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again,
searched the campsite. All clear.
    Pulling up the bra over her pointy nipples, she
turned and searched the floor for her underwear. Five minutes were
almost out. Running late again. Where the hell were her panties?!
On her hands and knees, she speed-crawled around the tent. She
searched around the bed, on the bed and then checked the duffle
bags. Her panties laid on top of his duffle. Was he keeping them?
What else was in the duffle? She knelt beside it. She shouldn't
snoop. She shouldn't. She wanted to.
    Instead, she dug into her duffle for a new pair of
pink panties.
    She crawled to the tent flap, took a deep breath and
kneed her way outside. Air felt cooler out by the river and to a
desert person used to the heat, nineties was a party. Shaye was
born and raised in Palm Springs where a hearty July hit hundred and
twenty Fahrenheit, and the only saving grace was the lack of
humidity.
    She stumbled over small rocks, down the alcove made
by tall bushes and trees, to the left, where Sir faced the river.
She padded across the rough stone, crunching the gravel with tops
of her knees that only ever touched cushioned carpet, tile, and
occasionally, soft California grass. Lucky for her, the ground
wasn't hot. She'd never gone camping before, didn't know what to
expect but she imagined it was beautiful and relaxing if only she
stopped thinking about Dallas coming around. If he came now, he'd
see her full back. Hair fastened up, collar on her neck, the curve
of her slender back lead way to her firm bottom and bellow, where
her pussy was exposed. Dallas would get an eyeful. What would he
think?
    The closer she got to the river and the table, the
smoother the stone felt. Next to him, she knelt. His hand brushed
her hair. Knees in the water she sat back on her heels and closed
her eyes for a second. This place, kneeling beside his chair, was
everything she hoped for this weekend. He placed the back of his
hand over the chair rest. She lowered her head and kissed it, ran
her nose on his skin. She marveled in his touch, sucked up his
attention. "How did you find this place?" Sir lived in the Las
Vegas suburbs.
    "Buddy of mine told me about it," he said, hand back
in her hair. "He grew up in Blythe."
    Pair of jet skis rushed pass their alcove, engine
ramble interrupted the quiet mood. Sir cracked open a small bottle
of water. He cupped his hand and poured some inside then offered it
to her. Eyes locked with his, she tongued his palm and slurped the
water. He poured more down her hair and face while she tried to
keep up, lick it clean. She drank faster as not to waste then shook
her head to clear the hair from her eyes. He swiped his hand over
her face then cupped her jaw. "I drove here this morning thinking
up thousands of women, and wasn't sure what I'd get for a puppy.
You could've been anyone."
    "Ditto."
    "That's the issue with meeting online isn't it? You
want it to be the person with whom you've flirted with but you
don't really know until you meet them. Why did you join the chat
room?" Fingers slid her bra cups down. Her nipples, like soldiers,
perked up for him. "Take off your panties."
    "Privacy," she spoke while removing her underwear.
"Anonymity, I guess. I'm there, freaky with like-minded people and
nobody bats an eye. It's fun. I didn't think I'd meet you."
    "I considered taking a sub and there you were
posting pictures of pretty little puppy girls."
    "Aren't there subs in Vegas? I mean, it's Vegas, a
place to be."
    By the collar he guided her to kneel before him. She
placed her hands on the back of his shins and threaded them through
his coarse hair, occasionally pausing to squeeze his hard muscles.
She rested her cheek on his leg and sighed thinking there's no
other place she'd rather be right now. Or tomorrow. This weekend,
with him here, was perfect. Smooth sailing with Sir reminded her of
their messages and how close they grew in the months past. She
still couldn't believe he was here, live, in flesh.
    "There are