“They’re not going with us,” Bonnie told her.
Frowning, she walked over to them. “What’s the deal?” she asked.
“Bert and I are planning to camp at a place we found on the other side of the lake,” Rick said.
Andrea looked hurt. “What’s the problem?”
“No problem,” Bert assured her. “The guys are out of the way, and...”
“I thought we’d all stick together. I mean, we’re even parked in the same place.”
“Well,” Rick said, “we want to have some time to ourselves.”
She stared at him.
In the moment that their eyes met, Rick felt as if she were asking if he really wanted to leave her, was this Bert’s idea, did he have to go, did he understand what he would be missing?
“So, it’s adios, huh?” she asked.
“Not for a while,” Bert said.
Andrea returned to the fire. She sat there with Bonnie, sipping coffee and talking quietly while Rick and Bert finished packing.
Shouldering their packs, they went to the girls. “Guess we’ll be on our way,” Bert said.
Bonnie stood up and shook hands with her, then with Rick. “It’s been nice traveling with you.”
“Same here,” Rick said.
Andrea stood up. “We don’t even know each other’s full names,” she said. “I’m Andrea Winston, this is Bonnie Jones.”
“I’m Bert Lindsey,” she said, and shook hands.
Andrea offered her hand to Rick. He held it briefly as he introduced himself. “Richard Wainwright.”
“If either of you ever get down to LA,” Bert said, “make sure to look us up. We could get together for dinner or something.”
“We’re in the San Fernando valley,” Rick said.
“And you’re in the phone book?”
“Yep.”
“Well,” Andrea said, “who knows? Maybe we’ll see each other again some time.”
Rick followed Bert to the lakeside trail. There, he looked back and waved. Andrea had a strange look on her face. A knowing smile.
My Christ, Rick thought, she’s going to show up at my door. Maybe next week, maybe next month.
His heart raced with the prospect.
Maybe she’ll forget my name, he told himself.
She won’t.
I’ll just treat her as a friend, and ...
What if it’s over with Bert by then? What if we’ve broken up?
What if we break up and Andrea doesn’t come along?
Her name is Winston. I can always find her through the university at Santa Cruz.
Why am I thinking this nonsense? Everything’s great with Bert.
But you never know.
Bert, ahead of him, looked to the left. Rick saw that they were passing the clearing where Jase, Luke and Wally had camped.
Won’t ever see them again, he thought.
“We forgot to give our names to The Three Thugateers,” he said.
Bert smiled back at him. “What an oversight! How will they ever manage to look us up?”
When she faced away again, Rick looked over at the lake. He pictured himself diving for his revolver. Probably wouldn’t find it, anyway, he told himself. And Bert wouldn’t be too pleased if he tried. He kept walking.
Soon, they rounded the end of the lake and climbed to the top of the rock slope overlooking the stream. “Do you feel like a dip?” Bert asked.
“Do I look like one?”
She laughed. They crossed the stream, hopping from rock to rock, then made their way down to the clearing by the inlet. There, they put down their packs. “This time,” Bert said, “we’ll have towels.”
“And let’s take a sleeping bag with us,” Rick suggested. “That was hard on my elbows and knees yesterday.”
They found their towels and placed them on top of Rick’s sleeping bag roll. Sitting on a rock, Bert took off her boots and socks. She stood up and stepped out of her shorts and panties. She left her shirt on, and Rick stayed in his jockey shorts.
On the way up to the stream, Rick stayed behind her. He watched her long bare legs. He watched the way her shirt-tail swayed and fluttered, giving him glimpses of her shadowed rump. The stolen glances, he realized, were somehow even more enticing than when she was naked.
Just don’t fall and break your leg, he thought. We don’t have the revolver anymore.
He pictured Julie on the ground. He felt a rush of fear.
Isn’t it ever going to end?
Not while we’re in the mountains.
This’ll be great, he told himself. Yesterday over here was great. Nothing to worry about. The guys are gone.
They reached the side of the stream at a place where the water tumbled down off a ledge and formed a pool. Rick turned around slowly, scanning the area.
“Checking for voyeurs?” Bert asked, smiling.
“We’re really out in the open.”
“That’s what’s nice about it. Didn’t bother you yesterday.”
He turned toward the lake. Only patches of blue were visible through the trees. The tops of nearby trees blocked his view of the trail leading up to Dead Mule Pass. The same trees, he supposed, would prevent anyone on the trail from seeing them, even with binoculars.
“Don’t worry about it,” Bert said.
“What, me worry?” Rick spread out the sleeping bag. Bert dropped the towels onto it.
He stood up and went to Bert and kissed her. Her arms went around him.
The feel of Bert soothed his fears, melted his cold tightness.
He stroked her back, slid his hands down and under the draping tails of her shirt. He caressed the smooth mounds of her buttocks. He ran his hands up her back. As he curled them over her shoulders, Bert stretched the front of his elastic waistband and dragged his shorts down around his thighs. He felt her cool, gliding fingers.
Moaning, he lowered his hands. He squeezed her rump, but it slid out of his hands as she crouched. She pulled the shorts down to his ankles and he stepped out of them. He felt a gentle kiss. Her tongue lapped the underside of his shaft. Then her lips opened and slid down him. She was wet and tight and she sucked.
Then she was rising. Rick felt air on his wet penis. He opened her shirt and spread it wide before she squeezed herself against him and her slick mouth joined his lips.
Soon, she eased back a little. She gazed at Rick as he slipped the shirt off her shoulders. She reached back and shook the sleeves down her arms. The movements made her breasts shake slightly. Rick caressed them. He bent down and licked a jutting nipple. He pressed it between his lips. He opened wide and filled his mouth with her breast, tongue swirling over the springy nub. He felt her trembling fingers in his hair. He moved to the other breast and took it in, and as he sucked he put a hand between her legs. She spread her legs to make room for it. He slipped fingers into her. She squirmed and clenched his hair.
She pulled his hair gently and he let his head go back, the breast sliding out of his mouth. His fingers kept stroking. Bert’s hips kept moving in a slow, languid way as she rubbed herself on his hand. Her mouth hung open. Her eyes had a vague look for long seconds, then seemed to focus on Rick’s eyes. She moved his hand away as she lowered herself. He felt the light touch of her fingers on his penis, guiding him. She sank lower, taking him in, sheathing him. He went to his knees. Then he was all the way in, buried in her hugging warmth. She wrapped her arms around him and thrust her tongue into his mouth.
His knees hurt, but he didn’t care. Bert was tight against him. They were locked together in a hard embrace. They were joined by his penis and her tongue. They had made love many times before, but somehow this time was different. He felt the difference. He didn’t think about it, but he knew it was there. She wasn’t his girlfriend or his lover. They were two parts of the same person and he felt a surge of joy that didn’t overwhelm his passion but fired it instead.