Talkin after midnight

09- Ain't no mountain high enough

Dear Freya,

I am an avid listener of your podcast and when I heard that you were looking for stories of our most outrageous hook up locations I had to tell mine.

The crisp mountain air swirled around me, invigorating and cool against my flushed skin. It felt like an extension of my own breath—something to consume, to savor. I adjusted the straps of my backpack, my heart racing not just from the exertion of our latest ascent but from the anticipation of the afternoon that lay ahead.

My name is Brooke, and I’ve always been someone who craves adventure. Boulder, Colorado is my home base, a launching pad for my weekend escapes and spontaneous decisions. But this particular journey had all the elements of a wild, tale, and looking back, it might just be my most scandalous escapade.

“Are you ready, Brooke?” Andrew’s voice broke through my thoughts, playful yet steady, cutting through the high-altitude silence. He had that effect on me—a blend of confidence and encouragement that made it hard to keep my mind on the task at hand.

We’d been climbing partners for a few months now, and our back-and-forth had evolved from mere camaraderie to something far more electric. The way he moved—graceful, assured—seemed to resonate with my aspirations, both on the rock face and off.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” I called back, a teasing lilt in my tone. Truth be told, I was more than just ready. I was eager.

It was mid-summer, and the sun was high as we scaled the final stretch of a challenging climb that would bring us to an isolated base camp. Birds soared above, their silhouettes framed against vivid blue, and the promise of warmth from the sun’s rays urged my muscles on. Sweat beaded along my brow as I reached for a solid handhold, feeling the textured stone beneath my fingers. With one last push, I hoisted myself over the edge, landing on solid ground.

The camp was a hidden enclave—a sanctuary nestled between towering pine trees, with sweeping views of the rugged terrain around us. Tents were already set up, and a few fellow climbers lounged about, but hardly anyone was around at this time of day, leaving us with an intoxicating sense of privacy.

“Let’s get this gear sorted,” Andrew said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. As he began unloading our gear, I couldn’t help but admire how his muscles flexed with each movement, how his sun-kissed skin glinted with a sheen of sweat.

“After that climb, I could use a drink,” I suggested, brushing my hair back from my face. The playful glint in his eyes made my heart flutter. “How about we crack open those beers we packed?”

“Such a good idea, Brooke,” he said, his voice warm and inviting. He grabbed the cooler, and the way he threw it down with a light laugh made my stomach twist with excitement.

We cracked open our beers, the sound crisp and refreshing against the serene mountainscape. We lounged against a couple of boulders, sipping the cold, fizzy liquid while sharing stories about our adventures—past climbs, odd encounters, and the strange kinship one develops on the side of a cliff.

“I once climbed a rock face with a gorilla,” I quipped during one of my stories, and Andrew laughed outright. I could see the muscles in his jaw tense and relax as he grinned. “Okay, maybe not a gorilla, but it felt like it. He was huge. A little intimidating but kind. Great climber though.”

“Too bad he wasn’t your type,” Andrew shot back, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips. “I mean, imagine the articles. ‘Local Girl Climbs with Gorillas’—that's sensational stuff.”

“That’s not a bad idea. I could definitely get a few clicks out of it.” Our laughter echoed off the cliffs around us, a joyful noise in the stillness. Little did I realize, we were edging closer to a potential moment neither of us had anticipated.

As the afternoon wore on and the sun began to dip low, painting the sky in hues of pink and lavender, our tone shifted. The initial light-hearted banter transformed into something deeper—our gazes locking with an intensity that made my breath hitch. I noticed the way his sapphire eyes darkened with desire, mirroring my own heartbeats.

“Do you believe in fate, Brooke?” Andrew asked softly, leaning closer until I could smell the earthy scent of his sweat mingled with the trees.

“Sometimes,” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away from his. The world around us faded into a distant hum, the wind rustling the leaves becoming a mere backdrop to the charge that crackled between us.

Andrew reached out, brushing a finger against my cheek, and the gentle touch sent a ripple of heat through me. I seized the moment and leaned in. Our lips met in a tentative kiss, the kind that spelled both uncertainty and promise. I melted against him, tasting the sun on his skin and the flavor of adventure mingled with the beer we had shared.

It ignited something within me, a thrilling rush that coursed through my veins. My arms slipped around his neck as I deepened the kiss, eager to explore this newfound chemistry. Passion ignited, and before long, we were wrapped around each other, the world beyond our cocoon of warmth and pine trees forgotten.

“Here?” I murmured breathlessly, pulling back for only a moment. The fluttering thrill of what we were about to do collided with the innate adventurous spirit I had always possessed.

“There’s no one around,” he said, a devil-may-care grin spreading across his handsome face. “And it feels like the perfect place.”

I glanced out at the serene landscape—the sun dipping below the horizon, casting surreal shadows and illuminating everything in soft, golden light. The moment was surreal, and spontaneity thrummed with palpable energy. Without another thought, I nodded, heart racing, and captured his lips again.

What followed was a tangle of limbs and laughter, of exploration and discovery, our makeshift campsite becoming a sanctuary where desires could be expressed freely. I was entranced by the rhythm of his body against mine as we faded into the wild backdrop of the mountains.

As the evening deepened, we rolled away from our makeshift bed of leaves and soft earth, panting, cheeks flushed. The air became cooler, but everything felt electric, and our laughter lingered like a whispered secret.

“Not quite what I expected when I signed up for rock climbing lessons,” I said, my voice still a bit breathless.

“Best lesson yet,” Andrew replied, drawing me in for another sweet kiss, his lips lingering on mine.

In that high-altitude camp, surrounded by vast landscapes and the whispering winds, I realized I had found something extraordinary. Adventure is often defined by the places we visit, the cliffs we climb, but sometimes—just sometimes—it’s about the wild moments we share. And as I lay there, wrapped in Andrew’s arms, I knew this story would be one I’d cherish forever.

It wasn’t just about the connection; it was a bond forged in the heights of Colorado. Under the shadow of the mountains, where the stars began to twinkle like glimmers of possibility, I smiled. I snuggled into Andrew’s side.

I hope my words spark inspiration for others looking for their own adventures!

- Brooke

"Well that's certainly was a walk on the wild side thanks for sharing Brooke, now I've heard I'm trying the mile high club but doing it near the mile high city sounds like a trip I need to make. this has been another episode of Talking After Midnight with your girlfriend see you next time."