"Been far too long," he remarks, touching his bottle against my glass as soon as he gets it. "What brings you down from the mountains? Wild animals chase you out or something?"
"Or something," I reply, and he tips his head to the side with interest.
"Oh, yeah?" he presses.
I nod. "There’s a girl staying up there this week," I explain.
"What’s her name?" he asks. He knows pretty much everything about everyone around these parts, and I know if anyone is going to be able to get me an in with her, it’s him.
"Harper," I reply. "Harper Higgins."
He nearly spits out the mouthful of his beer that he just took a sip of.
"Harper Higgins!” he exclaims, loudly enough that a couple of people look around to see what the commotion is.
"Yeah, what about her?"
"She’s a preacher’s daughter, Cliff,” he replies, shaking his head, a grin passing up and over his face. "You – she's really staying up there this week?”
"Yeah, that’s her name," I reply. I can’t help but feel a little defensive. I don’t know what I wanted him to say, but I had hoped for something a little more impressive than this.
"You’re crushing on her, aren’t you?” he asks.
I shake my head. "Just wondering who she is–"
"So many people have come and gone up there since you started working there, and I think you’ve asked me about three of them," he remarks. "You like her, don’t you? You think she’s cute?"
"So what if I do?”
He chuckles, shakes his head. "Look, buddy, not to take the wind out of your sails or anything," he explains, "but she’s a preacher’s daughter. Very definition of a good girl. I don’t think that she’s going to be in all that much of a rush to come running up to the mountains to live with you."
"I guess," I mutter, and I pick up my drink and take a long sip, trying not to let that thought get under my skin.
We chat a little more, about what’s been going on at Goldie’s theater and his auto shop, before we call it a night. On my drive home, I find my mind drifting back to Harper, over and over again.
She’s sweet, that’s for sure – there's something about her that interests me, intrigues me, even though I know that I should be a little more careful about who I let get under my skin. I just – there's just something about her that excites me. And right now, I could use a little excitement in my life.
Chapter Four
Harper
I flop back on the bed, let out an irritated grunt, and toss the vibrator onto the bedside table.
Is that thing broken or something? Because I’m sure that I’m meant to have been able to get off by now. I feel like I’ve been trying it out for hours, flipping this way and that, lying on my back, my front, trying to get off. Trying to feel something other than this slightly irritating grumble between my legs.
I look over at the thing sitting on the table beside me and silently curse it inside my head. Why can’t I just... come? I have been trying for hours. At this point I’m not sure what it’s going to take.
Maybe I just need to get out of bed and stop putting so much pressure on myself. This is meant to be fun, after all, and I am making it feel like a chore. Maybe I need a warm shower. I’ve been travelling all day and my hair could use washing. It might be easier to get off if I’m freshly scrubbed.
I head through to the bathroom, and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. There is a furrow in my brow and my cheeks are flushed, and I can’t help but wonder how long I am going to have to wait to make this trip worthwhile. I have been trying so hard, so darn hard, to get where I need to go, but it still eludes me.
I would be lying to myself if I said that there weren’t some other things on my mind when I was masturbating, too. Cliff, to be precise.
I know that I shouldn’t even be thinking of him like that, but it’s hard when he looked at me the way that he did, when he smiled with that crooked grin. I wonder if he has been thinking about me since he left – or if he has been going about his day like normal. Instead of spending it in this horny fugue state.
I strip down and go to turn on the shower – only to realize that this particular bathroom only has a toilet and a sink. Well, they did say it was rustic. I didn’t even think to check that. I grab the paper map from the coffee table and look it over. The showers are back near the main building – communal ones for all the guests. Not exactly what I fantasized about for my sexy weekend break, but I’ll take what I can get right now.
I dress myself hurriedly once more, gather my toiletries and my towel, and pick my way across the darkening campsite towards the showers. Luckily, it’s quiet, and I doubt that I am going to run into anyone while I’m getting changed. I might not be a prude, but there are still some of the remnants of being a preacher’s daughter stuck to my brain, and I don’t much like the idea of having other random people see me naked.
By the time that I reach the showers, I’m shivering a little, and praying that the water is going to be hot enough to ward off the chill that has settled in around me. It’s quiet inside the building, and I switch the water on and watch the steam course up at once.
I strip down quickly, as though I am about to be caught at any moment, and slide beneath the water. Mmm. It feels so good, the warmth of it curling over my skin. I can’t remember the last time that I enjoyed a shower so much.
Relaxing for the first time since I arrived at the campgrounds, I lean against the wall of the shower, letting the hot water run over me. With eyes closed, I let my mind wander.
It wanders straight to Cliff.
I can almost picture his fingers on my skin, tracing down the water lines left on my body.
No! I try to push his image to the back of my mind, but it’s too late, it’s taken root there, and the shock of it is almost more than I can take. I feel as though I am doing something that I shouldn’t be, picturing him like this, but it’s not as though I can just turn off the want that is pulsing through me right now.
I can feel that desire getting the better of me, even though I know that I should push it down. I barely know him. And yet, the thought of his hands on my body right now is getting me friskier than anything that the vibrator was able to do for me.
I move my hand between my legs, grateful for the shower curtain’s privacy, not that anyone is here. My pussy is soaked – in a way that it hasn’t been in the whole time that I was using that vibrator. I can’t help but let out a little moan of delight, the sound of it circling around me, filling the space as though I own it.
My fingers move against my clit, my nub already a little swollen at the thought of his hands all over me. His mouth on mine. I imagine his tongue tracing down my neck, over my shoulders, down, down, down – my nipples are hardening, growing fuller under the water, and I push a finger inside of myself, gasping loudly.
Yes, yes, yes. I can feel the pleasure starting to stir up from deep within me. The rise of it, the demanding presence of it, the way that it feels, the way that it consumes me… I picture his hand between my legs instead of my own, the way that it would move against my skin – the way that he would touch me as though he knew that he owned me, as though he knew that I belonged to him.