A Dark Autumn (5 page)

The hike to the campsite wasn’t as hard as Michelle had anticipated. The nipping air and cold temperatures had probably sobered her enough to handle it. She expected at least one of them to fall in the lake as they crossed the tapered piece of terrain separating the two sections of water, but surprisingly no one did.

Helen kept to Michelle’s heels, shining the flashlight ahead of her feet so Michelle could see where she was stepping. Helen had a backpack over her shoulders with a flashlight in one hand. Amanda was behind her, carrying the shopping bag full of alcohol and smoking a cigarette with Lucy taking the back, shining the other flashlight in front of Amanda.
 

Like a bunch of girl scouts,
Michelle thought.
 

They arrived at the campsite. It was even darker here. The heavy canopy of limbs above them made it impossible for moonlight to penetrate. Michelle stepped off to the side, allowing Helen to take the lead.
 

She shined the flashlight. A groove of light slashed through the black, its disc landing on the benches. She walked over, slumped her shoulders so the backpack could drop, then sat down with a groan. “Got the matches?”
 

“Right here.” Michelle walked toward the light, handing Helen the thin box as the other girls each found a seat around the rock circle. The matches scuffed inside the box while Helen fished one out. “I guess we should go get some sticks or something.”

Helen nodded. “Good idea.”

They took a few minutes gathering fallen sticks, and breaking the larger ones down. Then they took what they’d managed to confiscate and domed them between the rocks. Helen splashed some vodka across the skeletal pieces of wood, and placed the lighted end of a match to them. They ignited with a whoosh. The pile crackled and popped as the flames licked them from the bottom up.

Iridescent orange light pressed against the heavy blackness, dancing shadows on the trees around them. Michelle sat on the beach with Helen. She was already unloading the alcohol from the shopping bag.
 

“So, what’ll it be girls,” asked Helen. “Black Widows? Helen Sours? Or something else?”

Although she really didn’t want to drink anymore alcohol, Michelle was thirsty, and hadn’t thought enough ahead to bring along some water. So Helen’s bar was all she had, and a Helen Sour sounded delicious right now. “I’ll take a Helen Sour.”

“That’s my girl.”
 

Lucy and Amanda ordered the same, and Helen went to work. She used a rock to break apart the ice that was a frozen block in a plastic bag.

Michelle eyed Helen’s backpack on the ground by her feet. It was the size of Helen’s upper body, and bright orange. The pack was designed for serious camping and hiking. “I didn’t know you were the outdoor type, Helen.”

Helen glanced at Michelle, her face a sheet of confusion. “What are you talking about?”

“The backpack. I’ve never seen one so big.”

“Ah,” Helen chuckled. “That.” She sighed. “Let me finish making our drinks and I’ll tell you all about
that.
”

Chapter Eight

“Roger was a wannabe outdoorsman. Always running away on weekend adventures with his buddies… Doing as he liked to call it ‘preparing for the future’. They were really just a bunch aspirants who liked to think of themselves as radicals, or as I referred to them, ’backwoods soldiers’.” Helen laughed, taking a swallow of her drink. She rested her head on Michelle’s shoulder. “Anyway, it first started with his work buddies, going into the deep wilderness for a holiday weekend, usually Labor Day and Memorial Day…then it was Fourth of July, then Thanksgiving… Each trip he took, the more he left of himself in the woods when he came home.”
 

She sighed, gulped more drink. “Then it was like living with a stranger…a
violent
stranger.”

The woods around them grew darker and quieter as if nature was holding its breath in anticipation of Helen’s story. Michelle gazed across the popping fire, studying the expressions on Amanda and Lucy. Both of them shared the same concerned, yet terrified, look on their faces swathed in an orange blush.

Helen’s laughter resounded around them like a witches cackle. It was void of humor, eerie, one that questioned Helen’s mental balance. “Some extremist he turned out to be, huh? He couldn’t even finish
me
off. Fucking prick. Tried to strangle me…but you know what I did to Mr. Backwoods Soldier? Stabbed him in the fucking throat. And, you know what? He could have survived…if only I would have called an ambulance right away, but I didn’t. Instead, I watched him bleed out.” She waved her hand in front of her, then slapped her bare leg. “And that man
bled.
I never knew so much could come out of one person.”

Michelle didn’t know what to say, but felt she should say something. She settled for, “I’m sorry…”

“Don’t be,” Helen answered. “I survived. I learned.” She sat up, finished off the drink in her cup. “Look what I found in his backpack on the way over here. I was looking for a lighter for Amanda in the car and found these…” Helen grabbed the backpack, sat it on the ground between her legs, and unzipped the front pocket. She buried her hand in up to the wrist, and when she pulled it back she had a baggie of white pills the size of jelly beans. “Do you know what these are?”

Michelle shook her head.

“Hard-on pills. The fucker couldn’t even get it up without medication. Now, let me ask you something. Why would a man going into the woods with a bunch of other men need dick medicine?”

Michelle could think of no reason, but tried to guess. “He…uh…well…”

“Because he was a closet
faggot
, that’s why. Going out to the woods to prepare for the future must have meant learning how to shoot guns and fuck other men’s assholes. That son of a bitch. He needed these pills to fuck me too, I guess, because he preferred the feel of a man’s asshole stretched around his cock…”

“I don’t think he was…”

“Don’t you tell me what you think he was doing. I saw the websites he looked at on his computer. Sick, sick stuff. Barely legal, teenage boys, doing things in these videos that would make you shit. He went to a doctor about his dick
problem,
and the quack told him it was stress causing it. Stress my ass.”
 

“Helen, you didn’t deserve what you were put through…” Michelle stopped talking when Helen held up her hand.

“Don’t feel sorry for me. It was a learning experience.” Helen lowered her head, letting the talking stop.
 

Michelle wanted to do something, to say the right thing that would bring this party back to the guiltless fun it had been before. Seconds ticked by like minutes in the tranquil night, until she finally couldn’t handle it anymore. She was going to hug Helen, let her get it out, whatever it took, she would hold her until Helen cried herself dry. As Michelle curved her arm around Helen’s shoulders, she sprung to life, whipping her head around with her eyes wide.

And yelled, “
Boo!”

Michelle jumped back. Her scream carried through the trees.

Chapter Nine

Ricky dropped the chopped log when he heard the scream. He turned around, gazing at the darkened woods across the yard. Listening. It was faint, but recognizable enough that he discerned it as female.
Why would a woman be screaming in the woods at this hour?
He put his hands on his hips.

He frowned.

Ricky slowed his breathing until all he could hear was the steady chorus of wildlife around the lake. His heart rapped against his chest, making a vibrating pulse in his throat. Shaking his head, he decided to ignore it, and finish doing what he’d come outside to do—getting wood for the fireplace. He’d been unable to think of anything else except for lying on the rug in front of the fireplace, and drinking some red wine he’d brought from home. He’d promised himself he would not get drunk, because he feared he’d begin feeling sorry for himself, become paranoid, and start calling Ted so that he’d convince him that he still loved him. It would be bad for their already strained relationship.
 

More sounds resounded from the woods. Female. He wasn’t certain, but it sounded as if there were more than one tone. Which was odd to him, since the only female he knew of being out here was Michelle. She hadn’t said anything about their being others around, so why had he heard the slight ricochet of multiple voices?
What if Michelle’s hurt?
He could picture the pretty thing out for a late night stroll, slipping on a broken branch, or tripping over an exposed root, and breaking her ankle. It was totally fathomable. But that didn’t explain the other voices.
 

What if she came across someone in the woods she had no business finding?

That also seemed possible, but not likely. Still…it
could
happen.
 

Sighing, he turned his back on the woodpile, again focusing his attention on the woods. He would not be able to sleep tonight unless he knew Michelle was not in any danger.
 

On his way back to the cabin for a flashlight and coat, he decided he would walk the path back toward her cabin, if he found her along the way, he’d help her, and if not, he’d just mosey up to where she was staying, tap on the door, and check on her.
 

He saw no problem in that, and he hoped he wouldn’t be intruding on her.

Chapter Ten

“So, how are things going with you and your man,” Helen asked Michelle.

After nearly peeing herself from Helen shouting
Boo
in her face, Michelle guzzled another drink to calm herself. Amanda and Lucy, although they’d been startled too, had begun heckling her over her reaction. Thankfully, the attention had turned away from it and Helen’s troubled married life onto less stressing topics.

“Good,” Michelle answered.

“Just good?”

“As good as they can be, I guess.”

Amanda and Lucy traded looks.

Michelle noticed. “What was that?”

Lucy shrugged. “You said you
guess
, and that usually means something’s wrong.”

“No, no. Everything’s fine.”

“Can he fuck?” asked Helen, bluntly.

Maybe it was all the alcohol she’d consumed, but Michelle hardly noticed. “Yeah, he’s pretty good.”

“Just pretty good?”

“Well, he makes me come.”

Amanda clapped. “That’s a plus.”

“Yeah, it is.” Michelle nodded. “But sometimes I want a little more, you know?”

“A little more?” Amanda repeated, with confusion in her voice.

“Yeah…”

Helen swallowed some drink. “What does that mean? More guys? Girls?”

“No, not more partners…I mean…He’d never go for that anyway.” The others laughed. “Just a little
more
…” She held her hands up like claws and quietly roared.
 

“Ah,” said Lucy. “You want him to be more aggressive?”

“Yes and no. I mean, I’m not one for being dominated…”

“You want to dominate
him,
” said Helen.

“Well…I guess so. Yeah.” Michelle remembered the one time she’d attempted dirty talk with Britt. It had been a complete disaster. He’d thought she’d been cheating on him with someone who enjoyed that kind of foreplay. She hadn’t been, but it was obvious that Britt did not care for it.
 

“How would you dominate?” asked Amanda.

“Oh… I don’t know.”
 

Helen patted her on the back. “We’re all friends here. We won’t judge you. Tell you what… You tell me how you would dominate and I’ll tell you a fantasy of mine.”

Amanda added, “We can all swap fantasies.”

“Oh boy.” Lucy chugged half her cup.

Michelle laughed. “Do you really want to hear this?”

They did and told her so.

“All right.” Michelle sighed. Was she really going to confess the fantasy that had replayed in her mind endless times? She supposed so. “Well…I’ve always wanted to tie him up, you know…on the bed. His hands up above his head, his ankles strapped down, but pulled tight so his legs are spread.” She held up two fingers as if giving the peace sign to indicate how Britt’s legs would be. “I have this outfit that I bought online…it’s a black leather corset, with fishnet garters, and an opening in the crotch area…”

“For easy access,” stated Helen.

Michelle nodded. She couldn’t believe she was telling them this. “Then—here’s where it gets a little weird—I would straddle him, but not on his cock…his stomach…and then slap him.” She held up her hand, palm opened. “Not hard at first, just playfully. Then I’d pull his head forward by the hair and make him suck on my nipples.” She felt a tingle between her thighs, moistening. The visions accompanying her story were turning her on. “I’d demand he nibble on them. By this time, he’d probably be getting hard.”

“Hell, I would be.” That was Lucy.
 

Amanda laughed, nudged her with an elbow.

“Well, I would!”

Michelle continued as if Lucy hadn’t spoken. “Then I’d turn around, putting my ass up to his face so his mouth was right at my pussy. I’d push it against his lips, and order him to lick me. Then if he was a good boy, I’d lean over and suck his cock into my mouth.”