"Hey, turn on some of that nice music you play. Goodnight, Arti."There was quiet for some time, but then the soft melody of a Mozart concerto filled the camper. It was good music to meditate by, so I did.The next morning we joined the Soaring Eagle family for breakfast, shortly after 0730. She made eggs, sausage and cornbread. I could have eaten all the cornbread that BlueBird could make. She noticed, of course."I'll show you how," BlueBird whispered to Artemis. "Later." No, you don't have to," Arti protested."He likes it. You should know how to make it." But we're not ... I mean ... We don't... " Arti was flustered.BlueBird had a woman's smile. "Of course not. But you should have it. For the future, you know."The three men at the table pretended not to hear anything. Me, because I was somewhat embarrassed. Who knew what reasons the crafty Indians had for maintaining their silence."The scope is finished," Navajo Pete said after a decent interval, to let the embarrassment erode. "We'll. But I like it hard eventually.”Which is what Karissa did. Gently until Donna built towards a second orgasm. Hard to get her there. And hard after for two more. A relentless fuck.“That was ... incredible,” Donna managed to say. “Would you like me to...”“Maybe later. Rest. I’m going to explore for a while.”“But you’ll come back?”“Promise.”The land was no longer flat. Foothills of the Appalachians. A stream behind the rest stop. But it would be less public and fresher farther up. So Karissa ran along its edges to some rapids and a pool at the end of them, stripped and bathed. Communed with the water. Felt whole again. Pain gone. Exhilarated.And she heard a whisper, barely. Not connected to the water. Not even all that close to it. But there. And of water. Somewhere south. Somewhere in those mountains. “I’m here,” it said. “Where are you?”“Coming,” she trilled into the water. “I’m coming. Keep calling.”“Always,” she heard.Outside the water, she didn’t hear anything. Just felt it. A place.
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