Archive-name: Places/highmead.mf

Archive-author: Jessie

Archive-title: High Meadows



 

     Jessie leisurely stretched her body in the down bag.  The

pines around her tent exuded a clean scent, a scent of such

incredible clarity that it compelled Jessie to draw it into her

lungs, in deeply exhilarating breaths.

     The morning sun streamed in through the window of the tent

and played glorious rays amongst her hair, loosened golden about

the pillow.  Sleep-tousled and dreamy-eyed, she stepped from the

bag and stood up to survey her surroundings.

     Her soul savored towering trees, golden sunlight and snow

covered peaks stretching as far as the eye could see.  These

mountains were her refuge when life began to close in.  She came

here to feel reborn, a part of the great conspiracy of life to

extend itself in joy.  Drinking in the feelings of joy, she

realized that to fully appreciate the measure of splendor this

scene commanded, she wanted her morning mug of coffee.

     Jessie stretched and stepped out of the tent to get the

thermos she filled the night before.  Standing in the filtering

light from the trees, the light caught her hair, a mass of long,

honey hued, soft tresses; hair so beautiful, the gods themselves

might have spun it out of gold.  Jessie poured herself a steaming

cup of the dark brew, then mellowed it,  perfectly blending milk

and sugar.  She sipped at the edges of the mug and warmed her

hands.

     Nothing could intrude on the peace in her soul and the

exhilaration she felt in just being alive.  Jessie sat down at

the table to let the joy of BEING, sink in.

     Jessie's beauty matched the splendor of her surroundings and

the glory of her feelings.  For all of her lithe, tall frame,

there was not an ounce of awkwardness.  Jessie carried herself

with the assurance of a god, head high, shoulders straight, a

flowing quality to her movements, she synchronized with the

rhythms of the universe itself.  Some women might have looked

less than wonderful in the men's pajama tops that she wore.

Jessie looked fetching.  She looked spectacular.  Even the trees

of forest accepted her as an equal.  Jessie accepted her beauty

as part of the natural order of things, part of the heritage of

all mankind.  She sat at the camp table, radiantly alive and

stretched across the seat with the grace and spirit of a wild

animal.  Jessie crossed her legs slowly and cradled the coffee

cup in her hands.  Her legs began beneath the pajama top, long

and lean and infinitely pleasurable to behold.  Her thighs were

sculpted out of fine creamy marble.

     The morning beckoned, a panorama of perfection before her.

She surveyed the world.  It was her special domain and playground

for the wild, free, joyous quality of her nature.  She sighed

pleasurably and looked around the camping area.  Sometime in the

night the camping spot next to hers had acquired a tent, a four

by four truck and assorted gear.  The rest of the campground was

usually abandoned this late into fall and the only thing that

spoke of life besides the gentle sound of her breathing, was the

scamper of ground squirrels looking for food under the table.

She wondered who the other inhabitant was that could come here so

late, long after summer fled, and during the week when most other

denizens of the world sat at their desks and only dreamed of open

air.

     The ultimate appearance of the other camper soon settled her

quizzical musings, and the tall frame of a man stood outlined in

the door of the other tent.

     He was about 6'1", his hair graying on the sides where it

touched his face.  It was a mature, satisfying face and he looked

to be in his late 40's or early 50's.  This face had an air about

it that demanded respect.  He looked as though he could handle

anything that life threw him and still be strong, fair, confident

and in control.

     The man smiled at Jessie and her body registered the inde-

finable pull of desire.

     Jessie flashed a warm smile in his direction.  She left no

doubt that it was intended to telegraph her interest to the

recipient.  She sipped her coffee and savored the sensual quality

of this male.  His sensuality mixed itself with the scent of the

trees and the golden light in a mixture that called forth magic.

     Her body was stirring now and it felt drawn to this

stranger's strength, in a way that few men called her.  Moistness

began to spread itself on her thighs.  It made her acutely aware

of just how fascinating he really was.

     The man readied to shave.  Cold water in a small pan, razor

and shaving cream laid out on the table.  He hung a small mirror

from his kit on the side pole of the tent.

     Jessie was mesmerized.

     He began with long strokes on the sides of his face.  Each

was perfectly executed.  They were strokes of a master painter

working on a canvas.  Each pass of the blade was strong, and each

had their own symmetry as uniquely apropos as the verbal passages

of Shakespeare.

     He finished, wiped his face with a towel and raised his head

to catch Jessie still intent upon his face.

     "I have never had such an attentive audience before," he

laughed, "nor such a pretty one," and he surveyed her face.  "Are

you making sure I have done the job properly?" he offered with a

twinkle to his voice.

     Jessie gently laughed out loud.  "And what would you do if I

tested your handiwork with a kiss?" she countered.

     Hal was tempted to say, "I'm old enough to be your father,

sweet lady," but he was both intrigued and attracted by her youth

and her sublime grace.  Instead he said, "Be my guest beautiful

lady."  It surprised him even as the words left his mouth.

     Jessie rose from the bench where she had been surveying the

proceedings and walked over to Hal's campsite.  Smiling, she took

a finger and traced a path across his upper lip.  Then she

stroked the side of his face softly with the back of her hand.

It was as smooth as a satin shirt.  Flawless.  He smelled of lime

and soap and maleness.  It was as heady a perfume as the pine

trees, and she wondered what it would be like to love a man like

that and have his scent on her pillow to drink in, every morning,

along with his body.  She gently kissed his cheek.

   Hal cleared his throat.  "I suppose this means that I ought to

introduce myself, as I'm not in the habit of having people I'm

not acquainted with pass judgment on my handiwork.  Especially

when I have not had my coffee nor caught their name," he teased,

"If you find me suitably proficient, you may call me Hal."

     Jessie barely suppressed the urge she was feeling to bring

her body close to his, and run her fingers through the grey at

his temples.  She said, "My friends call me Jessie.  I wouldn't

know what is usual in this sort of situation, but my compliments

to the artiste for his deft touch."  She smiled and quipped, "It

passes muster in my book, Michelangelo," and she touched Hal's

cheek again with her lips, very softly, lingering just a bit at

the last.

     Jessie had the feeling that Hal was about to draw her deeply

to him and engulf her with his arms and soul, but his reserve

held fast and the moment passed.  She turned and went to her camp

spot, returning in a moment with the thermos and a spare cup.  "I

understand that you also start your day with an infusion of dark

caffeine.  Would you care to share some of mine?"

     Hal extended an arm for the cup and Jessie poured the hot

brown liquid till it reached the rim.  His eyes teased her over

the top of the coffee and he said, "My thanks to the chef.  I

never was able to wait very well while I brewed up my first batch

of the day.  You seem to be a very handy camper to have nearby."

     Jessie raised her eyes to his and said, "You'd be surprised

as just how handy I am and all the things this camper knows how

to do.  Or just maybe...you wouldn't," and she flashed the big-

gest, brightest look that was such a mixture of gentle, friendly,

wickedness and pure exuberance, that Hal was momentarily caught

off guard.  He lost himself happily in enjoying it, until his

sanity returned.

     "You ought to be spanked, young lady," he retorted, "And I

might be tempted to do it myself if you don't get dressed and

stop endangering an old man's heart like that," he threatened

semi-seriously.

     Jessie shot back a gleeful smile and countered, "Looks to me

as if your heart is strong enough to take it," and she headed

back to her site in a hasty but reluctant retreat, before she

could get her rear end swatted.

     She called over her shoulder as she passed, "You wouldn't

happen to want to go with me up to the high meadow by the lake

after breakfast, would you? It is a bit of a hike in, but well

worth the trouble to get there."

     Hal called back "What's up there besides the lake?"

     Jessie shot back, "Me," and disappeared into the safety of

her tent.

     Once inside the tent she shed the pajama top.  She raised

her arms high over her head and it slid off in a gentle caress.

It brushed the nipples of her breasts, where the rose of their

tips met the tan of her skin.  She noted that the tips stood

erect, totally appreciative of the gentle stimulation that Hal

effected upon her mind.  That gentleman out there was having a

friendly, awakening, influence on her sleek body.

     She reached for her jeans and pulled them on over the blond

triangle of her pubic hair.  The thought of wearing them without

underwear teased at her mind and brought a gentle glow of excite-

ment to her loins.  She found her belt and fastened it low on her

hips.  The only thing left was a shirt.  She finally decided on a

clean white T-shirt to set off her tan.  It slightly revealed the

tips of her nipples, just in case Hal was up to noticing.  She

was beginning to hope he was up to more than that.  He made her

want inside.  He made her aware of her femaleness and her desire

to express herself in deep and lasting rhythms.

     She smelled the smoke of a campfire and the aroma of wafting

bacon drew her out to investigate.  Maybe the man could even

cook.  There was the promise of heaven about his habits.

     Jessie now dressed, but highly indecent, made her way over

to her table and surveyed her breakfast box.  Usually she kept

things simple on these trips to the campground.  Hot breakfast

cereals and fruit for the morning.  The wafting smell of bacon

was making her regret this decision though, and she considered

putting a proposition to Hal.

     "How would you like to consider combining our stores for a

really spectacular breakfast?" she suggested hopefully.  "I have

hot cream of wheat and honey sweet slices of melon to offer.  If

that isn't enough...there is always me for dessert," she said

with a mischievous glint to her eye.

     "I have more than enough to share," Hal countered while his

heart caught in his chest and he tried to maintain his calm

exterior.  "Besides, I never eat dessert with my breakfast,

however attractive it might be!"

     He surveyed her now dressed body.  She was lyrical.  She

made his throat dry and made him doubt his own, normally well

balanced, sense of assurance.  Her hair caught the rays of the

morning sun, her violet eyes constantly teased him and the tips

of her breasts were visible through her shirt in a salute that

made it impossible to concentrate on what he was doing.  He might

as well share breakfast with her as she was going to be all he

could think about the whole time anyway.

     Jessie carried the fixings over to Hal's stove and busied

herself with the cereal.

     The whole time, Hal tried to keep his mind on his bacon

cooking, but her presence grew on his body like the energy of a

storm before it was about to break.  A brush of her arm made him

catch his breath.  Her scent was like warm hay fields under the

sun.  It was sweet and intoxicating and made him almost ache from

trying to draw it in.  He wanted to catch her up in his arms and

crush her to him.  He WOULD stay in control!  He would not let

his fantasies run wild! This child-woman would not tempt him like

that!

     She bent over.  He wanted to brush against her, turn her

face to him and carry her off into his tent but he would not give

in to her spell! He resolved that no woman was going to make him

lose the control it had taken 50 years to build.  He was wrong

about that.

     They had a quiet breakfast.  Jessie washed the dishes and

Hal dried.  It was a constant trial for Hal.  Her fingers would

brush his as she handed him the plates.  She was more than intox-

icating, each touch chipped at his defenses.  With Jessie it was

almost unintentional.  She breathed and lived and exuded

desire...so much in her being...that once one knew her, it would

have been impossible to imagine her without this quality.  It was

a spark of life that flowed forth to entrance those in her

presence.  She wove a spell of clean earth and warm sunshine and

exuberance.  She was a drink of heady wine.  She made the senses

swim and rational suddenly seem unimportant.  She was the joy of

Life itself.

     Finally they were through with the clean up.  Hal gave an

inward sigh of hope that he might now find relief from the battle

he was fighting with himself.  Just when he thought he had won,

Jessie smiled and he had to fight his impulse to fall in love

with her all over again.

     Jessie made a lunch for the two of them and placed it into

each of their packs.  It would be cold at the lake so she caught

up a moleskin shirt to throw on for the higher elevation and then

she looked around for something Hal could use.

     Hal had tossed a plaid, heavy, wool shirt over a bush by his

tent.  Jessie picked it up to hand to him.  Her hand strayed

though, and she lifted it to her face first.  It smelled sweet

and smoky, like campfires and like Hal's warm essence.  This was

as enchanting and addicting to her as the thought of opium pop-

pies.  She wanted to rub it on her face and bury herself in it

like a puppy.  There was something about his man, that she wanted

to make her man, and something as necessary about him, as breath

itself.  Reluctantly she suggested he put the shirt on and re-

turned it to him.

     They started off on the trail to the lake.  Jessie lead the

way through the forest.  Meadows of ripe huckleberry bushes

followed them from open area to forested area and then back

again.  They wound by fallen areas where the fire weed spikes

sprinkled themselves in amongst the downed timber, where ground

squirrels darted into small holes around the upright stumps.  The

hum of wild bees made the world buzz in the sunlight and the

sunshine was heavy, overwhelming the senses and dissolving their

every day selves into warmth.

     Hal and Jessie moved into the timber again and now began to

climb in earnest.  The trail moved ever upward where the wind

carried a slight chill to it and the clouds dropped lower on the

mountain sides.  At last they moved out of the trees on the side

of the mountain and looked down at a perfect jewel of a lake.  It

was surrounded below on all sides, by sloping terrain and it

cupped a verdant, emerald meadow, beside its waters.  They stood

there for the longest time on that mountain side, absorbed in the

sight and catching their breaths.

     Jessie dropped down the path to the lake, Hal followed upon

her heels.  The sun was dispersing the clouds now and it looked

like it might be a fine day of Indian summer warmth.  They picked

their way to the part of the meadow spread beside the southern

edge of the lake, the beauty of the day and the place acting upon

their feelings like a drug.

     Jessie took a soft Madras bedspread from her pack and Hal

helped her spread it over the fragrant grasses.  The hum of

insects made the Earth seem to vibrate with life and the sunshine

lulled them into a sense of timelessness and pleasure.

     Hal helped Jessie slip the pack from her shoulders.  She was

close now.  So close that she was overloading his senses.  She

turned and Hal could almost taste her skin on his lips, salt and

coffee cream richness.  Hal was losing his grip on reality and as

he fought he knew it would be a battle he would ultimately and

gladly lose.

     Then Jessie cast her die in the game.  She took off her

shirt to sunbathe.

     Jessie slipped her T-shirt off with the grace of a dancer.

Her skin was flawless, the tan and the rose tips of her breasts

melted the steel of Hal's reserve.  He clasped her to his body

and pressed his warm lips to hers tenderly, but with an urgency

that confessed what he had been repressing all morning.  She met

his kiss with equal abandon and slowly pulled him down beside her

on the cloth.

     Jessie's lips were trembling and Hal tried to soak her

deeply into his soul, with each passionate response to his kiss-

es.  Hal cradled her face between his strong hands and tasted her

honey wine lips with the desire of a man lost to the world.

Kisses followed to her cheeks.  Jessie arched and exposed her

neck as he caressed her body with his tongue.

     Hal followed the line of the swan to the hollow of her

throat and gently bit with his teeth until she could stand it no

longer.  Jessie's thighs were slippery from desire and she en-

twined her limbs about his.  Hal strayed down the throat to the

chest, his tongue urging her abandon in small, intense circles

until he reached her twin, perfect breasts.  He encircled their

tips and gently pulled, bringing warm flashes of need that washed

over Jessie in waves.  Breathing now in small gasps she rolled on

her side and gently pushed Hal onto his back.

     What was fair for the swan was fair for the lady of the

lake.

     Jessie planted kisses on Hal's cheeks and mouth and gently

nibbled his ear.  Her tongue flicked in and out and round, until

Hal too began to breathe in irregular gasps.  Her right hand

worked down Hal's shirt buttons until the top lay open at the fur

of his chest.  Jessie ran the tips of her fingers though the

black and grey hair curling across his chest, stroking his skin

with desire.  Shifting her weight to the side, she pulled his

shirt to the side, effectively pinning his arms still entrapped

in it.  Desire driving her, Jessie moved her tongue over his

breasts, circling, tickling, sucking while Hal lost himself

wanting to play out the age old game of love and merging.

Jessie's hand strayed to the straining bulge in his jeans and she

stroked the surface of his thighs with ever gentle, passes that

brought forth his breath in deep, pleasured moans.

     Now it was his turn again.  Hal struggled to return from the

waves of pleasure in which he floated.  He finally raised himself

on one elbow and removed his prison of a shirt.  Hal reached for

the zipper on Jessie's jeans and slowly inched it down, his

fingers seeking to dip themselves in her soft petals of skin.

His probing palms found  the triangle of golden fur that arched

skyward to meet him and he slid his hand along her glistening

thighs searching for panties.  There were none to find and it

excited him to find her so ready and unencumbered.

     Jessie's right hand was no quieter than his.  She worked the

snap of Hal's jeans open and slid her hand inside over his under-

pants and caressed his shaft.  It was full and firm and strained

upward at each pass she made from the tip to the base and back

again.  She worked Hal's zipper open and teased his firm member

into the softness of her palm.  It was velvet soft on the outside

but unable to disguise the raging energy it contained.  His shaft

wanted only to be as close to her, to burrow itself deep within

her magic.  Its tip moistened in overwhelming expectation of

heaven to come.

     Jessie and Hal were both breathing hard now.  But they still

had entirely too many clothes on.  It took them no time at all to

realize this fact and seek to remedy the situation to fulfill

their desire.  Hal was the first to call a truce.  He eased

Jessie's jeans off, his hand stroking her thighs with a caress

with the softness of the wind, but the urgency of manhood.

Reciprocating, Jessie slowly slid both his pants down until he

stepped out of them.

     He stood before her like a graying, handsome god of lust.

She knelt and took his shaft into her mouth and teased it round

the head and underneath with her tongue.  Each pass brought Hal

closer to his knees.  His back was arched and he fought the

desire to end this ballet in a flood of saltiness.

     Jessie moved up his pubic area with her tongue...up the

chest...up to the neck and then to his lips again.  They embraced

in a kiss that lost them both to time.  Hal moved to enter her,

thrusting, like a sword seeking its rightful sheath and when he

found his home, they both cried out in pleasure.

     Now a deep thrust, now a shallow one.  They clung in each

others arms, swaying like great willows caught up in the dance of

life and the wind.  The deeper Hal thrust, the deeper Jessie

tried to take him.  She wanted him in the center of her being but

she could not keep her balance, her knees were so weak that they

had to hold each other up to keep from falling.  Her body urged

Hal to follow it gently down without slipping from its hold, to

lie upon her on the sweet earth together.

     Now their rhythms lost them to all reason.  She moaned and

cried out and struggled sideways in an effort to bring Hal close

enough within her.  He lost himself in passion until the urgency

of both of them brought the crescendo of centering.  Hal came in

a flood of warmth and a cry to the gods of perfection.  Jessie

joined him as his salty flood spread inside her loins that

brought her own loss of space and time.  She was in a time and

place where nothing mattered but holding this man as close as she

could for eternity itself.  They lay relaxed, merged with one

another while time itself passed away.

     Tears began to stream down Jessie's cheeks.  They were tears

of pure joy, tears of pure happiness and she held Hal gently and

let them flow with her passion.  Hal reached up and brushed them

gently away with his finger tips.  He kissed their saltiness and

whispered gently into her ear, "I love you," while he tried not

to cry himself.  There was no way to express in words what he

felt about what they had shared with each other.  Language lost

its power to express when compared with this sharing.

     For the longest time they laid there, wrapped in eternity,

love taking them on a journey to the ultimate high meadow.

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