Mystic Ridge

Chapter Two-2

“THIS IS NICE,” BEV says as they sit together on the bearskin rug.

“A ratty blanket around our shoulders,” Cate adds. “Toasting marshmallows over the crackling flames.”

“Just the two of us under a velvet sky, stars shimmering above our heads like diamonds, fireflies like tiny lanterns in the forest of our dreams.”

Cate can’t handle the poetry. She says, “Hot dogs for dinner. Real gourmet.”

She braces herself for Bev to snap back, to ask why she can never just enjoy a romantic moment, why she always has to ruin it with some snarky comment.

But Bev either doesn’t hear the snark, or decides to let it pass, because she sighs and smiles and says, “There’s nothing like a good hot dog cooked over a campfire. I love how the skin gets sort of crispy and black. Can’t get that in the city.”

“True,” Cate replies. She vows to try harder, to be more positive. “Same goes for marshmallows.”

“Did you notice that yours is on fire?”

“Oh no!” She pulls it from the flames and blows it out. The outer layer has turned into sugary charcoal. When she pulls at it, only that burnt layer comes off, leaving the creamy interior on the stick. She gobbles up the deliciously crunchy burnt stuff, then holds the rest over the flames.

“Two for one,” Bev chirps.

Cate groans in a way that can hardly be misconstrued. “Lucky me.” It’s sarcasm, plain and simple.

So much for staying positive. Why can’t she go thirty seconds without saying something caustic?

Maybe a better question would be: why is Bev letting her off the hook? Probably just wants to enjoy the first night of the rest of their lives.

Cate vows to try harder.

“It’s good to see you happy,” Cate says as Bev sinks her teeth into a perfectly browned marshmallow. “This place is so you, like you belong here. I don’t know why this great-aunt of yours left Mystic Ridge to you, but I’m glad she did. Your plans for this place are so... what’s the word? Altruistic. You really want to make the world a better place.”

“We both do,” Bev says enthusiastically.

Cate isn’t about to disagree, mainly because disagreeing would make her sound like a terrible person, but at this stage of life she’s beyond caring. The world is awful, and the more you try to make it better, the more you realize it’ll always be awful. What’s the use in trying?

Doesn’t matter. Bev’s on to her new favourite topic: the camp they’re going to create. Cate lets her talk. It’s nice that Bev feels so gung-ho about her future plans. Cate’s just along for the ride.

While Bev burbles about this amazing summer camp, Cate quickly turns around. At first, she isn’t sure why she’s doing this. Her body reacts before her brain catches up. Once she’s swivelled around, she realizes she’s expecting to see someone there. She gets this weird feeling like somebody’s watching them from the path that leads to that creepy death trap of a playground.

No one’s there.

She seriously expects to see someone off in the distance, right where the path slopes. It weirds her out that she’s got this distinct feeling and yet... maybe she just can’t see because of the darkness?

No, that can’t be it. Sure the night is dark, but her eyes have adjusted enough to perceive their surroundings pretty clearly.

Nobody there. Nobody anywhere. Just the two of them.

She stares over her shoulder, fully expecting to see some movement, some motion, some something. Maybe an animal. Although, she hasn’t heard any footsteps, or even any disruption of the ground cover like you’d get with even the smallest of forest creatures. Just a feeling. A feeling of not being alone.

“Cate!” Bev cries, grabbing her stick and pushing it off to one side. With a chuckle, Bev says, “Pay attention! Your marshmallow’s about to drip off your stick!”

At least it isn’t on fire this time. Cate reaches out to catch the liquid blob of heavenly sugar before it finds the forest floor. It lands flat on her palm, hot-hot-hot, and she tosses her stick aside to pluck up the goo.

“Mmm,” Bev cooes, setting aside her stick to grab at Cate’s messy hand. “Look how dirty you’ve got yourself.”

Cate pops what’s left of her marshmallow in her mouth. “I’ll wash up in the river. Lake. Pool. Pond. Whatever it is.”

“Oh no you won’t.” Bev grabs the other wrist too. “Sticky fingers.”

Cate isn’t sure what Bev’s getting at until she lowers her face to Cate’s hand, sticks out her pink velvet tongue, and licks Cate’s palm.

“Oh,” Cate says. She’s too mystified to react. This is strange, for Bev. Strange for them. It’s been so long since they...

Bev kisses her hand, sucks the marshmallow from it. At first, Cate feels nothing. She’s too surprised to also be turned on. When Bev attends to the other hand, surprise makes way to a wary sort of arousal.

“Let me just... clean this up for you,” Bev whispers before wrapping her expert tongue around Cate’s sticky digit. “Mmm... finger lickin’ good.”

Cate lets out a sharp burst of laughter. She finds it hard to believe this is happening. All the same, she doesn’t want to ask what’s gotten into her girlfriend in case she’s supposed to know.

She’s surprised how good this feels, Bev sucking one sweet finger and then the next. Two together. Three.

Cate watches this act, baffled, yet drawn in. It shouldn’t be baffling when her girlfriend shows her a little tenderness. It shouldn’t. But s*x with the woman she loves is that distant a memory. That’s how messed up things are between them.

The firelight acts as an orange cover-up, blending away the freckles that dot the bridge of Bev’s nose and cheeks. Over the years, Cate’s started to notice the not-so-attractive qualities she’d glossed over when they were head-over-heels in love. Bev has one of those faces that’s longer than it needs to be. Her hair looks best naturally orange and naturally curly, but she insists on straightening it and dying it this weird browny-blondy colour—the same shade as those slim oak floorboards Cate grew up with. It doesn’t suit Bev’s head any more than it had her parents’ dining room.

And Bev’s lips are thin. Too thin, and such a pale shade of pink they disappear from view in the wrong light, making her look like some kind of alien.

But firelight has the opposite effect, plumping Bev’s lips, making them dark and delicious, a deep, tempting cherry red.

“That feels really good,” Cate tells her.

“Yeah?”

“Really good.”

The sticky marshmallow is gone, but she knows Bev’s not done. As for Cate herself, well, she’s just getting started. What would have been a tingle between her legs a few years ago now feels more like pain, like someone gripping her crotch, squeezing and twisting. Is this good? Bad? Just different? She doesn’t know, but she can’t ignore the strength of this sensation. It won’t go away.

They kiss.

Who leaned in first? She isn’t sure. Doesn’t matter. Don’t overthink it. Sure she can’t remember the last time they kissed like this, with actual passion, still cautious, but not trying too hard. Trying too hard always ruins the moment.

Cate has ruined more moments than she can remember. She vows not to ruin this one.

Clothes come off. Cate would never have imagined this happening, and not only because of the season. This isn’t exactly hot summer nights. Barely spring. Temperatures dropping in the overnight hours.

Right now the fire blazes. Cate’s cheeks feel tight and hot, like the crispy skin on a rotisserie chicken. The air is cool when her clothes are gone, kicked off to the side somewhere, but the blanket’s big enough to cover them both. Beneath their bodies, the bear-skin rug feels surprisingly luxurious.

People dream of nights like this.

How many people are lying awake in the city right now, squished into single beds, crammed inside unliveable bedrooms, sirens filling their ears as they try to remember what it feels like when starlight fills your eyes?

Cate doesn’t have to imagine. She’s looking into a sky as velvety smooth as her girlfriend’s tongue. Starlight, fireflies, open flames and open skies—she’s got it all.

Feels good to give in, to not think about what it all means. Feels good to be here. She wasn’t sure, when they’d first pulled up to the place. Bev was so gung-ho, but Cate couldn’t help thinking there was something a little creepy about those run-down shacks, that gingerbread cabin, the antiquated playground. Even the woods seem oddly spooky.

Bev’s tongue jolts her back into the moment. Away from the shacks, the cabin, the playground, the woods. Into the here and now. Into a pleasure Cate often wondered if they’d ever again share. Well, here they are, sharing away. Bev doing all the work, but that’s Bev. She likes to give. She’s always said so.

“Please,” Cate whispers. She doesn’t even know what she’s begging for. Just, “Please.”

Bev takes “Please” to mean “More” and “Harder” and there’s nothing wrong with that. She’s growling, going wild, like an animal. It’s amazing. Cate can’t believe this is happening.

She lifts her hips off the rug, feeding her body to Bev as she digs her shoulders into the bear’s warm coat. Her skin jumps, tingles. She’s never felt anything like it.

Her body collides with Bev’s face. It’s rough, but Bev likes it like that—unless her tastes have drastically changed since the last time they really went for it. Cate’s clearly haven’t, although the way her skin’s reacting... well, she must say, this is something she’s never experienced. Her shoulders, her neck, her upper back, even her lower back... they feel more alive than usual.

A little itchy, too.

“Oh my God!” Cate cries, tossing the blanket toward the tent as she flips onto all fours.

“Someone’s feeling confident,” Bev teases.

“My back! My back!” Leaning closer to the fire, Cate begs Bev to take a look.

“Look at what?”

“I don’t know! Something jumping!”

They’re quiet for a moment, as Bev leans in close enough to get a good look at Cate’s skin in the firelight.

“What is it?” Cate asks. “Is there a rash? Maybe I stabbed myself with bear hair.”

“Hold still! I can’t do this if you’re squirming around.”

She tilts toward the fire, suddenly hyperaware of her nakedness. And Bev’s. Particularly when Bev jumps back and leaps to her feet in one fluid motion—something that doesn’t seem physically possible.

Cate’s so mesmerized by the rollicking swing of Bev’s breasts she can’t quite process what’s being said to her. Bev’s gesturing dramatically, but that doesn’t help her concentration.

It only starts to sink in when Bev grabs her with force and pulls her from the bearskin.

“Must be from the rug!” Bev says as she drags Cate to the water’s edge. “Bugs! Lice! I don’t know, but they’re jumping all over you!”

“What?” Cate shrieks, more pissed off than afraid. It was Bev’s idea to drag the stupid rug down to the campfire.

“You’re covered in itty bitty bugs!” Bev screams before shoving Cate with all her strength.

The water doesn’t feel quite as warm as it did earlier in the day, but Cate is possibly misinterpreting shock as cold. She wasn’t prepared to be pushed into a swimming hole under cover of darkness.

Her head somehow knows which way is up, and she pops above the surface, gasping for air.

“You b***h!” are the first words out of her mouth.

Bev is armed with a sensible response. “There’s no running water, Cate. How else do you expect to wash away itty bitty jumping bugs?”

Good question.

“Well, warn me next time you’re gonna throw me in a lake,” Cate says.

“It’s not a lake,” Bev teases.

Cate’s not in the mood. Or maybe she is, because she watches silently as her girlfriend steps into the moonlit water.

“Ooh, chilly.” Bev shivers, hugging her chest. “Can you tell that I’m cold?”

Cate just stares. She knows exactly where her girlfriend wants her looking, and that’s where she looks. Can’t tear her gaze away.

“Dunk your head underwater,” Bev says, stretching out one arm and pointing down as she treads through the water. She makes it look like a dance move in a bad music video, something kids would memorize and replicate ad nauseum.

“I don’t want to dunk my head,” Cate says, just to see what’ll happen.

“You have to.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

She’s still doing that pointing-marching move, holding her chest with just one arm.

“I already went under once. Once is enough.”

Bev shakes her head no. “If you don’t go down on your own, I might have to give you a little help.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Cate says, issuing a challenge.

It works. Bev bounds toward her. Slowed by water and sand, she grabs for Cate’s short hair and plunges her face underwater. Cate’s ready for it this time, armed with breath. Bev doesn’t keep her down for long. Just long enough to feel the cool wetness licking her face.

When she comes back up, Bev holds her close, scratching her back and scalp as violently as possible with nails cut practically to the quick. Their chests press together, a wet kiss. Their hip bones clang as their bodies meet. The water pulls them away from each other like invisible hands to carry them off. They have to work at it if they want to stay together.

Bev scratches further down, lower back, butt cheeks. Cate returns the caress no less softly, squeezing every bit of flesh she can grasp.

“Is this what you had in mind when you dragged me down here?” Cate asks.

“I just wanted to clean up my dirty, dirty girl,” Bev replies.

It’s good, this back and forth. It’s been so long. Maybe Mystic Ridge will be their salvation after all.

She stares up the dirt path as Bev’s long fingers spread her open. The water gives her enough buoyancy that she can lift her feet from the sand and feel free, and also feel possessed completely by Bev’s welcome lust.

The stars look back, flinching, flickering, so far away from life on earth.

Just beyond the flames of their fire, Cate sees two eyes, unblinking. Close to the ground. An animal? But how could it be when the space around it is misty black? No body. No form. And, anyway, what kind of animals has glowing red eyes?