Like a previous story, this erotic encounter took place in the Scottish Highlands. This time I was on my own, on a four-day trek north of Kintail. I reached the bothy about 4 pm after a ten-mile hike across pathless moorland, and was pleased to find no-one else in residence. Not that I'm antisocial, but there's something special about spending the night in the middle of nowhere miles from the nearest person. That wasn't to say that no-one would turn up later, but contrary to popular myth the hills are not stuffed with Swedish girls – it would more likely be a couple of Glaswegian lads stuffed with Tennants lager.
[For those unenlightened, a bothy is an unlocked, un-wardened shelter in the hills, providing a dry and midge-free place to sleep, but usually little else.]
The day was hot and sunny and I was sweaty and tired. I made a mug of tea and sat outside listening to the silence. There was just enough of a breeze to keep the midges away. After a while I spied a figure in the distance, making its way slowly up the glen towards me. Oh well, at least it was just one person. We could sit and chat and discuss walks we had done and hills we had climbed. As the figure got nearer I saw that it was female, a small female carrying a large rucksack. Even better – I like women, on the whole.
She came up to the bothy and swung her sack off her shoulders with a grin. 'Hi, what a beautiful day!'
The woman was petite – barely five foot, I reckoned – but fit and wiry. Her face and bare arms and legs were tanned, her short spiky hair sunbleached. I guessed from the lines in her face that she was at least twice as old as me – I'm 23 – it's hard to tell with these outdoor types. But her smile was infectious and her blue eyes very attractive. She wore zipped-off shorts and a base-layer top. I detected the outline of a sports bra, although her bust was pretty small. Not bad, I thought, if you go for the older woman.
'Want a cup of tea?' I said. 'The water's still hot.'
'I could murder a cup.' She held out a small hand, rather self-consciously. 'I'm Sara.'
I introduced myself, and, formalities out of the way, we fell to chatting about routes, views, weather - the usual walkers' topics. She got another chair from inside and we sat drinking tea companionably in the sunshine. (Contrary to popular myth again, it is sometimes hot and sunny in Scotland.) She was an experienced walker and climber and had explored the majority of the British Isles and done quite a bit in Europe too. She mentioned a first Alpine trip in the sixties and I increased my estimate of her age. She also told me a little about her kids – four boys, the oldest well past university. I discovered that she lived with her husband about 30 miles from me.
'Phew, I'm sweaty,' she said. 'Time for a bath.'
'What? Is there a bath here?'
Sara laughed. 'About half a mile thataway – there's a pool with a waterfall – it's perfect. Be cold, though.' She picked up her rucksack. 'I'll spread my bag out and sort out some clean clothes. What about you?'
'Um, yes, I'm up for a wash. Lead me to it.'
There's nothing quite like bathing in a mountain stream, cold or not, as long as you can dry off afterwards. And doing it in the company of a female is even better. I wondered if she would keep her undies on. We spread our thermarests and sleeping bags in the loft – on opposite sides, to be polite – and unpacked spare clothing. I hadn't brought a towel, to keep weight down, and trusted on using my T-shirt to dry myself. I did, however, have a sliver of soap.
Sara led the way up a side valley to a little canyon where the stream cascaded into a clear pool about ten metres across. There was a patch of short grass next to the water. It was a magical place, which you wouldn't know about from a distance. I couldn't help exclaiming with delight.
The woman began to strip off her clothes without hesitation. Politely I avoided looking at her (yeah, if you believe that you'll believe anything), and started to undress myself. I turned round to catch a flash of naked buttocks as she dived into the water – small and firm, they were. Sara surfaced with a yelp and began to splash around.