First Glance: The Wilderness
Chantille was tired of polite sex and wanted a man to ravage her in the wilderness
My 26th First Glance story. A paid subscriber feature where stories are written at the first glance of a photo. Subscribe to read them all or take a week to peek for free.
Chantille had been the homecoming queen in high school and a song girl in college wearing the provocative thigh-high skirt that twirled high enough to show the white panties beneath.
Guys treated her carefully, almost delicately, but she longed for nature’s unpredictability in relationships. Soft kisses and tongues moving carefully in her mouth were nice, and hands skimming her breasts and compliments of “you’re gorgeous” became background noise.
Paul was that predictable guy and during her entry into the real world as a paralegal she found reasons to tell him no that she didn’t want to date, that she was busy with the law firm.
They had met through their polo-shirt, khaki group of friends. His eyes were soft and his voice tender. He was medium build and always sounded polite.
But Chantille found herself drifting away from the scholarly, professional crowd and ventured into the city’s most notorious dive bar at midnight with bikini dancers on the stage, gyrating to pulsing beats with frenzied partygoers grinding hips and reaching beneath loose skirts on the dance floor.
Chantille was transfixed, watching with a drink in hand when a familiar voice caught her offguard.
“I’m surprised to meet you here.” Paul sidled up to her.
Chantille glanced side to side. “You’re alone?”
A woman with tight shorts and a tank top barely holding her breasts sauntered over. Paul wrapped an arm around her and kissed her on the cheek. “This is Amber.”
Chantille felt a sudden strange, surge of jealousy and embodied an ancient advertising principle, Tell someone ‘no’ and they’ll want it all the more.
“Hi.” Amber’s smile lit up the space and she leaned forward and kissed Chantille on the cheek. “I’m going to take a break, babe.” She patted Paul on the ass. “Freshen up and let you two do your thing. Whatever that may be.”
“I can’t believe you’re here.” Paul eyed Chantille.
On a podium there were four dancers gyrating—two women in micro-bikinis and two shirtless guys in thongs.
Chantille couldn’t believe Paul was standing next to her. “Same here.”
“I like it wild,” was all he said.
“Me, too.”
Paul put a hand on Chantille’s ass, swatted, and led her to the dance floor.
“What about Amber?” she teased.
“She’ll be happy for me. I told her how badly I’ve wanted you.”
A few weeks later, Paul told Chantille that he wanted to spend the day hiking. The trail went deep into the woods, he said, and was a favorite place of his to getaway.
“Should I wear anything in particular?”
“Whatever you want.”
