By Strickland83
Chapter 3
�I thought they were building contractors,� I said.
�They�re architecture students. Trip remodels houses over the summer. That�s how he pays for his school.�
�Wow,� Patrice said.
I nodded in agreement.
�Anyway, that�s how Trip�s getting here for the weekend. They rented a plane. Paul is flying him down this morning and then flying on to see a friend. Trip goes back home tomorrow morning right before lunch.�
I nodded in understanding.
�And you�re staying in Natchitoches tonight?� Patrice asked.
Abby looked a little embarrassed at that question.
�Abby, what do you think we did last night?� I asked, earning a punch in the arm from the lovely creature at my side. �Ouch.�
Abby and Patrice giggled while I rubbed my arm.
�So you know how to get to the airport, right?� Abby asked, looking at me and deftly changing the subject.
�I�ve never been there, but it�s near the university. We�ll find it alright. It should take about half an hour to get there. Will you be able to find your way back tomorrow?�
�I got here, didn�t I? I just don�t know my way around the town, that�s all,� Abby told me.
�So when do we have to leave?� Patrice asked.
�I guess about 9:30. Trip told me they were supposed to land at 10:00. Is that okay?�
�Sure, it�s fine. We�re going to have lunch in town and see a movie. Then I guess we�ll come back here and� find something to do.� Looking at Patrice, I guarded my arm and hastily added, �Okay, I�ll stop. Just don�t hit me again.�
I rubbed my arm as if she had really hurt me. She laughed at my pathetic attempts at humor.
Abby packed an overnight bag while I waited outside. I didn�t want her to feel self-conscious about me seeing what she put in the bag. Abby was cute and Trip was going to be a lucky guy tonight. I knew just how lucky because I was going to be with Patrice.
Abby followed behind us in her car as I headed north. There were signs for the small airport and I had passed by it before so we didn�t have any problems finding it. I had never actually been there before�it was across the river from the university�so we didn�t know where to go to meet a plane. There were few people hanging around two or three planes. I stopped near a big metal building and got the attention of one of the men. He walked over and asked if we were lost. He was wearing coveralls with the name Jason sewn in script over one pocket.
�I think so. We�re looking for a plane.�
He nodded, not pointing out how stupid my comment sounded.
�Are you looking for someone?� he asked.
�We�re here to meet some friends who are flying in from Tennessee. Where is the terminal?�
He looked funny at me for a minute, and then smiled.
�Oh, you want the pilot�s lounge. Go back over there,� and he pointed to what looked like a two-story house, complete with dormer windows, at the far end, away from the buildings where people were working on airplanes. �That red brick building,� he explained, �someone will be able to help you there.�
�Thanks a lot,� I told him.
He nodded before turning back to the open building where people were working on an engine.
I pulled up in front of the building that Jason had pointed out, and parked. There wasn�t a sign but it was the only place matching his description.
�I guess this is where you can meet your friends,� I said to Abby as she got out of her car. I had just about reached the door when someone called out to us. Turning, I saw a dark-haired woman coming our way. She had short hair and olive skin. She didn�t so much walk as float. Her gait was light and she seemed to belong in the air.
�Hi, I�m Lisa. Can I help you?� she asked pleasantly.
�Yes, we�re supposed to meet some people here. They�re flying in from Tennessee,� I explained.
Lisa thought about that and said, �Well, we haven�t had anyone land yet this morning. They�re probably not here yet. Why don�t you come inside the line shack and wait.�
She held the door open for us and we all stepped inside. The cool air was a welcome relief from the morning heat. The small room had two brown leather couches in front of a counter. The smell of something Italian cooking was coming from a kitchen in a bigger room off to one side, desperately competing with the scents of stale cigarette smoke and motor oil.
Lisa walked over to the counter and looked at some papers amid a scattering of what looked like maps or brochures. A radio on the counter issued forth cryptic words every few minutes.
�Ah, there�s some bad weather over northern Mississippi. Your friends probably had to fly around it. Are they flying VFR or IFR?�
�They�re not on an airliner. It�s a private plane,� Abby explained.
Lisa smiled politely. �You�re not pilots, are you?�
We shook our heads.
�I meant, are they flying on instruments?� At the blank expressions on our faces, she continued, �They shouldn�t be delayed more than half an hour or so. Where are you from?�
Lisa made polite conversation with us while we waited. She showed us to the bigger room and stopped by the stove to stir the contents of a pot. She pointed to the sofas in this room and we all sat. Abby was a little concerned about the weather but Lisa reassured her that it was nothing to be worried about. While we were talking, a man walked in. He was wiping grease from his hands with a towel.
�Lis, when Dr. Henson calls, tell him when we pulled one of the jugs we saw it�s gonna need a ring job. Terry says he can�t get it ready until at least Thursday. Oh, hello.�
He seemed to notice us all at once, his blue eyes focusing on the women.
�This is my husband, John. We run the FBO,� Lisa explained. Then, to John, �They�re waiting for some friends who�re flying in.�
�F-B-O?� Abby asked.
�We manage the airport,� Lisa told her. She stood and walked over to John, wiping an errant blob of grease from his tanned face as she smiled at him. �We always dreamed of doing this when we retired. Between him and Terry, our mechanic, there�s nothing they can�t fix.�
John smiled at us and headed back out the door. Abby looked over at Patrice and me.
�Why don�t you go on into town. I don�t want to make you late for your movie,� she urged us.
�Are you sure? We can wait until they get here,� Patrice said, squeezing my hand.
I nodded in agreement.
Abby looked to Lisa, who spoke up.
�Sure, everything�s going to be fine. Nothing to worry about,� she said. �You can wait here with me.�
Lisa sat down on the other plush sofa. There was no one else around, but the remains of card games still littered a few small tables. A television played on, unwatched, against one wall. The compressor kicked on inside the Coke machine and that sound seemed to spur Patrice into action.
�Alright,� Patrice said.
We stood up and Patrice leaned over to hug Abby.
�Don�t do anything I wouldn�t do,� she told her friend.
�I�m hoping to do exactly what you did,� Abby told her and both of them blushed.
Lisa just looked away and smiled. I thanked her for her hospitality and we left. As we were walking out, an older man was walking in. He quickly stood aside to hold the door for us and we heard Lisa greeting him from behind us.
�Hello, George. Heading down to see your son?� she called from behind us.
George nodded politely and smiled as we passed.
��pass a hot summer day,� my wife was saying.
I nodded, not wanting to let on that I had no idea what she was saying. We were walking under the trees, heading from the archery range to the bayou that wrapped lazily around the camp. It was like yesterday when I was last here, yet it was like a thousand years ago. When Laura spied the water glistening through the trees, her eyes lit up.
�Is this where you rode canoes, Daddy?� she asked. �Did you go exploring in the water?�
�Yes, canoes,� I answered.
�Canoes! And we camp in tents?� Patrice asked.
I nodded.
�Can we share a tent?�
I shook my head.
�Unfortunately, no. We�re still chaperoning, remember?�
�I know. I was just hoping. After last weekend, I can�t think of anything else.�
I smiled at Patrice�s discomfort.
�Tell me about it.�
Patrice smiled at something.
�At least Abby is in the same boat,� she said. �After Trip�s visit, we did a lot of talking.�
�Comparing notes?� I asked slyly.
�Girls don�t talk about that,� she said.
I gave her a hard look.
�Well, not like guys do.� Then, with her tone softening, �Don�t worry. You were much better than Trip was, from what little she told me.�
�We might get a chance to sneak off into the woods late at night, but that depends on what happens,� I told her. �We�re going to have the kids with us.�
�I know. I think it will still be fun.�
�In a few weeks, we�ll take a canoe trip on the weekend, just counselors. Then, we can share a tent,� I told her.
Her eyes lit up at that. Then she got more wistful.
�I don�t think Abby had as good a time as she wants me to believe,� Patrice said.
�What makes you think that?�
�When she talks about it, they had a great time. They did some stuff around town, and the sex was good, but the way she tells it makes it all sound like she had built up the reunion to be more than it turned out to be.�
�Like she was expecting more?� I asked.
�Or Trip was expecting more. Maybe I�m wrong, but I�m worried about the two of them.�
�It�s hard maintaining a long distance relationship,� I lamented.
�I know.�
Patrice stopped. When I realized it, I stopped too and turned to face her. Her eyes mirrored the sadness in her soul.
�I�ve been thinking about us, about when the summer is over. What�s going to happen?� she asked.
I could hear tears in her voice, though they were not yet apparent on her face. At the same time, I felt a pain tear through my chest.
�We�re going to stay in touch and make it work,� I said, her sadness becoming infectious. �Shit, Patrice, I don�t know. I want it to last, too. Sometimes you just have to live for the moment, you know?�
She nodded. She was looking to me for answers that I wasn�t sure I had.
�You have to enjoy what you have now instead of worrying about the future. We�ll deal with it when it comes. We�ll make it work out.�
She fell into my arms, crying on my shoulder. I could feel the outline of her plastic nametag as her breast pushed it into my chest. She sobbed and I was trying hard not to cry along with her.
�I love you, Patrice. You know that.�
�I know,� she said, her words muffled by my shirt.
�I�m not going to let you go that easily,� I finished.
�Thank you,� she said, looking up to me with a tear streaked face but still holding her arms around my neck. �I love you, too.�
We stood there smiling until another counselor walked past.
�PDA,� he reminded us as he walked past.
�Sometimes I hate rules,� Patrice muttered loud enough for only me to hear. Then, after a sigh, �I have to get back to the kids.�
�Yeah, me too.�
I planted a kiss on her nose.
�Now stop crying. Think happy thoughts. Don�t try to solve everyone�s problems.�
She smiled at that and then she was gone. I watched her walk away in the summer sunshine. It was probably at that moment that it hit me. It wasn�t a surprise. I knew it was coming. I had just never faced it head-on before. I was very much in love with Patrice. I wasn�t falling in love. I had been there already for a long time.
�-long time since you�ve been here, hasn�t it, Daddy?� Laura asked.
Shaking my head (and still feeling that pain in my heart), I struggled back to the present.
�Yes, it has been a long time, dear. Daddy was still in college back then.�
�Oh, so you were old when you were here.�
I heard a delightful sound, the sound of my wife�s laughter. She put her arms around me from behind and hugged me.
�Yes, you were old back then,� she said, continuing to laugh.
The sound of her laughter brought another memory crashing down upon me from the past, but the laughter came later. First came the crying.
It was about the middle of our summer at camp. Patrice and I were inseparable, as much as our jobs allowed, and Abby was missing Trip something fierce. We were just finishing lunch with our charges when one of the kitchen staff, back from a run into town, was working his way around the dining hall passing out mail. A whoop rang out from Patrice�s table. There�s no other way to describe it.
I looked over in alarm, as did probably everybody else in the building. The sound came from Abby, who was holding an open letter in her hand.
�He�s coming!� she shouted.
Suddenly she realized what she had done, and that she was now the center of attention. She looked up as she blushed crimson, all eyes upon her. She looked around and abruptly sat down but her enthusiasm reappeared seconds later.
�Patrice, he�s coming! In two weeks, he�s coming back for another visit!�
Patrice and I were probably the first two to catch on to what Abby was carrying on about. Trip was coming back for another visit. I was glad to hear it. His last visit cheered up Abby a lot. She again had something really good to look forward to. Patrice looked like she was sharing Abby�s joy. Some of the older girls at their table seemed to have figured out that the letter was from Abby�s boyfriend.
Later that day, I had a chance to talk to Patrice and, after a quick kiss, brought up the subject of Trip.
�I�m not so sure Trip�s visit will be a good thing,� she told me.
�Not a good thing? Why not?� I inquired.
�Well, a few days after Trip left last time, Abby was going on about how he didn�t seem to have a really good time, not as good as she did. She was worried she didn�t, uh,� and Patrice looked around to confirm we were still alone. Now whispering, she continued, �She is worried she didn�t satisfy him.�
�If he�s coming back for more, it couldn�t have been all bad,� I said with a grin. �I mean, the guy�s flying here from Tennessee just to see her.�
�I guess so.� After a deep sigh, �I hope so. I really do for her. She�s sweet and she really deserves someone special.�
�It will all work out fine,� I reassured Patrice.
I didn�t give much more thought to Trip�s visit after that. From the occasional look of concern Patrice showed, I think she was still worried. I wondered if she and Abby were talking about the upcoming visit.
On Wednesday morning, Patrice and I, along with four other counselors, did our stint as chaperones on the weekly overnight canoe trip for the older campers. After breakfast, we spent two hours making sure our charges had all the things they would need to survive a night in the wilderness. Jim was going to be taking care of the bunkhouse by himself while I was gone, as I would do the same when his turn came up. Abby would also be on her own. It was with much difficulty that I arranged for my week to coincide with Patrice�s.
When I was sure we were all ready, we moved our gear outside. Brian and the old blue school bus pulled up. The bus had already picked up some of the other campers. Patrice gave me a wave and a smile from her open window.
We got loaded up and moved a little further along to pick up the last group. I was able to sit with Patrice and she grabbed my hand as I sat down.
�Ready to go camping?� she asked.
The two girls sitting behind her cheered when she said that.
�I think someone is,� I said, looking over the seatback and smiling at the girls.
They nodded eagerly.
Once everyone going on the overnight trip was on board, Brian stood up, holding onto the shiny post to steady himself as the driver started moving the bus out towards the parking lot and to the road beyond. Brian held up his hand for silence.
�Listen up, campers. We�re going to have about a thirty minute ride before we get off the bus so I�m going to go over our trip.�
Someone started talking and Brian interrupted him with a hard stare.
�I need you to listen to me. Your safety depends on it.�
The boy blushed and stopped talking.
�When we get off the bus, we�re going to unload our gear. There�s more gear in the back of the bus that we need to take with us. Next, we�ll take the canoes off the trailer and the counselors will put them in the water. I need each of you to carry your gear down to the canoes. We�ll load up your gear in the canoe you�ll be riding in. We also need to put the camping gear on board, so the canoes will be really full when we�re done. If you forget your gear, you will be the one doing without tonight.
�We are going to be paddling downstream back to the camp and we should make it back before dinnertime tomorrow night. We will be stopping to make camp about five o�clock this afternoon so we have enough time to setup camp and cook dinner before dark.�
�What about lunch?� one of the boys asked.
�I�m getting to that. We have sandwiches packed for lunch and we�ll stop along the way to eat. The only meals we�ll be cooking are dinner tonight and breakfast tomorrow morning.�
�Can we catch our own food?� another boy asked, accompanied by groans from most of the girls.
�Listen up and you will have all your questions answered. We have all the food with us that we�re going to need.
�Some of you will be sharing a canoe with a counselor. I am sure they will appreciate it if you don�t tip the canoe over so they don�t have to sleep in a wet sleeping bag.�
The kids laughed at that.
�You will have to wear life jackets the entire time you are on the water. This is for your safety. I don�t want to see anyone taking their life jacket off in the boat, alright?�
One girl raised her hand, looking timid. Brian pointed to her.
�What do we do if we have to go to the bathroom?� she asked, blushing.
�Do it behind a bush!� a boy shouted and some of the kids laughed.
Patrice walked over to her and told her something quietly. The girl nodded, her blush only slightly fading.
As Brian predicted, the bus pulled over at a deserted boat landing about a half hour later. We got off the bus and the guys put the boats in the water while the girls helped the kids move their gear off the bus.
With that, we started getting into our boats. The counselors watched the kids very carefully. The kids who had less experience in the canoes shared a canoe with a counselor. Brian took up the lead. I was about midway in the pack, sitting in the back of my canoe and doing most of the work as my young camper did his best to paddle. With the current, it didn�t take much work. We mostly steered and helped the canoe along a little. As the morning wore on, we caught up to Patrice�s canoe and ended up side by side. She gave me a brilliant smile as we came alongside. The girl in the front of her canoe, Elaine, saw us and looked back to Patrice. She studied the look on Patrice�s face for a few moments before asking a question. She spoke quietly so only the four of us could hear.
�Is he your boyfriend?� Elaine asked Patrice.
I looked to Patrice for her answer. She gave me a quick glance, then looked back to Elaine as she countered, �Do you think he�s cute enough?�
Patrick, the boy in my canoe, spoke up next.
�Ugh! Boyfriend! Counselor Tim would never do that. Right, Counselor Tim?�
Patrice looked to me, as did Elaine, but Patrice was smiling broadly. I gave Patrice an appraising look like I�d give a car I was thinking of buying.
�I don�t know, Patrick. She�s very pretty.�
Patrick grimaced.
�Yes, I think I�d like to be her boyfriend.�
Patrice looked to Elaine and said quietly, �Yes, he�s my boyfriend.�
�Hooray!� Elaine shouted.
�Gross!� yelled Patrick.
�Give it time, Patrick,� I assured him.
�Never!� he declared.
As he made sickly sounds, the rest of us laughed. After that, we were mostly quiet. The canoes slipped almost silently through the water. A paddle made an occasional bump against the aluminum side of a canoe, or water dripping from a paddle made a tiny trickling sound. While the kids were looking forward and trying to paddle, Patrice and I kept giving each other side glances.
�I love you,� she silently mouthed.
�I love you, too,� I silently answered.
We kept that up, having a silent conversation behind the backs of our young chaperones.
When lunchtime arrived, we came around a bend to see Bill herding the canoes to a sandbar along one shore. We made sure the kids got into shore before grounding our canoes with a crunch in the sandy gravel. One of the women was handing out those wet baby wipes to clean our hands. One of the boys naturally threw his wipe into the water before being admonished about littering. After everyone was suitably disinfected, we passed around sandwiches and cans of soft drinks.
While we ate, Bill told us about the area we were passing through. He told about the history of the area, the wildlife we were seeing, and what our campsite was like. We all, kids and counselors, were anxious to get to the campsite. We still had a few hours of traveling, though.
After cleaning up the remains of lunch and repacking what we had taken out of the canoes, we set out again. Patrice and I were still in the middle of the group. We had to keep an eye on our charges in the other boats, but we still managed to pay a lot of attention to each other.
We teased each other, trying to splash a little water on each other as we paddled side by side. Many smiles were exchanged. Patrick mostly ignored us, watching the other kids and the banks. Elaine, however, kept looking over her shoulder at us. She always had a pleasant smile on her face. I didn�t think if she saw a public display of affection, she�d say anything about it. I filed that thought away for later.
Patrice looked so pretty as the sunlight through the trees dappled her. I could feel it in my chest and in my stomach when I looked at her. Yes, I could feel it somewhere else, too. It would be hard sleeping apart from her tonight. Yes, I thought ruefully, it was going to be hard, alright.
Looking at my lovely Patrice, I thought, and she�s probably going to be wet. I smiled at that thought.
�What�s so funny?� Patrice asked.
�Oh, nothing,� I offered, but she wasn�t letting me off that easily.
�Come on, tell me,� she pleaded.
Patrice�s words had gotten the attention of Elaine and Patrick. I had thought about pulling alongside and whispering it to her, but I couldn�t do it with the kids watching. I think Patrice figured out why I couldn�t tell her because she smiled and gave me a wink.
When the little ones looked forward again, she mouthed to me, �I love you,� and then, raising her eyebrows, looked pointedly at my crotch.
I felt like I was blushing�not so much because she was looking at my dick, but because I had been caught. I smiled back at her.
We played little games like that the rest of the trip; it was fun. We were together and in love. I finally realized that this arrangement was better than sharing a canoe. This way, we could see each other, instead of being stuck one behind the other all day.
At one point, I managed to come right alongside her boat. I picked up my paddle and, holding it over the water on the other side, leaned over to kiss her. When she realized what I was going to do, Patrice leaned over, too.
I drew in a breath as our faces approached each other. I was savoring the way she looked up close, her scent, the color of her hair in the sunlight. I closed my eyes and our lips touched as gently as a butterfly landing on a leaf.
�Oh, Gross!� yelled a kid in another canoe.
Caught! Damn! We were both flushing heavily when I opened my eyes. I lost my balance and the two canoes banged together loudly. I was wildly fighting for my balance with my paddle, desperately trying not to upset either boat.
Once Patrice had her balance under control, she started laughing uncontrollably at my antics. I must have really looked like a fool, struggling and blushing like that.
I didn�t fall in, but I was the center of attention of everyone around. Anyone who missed what had happened was told (loudly by the boy who had spotted us) how I lost my balance trying to kiss Patrice. So much for discretion. I also knew Bill would hear about it and we�d get a talking to about doing that in public, not to mention almost overturning the canoes and endangering campers.
In an attempt to maintain a little dignity, Patrice held up her paddle with one hand, pointed to mine with her other hand, and sternly said, �Concentrate on your paddling, Tim.�
She couldn�t maintain the false seriousness. She busted out laughing all over again and I ended up joining in. Before long, everyone had a laugh at my expense. I didn�t hear the others, though. I was listening only to the sound of Patrice�s laugh.
I never tried that trick again. I was sure we were both being watched very closely. Later in the afternoon, Bill pulled his canoe to the shore at a clearing under some trees. I looked around and started herding the kids to shore. While we were unloading, Patrice grabbed my arm when there was no one in our immediate vicinity.
�I can�t believe it. After all that happened, I didn�t fall in the water.�
I smiled and started to turn away, but she gripped my arm a little tighter.
�I did, however, get quiet wet,� she said, looking directly into my eyes.
It took me a few seconds to realize what she meant. When I did, it must have shown in my expression because she chuckled. She made a slight moaning sound that made my dick grow another inch. She released my arm and walked away. My eyes were on her ass in her khaki shorts as she left.
Catching my breath, I got back to unloading the gear. Patrice rounded up a group of girls and took them off to use the bathroom. I could only imagine how that was going to turn out. I smiled as I saw that Patrice was carrying a shovel.
The boys had some of the tents setup by the time Patrice and her girls got back. She gave me an expression that looked like Phew! when she saw me, and I chuckled. She was quite a trooper.
The camp was setup, a fire was going, and dinner was well on its way to being cooked long before sunset. Hot dogs and beans didn�t take too long to heat up. It was an easy meal to prepare over a campfire. The weather had cooled off a little, a welcome relief. All the counselors helped out with the various chores, the least of which being sure none of the kids wandered off and got lost.
Patrice and I ate together, sitting side by side with our backs against a log. Patrice was discreetly rubbing her bare leg against mine, a sensation I was enjoying a lot. When I finally looked over at her, I noticed she was looking not at my face, but my lap. There was a ghost of a smile on her lips. With a shock, I realized what she was doing. She was watching me get hard through my pants�and she was doing a good job of it. I rearranged my plate so she, and only she, could see the results of her efforts. I really didn�t want any of the kids seeing the growing lump in my shorts.
Patrice noticed that and looked up at me, the ghost now a full blown smile. She nodded, as if to say Impressive, big boy. I took a deep shuddering breath and she giggled. That got a few other people interested in what we were up to and I had to keep my plate securely in my lap for the rest of the meal.
After dinner, we sat around the campfire and sang songs. As the fire died out and things quieted down, most of the kids were tired out from the paddling all day and drifted off to their tents on their own. I was sitting next to Patrice and put my arm around her. I looked up, marveling at how dark it was and how brilliant the stars appeared. In the silence, with Patrice at my side and the dark shapes of the trees reaching up to the star-studded sky, I could really feel the presence of God.
Patrice and I, of course, couldn�t share a tent. The camp was divided into a girl�s side and a boy�s side. Our job that night was to keep the boys and the girls separated. I fell asleep listening to the forest sounds and thinking of Patrice.
Something touched my ear, so gently I thought it was a bug. I gently tried to brush it away. That was no bug. It was too soft, too delicate. And, it kissed my hand.
I opened my eyes abruptly to see a shape over me. When the shape whispered, I recognized the voice at once.
�Walk with me to find the latrine?� Patrice whispered quietly.
I smiled in the darkness and nodded. I slipped out of the tent as quietly as I could. Once we were away from the tents, she reached for my hand. I followed her, trying to walk as quietly as I could in the dark and not trip.
�Patrice,� I whispered when I realized where we were, �this isn�t the way to the latrine.�
I heard her giggle.
�I know that. Come on,� she answered.
We were headed to the water, but downstream from the canoes. Patrice guided me out from under the trees to a log and sat down, straddling the log to face me.
�What are you up to?� I asked, smiling at her in the moonlight.
�Me?� she replied, coquettishly. �Just this��
Then she stood and reached for my face with both hands, pulled us together, and kissed me. The kiss took my breath away. By instinct, we leaned towards each other to press our bodies together. I could feel her nipples and realized she had taken her bra off to sleep. I put my arms around her. Yep, no bra strap. Her arms went around my neck. Our tongues danced together in the dark to the rhythm of our beating hearts.
When we came up for air, Patrice spoke again.
�I want to do more, but ��
�I know,� I said, �but I don�t have anything with me.�
We were whispering to each other in case someone else was up.
�I wasn�t expecting to be able to get together, either. And we�re not exactly clean enough for oral sex.�
I nodded.
�Taking our clothes off out here might be a little risky,� I said, trying to be the voice of reason.
�It�s nice just to be able to kiss.�
�And not have someone yelling, �Gross!� while we�re doing it,� I said with a grin.
Patrice laughed out loud at my comment, but then immediately put her hand over her mouth.
�Oops. I hope I didn�t wake anyone,� she apologized.
I kissed her again.
�Ooh, that�s nice,� she told me.
When I put my arms around Patrice, I realized her shorts had an elastic waistband. I smiled in the dim moonlight as I slipped one hand between us over her shirt. Reaching the hem of the front of her shirt, I moved my hand back up, this time feeling her warm smooth skin. When my hand started down, I reached the waistband of her shorts and slipped my hand inside. I encountered the thin elastic waistband of her panties. As my fingers slid inside the top of her panties, my other hand also went under her shirt but moved up.
�What are you doing?� Patrice whispered.
I could hear the pleased smile in the sound of her words.
�Just looking around,� I replied as my hands continued their exploration. The hand moving up was now cupping the succulent globe of one of her bare tits. The hand moving down was now beneath the soft cotton of her panties. When I felt her curly hairs, my erection throbbed in my pants, leaking precum.
One hand was now moving from side to side, squeezing each erect nipple in turn. The other moved along her furry slit. On the first trip down, all I felt was that soft curly hair. I reveled in the feel of how it was soft yet raspy. I was feeling it with my finger but remembering what it felt like when my tongue moved through it.
On the way up, I pressed harder against the slit, my middle finger dragging between her outer lips. On the way down again, her lips parted. It was as if my hand had suddenly been plunged into a glass of warm liquid. I knew her body was lubricating itself for my dick. Though we knew we wouldn�t be doing that tonight, her subconscious self, that part which acted on its own, was preparing just in case. Likewise, my dick was well into preparing itself�just in case.
My middle finger dragged along her slick inner lips. She bit her lower lip as she moaned softly into the darkness. I wiggled the end of my finger against her opening and slid up, seeking her clit. She let me know when I reached it by moaning not as quietly this time. I kissed her cheek as my finger went down again. Only, this time when I reached the bottom I pressed inward and entered her pussy. One single stroke, without wavering, ever inward until my hand was pressing against her hairy lips and I could reach in no further.
Patrice�s breath was coming in ragged gasps now. Remembering my other hand, I squeezed her nipples harder. It seemed like I was squeezing them hard enough to hurt but she appeared to be enjoying it. At the same time my middle finger sawed in and out of her wet pussy. Her panties were going to be completely soaked through by the time we finished. My hand and her hair already felt like they were dripping with her juices.
I pressed my middle finger towards me as I dragged it out and she tensed. She hurriedly put one fist against her mouth. A deep cry started in her throat and she tried unsuccessfully to stifle it. Though it was muffled, I knew she was cumming. I kept up the stimulation with both hands. Her other arm went around my neck for support�though her arm was too limp to really hold her up�and she leaned back against the tree trunk. I felt her legs shifting as she tried to open them wider even though her knees must have been getting weaker.
I kissed her cheek again. She got the message and removed her hand so I could kiss her. She positively attacked me, kissing me with a ferocious intensity to keep from screaming out loud. It couldn�t last long.
She broke the kiss and begged, �Stop, please,� as her pussy became too sensitive to go on.
I withdrew my finger from her depths but kept my hand pressed against her outer lips, enjoying the soft damp feeling of her most intimate parts. My other hand now tenderly fondled her breasts as I waited for her breathing to return to normal.
When it did, she kissed me on my cheek. I felt her hands fumbling with the zipper on my pants as she said, �I want to return the favor.�
Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I stepped back to give her room. My hands were still on her body, though. She unzipped my pants and tried to pull my erect cock through the fly of my underwear and my shorts. Getting frustrated, she unbuttoned my shorts and pushed them, along with my underwear, down to my thighs.
My cock was jutting out, up even, in the night air. She reached for it with both hands and eagerly began stroking. Her touch felt so much better than when I did that to myself. Maybe it was because when I did that, I started and stopped. She just kept going because it was harder for her to know how close I was to cumming. It was like being on an out of control train heading downhill. No matter what I wanted, she was going to make me cum. There was nothing, short of removing her hand, I could do to stop it�and I wasn�t about to stop her.
We kissed as she stroked. Our tongues touched. Her hand drew me along that inevitable path. When the end was near, our lips parted. I drew in a deep breath and we both looked down. Patrice could tell I was close by the throbbing of my dick.
When I came, she even accelerated her pace. The pleasure was so great it was almost painful. I throbbed in her hand. We both watched as I spurted thick streams that fell onto the damp sand at our feet. They fell with a plop, gleaming white in the dim light.
When I was done and flaccid, Patrice released my dick and it hung limply. She held her hand in front of her face, seeing a little sperm stuck there. She locked her eyes to mine as she licked at it, smiling as she did so.
�I love this taste,� she said, almost moaning.
I took that opportunity to slowly extricate my hand from her panties. I could feel her ample juices rubbing off on her lower stomach as I pulled my hand out of her clothes. Once my hand was free, I held her gaze as I sucked her juices from my middle finger. We watched each other eagerly, hungrily, as we tasted each other.
We could have stayed out there all night, just talking and kissing, but we both knew we�d need our sleep for the next day. Eventually, regrettably, we walked back to the camp. In the moonlight, we kissed one last time outside her tent. Then I watched my lovely girlfriend crawl back inside. She looked back at me through the bug screen and blew me a kiss, which I returned before heading back to my own tent on the other side of the camp. I smelled my hand just before I fell asleep with a smile on my face, and I dreamed of Patrice.
Morning arrived softly. I gradually became aware of the sound of someone preparing breakfast. I got up and went to see if I could help. Bill was the only one awake and he was glad for the help. I mixed pancake batter while he cooked as the sound of little sausages sizzling (and the smells of the food) started to rouse the others.
�When I first got up, there were two deer near the canoes,� Brian told me.
�That�s funny. I didn�t see any down there earlier,� I said, and immediately regretted my admission.
�What were you doing by the canoes?� he asked innocently.
�I had gotten up to go to the latrine,� I lied.
�Uh-huh. The latrines are in the other direction,� he said.
�Oh, Yeah, that�s right. I forgot.�
Bill smiled and looked back down at the pan as he said, �I won�t tell.�
Others were starting to crawl out of their tents. Movement at Patrice�s tent caught my attention at once. She came right over and greeted me with a smile as bright as the early morning sun. When she reached for some coffee, she hugged me from behind. That felt so good that it took a physical effort not to sigh out loud.
We got all the campers up and fed them breakfast. By midmorning, we had everything packed up and we were back on the water. The rest of the trip went much as the day before. Patrice and I stayed close, flirting as much as we could. We stopped for lunch along the way again. As much as we tried to conceal our relationship from the kids, they had all caught on and were no longer teasing us about it. They had come to accept us as a couple. A couple�I liked the sound of that.
We spent a lot of time on the water but it was easy, flowing with the current. Brian assured me we�d get back in time. He did this every week, and even on most weekends, so he knew the area well. Sure enough, we came around a bend and saw the camp about an hour before dinner. Cheers rang out from the kids in the canoes as they recognized home. We unloaded the gear and herded the kids off to their bunkhouses for showers and clean clothes before dinner.
I looked for Patrice as soon as I entered the dining hall, finding her easily. She was waving to me, smiling broadly. It was lasagna night which was always a favorite with everyone. A hearty meal like that after two days of paddling and eating sandwiches�the camp food never smelled so good. We ate well, counselors and campers alike who had been on the trip.
During the evening announcements, Bill said that while we had been gone, Bunkhouse 3G�under the guidance of Abby�had won that day�s cleanest bunkhouse contest. The prize that night was a second dessert of ice cream. Their table jumped up and cheered while the rest of the campers groaned in disappointment.
After dinner, Patrice stopped by my table and whispered in my ear.
�I need to talk to you. Meet me outside. I�m sending Abby with the kids back to the bunkhouse.�
I nodded, smiling at the thought of plans for a clandestine meeting after lights out.
When my charges were finished eating and on their way with Jim, I found Patrice standing beneath a tree across the road. She was holding a plastic cup of ice cream.
�I wanted to share this with you,� she said, putting a spoonful in my mouth.
�This is against the rules,� I warned. �Your girls won it, not my boys,� I said around a mouthful of ice cream.
�Shut up and eat it before it melts,� Patrice said, now eating a spoonful herself.
We shared the treat until it was all gone, then she topped it off with a sweet kiss that quickened my heartbeat. I started to pull her closer to me, but she instead was pulling a small square envelope out of her pocket. As she did, she looked around hurriedly to be sure we were alone.
�Letter from your boyfriend? He�s proposing and you�re dumping me?� I asked, joking.
She broke the briefest smile but then got serious.
�I got a letter from Trip,� she said.
�You got a letter from Trip? Abby�s Trip?�
�Yes, exactly. I�m not sure what to make of this,� she said in a tone that revealed she was deep in thought.
�He heard from Abby how wonderful you are and he�s proposing to you?� I tried again.
She looked up from the letter, directly into my eyes. Her expression told me to stop the joking. I nodded that I understood and waited for Patrice to explain.
�He says he�s coming to see Abby in two weekends,� she started.
�Yeah, Abby already told us that,� I agreed.
�He wants to know if we can go with her to meet him at the airport. He wants to take Abby for lunch in town and he�s not staying overnight. He wants us to be there. He says Abby might want us there.�
I waited for Patrice to continue. She didn�t.
�And?� I inquired.
�And, that�s all there is. He asks me to be there to have lunch with them. He wants to be sure I can make it.�
Patrice thought for a few moments, reading over the words on the paper again.
�I�m not sure what to make of this,� she finally said, repeating her earlier statement.
�Me, either. Think he�s going to propose and he wants her best friend there to share in the moment?� I suggested.
�I don�t know. If he�s going to propose, then why isn�t he staying the night?�
�You think it�s something else, don�t you?�
Patrice looked at me as fear and sadness overcame her features.
�Oh, God! Do you think he wants us there because he�s coming to break up with her?�
Patrice was starting to tear up as she said that.
�Abby did say he didn�t seem to have such a good time on his last visit,� I thought out loud.
When I looked up, Patrice was looking intently at me, as if analyzing my every word.
�Shit. I hope I�m wrong. I really hope I�m wrong,� she said.
�Whatever the reason, we have to be there for her. Unless� do you want to go alone?�
�No way. Whatever this is, I want you there, too. It�s on Saturday morning, two weekends from now. Will you do it?� Patrice asked.
�For Abby? Sure. I�ll be there,� I agreed.
Patrice hugged me.
�I only hope I�m wrong and this is something good,� she said over my shoulder.
I could hear the sniffles. I nodded in agreement with her statement.
�You can�t let Abby see you like this. I mean, he probably didn�t tell her he was asking you to be there, right?�
�I don�t think so,� Patrice said, scanning the letter one more time. �Here. He says he�s going to ask her to ask us to go with her so he and his friend can meet us.�
�It feels like we�re being dishonest,� I said.
�I know,� Patrice agreed. �No, we�re not. We�re doing this to be there when Abby needs us. Whether for good or bad, we�ll be there for her. I want to do it for her. It�s the right thing to do.�
I nodded my assent. Patrice folded the letter and slipped it into the pocket of her shorts. I put my arm around her and led her behind the dining hall towards the lake. A walk would help her calm down. I knew if Abby saw her looking like that, she�d know something was up.
Patrice dropped the empty cup and plastic spoon into a trashcan as we passed the dining hall, the container making an empty clunk as it hit the bottom. It was a sound as melancholy as we felt. We walked all the way around the lake, enjoying the solitude and finally returning to her bunkhouse well after dark. I kissed her on the cheek and watched her go in. The lights were still on and the sounds of activity told me nobody had settled down for the night yet. I walked back to my bunkhouse, wondering what the letter really meant.
I knew Patrice well enough that I could tell she was under stress keeping the secret letter from Abby. Abby got another letter two days later and asked us to go with her to meet Trip. Of course, we agreed. We even tried to look happy at the prospect. I just hoped our assumptions were wrong. I tried to think it through. Abby seemed happy, yet she didn�t. It was like she knew deep down that their relationship was having problems and she didn�t want to recognize the signs.
That Saturday finally arrived. Abby was wearing a sundress to go meet Trip for lunch. She looked really pretty and I couldn�t imagine anyone wanting to break up with her. I was beginning to convince myself that we were wrong, that this was something good. Maybe Trip just wanted to meet her friends after all.
We took my car and drove up to the airport, arriving a few minutes early. This time, I had no trouble finding the FBO. Lisa was behind the counter and smiled immediately when she recognized us.
�Meeting your boyfriend again, Abby?� she asked.
�Yes, he�s coming to visit today.�
Just as Abby spoke, a call came in over the radio.
�That�s Paul!� Abby squealed. �They�re here!�
�He�s just asking for weather information,� Lisa explained. �They�re still not ready to land.�
Then she picked up a microphone and starting jabbering about wind direction and other things that meant nothing to me. When she finished, she put the microphone down and looked back to Abby.
�He�ll be landing in about five minutes.�
Abby looked excited and nervous. I just felt nervous. I guess whatever was going to happen, this was it. I reached for Patrice�s hand and held it tightly. Her palm was sweaty.
We heard an airplane engine approach outside a few minutes later. Abby ran out the door but stood close to the building as she waved to the two guys inside the tiny plane. The passenger smiled and waved back. The pilot looked like he was busy with whatever it is that pilots do.
The engine shut down and the passenger�s door popped opened.
�Trip!� Abby called out as she skipped over to greet him.
So this was Trip. I assumed the pilot was his friend, Paul. We walked slowly over to the plane. By the time we got there, Abby was kissing Trip. The other guy had gotten out and walked around.
Abby looked back for us.
�Patrice, Tim, this is Trip,� she said. She was gushing. I hoped I was wrong about his intentions.
�Hi, Patrice. It�s nice to meet you. Abby talks about you all the time.� Then, reaching for my hand, �Tim, I hear good things about you, too.� Trip was being very polite and friendly.
�And this dashing fellow is Paul,� Abby said, indicating the pilot.
�Hi, Paul,� I said, shaking his hand.
Paul seemed reserved. Maybe he knew something we didn�t know. Trip, however, was acting like he was glad to see Abby. At least I hoped it wasn�t an act.
Trip wanted to take all of us to lunch in town and he asked me to drive. We piled into my car, with Abby between Paul and Trip in the backseat. I asked where Trip wanted to go.
�Someplace really nice. It�s my treat,� Trip said.
I looked over my shoulder at him to see if he really meant that.
�Don�t worry about the cost. I�m paying for it,� he assured me.
As he said it, he looked me in the eye and it was like he was trying to tell me something without Abby hearing. I gave a quick nod.
I drove to a place I knew from when I was at school. I didn�t get to go there often but I thought it would be what Trip wanted. When we got into the restaurant, Trip left Abby with Patrice and went to speak to the hostess. She nodded and Trip motioned for Abby to follow them. I started to follow as well but Paul touched me on the arm.
�Trip wants to talk to Abby alone. We�re going to get another table.�
�What is going on here?� I asked Paul.
Patrice looked expectantly to Paul as well. Paul drew a deep breath, looked up to be sure Abby and Trip were out of earshot and looked into my eyes. I thought for a moment he was going to answer my question.
�Trip is here to have a talk with Abby. I think it�s best that you get your answer from her.�
I looked at the guy in shock. He had just refused to answer my question.
�Come on, Abby�s our friend. What gives?� I asked Paul as we followed the hostess.
We were shown to a table that was far enough away from Abby and Trip that we couldn�t hear what they were saying, but we could figure it out. Trip�s friend wasn�t telling us what was going on, but his refusal was all the answer we needed. We were close enough to watch them. As soon as we sat, Paul looked over the menu.
�Order whatever you want. Trip is paying for it.�
�When?� I asked.
Paul stopped hiding behind the menu.
�He�s probably going to wait until they get their food,� Paul said, looking towards his friend.
I took Patrice�s hand and addressed Paul.
�Look, I�m sorry. We�re not angry with you. Abby is our friend. We care about her.�
�She�s my girlfriend�s best friend, too. Trip is my best friend. This is hard for me, too,� Paul explained.
�So why the visit? Why not just do it in a letter?� I asked.
�That�s not Trip�s way. He has too much class for that. He had to do it in person.� Paul sighed. �You have to know Trip.�
The waitress had taken their order. It was like waiting for a train wreck. I didn�t really feel like eating anything and I was sure Patrice felt the same way. She was still holding tightly onto my hand.
I could see that Trip was telling Abby something. Her smile was starting to fade. Trip�s expression was grim. Then, it happened. Abby�s face dropped. Patrice tightened her grip on my hand as it looked like Abby was starting to cry. She didn�t scream. She didn�t curse at him. She nodded but we could see she was trying hard to contain herself. To his credit, Trip looked like he was really sorry.
�This is hard for him, too, you know,� Paul said, not taking his eyes off his friends.
�Why?� I asked.
�Does it matter?� Paul replied.
�Yes, it does. It matters to us. Abby is our friend.�
�So be a friend to her this afternoon. She�ll need a friend today.�
I started to say something about that but stopped myself. I didn�t really know any of them. I barely knew Abby and I had just met Trip and Paul. There would be no point arguing the point with Paul. He was obviously not going to tell us what we wanted to know. He was loyal to Trip. In an hour or so, these two guys would fly off into the empty sky while Patrice and I would still be here to help Abby pull herself back together.
Our food came but we just picked at it. Abby finally looked our way and said something to Trip. He nodded slowly. Abby got up and walked over to our table.
�Do you want to leave?� I asked her.
It hurt inside to see her so sad. She was fighting to keep her emotions under control. She shook her head.
�Let�s go to the restroom,� Patrice offered.
Abby nodded, still not saying anything, and the two girls left together.
Alone at the table with Paul, I didn�t say anything and neither did he. This was so uncomfortable. I felt like he was from the enemy camp but I wasn�t sure what he had done wrong. Paul was watching his friend. Trip shrugged at us but stayed at the table waiting for Abby to return. It did look like he had a lot of class. I doubted I�d have the courage to do what he was doing.
The girls took a long time to come back. When they did, Abby was clutching a handful of Kleenex and her face betrayed that she had been crying. Patrice had her arm around Abby. When they got to her table, Abby sat down and Patrice gave Trip a hard look. Trip looked like he was going to say something to Patrice but he didn�t. When she sat down next to me, I could see that Patrice had been crying, too.
�Why doesn�t she want to leave?� I asked Patrice.
�I�m not sure. She said�� and then she looked to Paul.
Paul squirmed in his chair. It was apparent that he knew how we felt about him. I spoke up.
�Look, it�s not your fault. I know this is uncomfortable for you. It�s tough on all of us,� I tried to explain.
Paul smiled wanly and said, �Thanks.�
�Do you understand what Abby is going through?� I asked him, maybe a little too harshly.
�Yes, I do,� he said flatly. Then, after a few moments, �I went through something like this not too long ago. I know exactly how she feels.� After a shuddering sigh, he added, �Trip knows how she feels, too.�
Paul�s face showed that his thoughts were distant, focused on another place, or maybe another person. I thought he was going to add something else, but Paul didn�t say anymore. After a few minutes of trying to eat, Trip got up and walked over to our table.
�Abby wants to leave. I�m sorry. Can we go now?� he asked, looking very sad.
�Sure, let�s get out of here,� I said gruffly.
Trip found the waitress, had our unfinished meals boxed up, and paid the bill. While he was taking care of all that, the rest of us walked out to my car. Patrice guided Abby into the back seat. Paul looked at me, thinking about something.
�I�ll sit in the back,� he offered.
I realized what he was thinking. Abby probably wouldn�t want to sit next to Trip right then.
When Trip came out, he was carrying two large bags. He saw the arrangement in the car and got into the front seat. He handed one of the bags to the back seat.
�Where to, now?� I asked him.
Trip looked at Abby in the backseat, sighed, and said sadly, �I guess take us back to the airport.�
I nodded and complied. When I stopped at their plane, Paul and Trip got out. Abby got out, too, much to my surprise. Paul went into the office for a few minutes.
�Trip!� Abby called.
He turned around. Patrice and I could hear them from inside the car.
�Can�t we give it another try?� she asked, tears now streaming down her face.
�Abby, we talked about this. It�s just not going to work. I�m sorry. I�m really, really sorry. I�ve thought a lot about it and � I can�t see any other way.�
Abby hugged him. He stiffly put his arms around her, but didn�t hold her as tightly as her arms held onto him. He patted her back softly. Paul came out, stopped and looked at what was happening, and began checking things on the plane.
�Abby, I�ll always treasure our time together, I�ll always want to be your friend, but I�m not in love with you.�
Abby spoke rapidly, �How can you say that, Trip? What do you want me to do? I�ll do anything, I�ll, I�ll try anything.� She nodded but Trip only shook his head. �Really, I can,� she tried to assure him, her eyes wide.
�I�m not asking you to change for me, Abs. It�s not about that�and I would never ask you to do that.�
�I would do it! I would,� she said, the pleading evident in her eyes. I could clearly see tears streaming down her face.
Trip took a deep breath and it looked like he was steeling himself. �It�s not about you. It�s me.� It looked like it took him a lot of effort to say that. Abby looked into his eyes, looked for something that wasn�t going to be there ever again.
�Abby, it�s over,� Trip said reluctantly, taking Abby�s arms from around his shoulders. �I�ll be there in the fall, but not as your boyfriend.� Then he kissed her on the cheek.
She stood there, tears streaming down both cheeks, as Trip got into the plane. The engine started up and Patrice got out to stand beside Abby. They watched the plane taxi away. Patrice tried to get Abby into the car but she insisted on waiting until the plane had taken off. She waved as it went by overhead before getting in the car.
On the drive back to camp, both girls sat in the backseat. Patrice asked her why she waved at the plane and that brought on a wave of mixed emotions. Abby was sad, angry, lonely, despondent, and even down right pissed off. There were lots of, �I don�t understand,� and �Why?� and other things girls say at that time. Patrice let her get it all out. By the time we stopped in the parking lot of Camp Kisatchie, Abby wasn�t crying anymore but she didn�t look any happier.
We took the food from the restaurant out by the lake (the camp was just about deserted for the weekend) and had a picnic. I got us some drinks from the dining hall and we ate off by ourselves next to a tree. Or, rather, we tried to eat. Nobody really felt very hungry after what had happened so we picked at the food.
Patrice stayed with Abby the rest of the afternoon, trying to be the big sister she needed so badly that day. Abby was devastated over losing Trip but she was dealing with it. I gave them some time alone but checked in on them from time to time.
The next week was hard on Abby but she got through it. She put on a brave face and managed to be cheery when she was with the kids. Patrice told me that late at night, in their room, Abby was still crying herself to sleep.
To be continued in Chapter 4
This story is Copyright � 2006 by Strickland83. All rights reserved.
Abby, Trip and Paul appear courtesy of Nick Scipio. The Summer Camp characters and universe are
Copyright � 2002-2006 Nick Scipio.