Lumbersexual (Novella) by Leslie McAdam Page B

knew that there were bears and mountain lions and all sorts of other animals out there.  Intellectually, I knew that they were more scared of me than I was of them—at least that’s how the saying goes.  But the further we hiked from houses and cars and the more remote we walked, I realized that we really were alone, with just each other and whatever we brought with us to take care of ourselves.
    That was a scary thought.
    We stopped to have lunch on a wide, flat rock by one of the lakes.  I looked around us.  I was all sweaty from the hike, and the turquoise blue water of the lake looked refreshing, even though I knew it would be glacial.
    The lake backed up against a rocky peak, with white granite boulders and shaggy lodgepole pine.  The water was so clear you could see the rocks at the bottom and the sky reflected in it.  I’d been warned about boiling water in the backcountry but it was so beautiful to look at, if not to drink.
    “Wish I brought my bathing suit.”
    He smiled, and it was his wicked smile—the one that made me want to drop to my knees in front of him, with the promise that he’d return the favor.  “We’re out in the middle of nowhere.  No one around.  We can just go in.”
    “But it would suck to hike in wet clothes.”
    He looked at me and burst out laughing.  “You’ve never been skinny dipping?”
    I felt like a dork for not catching on sooner and shook my head rapidly.  I’d never had a chance to go skinny dipping.
    “We’re doing it.”  His eyes on my body, tracing me from head to toe.
    While I felt happy that he wanted me, I shook my head again.  “No, that’s crazy.”
    “Dare you.”
    “No!”  It was one thing to be all naked with Court in his house, where no one would disturb us.  But out here?  What if someone came walking down the trail?  There was nowhere to hide!  I’d have to streak from the shore.
    “Why not?”
    Problem was, I couldn’t think of a reason why not.  No one was out here.  We hadn’t seen anyone hiking all day after the first mile or so.
    I took a deep breath and looked at him, sexy hiking man.  “Ohmigod.  Okay.  This is crazy.  And the water’s gonna be cold.  It can’t be warmer than the river.”
    “It’s fucking cold,” he agreed, “so you know, don’t judge.”
    My eyes widened when I realized he was talking about dick shrinkage.  “You have no problems in that department.”  And he gave me the most terrific eyebrow raise, like a “You know it.”  God.  This man.
    “Count of three.”  My heart started racing.  I was really going to do this.  “One.  Two.”  He was grinning hard.  “Three!”
    And we both started shucking off our clothing as fast as we could.  Boots kicked off and discarded on the decomposed granite shore of the lake.  Socks?  Off.  Shirt?  Stripped off.  Shorts, gone, and soon I was standing there in a sports bra and underwear, looking at him in his black boxer briefs.
    He ran his hand through his beard, the colors of his tattoos popping in the sunlight, his torso rippling in the sun like the gentle lapping of the lake.  When he looked over to me, he raised an eyebrow.  “Goddamn woman, you are sexy.”
    I looked down at my body.  I was just wearing black cotton undies and a jog bra, and I was sure that my hair stuck out everywhere.  “Even in a sports bra?”
    “Fuck yes.”
    No one had ever called me sexy before.  No one had ever looked at me with the lust he did when he ran his eyes over my body.  It was welcome.  To feel wanted that way, especially by him.
    And then in a quick movement, he dropped his drawers— yes —and with a whoop, he went running into the lake, dick dangling, ass streaking in the sunshine, and splashed.
    God, beautiful.  He was beautiful.  
    “Mag-gie!  Come on in!  It’s not that bad!”
    Oh, fuck it.  Public nudity and cold water be damned.  It just too hot to care.
    I threw my bra off over my head, slipped off my undies, and