Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56352 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
I knew where she was going with this. “Oh, yeah. I don’t remember what state it was. But I think you’re right. I think he was a senator, or possibly the governor of South Carolina.”
She nodded. “And when he went off to see his mistress, he told people he was”—she put up air quotes— “hiking the Appalachian Trail.” She started laughing again, and it was contagious. “Anyway,” she continued, “when I hear mention of the Appalachian Trail, I immediately think about sex.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“But not just sex,” she said wide-eyed, “but secret, hot mistress sex; it’s passionate, but it’s forbidden.”
“Hmm, I like it.”
“Why do you ask?”
I snapped my finger, suddenly struck with an idea. “Is your friend—what’s her name? Jessie?”
Gwen furrowed her brow and nodded.
“Is she still looking for a place to stay?”
Gwen turned her head to the side and looked at me, cautiously out of the corners of her eyes. “Yes, she is.”
“Well,”—I poured us each another ti'-punch. I raised my glass, soliciting a toast. “Maybe she could stay here for a few months.”
“Huh?”
“It just so happens that I might be”—I, too, used air quotes, but I also fluttered my eyebrows— “hiking the Appalachian Trail.”
4
Ryker
When I looked out at the mountains in the distance, instinctively, I reached out as if to touch them. I nearly lost my balance, like I was being pulled, literally, to them. I laughed at myself, adjusted my backpack, and headed for the trail’s entrance.
A small, unimposing stone arch marked the starting point. Beside it, a wooden sign gave hikers their first indications. A middle-aged couple was standing before the sign, reading it. I glanced over their shoulders. The information was the same I had gleaned from the articles and guidebooks I’d spent the last few days perusing. I took a step back and faced the arch. Nothing was imposing about it, physically, only what it represented.
I rolled my head, rolled my shoulders, and approached the arch, feeling a strange mix of apprehension and eagerness.
The middle-aged couple turned around. “Hello, there,” said the man.
I had a lump in my throat and could only respond with a smile and a nod. I stopped, thinking to let them pass before I did.
“Oh, no,” said the man. “We’re not ready to get going just yet. Building up the courage.”
From their expressions, I could see that the strange sensation I was feeling, they were feeling it, too. I cleared my throat. “I figured I’d just build up the courage on the way.”
The man chuckled. “That’s as good a plan as any, I reckon.” He pulled on the bill of his baseball cap. “Best of luck to you.”
“Thank you.”
The couple walked away.
It was just me and the arch.
I stepped up to it. I touched it. The stones felt like stones, nothing supernatural, no mystical force inhabited me—at least none that I could detect. I took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Well, here goes.”
I passed through the arch and didn’t look back.
For the first few miles, I kept up a rather quick pace. I had nearly twenty miles to cover before reaching Suches, Georgia—my first stop on the trail—and I planned on making it there by evening—in time to enjoy a hearty meal at a local eatery.
I knew that the hike would give me time and space to think. What I hadn’t counted on, though, was just how many of my thoughts strayed toward Lucy. I thought I was over her: over and done with. Walking in on her and another man should have marked a clean split between us. I sincerely thought it had. But as the miles accumulated, so did my rationalizations, not only for what she did but how I’d reacted. I hadn’t made much of a fuss—it hadn’t been the first time a girlfriend had cheated on me. I hadn’t gotten particularly upset or lost my temper. If anything—and alone on the trail, I could finally admit it to myself—I had been more than slightly aroused.
That was not a realization that sat well with me. I’d had such a difficult time maintaining a relationship—mostly because the women I’d dated simply didn’t want a long-term commitment—but to think I might have some “unorthodox” kink that didn’t bode well for making future attempts at a relationship any easier.
I dealt with the physical wear on my body from hours and hours of hiking, no problem; I had expected that, trained for that, and I was prepared. The mental toll of my berating myself for the failure with Lucy and my “unusual” sexual predilection, however, was more of a challenge to deal with—that I hadn’t expected.
I arrived in Suches beat up and exhausted, not necessarily physically, but mentally and emotionally. That much alone time, for some people, might be therapeutic, but I found it to have the opposite effect on me.