," she replied, "but at least I have a steady income."

"I know, I know. I'm sorry."

"And in spite of the up and down economy," she added, "blood is thicker than water."

"You're absolutely right," I said.

We drove in silence for a while longer. I figured something was grinding her about her personal life. I didn't want to ask again. She certainly wasn't bubbling up saying I've three wonderful kids and a perfect husband.

Eventually she piped up herself, "I was in a relationship that ended about a year ago."

"Oh?"

"We were together for eight years. In the end, I left her."

Her? Did I just hear her say her? I guess my jaw was a little slacked as I gazed at Aya in disbelief.

"Any kids?" I asked realizing immediately that it was a profoundly stupid question.

"No. Helene wanted some though. See wanted to be inseminated by my brother, or for me to be inseminated by her brother. Preferably both."

"That's a little weird." I said. I probably shouldn't have.

We drove in silence again, staring at the road.

"Eight years," she said. "The last two weren't particularly nice."

"Do you still feel for her?" maybe I was prying a little too deep with that question.

"No. Maybe. I don't know. I can't even answer her phone calls anymore."

We watched the road for a while.

"She wanted to get married and have kids."

"Is that so bad?" I asked.

"I couldn't. But she kept pushing and pushing until it became unbearable."

"But after eight years why not?"

"Because my family couldn't accept it."

"That you're lesbian? In this day and age? In Canada? C'mon."

"I would bring shame to the family. My family is still very traditional. I would have lost my job."

"So what. There are other jobs."

"Yes, but I only have my one family. I would have hurt them."

"So you never outed yourself."

"No."

"Did you live with her?"

"Yes. For eight years. And everything was fine at first when we were roommates. As long as we maintained two bedrooms, the plausibility of denial was there. My family suspected that there was something going on, but it was a don't ask, don't tell situation. Plus, they live in Montreal. They didn't normally come snooping around."

"I'm missing something here."

"Helene kept on pushing to have me come out. The final straw was when she got a tattoo of the gay pride rainbow like an epaulet below her left shoulder."

"So it was either her or your family?"

"Exactly. But it didn't need to be. She made it that way."

We drove on silently for a while.

"I don't consider myself lesbian."

I didn't say a word. I didn't dare. We just drove on.

"What's your background?" I asked.

"Druze. Christian. I was born in Beirut. My family emigrated to Canada when I was four. We moved to Toronto, then they moved to Montreal when I was twenty. They now share a house with my uncle. My father's brother. It's a traditional family."

After a few more miles Aya turned to me and said, "What a pathetic pair we are aren't we?"

"Bullshit!" I said.

She stared at me in disbelief.

"I'm driving due north into God's country. I have a beautiful woman sitting next to me and the weather ahead looks fantastic. And...and...we don't have to do anything but have fun for the next five days."

Aya leaned across the front seat and grabbed hold of my right bicep with both hands. She pressed her face against my shoulder and smiled up at me. Her bright white teeth peeked through her luscious lips. Her brown eyes glistened in the light.

"You're right Rob. I'm sorry." She squeezed my arm a little. "And Rob...you're a pretty good looking guy." she said with a grin.

Yes. Game on.

As we drove on the mixed hardwoods started to give way to clumps of black spruce. The Carolinian forest was dwindling away as the Boreal forest lay ahead.

What kind of trees are those?" she asked.

"Black spruce. Picea mariana."

"Do they make good bonsai?"

"I've tried but I can't make them look anything but spindly. I love their shape though."

"They look so forlorn."

"Clearly you're a natural artist Aya. To describe a tree as forlorn is something that comes from the heart, not from the intellect. Forlorn is a great subject matter to put onto your bonsai canvas. Your heart already sees what it looks like."

She had a curious look on her face but said nothing.

"Maybe we should get you some black spruce. Just because I've not had much luck with them doesn't mean you won't be able to."

She was grinning as she looked out the window.

We crossed the French River. "Beautiful," she said.

"The French River was part of the voyageurs' route to bypass the lower Great Lakes," I informed her hoping that I wasn't sounding too high brow or being too patronizing, "from Montreal they'd shoot up the Ottawa River, then take the Mattawa into Lake Nippissing, then the French River into Georgian Bay."

"Sounds easy."

"I'm sure it wasn't."

I wondered just how much exposure to Ontario Aya had. "Have you been to the French River?" I asked her.


Bonsai Hunting



"No."

"Have you been anywhere up here before?"

"No. I had a friend growing up whose parents had a cottage in Muskoka. Then a few years ago Helene and I took a dinner boat trip on the Segwun out of Orillia."

"Gravenhurst. The Segwun is out of Gravenhurst." I corrected her.

"Are you sure?"

"Positive. Trust me."

"It was fun. It was nice, I loved seeing the cottages."

"Is that the sum total of your Ontario experience? I mean you've lived here practically all of your life."

"I don't ski, I didn't have a reason to come up here. Do you come up here often?"

"All my life. I've always lived in southern Ontario. That's where the work is. But I've always been coming up. My dad was a keen fisherman and the family just got dragged around every year. Then after he passed away, I just kept on fishing."

"I saw fishing rods in the truck."

"Have you ever fished?"

"No," she said meekly.

"Have you ever been in a little boat, like the one we're towing behind us?"

"As a little girl at my friend's cottage. They had a boat with a motor," she said apologetically.

I smiled at her, "Well it looks like you're in for some new experiences then."

She was grinning from ear to ear. She had her hands tucked under her thighs and was bouncing as she said, "I sure am!"

We pulled into an Esso station just south of Sudbury. I jumped out of the cab and scooted around to her side and opened the door for her. I held out my hand, palm up and said "Miss Arslan?"

She unbuckled the safety belt and swung her legs to the side. Taking hold of my hand with her back straightened, "Thank you Mr. Winstanley" and stepped out of the cab. She grabbed her purse and swung it over her shoulder, fluffing her black hair.  

I watched her cute ass wiggle as she made her way inside.

After gassing up and peeing we were back on the road. We made a list of the things we still needed to buy. There wasn't much. A dozen eggs, some fresh bread, salad stuff and a couple of bags of ice.

"What did you make for dinner?"

"With a coy smile she answered, "Mmm...I'm not telling."

"Do you drink?"

"Of course. You did bring wine?"

"Oh yeah."

We drove on for a while.

"Do you like martinis?" I asked her.

"I love a martini."

Alright. This was going to be so good.

"Vodka or gin?" I asked innocently. I had both.

"Gin of course," she answered with a bit of a devilish grin and one eyebrow drooped.

"Olive or a twist of lemon?"

"Both."

"Ah, an Oliver Twist."

We both smiled at each other.

"Put olives on the list."

We stopped in Sudbury at a large mall. We had lunch at Quizno's where we shared a large beef dip sandwich with onions and mushrooms. I was mesmerized as I watched her eat with gusto across the table from me. Her sensuous lips were full of emotion with every bite, every word she spoke to me. It only occurred to me then that she wasn't wearing any make-up. She didn't need to. Her olive skin was perfect. What a beauty she was. And her hair...it was as if she stepped out of a shampoo commercial.

She did the shopping at the Loblaw's Superstore and I went to the dollar store. I bought two martini glasses, two nice wine glasses, a red and white checked tablecloth, a pair of glass candlesticks and three pairs of non-drip candles. White, red and green.

She got back to the truck about two minutes after I did. Clearly she bought more than just what was on the list. As I closed the tonneau cover to the pick-up truck's bed I noticed that one of the extra things she bought was a razor.

Hmm.

Off we went through the delightfully named suburb of Sudbury, Azilda. She was following our progress on the map as we went. Now we were on the flip side of the map. "One of the things you have to understand as you read that map," I said to her, "is that the northern half of that map is at half the scale of the southern half."

We drove on. Eventually we passed a sign that said 'from this point forward all lakes and rivers drain into Hudson's Bay'. Naturally the sign was in English and in French. It was the historic dividing line between two great fur trading companies. The British Hudson's Bay company controlled the Hudson Bay watershed while the French controlled the Great Lakes watershed. Canada was built on beaver pelt.

"Why are you driving down the middle of the road? I've seen other cars and trucks doing it too."

"Because it's safer."

"I would think staying in your lane, instead of being half in the oncoming lane, would be safer."

"If we come across a moose, then I have two means of egress. Left or right. If I stay in my lane, I only have one."

She had kind of a look of disbelief on her face.

"Aya. A moose is a thousand pounds of meat. When it hits a car or a small truck, the car goes under it and the windshield collides with a thousand pounds of meat. At a hundred and ten kilometers an hour the top of the car is simply sheared off, along with anything that is in its way. Namely you and me."

"Oh."

We drove on in silence.

"When I was a kid, my dad and I did a dance with a moose on the highway one night just outside La Verendrye park in Quebec."

"What happened?" she asked.

"He missed the moose, obviously, but we landed up in a ditch beside the road, backwards."

She stared at me in wonder.

"I don't want to do a highway dance with a moose ever again."

The last remnants of the hardwood Carolinian forest were long gone. We were totally immersed in the Boreal. The landscape was more severe.

We drove on in silence for a while.

"A bear! I saw a bear!" She was almost jumping out of her seat.

I just smiled at her.

Eventually we pulled off the main highway and onto a secondary highway.

"It's so beautiful here," her eyes were wide with wonderment as she gazed out the window.

We passed a huge yard with stripped down tree trunks, spruce, piled neatly in high rows. They looked like giant matchsticks. Aya's eyes opened wide, "What a shame," she said.

"It's the forest products industry. We do want houses don't we?"

We drove on down the winding gravel road. Eventually the road bisected an area where there had clearly been a fire. Everything around us was a cold cinder wasteland.

"Oh no! Look what happened," her voice was almost trembling. I stopped the truck.

"Fire is a natural part of the forest cycle. Look there and there and there," I said pointing through the windscreen, "pioneer trees and shrubs are coming back already. The cone from a Jack Pine, I'll show you one later, opens after a fire. There are certain birds and animals that rely on the fire to sweep through every once in a while. It may not seem it, but it's a beautiful thing." I put the truck in gear.

Eventually we passed a sign that said Shining Tree, Aya almost leapt out of her seat, "We're here!" She was like a little kid.

I kept on driving, "Not quite, close, but not quite."

A few minutes later we pulled into camp. She asked if I'd been here before.

"Nope," I found the office and stopped. "Come on let's go," I said smiling to her.

The air was crisp, cool and fresh. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. It was about four o'clock. We had made good time. Thankfully there were no bugs.

An older couple approached us, "Welcome," he said in a French Canadian accent, "I'm Henri, this is my wife Yvette."

I held out my hand, "Rob Winstanley."

"I'm Aya Arslan."

They seemed a very nice couple. He handed us the key to cabin number nine and walked us to it. It was at the far end of the lodge. He showed us where the wood pile was although there are electric baseboards he said, and pointed down to the second dock at our end. We were the only guests at the lodge although they will fill up for the week on Saturday and Sunday.

"Get yourselves sorted out, you can come and sign the book whenever you are ready."

And that's just the way it is up there. Everyone's relaxed. Everything is at half speed.

Aya's eyes sparkled as she took in the surroundings. The only sound aside from a gentle breeze and a few chirping birds was a distant muffled sound of a diesel generator.

"Henri," I said, "until it gets dark, don't leave that generator on just for our sake."

The cabin was bright and clean, two bedrooms with a bathroom in between. The rest of the cabin was a single room with the kitchen on one side separated by a breakfast counter from the rest of the room which held a round table with four chairs, a couch and two wing chairs and a coffee table. In one corner there was a Franklin stove. It had a big picture window looking out to the lake. The entire cabin was paneled in rustic pine. The floors were a matching pine. The pictures on the wall were Group of Seven reproductions. It was perfect.

I pulled the pick-up truck closer to the cabin as Aya wandered off to the lake. She was walking up from the dock as I handed her a can of beer. She had a huge smile on her face, her black hair was gently fluttering in the breeze.

Pppfft. Pppfft. "Cheer's Aya. Here's to a successful bonsai hunt."

"Cheers," she took a deep sip, "this is all so wonderful!" she was walking on a cloud. I guess it was all so new to her.

"Moosehead Beer," she said after taking another sip and looking at the can, "this is good beer. I've never tried it before."

"Head and antlers above the rest," I said smiling. "C'mon we've got some unpacking to do."

Both bedrooms were identical. Both had queen sized beds. I let her have the one that had a view of the lake through a small window. She took control in the kitchen, which was okay with me. Within a few minutes the fridge and freezer were packed up. I stuffed the bottom shelf with white wine. I brought in a boogie box and basically all my CDs. The fishing gear was packed next to the front door. The bonsai collecting backpack, just inside the front door. Boots, raincoats, everything came inside.

Aya looked at the stack of booze. "I see forty eight cans of beer."

"Forty six" I corrected her.

"And three cases of wine...booze. You expect us to drink all that? We're only here four nights."

"Don't be silly Aya. It's our booze cabinet. Mmm, a little rustic maybe, but I didn't know what you drink, or if you drank at all. There's different types of beer, red wine, white wine, vodka, gin, scotch, bourbon, various liqueurs, single malt. We just take back what we don't drink. What's the big deal? I just wanted to be a good host."

She had a huge grin on her face as she stood in front of me with her hands in the back pockets of her jeans, bouncing on her toes with her chest pressed forward. "So, what do you want to do now?" she said biting her bottom lip, her eyes glistening again.

I had a couple of ideas.

"How about we put the boat in the water?"

"Oh. Okay," she said, clearly not seeing that coming. "Then can we have martinis?" she added.

A girl after my own heart.

The boat launch was next to the other dock. "I need you to get in the boat Aya," I said as I backed the boat and trailer towards the ramp. I helped her into the boat. She seemed a little unsure of herself as she climbed in and sat down. I unbuckled the boat. With the door open I backed the trailer into the water and watched as the back tire of the pick-up truck reached the water's edge, then eased back just a few more inches. I popped the pick-up truck into park and hopped out. Aya had a puzzled look on her face as I unclasped the winch line and gave the little boat a solid push.

With the good incline and the fact that Aya was seated near the back of the boat, she launched perfectly. There was hardly a ripple in the water.

I parked the pick-up and empty trailer back next to the cabin. I must have been gone all of three minutes.

"This is great Rob. Now what am I supposed to do?" She was drifting, but not more than fifteen feet from the other dock.

"Well you can just sit there and look pretty." I pulled out my cell-phone camera and started taking pictures. Aya got into it. Posing. Pushing her chest out. Giving me the come hither look. Fluffing her hair up. Batting her eyelashes at me.

I was in lust.

"Ah...Rob?

"Grab the paddle and just bring the boat in." The paddle was near the front of the boat.

Aya stood up and stepped forward in the boat. "Aayyggh!" She nearly fell in the water as she lost her balance. The boat rocked from side to side as she clung on for dear life.

"Are you okay!?" I was ready to jump into the water.

"I'm okay. I'm okay" she managed as she sat herself back onto the seat.

"Lesson number one. When you move in the boat put your weight into the centre as much as you can and hold on to the sides." She glared at me with suspicion. I added, "Just move slowly and gently, don't be thrashing about."

"Stand up and get yourself into the centre of the boat. Seriously Aya, you need to get yourself sorted out in this boat. Trust me. Do what I ask." Gingerly she stood up and stepped over the seat in front of her and stood up.

"Spread your legs a bit." She did. "Now gently rock the boat from side to side with your weight." She did that too. "Now turn around and do it from the other side." She did that too. "Turn around again and grab the paddle." She did, still unsure of herself. "Now paddle yourself in."

It was all of twelve feet, but she managed. After a few strokes she was able to get the side of the boat in a gentle collision course with the dock.

"Lesson number two. Keep your fingers inside the boat." I lifted her hand off the gunwale as the boat was about to collide with the dock. "Either on the dock or in the boat. Not wrapped around the gunwale." I'm pretty sure she got my point. She missed getting her slim fingers munched by only an inch or two.

Still holding her hand and now holding the boat with the other I said, "Lesson number three, when you step out of the boat, it will move backwards as you try to step out. Stand up on the seat." She did. "Put one foot on the dock, but not your weight." She did. "Now step out." She managed to transfer her weight as the boat moved back.

"Whew," she said.

"Very well done Aya. You're going to be an expert in no time. Bonsai hunting is all about jumping in an out of a boat."

"Okay," she said with a brave smile. I was still holding her hand. My foot was holding the boat to the dock.

"Now get back in the boat."

I held her hand as she stepped back into the boat eyeing me with uncertainty. I jumped in and climbed to the stern. "We have to get it to the other dock."

On the second pull my trusty little Evinrude started for the first time that season in a cloud of smoke. I put her into reverse and backed off the dock, jammed the throttle tiller into my belly, switched to forward and opened her up.

Aya nearly fell off her seat again, but she steadied herself. She was facing me, her thick black hair was fluttering around her pretty face. She was trying to control it. With the index finger on my right hand I motioned to her to spin around. She did. I wanted to do a lap around the little island that was not more than two hundred yards away.

Aya huddled herself together and drew her jacket tight. Her hair flowed off of her head like a wild horse's mane. Her ass on the aluminium seat was perfect. Fuck, I was in lust.

I slowed the boat down to a crawl as we approached our dock. I could see the apprehension in Aya's face as she turned to face me, she wanted to help land the boat but wasn't quite sure what she had to do.

"What was lesson number two Aya?"

"Fingers," she smiled.

The little craft gently eased up to the dock landing perfectly parallel along the entire length. I simply put my hand on the dock and killed the engine. "Okay Aya, out you get."

This time she stepped out on her own with much more assurance in her step. The boat pushed back as she transferred her weight onto the dock. I held it steady.

As I tied the boat to the dock I could see the wide grin on Aya's face. "Martini's?"

I pulled her hand into mine and we walked up to the cabin hand in hand. I could feel my heart was beating, I was so thrilled to just be with Aya.

Aya washed the new martini glasses as I fished out the Bombay Sapphire, white vermouth and my little stainless steel shaker.

With a few ice cubes in the shaker I added the ingredients.

"Shaken not stirred."

We sat on the steps to the little deck in front of the cabin enjoying the last warm rays of sunshine sipping our martinis. Aya rested her head on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. "Thank you," she said smiling.

"For what?" I asked. "We haven't done anything."

"For bringing me here. It's so beautiful, so peaceful." Aya appeared very relaxed as she spoke. There was a languor to her voice that I'd not noticed before.

"And wild too," I added. We just gazed out onto lake. The sun glistened off the still water in vast sheets of red as it slid behind the tree line.

A wolf howled in the distance.

Aya's back shot up. Her eyes widened and fired a questioning glance at me as she asked, "Did you bring a gun?"

"We're going bonsai hunting Aya, not bear hunting." I chuckled at her. "We're not going to shoot the bonsai."

Her eyes twinkled back at me, somewhat relieved but still concerned, "There's bears and wolves and moose and God only knows what other scary animals."

"Wooooooo!"

She whacked my playfully. "Come on Rob, I'm not kidding."

"Aaaghhhhh!" I held my arms out to the side, martini glass in one hand.

"Stop it Rob," whacking me again.

"You forgot the sasquatch." I said menacingly.

"Stop it Rob," she whacked me again, "there's no such thing as sasquatch."

"Oh?" I fired right back, draining the last of my martini. "C'mon Aya, let's get started on dinner."

As we made our way to the kitchen I said to Aya, "Seriously, do you know what the most dangerous thing is in those woods?"

"No. What?" She was all attentive for my answer.

"Bees."

"Bees?"

"Yup, bees. If you get stung by a hundred bees because you stepped on a nest, way the hell out there somewhere," I pointed to the lake, "your life is in serious danger, and you're miles from help. Bees."

Aya just gazed at me with her mouth open.

"I have an EpiPen, just in case," I added, "a glass of white wine?"

Aya just stared at me, not quite sure of what to make of what I'd just said.

I popped the cork to a bottle of Pinot Grigot.

"Sure." I poured us a couple of glasses.

"How about putting some music on for us? I'll get the barbeque going and collect some firewood for the wood stove."

She surprised me with her music selection, one of my favourites. Graceland by Paul Simon.

As I came back to the deck I could see Aya busy in the kitchen, her hips swaying to the music as she slowly danced around the kitchen island with lettuce in one hand and a glass of white wine in the other.

These are the days of miracle and wonder

The way the camera follows us in slo-mo

The way we look to us all

The way we look to a distant constellation

I looked up and could see the night sky panorama starting to shine through. I smiled.

There's dying in the corner of the sky

These are the days of miracle and wonder

And don't cry baby, don't cry

Don't cry

Aya was far from crying. She's was in her element and clearly enjoying herself. I silently watched as she quietly sang along to the CD, seductively swaying her hips. What a sexy woman I couldn't help but think. I doubted that she would ever see something in me that would interest her, in spite of her sweet outward affections.

I kept watching Aya as I brushed the heated grill.

"Caesar salad?" she asked as I swept into the cabin with an arm-full of split logs.

"Sure," I answered, "what can I do to help?" Her hips were still swaying to the music.

"You can set the table," she answered smiling at me.




Bonsai Hunting



I pulled out the new tablecloth and white candles. "Will you want red with the steak?"

"That would be lovely," Aya said as she licked one finger seductively tasting the dressing. "Microwave baked potatoes okay?"

"Absolutely," I answered as I reached for a bottle of Chianti Classico.

I stacked the Franklin stove with paper, some kindling and three split logs. I lit the paper and closed the door. The paper burst into flame. Whether Aya would see anything in me or not, I didn't know. I just knew that I was going to try and make this whole evening as romantic as I could.

I watched Aya's slender hands and fingers carefully dice green onions as I washed my hands in the kitchen sink. It was well dark outside now.

"Let's get everything ready and we can sit outside while the steaks are on the barbeque," I said to her, "I want to show you something."

Aya gazed at me with a puzzled expression.

"You'll need a light jacket."

Everything was ready. The plates were on the table, steak knives and forks, paper napkins. I lit the candles. The fire was roaring and the heat from the stove was warming the room.

I held the screen door open with my back while holding the steak laden plate in one hand and my wine glass in the other. Aya walked through the door holding her wine glass.

"Oh my God!" she gazed up into the sky. Her jaw had dropped and she almost stumbled in bewilderment, "Oh my God!"

I smiled realizing, as I suspected, she'd never seen a night sky as spectacular as was laid out before her eyes.

"I've seen pictures, b...but...nothing like this before." She couldn't stop gazing upwards. "There's millions...I don't believe it."

"Billions and billions Carl Sagan would say."

The night sky was clear and bright. Countless stars filled the sky and opened up the heavens. The familiar constellations were drowned in light, receding back into eternity. The moon was just a crescent sliver.

Aya sat on the top step of the deck and leaned back, never taking her eyes from the sky. She was dumb struck, unable to speak.

"Awesome, I think is the proper term", I suggested.

"Awesome indeed," she managed. "The stars at night have always been beautiful, but this...this is unbelievable."

I smiled as I flipped the steaks. Aya was like a little girl again. My heart swelled with the realization that I was able to bring such joy to Aya. And it wasn't my doing. We were just blessed that it wasn't cloudy or raining outside. All I did was have her come out to see something that had been there forever, albeit hidden by city lights.

"A shooting star! I saw a shooting star! Did you see it?"

I flipped the steaks again and chuckled. "You're lucky. Make a wish." I'm the lucky one I knew.

The cabin was warm as we made our way back inside. Aya wiped tears from her cheeks with a tissue as I popped Mozart's Requiem into the CD. "I hope this is okay with you?" I asked as we sat down to the table.

"Beautiful," she answered still wiping tears from her eyes, "just beautiful."

We ate in silence as the fire crackled in the stove only interrupted by the occasional "Mmm." It was a surreal moment. I could see the grandeur of the sky still burning in Aya's eyes as she gazed at me. The Requiem Mass gently drifted in our ears. God's music played in our tiny temple as the heavens swirled outside. Aya was clearly humbled by the experience. And I was humbled by her reaction. What a beautiful human being I was sharing dinner with tonight.

"Aya what's wrong?" I asked as her hands were sunk into dishwater cleaning up. I could hear her sobbing to herself. I stood next to her holding a dish towel as she turned to me pulling her soapy hands from the water. Tears were streaming down her cheeks. "What's wrong?"

Aya wrapped her soapy hands around my neck looking into my eyes and whispered "Kiss me."

I pulled her close and lowered my lips to hers. Her lips were soft, full, quivering as I pushed my lips down onto hers harder. She pulled me down. We kissed for a moment then I pulled away kissing a tear from her cheek.

"Aya why are you crying?"

She tried to wipe her runny nose with the back of her hand but only managed to cover the side of her nose with a cluster of soap bubbles. "Oh," she laughed at herself, trying to recover by wiping her face with her forearm. Tears were still streaming from her eyes, but she was grinning through it all realizing just how silly she looked as more soap came off in her black hair.

"I'm sorry Rob," sniffling. She pulled the dishcloth from my hands and cleaned off her hands stepping in search of a tissue.

"I know I must look silly," she said blowing her nose and clearing the tears from her eyes.

"I think you look beautiful, simply stunning." I said calmly.

Tears welled up again and she grabbed another tissue and blew her nose again. I still didn't know why she was crying.

"Rob, it's just that..." she sniffled again, "I realized that I've not been this happy...this happy in years." She blew her nose again. "Rob, you've made me this happy. This has been a perfect day."

I smiled at Aya and pulled her tight to my chest. She wrapped her arms around me.

"Thank you Rob. That you so much for everything."

"All I did was drive and flip a couple of steaks Aya. You did all the rest."

"Don't be silly Rob." She tilted her head up and we kissed again. Our tongues touched, just momentarily but I had enough to savour Aya's sweetness. I could feel tears well up in my eyes as my chest beat against hers.

"Let's finish the dishes Aya."

She pulled away from me and smiled.

We sat on the couch in front of the fire with Aya curled up, snuggled next to me. We each nursed the last of our wine. As much as I would have liked to, I knew that I couldn't make a pass for her. Plus, I still couldn't get my head around why such a beautiful, vivacious woman would want anything to do with me romantically. I was content just to sit there in front of the fire and feel the warmth from Aya against my chest.

I caught her glass as it almost slipped from her fingers. Gently I placed it on the table. She was asleep. Asleep in my arms. I studied her face. Perfect. I wanted to kiss her but I didn't dare. I just drank up her beauty.

The fire needed another log, my wine was finished, my eyelids were getting heavy and most urgently I needed to pee. "C'mon Aya, time to go to bed." I gently shook Aya's shoulder. Her eyes opened up, she paused trying to figure out where she was then sat up. She smiled at me, kissed my cheek and stumbled off to the bathroom. I cleaned up the wine glasses and corked the bottle. She came out of the bathroom and straight to her bedroom as I closed the door on the stove. Finally.

I woke up in the middle of the night sensing that the stove could use another log or two. As I sat on the toilet and gazed out the window, I knew what I had to do.

"Aya wake up." I shook her shoulder gently. She was still dressed. "Wake up."

"W...what's wrong?"

"Wake up, get out of bed, I have another surprise for you."

"Wha...what?..."

"C'mon get out of bed. Get dressed." I pulled her up. "Put this on." I handed her a baseball cap. "Put your coat on we're going outside."

She flopped back down onto the bed. "I've seen the stars. I'm tired."

Pulling her back up and placing the cap on her head, I said "Trust me."

With great effort she swung her legs off the side of the bed, rubbing her face.

"Put your coat on, let's go."

She stood up and went into the bathroom. I found my flashlight and put my jacket on. It was two thirty in the morning.

Aya stumbled out of the bathroom then returned from her room carrying her coat and shoes. "I don't know what you want Rob. I hope this is worth it."

"Trust me."

With the flashlight illuminating each step we made our way down to the dock, her hand in mine. "Now sit here," I said wiggling the flashlight to indicate the spot. Holding onto my arm she sat on the dock.

"Now what?"

"Look up."

"Oh my God!"

Above our heads danced the most brilliant display of the Northern Lights, the aurora borealis, that I'd ever seen in my life. Massive curtains of green, blue and white light towered over our heads reaching up to unimaginable heights. The entire sky danced to a luminescent silent symphony as the stars watched in approval from their inky depths. At once blue pulses of light shimmered slowly in one part of the sky while a long, green sweeping tail lazily snaked through another. Sudden brilliant flashes crashed as soundless cymbals then disappeared into a glistening echo. The sky was simultaneously hot and icy. A silent luminous beat pulsed above us.

My heart beat wildly to the unimaginable beauty unfolding above us. My eyes watered in the cool air. The sheer majesty of the spectacle completely overwhelmed my senses.

Aya was silent. Her mouth was agape.

We both lay on the dock gazing to the heavens. I watched as Aya reached up to try touch the light curtains, giggling.

We lay motionless for many long minutes mesmerized by the glorious heavenly ballet, holding hands.

No words were spoken. None could augment the moment, only detract.

After a few minutes Aya rolled over on top of me, her lips found mine and we kissed. Her black hair tempered only by the baseball cap on her head was surrounded by a halo of green, blue and white brilliance.

"You must be a wizard, conjuring up the heavens for me," she whispered. She kissed me passionately, her tongue played with mine. I squeezed her tight. I was holding an angel, a true star child.

Eventually we went back inside. We had been outside for a full hour. She kissed me again before we retired to our separate bedrooms.

"Thank you," I said in silence to the gods above.

The coffee was through before Aya stumbled from her slumber. "Good morning," she said with a smile as she kissed me on the lips. I handed her a mug of coffee, she opened the fridge in search of milk.

I smiled at the sight of her in cozy pajamas, a pink housecoat and fluffy pink slippers. Her hair was a complete mess. I was trying to contain myself as she fixed her coffee. The fire was going again and it was light out. Another clear beautiful day looked in store.

"That was the most amazing thing I've ever seen in my life," she said as she snuggled up on the couch next to me.

"I've seen the Northern Lights several times," I said, "but never as brilliant as last night. The gods smiled down on you last night, that's for sure."

Aya smiled gently at me and reached out to tickle me behind my right ear. "I'm not sure about that, but as long as you're smiling at me I'll be alright." She followed that up with a wet kiss on my cheek.

I was smitten.

My Best of New Riders of the Purple Sage CD was playing as we made ourselves a big breakfast of bacon, eggs, toast, jam and big fresh navel oranges. We both rocked to the music looking forward to our day on the water and whatever adventures awaited us.

"Lots of layers," I said as we finished cleaning up, "It could get warm today."

It was a glorious morning as we set off in the little boat. We were packed with all the equipment we needed for the bonsai hunt plus fishing rods and tackle box. I stored a six pack of Moosehead cans under the seat next to the lunch box that Aya had prepared and a backpack containing raingear. We had binoculars around our necks.

I held the topographical map encased within a zip-lock bag in my hand. "Your job Aya is to sit in front and watch the water. If you see anything, anything at all that looks the least bit different, then simply point to it. I'll see you pointing."  

"Like what?" she asked.

"Like a log or a rock or a beaver, anything that makes the water ripple just a tiny bit differently. It's perfectly fine if you're mistaken. We don't want to bump into anything out in the water."

"Okay," she said as she swung her legs to the bow.

Aya couldn't contain her enthusiasm. She was almost bouncing in her seat as we glided across the smooth almost glass-like cold water. The silhouette of the shoreline trees was perfectly reflected in the water below. Everything was pristine. I angled the boat towards a rocky island, slowing down to just a crawl.

"Okay Aya. Turn around." She did. "Bonsai hunting one oh one. Be careful as you step in and out of the boat. Each movement has to be measured, steady. The same applies to when we get ashore." She listened to me intently. "I'm going to bring the boat into that rock over there." She turned her head to take a look. "You are going turn around, take the rope in your hand then stand up at the front of the boat. When the boat touches the rock, swing one leg from the boat but don't transfer your weight until you are sure your footing is steady and secure. Then hold the rope get out and pull the boat back towards you so I can get out too. Leave your binoculars in the boat. Ready?"

I kicked the motor into neutral and glided in. Aya spun around in her seat, then stood up. She held the rope in her gloved hand. The boat eased up to the rock. She caught it with the hiking boot on her left leg. I watched her pretty ass in khaki coloured jeans as she hopped out of the boat smiling, pleased with her effort. She did it perfectly.

I cut the engine and walked out of the boat taking the rope from her. "We don't need anything else." I secured the rope to a small shrub and said, "Let's go."

The island was a typical lichen wonderland. Red granite peeked out between broad swathes of grey-green reindeer lichen crunching under foot. The granite graced with quartz veins locked together in a multi-billion year loving embrace. There were sparse trees, red lichens and green lichens bursting into patches. Leafy grey lichens resembled paper thin mushrooms and green brown ones that appeared as exquisitely fashioned waxy paper ears, as if the depths of the shield itself listened in on the world outside. Broken sticks and twigs were scattered everywhere. Small shrubs were just coming back to life. The jack pines were covered in a grey lichen, clinging to the branches struggling for a spot to thrive, thankful for its host. Everything smelled fresh. Twigs embedded within the reindeer lichen poked through waiting to be swallowed in nature's due course.

Aya's eyes were like saucers as she walked over the undulating grey carpet. A red-winged blackbird gurgled his familiar rising liquid song 'coke-la-ree' at water's edge, flashing his brilliant red epaulets, utterly unconcerned with our presence.

"This is a Jack Pine," I said to Aya holding a sparse branch, "Pinus banksiana. Fantastic bonsai material. Look at these pairs of needles. Short, stout. Look at the scaly bark, the natural sinewy nature of its growth." She held the branch in her hand smelling the aroma. "Jack pine is the tree that Tom Thompson painted in his famous West Wind."

Aya almost stroked the tree with reverence.

"Look at the cone. Tight, twisted, resinous, coiled, waiting for a fire to release it."

I took a couple more steps, "This is my favourite bonsai subject, Northern White Cedar, Thuja occidentalis. Yes it's the normal cedar that you see in hedges, but here it's in its natural state. Superb bonsai material. The foliage can be pinched back into dense bundles or trained as graceful lines."

We sat down on the lichen and looked out over the water.

"Look across there. Do you see those trees reflected at water's edge?"

"Yes."

"Can you see that some have a green haze above them and some an almost purple colour above them?"

"Yes."

"Those are the buds, just starting to swell. From this distance both trees seem to have more or less the same shape and size. In fact, the trees with the purple haze are our familiar Paper Birch, Betula papyrifera. The green haze trees have a slightly greyer, less papery bark, it's Quaking Aspen, Populus trembuloides. Aspen is the favourite food of our friend, Mr. Beaver."

Aya chuckled.

"It's true. To a beaver aspen is like steak, pizza and chocolate all rolled up into one."

Aya gave me a playful whack on the arm, "Stop being silly."

"It's true."

She smiled taking it all in.

"And look way over there. See those tall pines?"

"Yes."

"Eastern White Pine, Pinus strobes."

"How can you tell from here?"

"Because they're so tall. See how they grow straight, then when they get to a certain height, when they tower over the rest of the forest, a prevailing wind tends to give them a funny top."

"Mmm."

"At one time they were a valuable commercial tree supplying the shipping industry with masts. They're majestic aren't they?"

"Do they make good bonsai?"

"You bet. Slow growing though. It takes a long time to get fissured bark. It's our only five needle pine. The tree has this softness about it. Beautiful tree."

"It's beautiful here," she said.

She was right. It surely was. I gave her a hug. She kissed me on the cheek. I grinned in delight.

"Okay, time for lesson one-oh-two, c'mon get up Aya." She took my hand and brushed the lichen off of her sexy bum with the other. We walked up to a group of short jack pines and cedars.

"Oh look at this one!" she said as she rushed up to a gnarled twisted cedar, "it's perfect." She was beaming with delight at her find.

"Reach down," I said, "grab a hold of the trunk as low as you can and give it a wiggle and twist. Does it move?" She did as asked.

"No, not at all."

"Then forget about it. Even if you could get that tree out, its trunk will be deformed from where it is trapped within a granite fissure. Just move on to the next."

I picked up a small, young jack pine and in one move lifted it with the complete root ball from the lichen covered granite. "See Aya, either they are completely stuck in the granite or they can be pulled free, not always as easily as this, but there's very little grey area between. Often the root will trail off to some little depression ten feet away making it an unsuitable specimen. What we want to find is a gnarled old tree with the trunk all free and wiggly. When we find that, we have a chance to dig it out and collect it." She watched me in wonderment.

"How old do you think that tree is?" she said referring to her trapped gem.

"A hundred maybe two hundred years. Look at the bark. This puppy has been here for a while."

Aya's eyes widened again.

"Forget about it. Move on." I pointed to a spreading thatch of juniper. "See that juniper? Forget about them too, I've never found one that's not embedded in granite. Plus the needles will irritate your skin. Look for Thuja and jack pine."

We got back into the boat and continued our hunt. I explained to Aya that she needed to use the binoculars to scan the shoreline. What she had to look for was a small tree with a comparatively massive trunk and compact growth. We trawled along the shore. Several times I let her out and she would clamber up to check if the trunk moved on a particular tree, then climb back into the boat after establishing that the tree wasn't collectable. She was getting very good at getting in and out of the boat. I loved watching her ass as she scrambled up the granite to check out a tree or two. Bonsai collecting was never this much fun.

We came up to a massive granite rock on the shore, Aya hopped out of the boat pushing me off and made her way up the rock through a shallow crevasse angling to the right. I pulled out my fishing rod and took a few casts, although I knew it would probably be too deep where I was for pike at this time of year. The rock stretched along the shore for probably a couple of hundred yards to my left and fifty to my right. It was easily thirty foot high with what seemed to be another rock behind it twenty or thirty feet higher than the first, but extending the full length. I was starting to get a little worried about Aya when she appeared high above me and two hundred feet to my left.




Bonsai Hunting



"Rob, come on up. I've found something."

"Okay."

"And bring the lunch and beer."

That sounded like a great idea. I tied the boat off and scrambled up the rock to the right following the same path Aya had just covered. There was indeed a plateau that stretched between the two granite rocks. Aya was correct in doubling back as the plateau angled down to the right and became thick bush. To the left however the narrow lichen covered ridge varied between five and thirty foot wide and gently rose with the rock itself. There were several mature trees growing along the ridge and some deadwood but nothing particularly unusual. As I made my way towards where Aya was, the ridge widened into an area which was covered in naturally stunted cedars.

"Wow," I said as I came up to Aya, "looks like you found the mother lode."

Aya was beaming a great huge grin. Looking around I said, "There must be fifty potential bonsais here."

The sun was shining on the little plateau, it was warm up there. I dropped the two cooler pouches into the lichen and stripped off my wind jacket and sweater, leaving me with just a t-shirt. Aya did the same. I guess I hadn't really had a close look before but with just a yellow t-shirt and sports bra on, I could see that Aya had a pretty nice set on her.

We each walked around with a sandwich and a beer in our hands stooping down to give each tree a little wiggle. We found eight good candidates.

"Do you have one in mind?" I asked.

"How about that one?" she asked pointing to a cedar that stood about two and a half foot tall with a straight trunk. The taper on the trunk was fantastic, from about two and a half inches diameter at the base to nothing at the top. The top had some deadwood already -- a natural 'jin' in bonsai and except for one longer branch, the remaining branches were short and compact. These trees had barely hung on for decades, maybe centuries in this little microenvironment.

"It's a natural formal upright Aya. In collecting, that tree is a ten, or close to it. I hope we can get it."

I left Aya and the cooler with the beer and brought our spent lunch and empties back to the boat. Fifteen minutes later I was back with the bonsai collecting backpack.

"Take a picture of it before we start," I suggested. Aya retrieved her little point and shoot camera from her jacket and snapped off a couple of pics.

We got down to work. Aya was enthusiastic about what we were about to do. She had already uncovered the lichen from around the tree and had started to brush away the soil with her gloved hand. Her khaki jeans and t-shirt were already filthy. I tried lifting the tree straight up but it wouldn't budge. There was plenty of side to side movement of the trunk indicating that it wasn't bound to the rock.

"We have to take as much of the root ball as we can," I explained to Aya. Most of it was inside a little depression, but one root extended inside a thin fissure to the right. That root was snipped free. Using hand trowels we managed to pry most of the root ball up but something was still binding it to the rock. I held one side of the root ball up as Aya, lying on her back in the lichen, reached under to try to ascertain what still held it in place. She looked lovely in her yellow t-shirt, covered in soil. Eventually she felt a root extending down which she eventually managed to snip, freeing the tree from its terrestrial home.

"Woo-hoo!" Aya exclaimed.

"Well done Aya. That's hard work isn't it?" Aya was brushing the sweat of her brow with her soiled, gloved hand. Her forehead and face became covered in mud.

"Another one?" I asked.

"Sure. Are you going to get one too?" she asked.

"Only if you're done picking from this patch," I answered.

We set out to collect another. It was a similar task to the first. The root ball had to be teased and lifted from the underlying rock bit by bit. We worked on it together.

"Can I ask you a question?" she asked, "I hope you don't mind."

"What is it?"

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

Where the hell did that come from? She was staring at me as she worked away at the root ball.

"No, do you?"

Clearly I shouldn't have asked that. She was firing darts at me with her eyes.

"I'm sorry, it is a fair question though," I tried to recover from my faux-pas.

"I suppose you're right. No, I don't, nor do I have a boyfriend."

We continued to work away. After a few minutes I asked, "Why did you want to know?"

She didn't answer me at first but then after a while said, "I'm just a little confused that's all. Don't you like me? Or don't you find me attractive?"

I stopped what I was doing and sat up on the lichen and looked at her. What the hell brought that on?

"I like you a lot. And I think that you are a gorgeous, sexy woman."

Her face became expressionless as she sat up too. The little soon-to-be bonsai was right between us as we sat on the grey-green lichen carpet.

She thought for a moment then said, "I thought that I had made my intentions quite well known yesterday, but you didn't act on it. I thought maybe you had a girlfriend already and that I was being out of line."

"I don't think you were out of line," I stated and simply regarded her reaction.

"Is it because I was in a lesbian relationship?"

What an odd thing to ask. "No," I stated flatly.

"What is it then?"

"Aya, maybe you were just being friendly yesterday. Maybe it was the martini talking I don't know. And it doesn't really matter. If I had made a pass at you yesterday and had gone too far, how would you feel about it today? Gee I'm sorry I tried to rape you last night, but don't worry -- when we go deep into the bush today and it's just you and me with not another soul around for miles, don't worry I'll be a perfect gentleman. You can trust me to keep my grubby hands to myself."

Aya sat there on the lichen and smiled at me. "You're not like other guys are you?"

"Nonsense," I answered right back, "I'm just like every other guy."

"No you are not," she was grinning at me, "you're not like other guys that I've know or gone out with."

"Were they all just a bunch of stinking self-centered boors?" I stood up to stretch my legs, "only interested in one thing?" Before she could answer I bent my knees down a little and started flapping my arms back and forth while pumping my pelvis in and out. "Ma ego needs ta eat! Feed ma fetish! Uugh. Uugh. Uugh. I need sex! Gimme gimme."

Aya fell back into the lichen clutching her belly laughing, "Yeah, that's pretty well it! I think that pretty well sums it all up." Buy the time she recovered she had to brush tears of laughter from her face. She just managed to adhere more mud onto her face.

She tried to brush the teary mud from her face, but in reality just smeared it further. She said, "But you're not like that. You're not like that at all."

"That's nice of you to say that Aya, but I'm still not going to make a pass at you." We resumed work again.

"Are you afraid that I'm just trying to recover from my relationship? That I'm just trying to figure out if I am lesbian or not?"

"Are you?" I asked, but immediately knew I shouldn't have.

"Don't you question your sexuality?" Nice little dodge on her part.

"No."

"You must have at some point in your life."

I sat up again. Paused, then answered Aya. "I can recognize what a good looking guy is. Brad Pitt, Matt Damon and whatever that guy's name is that played Edward Scissorhands..."

"Johnny Depp," she interrupted.

"Yeah, that's him, but my point is...although I recognize them to be good looking, sexy men, I have no desire to come up to them, run my hands up and down their chests, give them a big hug then plant a big fat wet kiss on their stubbly lips. It just doesn't do anything for me."

Aya just glared at me.

"Actually, that's not true. It does do something for me. It's called revulsion."

She continued to glare at me.

"If I can't even kiss a guy without gagging, how am I supposed get off having sex with a man? So to answer your question about me questioning my sexuality, I guess I did. For about a nanosecond." Clearly that little tirade was foreign thinking to Aya.

We got back to work, managed to free the tree, then started on another tree.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure," she answered.

"Tell me about your girlfriend, what was her name?"

"Helene. What do you want to know about her?"

"Was she butch, to your obvious femme?"

Aya sat up. She was covered in dirt, as was I. "Not all lesbians fill the stereotypical butch-femme roles."

"I know that. I was just wondering if she was butch...I was wondering, if she filled some sort of male substitute role for you."

She gazed at me.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't be asking. I don't mean to pry into your life."

"She does keep her hair short and she only wears pants or slacks. But that doesn't make her butch. She's very feminine."

This time I gazed at her.

"Would you call Ellen DeGeneres butch? She has short hair and seemingly only wears pants or slacks," she asked, or stated, or I guess argued.

"I don't know. Maybe," I answered.

"Maybe you're right, maybe she was a male substitute for me deep down on some sub-conscious level. I don't know. But what I can tell you is this. She is who she is. She dresses and cuts her hair in a manner that makes her feel good about herself. She's very comfortable in her skin. That's the person that I fell in love with. Her, not a butch dyke. The outward appearance makes very little difference to me. It's what is in the heart, what is in the soul that I find sexy and attractive. Gender is a secondary consideration altogether."

This time I was at a loss for words. We continued to work on the tree. Maybe I had a chance then.

"Do you still love her?"

"Do you still love your wife?" She came back with a bang.

"Ex-wife. But no, sadly the love is gone." I paused to reflect for a moment, "There'll always be a place in my heart for her. But no, the love's gone."

"It's true too for me and Helene. It seems that love is something that has to be worked at and nourished. You just can't take it for granted."

"Don't I know it?" I said almost under my breath.

We collected four trees altogether. Three for her and one for me. The first being the best one amongst all of them. By the time we were finished, all the beer was gone and we were beat. And filthy. I had Aya collect up two full plastic garbage bags of reindeer lichen. I tied each tree root ball into plastic sheeting that was cut to size then bundled securely with twine. It took a good forty five minutes to get everything stowed away into the boat. The little boat was nearly overflowing with the leafy cargo.

As I was about to start-up the engine Aya turned to me and asked through the branches, "Martinis when we get back?"

"You bet."

Back at the dock I said to Aya as I tied the boat off, "We still have work to do." I unloaded all four trees onto the dock. "I'll go get us martinis while you untie the trees." I showed her how to take clumps of lichen and sponge up cold lake water with it. "Just leave each clump on the dock to drain a little."

Aya was finished with the task by the time I returned with martinis. Oliver Twists, just as she liked.

"We did well didn't we?" she asked, obviously delighted with the day's hunt.

"Very well I'd say. Cheers."

Each tree was rebundled, this time with wet lichen and securely tied with twine. Once secured and perched on the dock, we had the opportunity to really check each tree out, rotating each in its spot so that we could comment about likely bonsai styles, the good potential in each and the challenges that each tree appeared to have. It was a fun way to admire our work and to enjoy our martinis. They really were stunning catches.

"You really enjoyed the bonsai hunt didn't you?"

She smiled and slung her arm over my shoulder, "I'd kiss you but you're filthy," she said with a devilish little grin.

"You have no idea." I answered back grinning.

She leaned her face right into mine then said in a low voice, "Maybe if I seduce you, I'll find out."

"You can try." I retorted with an optimistic lilt to my voice. I know I was grinning.

We finished our martinis. I suggested to Aya that she should have a quick shower while I packed the trees under the protected overhang of the cabin. I managed to do that and find a broom and sweep the dock clean. I brought wood in for the Franklin stove and lit it. I open up a Pinot Grigot and put on a CD -- Pink Floyd, A Momentary Lapse of Reason. She was still not out. I was so filthy myself I dare not sit down on the furniture. As I was getting some clean clothes out for myself Aya emerged from the bathroom.

"Sorry, I used up all the hot water."

Great.

I grabbed my fishing rod and cast off the dock for a few minutes just as dusk approached. So Aya is going to try to seduce me. Did I get that right? I've never been seduced. Or at least, I am not aware that I've been seduced before. It's kind of a two way street isn't it? Would I let myself be seduced? Probably. I was pretty sure that Aya understood what the litmus test for me would be. Whatever happened -- I needed to be comfortable, that she was comfortable with me afterwards. Maybe it's me? Maybe I'm just plagued with self-doubt and insecurity.

And how the hell does she figure she's going to seduce me? Come slinking up in a skinny black dress, long sleeve gloves and a cigarette in a foot long holder, femme fatale style? Would she growl at me in a Germanic accent '...I know za difference between light und hard...I can sleep with ze light on next to me'; or maybe like Mae West 'is that a gun in yer pocket...or ya just happy to see me?'

The whole situation was preposterous.

I caught a small pike, thankfully it jumped off the lure's treble hook before I had to get my fingers involved. My pike gloves and pliers were already stowed away up at the cabin.

I made my way up to the cabin. Aya was in front of the fire dressed in black sweat pants and a red t-shirt. Her wavy wet hair trundled down her back and shoulders. She was painting her toenails a bright red. She smiled at me with a devilish grin as she picked up her glass of white wine.

"I slipped into something a bit more comfortable, I hope you don't mind."

Sweat pants.

Has she actually seduced anyone before? With her looks why would she have had to? Between the jerk guys that she's known and the butch girlfriend she had...I'll bet she's never seduced anyone. 'Let me slip into something more comfortable'. Yeah, sweat pants...that does it for me. Sheesh.

I hopped into the shower.

When I got out and changed, into sweat pants too, something was cooking that really smelled fantastic.

"What's for dinner?" I thought it was an innocent question.

"You'll see."

I went about setting the table as Aya continued on in the kitchen. "Shall I set out the red candles? It'll go with your nail polish."

"Oh you noticed."

"Is that part of the seduction?"

Aya laughed and asked, "Is that all it takes?" Why is it she always seems to answer a question with another question?

"Hey I did notice you're wearing a little make-up. That's a first on this trip. And...Aya...those sweat pants," I shook my hand vigorously, "so hot."

"Oh, you don't like my sweat pants, should I take them off?" she held a mock innocent grin on her face, eyes wide open.

"If you do, I won't be able to eat dinner." She smiled and turned back to the kitchen sink.

I finished setting the table and asked Aya with my tongue firmly in my cheek, "What music would you like to set your seduction by?"

"How about something classical?" she answered grinning.

I put on a collection which started with Beethoven's Piano concerto No.1.

"Red or white?"

"Both."

I opened a Chablis and a Sangiovese. So she wants to get me sloshed, is that how the seduction works? The last glimmer of sunlight painted the sky outside pink and purple.

She brought the plates to the table as I sat down. "Oh look at the sunset," she said, isn't it beautiful?"

I breathed in the sight through the window but was immediately enamored by the absolutely exquisite aroma of the lightly coloured spicy stew in front of me. "Fantastic." I said. The stew sat on a bed of rice and was ringed with alternating slivers of red and green peppers and topped with chopped kalamata olives, fresh cilantro and something I couldn't quite identify.

"This is great," I said, "but what is this?"

"Preserved lemon."

"No, I mean the whole dish?"

"Moroccan lamb tagine."

She brought also a pair of salad plates consisting of chopped cucumber, red, green and yellow peppers, tomato, red onion, chickpeas, olives, feta cheese and baby salad greens all sitting atop of grilled eggplant slices. A dressing adorned it with fresh herbs, lemon juice and olive oil.

"Wow."

"I hope there's enough," she said as she sat down.

It was magnificent. I wouldn't expect food that good in a an expensive restaurant, yet here we were, in a cabin in the middle of the boreal forest.

Aya grinned at me as we ate.

"So, how are you going to seduce me?" I couldn't help myself.

"Going to?"

The way she said it left no doubt in my mind that it was game on already. Certainly the dinner was winning my stomach over.

"You're a superb cook Aya."

She smiled at me and said with wide, feigned innocent eyes, "I've other talents too."

She was good. Devious. I knew she was reeling me in just like I had the little pike a few minutes before. Was I hooked lightly enough that I could jump off too, or had I already swallowed the proverbial hook, line and sinker?

"Seriously Aya, why are you even interested in me?"

"Aren't you interested in me?" Question with a question again.

"I've already told you how I feel, you're beautiful and sexy. You are intelligent, full of life, and I think you're a kind, sweet person. Plus you are one hell of a good cook."

Aya smiled at me.

"But why are you interested in me? I'm a nobody."

"Robert Winstanley you are hardly a nobody. You're kind hearted, intelligent and very good looking. Maybe a little shy, but that's okay. Remember it's the inner person that I'm attracted to, a person's heart and soul. And you are so different from all of the other men I've met in my life. How can I not be attracted to you?"

"I'm not rich."

"Money shmoney. What good is a coin in your pocket if your heart is empty?"

"Still I live in a modest house."

"So do I. But you've not run away from your family obligations, you have a nice truck, a boat...you have a good mind, you will never be poor."

"You didn't answer me though, just how do you plan to seduce me?"

Aya smiled demurely as she finished off her dinner. "If I simply stripped myself naked, I'm pretty sure your hormones would drive you into my bed." She paused to gauge my reaction.

I could feel my face flush a bit.

She continued as she stood to clear the plates, "That would be pretty easy I think. But I'm not just interested in your body...I want your mind and your heart too."

"Can we just work on the first part for now?"

She stopped mid-stride and placed the dirty dishes on the island. With her back to me, she stepped out of her slippers, pulled her red t-shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor, then the same with her sports bra. Then she pulled down and stepped out of her baggy, black sweat pants and dropped them on the floor too. Her glorious ass was shining at me with only a red thong strap between her enticing cheeks. Her back was feminine, draped with her glistening, wavy black hair. I could see her natural curves, her legs were shapely. At the top of her thighs there was a gap about an inch wide.

I could feel the pressure building in pants. She was right about the stripping, hormone thing.




Bonsai Hunting



She turned around to face me. I was stunned by her intense beauty. Dark eyes framed by wavy black hair, thick luscious lips betraying no emotion, perfect full breasts with dark areola and thick nipples pointing slightly up and out, her belly had just a hint of a soft rise and her bush was trimmed to a narrow strip of soft black curly hairs.

I could feel my heart beating in my chest. I was ready to simply stand up and dive onto her. My hand was gripping the edge of the table so tightly that my knuckles were white. How could such a gorgeous creature be possibly interested in me? Something simply didn't compute. Women that good looking, don't go out with average guys like me. Is it the air in the boreal forest that is twisting her mind?

She walked over to me in slow seductive steps, grinning the whole time. I stood up to meet her. She embraced me with her arms around my shoulders. I reached around and cradled her back. Her tits flattened against my chest as she reached up with her lips and kissed me full on the lips. Her lips were soft and warm. Her eyes were wide open gazing into mine.

I could feel my knees grow weak.

I could feel my prick straining in my underwear. I needed to adjust.

I needed to breathe. Too much, too fast.

She broke the kiss and while still holding me, gazed into my eyes and said, "Rob, whatever happens between us tonight, I want you to know I will not be cowering away from you or afraid of you in the morning." She rubbed my back up and down with one hand then added, "Do you understand?"

"Yes," I managed to squeak out.

My prick was pushing out against her belly. I'm sure she could feel it. She gave me another soft languid kiss while gently caressing my shoulders.

Aya whispered into my ear, "Do you know what we should do right now?"

I ran my hands along her bum cheeks, "Mmmm", I kissed her neck.

"Dishes."

I lifted my lips off her neck and froze in place. What a strange seduction she was applying. I had a sudden urge to immerse my arms in warm soapy water.

"Come on Rob, we have plenty of time for that later. Let's get cleaned up first then we can sit in front of the fire."

"Okay," I sighed.

Smetana's 'The Moldau' was playing. We washed the dishes and cleaned up with Aya nearly naked flitting around me. I couldn't help but feast my eyes on her. What a devious girl, she gave me eye candy for dessert. Aya hovered over the makeshift booze cabinet as I brought some more firewood in for the stove.

Examining the bottles she asked, "Would you like a liqueur or something?....or, let me put it this way. What will entice you out of your clothes Rob?"

Me? "I don't think I need enticing," I answered.

"But you're still dressed."

I looked back at her as I stuffed a split log into the stove. She had a huge grin on her face. "I'll have a Cointreau if you'll have one," I answered.

We settled in front of the stove with martini glasses of ambery orange liqueur. Grieg's In the Hall of the Mountain King playing.

"You're still dressed Rob."

The music was frantic, then ended with a dramatic finish of alternating stabs of full orchestra single note and kettle drum single note exchanges. Then silence. The CD was over.

We stared at each other with our glasses in our hands.

"Did you bring condoms?" she asked.

"No. It's not a regular part of the bonsai kit."

"We have to be careful it's exactly that time of month for me." She paused for a moment then added, "I've had no reason to be on the pill for years."

"Oh."

Aya stretched her arm around my shoulder and pulled me in towards her and whispered to me, "But that doesn't mean we can't have a little fun." She kissed me on the cheek, put her glass on the low table and said, "Come on let's get you out of these clothes."

I put my glass down too, then stood up and pulled my t-shirt over my head. As I was doing that Aya tugged my sweat pants and underwear down in one go. My prick sprung out straight into her face. It was in her mouth in an instant as she wrapped her arms around my bum. I could feel my cock hardening in her mouth. She turned my hips and pushed me back towards the couch. Unable to step as my pants and underwear were bunched around my loafer shoes, I fell backwards into the couch. My cock slipped from her mouth with an audible pop.

"Ha ha!" She leapt on top of me, straddled me and placed her arms on my shoulders. With a big grin on her luscious lips she lowered herself down and kissed me. I could feel my stiffened cock brushing against her red clad pussy.

Looking down at me she said with a sparkle in her eyes and a devilish grin, "I'll just have to show you how to make love like a lesbian."

I was dumbfounded. "Okay," I managed to mumble.

"Put some soft music on Rob, I'll fix the lighting."

I found another classical mix CD. Albinoni's Adagio in D minor started playing. Aya had arranged the still burning two candles and found the two white candles from last night and managed to hot wax them into two egg cups. She turned off all the other lights and lay down on the couch.

Her body glowed in the combined soft light of the candles and stove. Outside the stars filled the skies.

She slipped her red thong off. "Come here," she said softly.

My prick was fully erect as I climbed atop of her. I kissed her soft lips as I propped myself up on my elbows keeping my weight off her. I kissed her jaw line and nibbled at her ear as I shifted my weight to the left and put my right hand on her breast.

"Lesson number one," she whispered, "just move slowly and gently, don't be thrashing about." Even in the soft glow of light I could see her smirking.

I lay on my side next to Aya. My cock rest on her hip. With the fingers of my right hand I gently brushed her hair from her face and drew them along her jaw line to her neck. I kissed her right cheek. Slowly I softly traced a line down her throat, over her sternum, between her breasts and down to her navel. I cupped her right breast and delicately squeezed. Her chest started to rise as her breath deepened. I gently squeezed her left breast. With one finger I circled her areola and watched as the nipple started to extend and the skin crinkled under my touch. As I repeated the tender tease on her right areola, I blew steadily across her chest. Her shoulders rose slightly. With my fingertip I touched her right nipple and softly rubbed in a twirling motion.

"Mmm."

I repeated the nipple fingertip dance on her left nipple. Then her right again. Then her left again. Then again and again.

Aya's chest rose to meet my every touch, her breath heavier as we continued.

I brushed my palm along her belly and down to her shaved pubic hair. It was soft and warm. With just the pads of my fingers I stroked Aya's thighs gently. She parted her knees a bit. I placed my index and middle finger onto her pussy and gently swept upwards along her outer lips. Her hooded clit passed between my knuckles.

She released a breathy, quiet gasp and turned her face to mine. Our lips touched. Our lips parted and I could feel her tongue in search of mine.

My fingers continued to delicately stroke, touch and explore her exquisite pussy. Her inner lips were soft, smooth and supple. The curly black hairs were gossamer in my fingertips. Gently I teased the skin covering her clit back, exposing the delicate little jewel to the cool air.

Aya broke our kiss to intake a breath of air.

I sat myself up. Aya had a 'what the hell are you doing?' expression on her face. I placed myself off the end of the couch between her legs. I held both of her ankles in my hands. I could see that I'd left a little pre-cum on her hip.

I kissed each toe, alternating between feet, slipping each painted nail between my lips, while rubbing the soles of her feet with my thumbs.

She giggled and pulled her knees up higher, opening up her lovely pussy. In the soft candlelight I could see a tiny glisten and a glimmer of moisture against her deep pink inner pussy.

I kissed her feet and her ankles while still massaging the soles of her feet. Her eyes were closed and her head was slowly rolling side to side.

I shifted up the couch towards her pussy and placed her ankles on my shoulders. With my tongue and with kisses I made my way up alternating between her thighs. Aya's knees widened even more. She was beckoning me in. Like a moth before a flame, I had no way to stop myself.

As I kissed the inside of her knees, I caught a sudden first whiff of her pussy. My nostrils flared as my mind processed her complex ambrosia. My cock reacted by stiffening anew and my bumhole clenched before my brain could put together a coherent thought. I was drooling.

I had to stop myself from diving forward tongue first. Aya's eyes were staring into mine. I could see darkness, an animal lust in them. She was no longer smiling. Her full lips were parted, the edges of her teeth showing.

My hands slid along the back of her thighs as I lowered myself to her pussy. My nose barely touched her hooded clit as I took in another deep breath. Pure woman. My tongue reached out and took a first gentle lick of her luscious puss. Like some forbidden narcotic I was suddenly immersed in a diabolical sensory bio-feedback loop. The more of Aya that I tasted the more I wanted - needed. I cupped her bum cheeks in my hands and drew her steaming pussy to my mouth. I had to consciously slow myself down and simply not eat her up.

I felt her fingernails in my scalp pulling me towards her. Into her. My tongue lashed from side to side. It found her wet core and I pushed my tongue as far in as I could. It wasn't enough. I wiggled my tongue inside her as she pressed me forward.

I could hear gasps as she ground herself against me. Her clit was hard, pressed against the underside of my nose. My eyes were watering with joy.

I shifted my weight a little to the side and slid my left palm under her tailbone lifting her up. The fingers of my right hand immediately went probing to her flesh. Between my saliva and her juices she was flowing wet. Sticky. Sopping.

My index finger gently probed inside her as I continued to lick her, my lips barely brushing her clit. Her back was stiff and she continued to slowly sway her hips side to side and press down to me. I eased my finger in and out a few times then added a second. It slipped in easily. In and out, spreading her lips apart, then easing back in, then out. In. Out.

"Lesson two...keep your fingers inside!"

I plunged both fingers in obediently then added a little shoulder to it. Her entire body twisted in response. She let go of my head.

"Aahhhh."

In and out I fucked her pussy with my fingers, never fully retracting them. My mouth found her clit and I sucked it in. I was hot with the moment. Her bum and hips were bouncing in my hand. In and out. As deep as I could go. I twisted my fingers side to side, crossed them, knotted them and pushed the pads against her G-spot.

My eyes, as far as my eyeballs could roll upwards, managed to glimpse Aya pinching and rolling her nipples with her thumbs and index fingers. The slight rise on her belly quivered and bounced before me. Her entire torso was a deep pink colour, her face was red, contorted with an unrecognizable fury. Aya's nostrils flared as she gasped for breath. Her nose was running. She was breathing hard. Her eyes were almost black. There was no friction in her pussy as I pumped my fingers in and out and sucked on her clit while flitting it side to side with my tongue.

Without warning her pussy muscles clamped down on my fingers with a viselike grip as her hips flailed wildly up and down and side to side. Her hands returned to press me into herself.

"Aaaauuugghhh." Her pussy grip loosened, then quickly tightened again. "Aaauuughh." With each contraction I could feel the muscle between Aya's pussy and bumhole flexing outwards against my fingers. She was gasping for air. "Gggrrrrrrrr." Flex. "Rrrrrraaaahh." Flex. "Aauuugh."

Aya failed to mention lesson number three -- to hang on. When her orgasm finally subsided to mere aftershocks I withdrew my fingers and got up with one foot on the floor, the other knee on the couch between her legs. I became suddenly aware of my own urgent need to release. Aya gazed at me through tangled black hair matted to the perspiration across her face. It took only four pumps of my engorged cock to shoot my load onto Aya. The first shot arched out to the right side of her neck and across her right breast and belly, the second onto her left tit and belly, the third and fourth drained onto her belly which was still heaving up and down. My heart was beating wildly and I was gasping for air. I was acutely aware that my face had contorted into some visceral image of myself.

Without hesitation Aya's palms and fingers found my semen and she spread it across her breasts, neck and belly as if it were a treasured body lotion. Red painted fingernails snaked into her mouth to taste my cum, her right hand dipped to her pussy rubbing her clit. There was a deep satisfaction in her eyes and on her parted lips. Aya's body glistened in the soft candlelight.

I lay on top of her and kissed her passionately. Her semen covered red nails dug into my back and she pulled me tight. Our tongues fired against each other as our bodies continued to shudder. I could feel her heart pounding against my chest through her flattened breasts. I could feel my chest hairs catching in the sticky salve.

I shifted my weight to the side and played with her boobs with my right hand. We kissed softly. With her left hand she reached down and held my softening cock. Gently squeezing it, turning it over in her fingers and brushing the head with her fingertips.

"Thank you," I whispered in her ear. She kissed me again.

"Thank you Rob."

We lay together in the soft light caressing each other and stealing soft kisses.

"What is that music?" she asked.

It was only then that I became aware that I'd completely tuned myself out from what was going on around me. I was so immersed in only Aya. "I don't know. Handel maybe."

"It's beautiful."

"You're beautiful Aya." I kissed her again then sat up. Aya sat up too. We both reached for our gasses of Cointreau and took a sip. She looked at me and smiled. I looked at her. I could feel the grin forming on my face. She looked down at her boobs. Black hair was stuck in tangled clumps to her neck, shoulders, face and chest. Our combined gel like debauchery was drying on her. She was a mess.

Aya burst out laughing at her own sight. I tried to contain myself by putting my arm around her shoulder and pulling hair off but I couldn't help myself. I laughed alongside her too. Sitting back with my left arm around her shoulders, snuggled together in front of the fire and each of holding our glasses, I asked Aya, "So, how did I do as a lesbian?"

That set off another round of laughter from Aya as she answered, "It doesn't normally end in such a sticky mess." Black hair was glued to her right boob. She looked up to my eyes, her eyes were suddenly lost of humour, "You'd make a wonderful lesbian." She pulled in closer to me and whispered, "I can't wait to fuck your cock." I squeezed her shoulder and pulled her close. I kissed the top of her head as we watched the fire flicker before us.

A few minutes passed without a word between us. Through the violin music I became aware of Aya sniffling next to me. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"What's wrong Aya?"

She sniffled as she answered, "Nothing's wrong Rob. I'm just crying because I'm happy." I reached down and kissed her. That didn't stop the tears.

"Don't cry my angel, don't cry." I got up to find a tissue.

"I'm sorry," she said as I handed a bunch to her. She blew her nose and wiped her face. "I think we need showers."

"I agree. You first. But please, please leave me a bit of hot water." I would have liked to have joined her in the shower but it was too small.

I sat contemplating the fire and what had just transpired with Aya when the CD ended. I heard the shower turn off. I entertained the thought of going to watch Aya as she dried her glorious naked body off, but decided that would be too intrusive. The gentleman side of me won over. I wanted to strangle that little devil sitting atop my shoulder.

"Ro-ab?" Aya called out in a rising voice from the bathroom. I was up like a shot. Her boobs were swinging as she hunched herself over to dry one leg. "Can we go out to watch the stars again?" She stood up and grinned at me as she wrapped her hair in the towel. Her nipples were erect, dark areola crinkled again. I almost melted.

"Certainly."

"Great...shower's ready."

I stepped in and turned the water on. There was hot water left.

I came out to the sound of Aya's blow drier working in her room. She was dressed in jeans and a sweater and it seemed braless. I dressed myself too. We both emerged from our bedrooms at the same time. The fire needed another log or two. It was all of nine thirty. I put the last two split logs on the fire.

"Cup of tea or would you prefer something stronger?" she asked.

"I'll have a tea, but only if you're having one too."

She smiled at me and turned to put the kettle on.

We sat on the little deck in front of the cabin snuggled up to each other with warm mugs of tea in the cool night air. The stars were brilliant again. Aya couldn't stop grinning watching the sky. I couldn't stop grinning watching Aya.

"Do you think we'll see the Northern Lights tonight?"

"I have no idea."

"You can't conjure them up again?" she asked as she pulled me tighter. I kissed her temple in response.

"Ro-ab?" she looked up into my eyes, "sleep in my bed with me tonight." I kissed her temple in response again.

I did. We did. Naked, embraced in each other's arms. We kissed and cuddled. When she noticed my stiff prick poking into her belly she started stroking me. I stopped her and said, "One sticky situation is enough for tonight don't you think?"

"Oww..." she responded, clearly a little dissatisfied, then in an optimistic tone added, "want to play lesbian again?"

"Tomorrow, I promise," I said. I was beat. We'd had plenty to drink. I wanted to fuck her, but I knew I couldn't. I lay in her bed with her wrapped in my arms. She was warm. She smelled so sweet. I could feel her heart beating pressed against my chest. Her black hair splayed across my face, caught in the stubble of my chin. She smelled wonderful. Exotic. Erotic. Even her heavy breathing was sexy as she drifted off to sleep. Eventually I fell asleep too.

I woke up in the middle of the night and slipped out of bed, "Where you going?" she asked in a low voice.

"Fire, pee and check the sky." There was just a faint aurora borealis going on, a pale comparison to the previous night's display. Just a glow. Undaunted Aya peered through the bedroom window to confirm the report of my findings.

I woke up in the morning alone in bed. It was light out. I could smell coffee. I stumbled into the main room naked to find Aya dressed, making breakfast. My morning hard on greeted her, "Good morning Aya."

Her eyes widened, she grinned and said, "Good morning indeed." I stumbled off to the bathroom to perform my morning ablutions.

As I poured a little milk into my coffee mug I tried to figure out what Aya was cooking. It looked like a horrible, white bubbling saucepan of vomit. She must have seen my reaction.

She looked at me with one hand on her hip. In a fake southern drawl she asked, "Ya'll never had biscuits an' sausage gravy befo'?"

"I've never even heard of that."

Batting her eyes, "Well ya'll in for a treat then, ain'tch ya?" She smiled and turned to pull a tray out of the oven. Her hand was wrapped in a tea towel and her jeans were tight across her pretty bum.

I couldn't eat enough of the stuff. Warm scone-like 'biscuits' were broken open and smothered in a thick gravy with lumps of fried pork sausage meat and just a hint of sage and pepper. I was pleasantly shocked at the disparity between the simplicity of the dish, the overall appearance and its heartiness and flavor. Aya augmented the breakfast table with a large bowl of freshly cut up fruit.