Jen's Legacy.

Claire opened her eyes and looked around, finding herself alone. He was nowhere to be seen, but he can’t have gone very far. She needed to know where he was.

She hadn’t felt him leave her, and to her surprise she had managed to get some sleep despite the occasional heart-stopping moment when he had explored and touched her.

When she peeked farther out, she could see that the fire had been recently made up and water was boiling, so he wasn’t far away; probably fishing.

She was warm, covered, with the sleeping bag over her face, and she was surprisingly comfortable on the hard sand.

The rush of the river, and his warmth, had lulled her to sleep eventually, once her nerves had settled down. He must have been up for some time. She hadn’t noticed him leave her, and she was still dressed, much as she had been last night except that her shirt was open, and her shorts and swimsuit bottom, were part way down her legs.

She sat up, fastened her shirt and then pulled on her ankle socks and sneakers, before she left the sleeping bag, pulling up her shorts but not fastening them yet, and moved closer to the fire to stay warm and to see where he was. There were two fish, opened and laid out on a flat rock beside the blaze, cooking, steaming away gently. She was hungry.

A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention.

He was part way into the river with the water half way up to his knees, naked, standing there, half-turned away from her, rubbing at his legs and his body with water and sand, scooped up from around his feet, then reached out for his razor, to shave.

She was of two minds as she watched him, never having seen a truly naked man before yesterday, and she was intensely interested, as any woman would be, but also in a, ‘know your enemy’, kind of way. It might be wiser if she retreated back into that sleeping bag and let him assume she was still resting, rather than her poke at a sleeping bear. She decided against it, but wasn’t sure what would happen next. He hadn’t done anything truly threatening to her yet, so it did not seem as though he would.

Would he be offended, or shy even, if he knew she was watching him? Unlikely. He hadn’t been shy about anything last night, and men were never shy. She took a few photographs before he might see her and what she was doing.

She might have to do something similar, to get herself clean, or not bother. That water was way too cold, and there was no way she was undressing in front of him, and not where he could see her. She would be keeping her clothes on for the next few days, even if it meant she would stink to high heaven.

The water level had dropped another foot since the day before. She wouldn’t have minded checking along the river again, but had seen enough the evening before to know that he’d been right; there was no way to walk out along it before it became impossible.

He was still using his razor. She was glad she didn’t have to shave, as men had to do each morning. He had hair in places she didn’t.

He’d needed to shave. She’d felt his stubble on her shoulders and neck during the night with them constantly getting closer and closer together. He hadn’t tried to take advantage of her, though he had caused her heart almost to stop several times as he’d turned in his sleep and pulled her closer to him, or had run his hand down her back or front, and up them too, as they’d moved together. She’d relaxed after a while, learning that he was not intent on anything awkward with her, and besides, he was asleep. It was difficult to avoid touching, even if not interacting in some way in such close quarters. He had also confused her with someone called, Jen, whoever she was; that girlfriend again. Or his wife; he did have that wedding ring on.

She watched as he washed out his shirt and his underwear, seeing more of him than she’d seen of any man before, as though he was unaware that she was where she was; awake, and watching him.

There was no soap, but he rubbed the clothing between his hands, turning it inside-out, wringing it out, throwing it onto the rocks beside himself, and then repeated the process as he looked up and down the river.

At the last stage, he wrung his things out again and headed out of the water back to the fire, pausing to open his things out near the fire to dry, speaking to her the entire time, asking how she had slept, and they should get an early start.

Was he speaking to her? Or to someone else?

To her! He was looking at her, smiling, as though unaware, or not caring that he was naked as he tried to carry on a conversation.

She blushed and looked away, not daring to look at him directly or to meet his eyes, but that was like trying to ignore a swarm of bees in a nudist colony, yet he was talking to her the entire time, as though they’d known each other for years, and there was nothing threatening about anything he was doing. Except for that... one... other... thing. He was still aroused. At least she hoped that was him, aroused, because it it wasn’t... then holy hell! What would it really be like?

He was joking with her about the cold, last night, and how lucky they had been to have had each other to keep warm, and he kept calling her by that name; Jen, as he had, more than once the previous night.

She avoided staring, while trying to look up at his face and to ignore that other rebel. She was able to see everything about him peripherally. He was not in the least shy or concerned about what she thought. She wanted to retreat into his sleeping bag and cover her head so that he wouldn’t see her watching him, but she couldn’t.

She could see everything, and had to try and get her mind away from what was so damned obvious about him. She felt like chuckling, but there would have been nothing humorous about it; a nervous chuckle bordering on a choking scream.

He was well-muscled with broad shoulders and big arms and legs from all of his walking, and that pack he carried; and he was big in another place too. Her mind kept pulling her back to that.

There was no way that thing could possibly fit into her, or any other woman’s body, and no way she would let it in if she could stop him, but she couldn’t run. There was nowhere to run to. What could she do if...?

She preferred not to think of that.

Her ears were burning.

There were scars on his legs and some fresh areas on his body that were paler too. He must have been in some kind of accident, but that thought didn’t last very long, with him approaching her.

She closed her eyes as he came closer to her. She shrank even smaller. He was talking to her, telling her that the water was not too cold if she wanted to wash. He arranged his damp clothes around the fire on sticks driven into the sand—she glanced at him from time to time, her heart beating fast, clenching her legs together so tight she could have cracked a walnut there, wondering, hoping that she was wrong about his intentions for her; even as he was still talking to her. Just so long as he kept talking.

But he didn’t seem deranged, or to be intent on anything awkward with her; he was just not at all shy.

Then, there was sudden silence.