A Pact

On edge. She hadn't been able to put her finger on it and it bugged her. The feeling, whatever it was, nagged at her, had grown stronger, really, as the week progressed. If it had not been there even before she left home, after a typically satisfying weekend with her husband, Maria would have chalked it up to being horny. But that conversation, that banter and teasing they often engaged in as part of their foreplay ritual, kept popping into her mind at odd times all week.

Had they really made that agreement, a pact they had called it, or were they just being playful?

The conference ended yesterday and her coworkers had already returned home. Maria felt fortunate for the opportunity to stay, along with educators from all over North and South America, for the one-day, follow up workshop that had just ended. She was looking forward to flying home tomorrow, but was also eager to have one more evening in the city to unwind, on her own, without having to socialize with a bunch of familiar faces.

It was late sSpring, unusually balmy, and the evenings had been warm enough all week for sheher and her friends to venture out without the coats they had brought with them. Maria took her time getting ready to go out, relaxing in the Jacuzzi tub that came, unexpectedly, with the room. It felt luxurious to only have to worry about where she was going to go and what she was going to wear.

She picked out a long sleeve, scoop neck, close-fitting blouse to wear over a soft camisole that felt sensuous against her skin, and which did away with the need for the additional support of a bra. A black skirt and black tights with a closed fishnet pattern was all she needed to complete the outfit – along with the black boots she and Aden had picked out the weekend before. It was the boots that had sparked the conversation that led to the pact, and she was fully aware of how sexy he thought they were on her.

The restaurant she settled on was one that she and her coworkers had been to a couple nights before. It was known for its great seafood, and the bar was one of those upscale, quiet, and very comfortable places that attracted a clientele that spanned a wide range of ages. The cocktail menu had intrigued her, describing drinks that had combinations of spirits, liqueurs, juices and spices that she had never seen before. She figured that she would start in the bar, then either take a table in the restaurant or stay there for something light.

Maria checked herself in the full length mirror, admitting Aden was right about how good the combination looked on her. She felt great as she walked through the hotel lobby and out into the warm evening for the short walk to the restaurant.

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Aden had spent the days since Maria left finishing up a graphics project that had been dragging on for weeks. He loved his work, but this one had tested his patience and he was glad to be done with it. Immediately after hitting the button that sent the final image to his client, he loaded the camping gear he had carefully assembled into his car, left his watch and cell phone on the kitchen counter, and started driving.

The campground he headed for was a couple hours north and west, in the foothills of the Cascades, on the Little North Santiam River. He had been there once, years ago before he started fly-fishing, and had been eager to see if the small, glacier fed river really was as beautiful as he remembered. He arrived around dusk, road weary but happily looking forward to two nights and a full day of fishing, by himself, before having to return home.

He wasn't surprised to find the remote campground sparsely occupied. With only a couple other tent campers, a small RV, and the camp host spread out through the 14-site, barely developed Forest Service campground, Aden easily found a space to his liking. Working quickly to take advantage of the remaining daylight, he pitched his tent, organized his bedding, and ate the reheated leftovers he had brought from home.

In the morning he left from his campsite on foot, following the river trail along what he reckoned must be one of the prettiest rivers in the State. After making his way down to a gravel bar and the first pool that looked promising, he slowly worked his way upriver, casting a dry fly into every pool and riffle.

When the river bank was impossible to navigate, or the approach to the next fishing hole looked more accessible from the other side, Aden forded the river to get to the opposite bank. The sun was out, quickly drying his clothes and warming his legs after wading through the at times waist deep cold stream.

Fishing, he thought, was almost a meditative process, where thoughts of work, things to get done, relationships, everything but the way the stream moved, the cast, and the fly at the end of the line fading into the background. It had little to do with catching fish, and a lot to do with being outside and in the moment. And fishing, he had to admit, didn't get any better than this.

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Maria entered the restaurant and made her way to the pub. There was a small crowd present, enough to lend a welcome sense of anonymity, and she found a stool at the quieter end of the bar.

She was a little nervous about going out alone, but relaxed in the familiarity of the setting. The bartender– young, friendly, unhurried, and talkative – remembered her from the prior evening and put her at ease with a little professional conversation as he went about his job. Maria ordered the ginger infused Cosmopolitan that she had previously seen on the drinks menu, but hadn't ordered. She immediately liked it, but deliberately paced herself so the effects of the alcohol wouldn't overtake her.

A few minutes after she had settled in, a man walked into the bar, someone she recognized as one of the workshop attendees. He had been one in a small group she was a part of that had spent about an hour together working on a task, and her impression of him was that he was self-confident but a little shy. She remembered that he was from Argentina, and though it was hard to tell, figured he was probably a couple years older. He wasn't classically handsome, but was attractive because of the way he carried himself – and not a little bit because he was dark and Latin.

He was headed for the bar, and when he saw her she acknowledged him with a smile and nod, noticing that he hesitated just a second before moving in her direction. He offered his hand, said his name (Jorge), and she quickly assured him that she recognized him from earlier in the day. Maria invited him to sit at the bar with her, suggested the ginger drink to him, and ordered an appetizer for herself.

They slipped effortlessly into a conversation about the workshop, which segued naturally into questions about his life in Argentina. When they moved on to politics and culture his sense of humor was apparent, and Maria found their shared interests in education and common outlook on life made him seem more of an old friend than recent acquaintance.

As they talked there were moments when one of them naturally reached out and touched the other while making an observation or emphasizing a point. Maria was aware that, more than once, when he touched her thigh his hand lingered just long enough to suggest that the contact was more than casual.

They talked about his impressions of the city, about how they both loved the sidewalk art scattered throughout downtown. When their drinks and appetizer were finished Jorge suggested they go look at one sculpture in particular that he liked and that she was unfamiliar with.

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Aden had been out on the river for several hours, eaten lunch, and not caught anything. He decided to venture around the proverbial one more bend in the river before turning around and making his way back downstream. When he rounded the bend he noticed two women on the opposite bank who were reclining in camp chairs, both engrossed in books.

They didn't notice him until he was almost directly across from them and was scrambling over boulders to reach a long, shallow pool just beyond. Not wanting to impose himself into their space, he gave them a small wave, which was returned by both, along with friendly smiles, and moved on.

As he made his casts into the river he could look back at the women, observing them without being obvious. Both were dressed in shorts, t-shirts, and hiking sandals. One was sitting in the sun and wearing a wide brimmed straw hat, the other was in the shade, had a towel draped over her legs and boasted a head of beautiful, long red hair. Aden enjoyed the picture these two athletic-looking women presented – accentuated by their apparent air of feeling completely at home in a wilderness environment – in such an idyllic setting.

He caught one of them looking his way at one point, but thought nothing of it and focused on his fishing. After a short time he noticed that the redhead had walked upriver and was watching him fish. He was self conscious about being a novice, and was relieved when he could put his rod down and answer some questions she posed about hiking in the area. He learned that she and her friend were travelling through on a long road trip, starting in the southwest and making their way up to Canada. They chatted briefly across the narrow stream before she thanked him for the information and rejoined her friend.

After a few more casts Aden started back downstream, pausing to tell the two women about another hike he knew of that was further upstream in the Opal Creek Wilderness. His directions to the trailhead, though, were a little vague because it had been some time since he had been there.

He spent the next couple hours fishing his way downstream, still without luck but savoring every minute of his time alone on the river. The image of the two women flashed into his mind occasionally and he took delight in the mental picture of them sitting in their chairs looking both beautiful and tranquil. It was close to 6 when he made it back to the campground – still light, but the sun quite low behind the trees.

He got out his food and cooking gear, prepared a simple dinner, and relished a glass of deep red wine. After cleaning up he walked to the restrooms, passing one of the tents and the RV, where the two women he had seen on the river bank were sitting in their chairs, chatting beside a small campfire. They waved to him and he continued on to the bathrooms.

On his way back he stopped at their site and offered to bring over a map of the area that showed the trailhead he told them about. They were enthusiastic and suggested that he bring a chair too so he could accompany them at their fire. Aden gathered the map, his chair, and the bottle of wine and returned to the women's campsite. After exchanging names (Catherine, the redhead, and Sonya), and before looking at the map, they poured glasses of wine and quickly started talking about where they had been and the experiences they had already had on their trip.

They were longtime, good friends and had a playful, caring friendship. When the conversation turned to the next day's plans they remembered the map, spread it out on the picnic table under the light of their propane lantern, with Aden lodged cozily snuggly between them on the bench seat. Leaning in close to see the details on the map, Aden was conscious of the physical contact he was making with Catherine, and deliberately left their legs touching as they leaned back from the map to continue the conversation.

She didn't pull away and Aden noticed that the two women shared a quick glance and the hint of a smile. The conversation continued over another glass of wine, and the casual contact between Aden and Catherine was joined by some less subtle, even suggestive touching under the table with Sonya. When the trail discussion ended, Sonya suggested they return to the fire and share some of the southwest grown pot they brought with them that they needed to finish before crossing into Canada.

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Maria and Jorge walked unhurriedly through downtown, the Cosmopolitan making her just a little light headed and more than a little uninhibited. They talked earnestly and several times Maria briefly slipped her hand between his arm and body, resting it on his forearm.

She felt sexy in her boots, and had been aware of how Jorge had been appraising her in what she decided was the somewhat chauvinistic, but not unpleasant, way she experienced with men as a younger woman travelling alone in Spain. Neither of them talked about their relationship status, and while Maria was enjoying the attention, and returning the flirtation, she felt no pressure from Jorge that she was committing to anything else.

When they reached the sculpture that Jorge wanted to show her, she was struck by its free flowing, almost sensuous, lines. As they paused, standing close, to admire it, Maria was aware that her breast was pressed against his arm, and further that Jorge was shifting his weight so that his arm was brushing across it, making her nipple harden in response. She thought that he must, wearing just a shirt, feel it, too.

Maria took Jorge to a bar that she and Aden discovered several years ago when they came to the city together, one well known for its Spanish coffees. They ate a little more, sitting side by side at a small bar table, and savored both their drinks and their conversation.

Getting up to leave, Maria felt the pleasant rush of both liquor and coffee, and now as they walked she kept a firm grip on his arm. They were heading back to their starting point and Jorge pointed out a small building a block away that was his hotel – one of those casually elegant boutique hotels favored by European visitors to the city. When Maria expressed her appreciation of the building and her love of just such hotels, he invited her to come inside to examine it more closely. Maria eagerly accepted and they entered the hotel, walked slowly around the lobby, and over to the elevator.

He hadn't said anything about showing her his room, but she was curious and Jorge was taking the lead at this point. The room was exquisite – warm and cozy, not overstuffed and not austere– with a small balcony that overlooked the river. While Jorge busied himself opening a bottle of wine he had brought from Argentina, Maria let herself out onto the balcony and stood, leaning on the railing, admiring a view that was amazing for its sense of privacy in such an urban setting. The closest signs of the city came from across the wide river that bisected it. The only other people visible were those strolling under the street lamps that illuminated a wide promenade on the riverbank half a block away.

Maria didn't turn when the room light went out behind her. A surge of anticipation ran through her, accompanied by a quickening of pulse and intake of breath. She felt Jorge's presence behind her, then his hands on her waist, and finally his body pressed into hers. At first she froze, then softened, then became aware of what could only be an erection pressing up against her. They were quickly moving out of the flirting zone, and when Maria turned to face Jorge, there was an unmistakable, unambiguous question in his eyes.

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The pot was good and it was starting to have a familiar effect on Aden. He was slowing down, loosening up, and losing a self-consciousness he had always felt around unfamiliar and attractive women. Catherine and Sonya, too, were obviously feeling contented and the dialogue flowed freely.

The women were teasing each other, drawing Aden into an increasingly intimate discussion about men, relationships, and experiences. Even when they revealed some pretty audacious things about themselves and each other, and seemed to be deliberately challenging him to do the same, Aden remained composed and even found himself enjoying the candid banter.

In a truth or dare kind of moment, aided by the inhibition lowering effects of the wine and pot, he told Sonya and Catherine about his and Maria's pact made the previous weekend. They had been married for a while, happily and without straying, and were talking about ways to spice up in their sex life. They had given each other a 'once in a lifetime' pass to have a romantic or sexual experience – an experience that promised to be just too good to pass up. It was agreed to, but he wasn't really sure if they were serious or just playing.

As he became more caught up in the increasingly 'boundaries-free' conversation, Aden at first found himself thinking about each of the women's physical presence, and then actively imagining them in the sexual situations they were alluding to. He was aroused by both their unabashed interest in talking about sex and by their unsuppressed sexuality.

Aden got up and replenished their wine glasses and on his way back to the campfire paused behind Catherine and put his hands lightly on her shoulders, then moved them to her neck as he told them just how brazen and refreshing he found them to be. The gesture was casual but also suggestive, and seemed to be quickly picked up on by Catherine. She reached up and caught his hand just as he was pulling away, encouraging him to linger with his other hand gently entwined in her hair.

Sonya, who had been the bolder of the two in conversation, drew in a quick breath, flushed slightly, and asked if Aden would be interested in playing a part in a fantasy that the two of them had cooked up while on the road. Aden was familiar with fantasies, having thoroughly enjoyed conjuring up many of his own over the years, but being asked to actually participate in someone else's was truly new ground. He appeared to be thinking about it, but was actually tongue-tied and could hardly muster a weak 'sure.'

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Maria, too, thought about the 'Once in a Lifetime' pass, but she had taken it to heart and it was probably already playing a role in how her evening had developed. She answered Jorge's question by kissing him eagerly and with an excitement that startled her. Jorge's reaction was swift and passionate.

He enveloped her with a strength that surprised her, pulling her to him with one hand while the other explored the curves and shape of her back and ass. She had taken her boots off when she entered the hotel room, and now, as he lifted her and pressed her up against the balcony's wall, it was easy to wrap her legs around his waist.

There was a hunger about him that had a reciprocal effect on Maria – as Jorge moved his hand under her shirt and grasped first one breast then the other she almost desperately encouraged him to explore them. When he pulled her shirt up to reveal both breasts she wanted more and pulled her shirt up and over head. When he lowered her to the floor and put both hands under her skirt and into the waistband of her tights, she moved quickly to help remove them.

As he paused to admire her, Maria took the initiative and unbuckled his belt, undid the buttons of his pants, and immediately felt his erection. He again lifted her up against the wall, but this time when her skirt rode up and she encircled his waist with her legs, there was nothing separating them. She was ready, more than ready, for him to penetrate her, to thrust into her with a desire and abandon that matched hers – her juices were flowing and her appetite huge.

Jorge moved in and out with a force and a rhythm that carried Maria along, building in intensity and lust. An evening of flirtation and suggestion, the excitement of being with someone new, the thrill of abandoning caution, all combined to overwhelm her with a powerful lust she was unaccustomed to and she climaxed with a series of shudders and moans that were followed almost immediately by the unmistakable signs of Jorge also reaching an orgasm. He lowered her slowly until she was standing again on the floor, continuing to move slowly and with obvious pleasure inside of her. They were both panting, then laughing, then disengaging and moving back into the room to lie on the bed.