She didn’t know why she had agreed to meet him. He wasn’t the sort of man she normally was attracted to. In fact she wasn’t usually attracted to any men, though there had been several boyfriends and even a couple girlfriends in the past. A young professor at a small university, she spent most of her time teaching and in her office writing her book. She knew, in a vague sort of way that an unusual amount of male students came to her office hours to discuss their papers with her, but then again a lot of female students came too. She thought that since she was young for a professor, only 32, the students could relate to her more. She had mentioned this once to her ex-boyfriend who only laughed at her. “Sure,” he said, “You’re young. You are also blonde and Scandinavian and when you get up and give your lectures there must be thirty or so eighteen year old boys staring at your little breasts and long legs and getting hard-ons under their desks.”
Birgitte was single now, still getting over her last break-up, and not terribly interested in doing anything outside of her world of books and writing. But her friend Miranda had persuader her that in honor of “Earth Day” she needed to get out of the office and go for a walk in the woods. “Earth Day,” Birgitte had laughed earlier that morning on the phone with Miranda, “Is that the one where they make you go out and plant trees?”
“No, no no. That’s Arbor Day.” Miranda said impatiently. “This one is different, and I have just the person for you to enjoy it with. Do you remember Sam from that party I took you to?”
Birgitte did remember Sam. She’s felt kind of out of place with all Miranda’s environmental friends, half hippies and half anarchists. She remembered him because when he touched her shoulder gently as he said hello in the crowded room, she felt the shock go down to the pit of her belly, and as she talked with him, she felt warm wetness form in her silky panties. Sam was not all that different from the heroes of the romance novels she read in weak moments. He had green-brown eyes and dark hair, a strong body and rough, warm hands with a firm grip. He spoke gently with her, amused by this woman who seemed quiet and bookish, but nonetheless wore black silky stockings to show off her legs under her skirt. She liked him instinctively, but looking at his face, with a scar high on his forehead, and his eyes that seemed to darken when he spoke of his dislike for authority and anyone who harmed nature, she felt a twinge of fear: he could be dangerous.
“Sam,” Birgitte said lightly to hide her thoughts, “That guy who you are forever bailing out of jail?”
Miranda laughed, “You make him sound like a hardened criminal; he’s an environmentalist. You know, nothing spared in defense of Mother Earth.”
“Yeah well I thought environmentalists were sort of sweet with names like Butterfly and Peace.”
“Well,” Miranda responded, “This one is a bit more of a fighter. Besides he liked you. Just go for a hike with him, get out of your office for once. Look outside, it’s 70 degrees and sunny.”
“Tempting, but I am really not dressed for outside.” Even on the days she was not teaching, Birgitte wore her office clothes, not quite business attire, since the university didn’t call for that, but as a young pretty professor, trying gain some respect, she liked to dress nicely. She also liked to feel sexy. Today she wore a light simple cottony skirt that swished down just past her knees. Her more stretchy cotton shirt buttoned down the front, clung to her breasts and skimmed her tummy. She wore a light cardigan she buttoned over it to hide the fact she didn’t wear a bra—she didn’t need to, her breasts were small and perky. She unbuttoned just the top two buttons, allowing a glimpse of creamy skin.
Miranda persuaded her, telling her that Sam would take it easy on the hike, and soon Birgitte found herself in the parking lot, waiting for Sam’s black 4 X4 to pick her up. He pulled in the lot, the truck filthy and dented from logging roads where he drove to intercede with loggers and politicians determined to destroy the last vestiges of ancient forests.
Sam got out of the truck kicking the dirt off his boots and running a hand through his thick brown hair. He looked at her standing there, with her skirt and black stockings displaying her legs, and the light breeze making her nipples press against the thin cloth of her shirt. She blushed and buttoned her sweater while stealing glances at the way his jeans revealed his long thighs and showed the slimness of his hips in contrast to the broad shoulders under his t-shirt.
Saying little he helped her into the truck and began to drive out of town. As they drove for over an hour, up to the mountains and deep into a national forest, they chatted and Birgitte found herself flirting, and felt that telltale moistness forming again between her thighs. In the confines of the car she found her hand brushing his as they shared a bottle of water and smelling his male scent of the trees and the outdoors. Every time they touched, she wanted him more. She was frightened by the strength of her desire; she had never wanted a man like this.
They parked on the side of a dirt road, Sam grabbed his beat-up pack, and they began to hike along a path, the sun dappling the leaves in front of them. Sam pointed out the ancient yew trees, as well as the beautiful tall Douglas Firs, among the tallest trees in the world. Hundreds of feet tall and deeply majestic, the trees made Birgitte feel free in a way she had not felt since she was a child. How long they hiked for, Birgitte wasn’t sure, but even she, who went running a couple miles every day, was starting to feel tired and her feet sore in her shoes that though practical enough for campus, their slight heel made them uncomfortable for hiking, even on this fairly easy trail. Sam seemed to ignore her discomfort, his slight mocking smile indicating what he thought of women who were heels and lipstick.
He led them off the trail, through a bed of ferns til they came to small stream. Birgitte, stepping carefully to avoid catching her skirt on the shrubs, stumbled to a halt, Sam caught her arms to save her from a sprawl. Feeling his strong hands above her elbows, gripping a little tighter than he needed to, she wondered if perhaps he was feeling a lust similar to hers.
They sat on the smooth boulders by the stream, and Sam, to her surprise, pulled out a bottle of wine, some crusty bread, and cheese. As they ate and drank he spoke passionately of the fight to save the old-growth forests from the greed of corporations such as Weyerhaeuser and Boise-Cascade who wanted to destroy the beautiful spot they sat in, turning it into a clear-cut, and poisoning the fish and the streams with filth as the land was denuded. The government, selling the trees of its national forests to these companies, supported this destruction of Douglas firs and cedars that were hundreds of years old. As he spoke he grew inflamed. Birgitte could see now the anger and the passion Miranda had spoken of that made him fight the forest service and police and spend weeks in jail. She wondered if at some level, he saw her as complicit it what was being done to the forests, dedicated as she was to a life of books and study.
As he spoke, Sam looked at her. He wondered at what he was feeling, it wasn’t just his usual passionate diatribe about the forests that had him aroused. He felt himself harden in his jeans; he wanted to dominate and posses this almost prissy school-teacher until she screamed, and looking at the way she wet her lips as listened to him, and the way her nipples brushed the cloth of her shirt and grew harder, he thought perhaps she might on some level want and need that too. This time it was the teacher who needed to be taught a lesson.
He quietly poured her more wine, watching her eyes get brighter and her cheeks flush. He looked at the way the sunlight through the needles of the trees played on the rich gold of her hair. He knew he was going to fuck her.
Finishing their lunch and carefully putting the trash back in his pack, he pulled her too her feet, almost roughly. She fell against him, feeling his hard chest against her soft breasts. She stayed there against him, and looked up at his strong mouth and into his dark eyes. He leaned down and kissed her lips, lightly tasting the wine on her tongue, then, when she didn’t protest, he kissed her harder. He thrust his hot tongue into her mouth and pressed her roughly against him. She felt the hardness in his pants and her chest began to heave; she felt almost dizzy. Unconsciously she reached up and raked her hands through his hair, then grabbed it to grind his mouth against hers.
Encouraged by her response, Sam slipped a hand up under her skirt. He was shocked to feel that rather than demure panty hose, she wore lace topped stockings. He usually fucked women who wore wool socks and if anything, plain cotton underwear beneath their practical jeans. Birgitte seemed somehow like both an innocent and a whore to him with her teacherly demeanor and fuck-me lingerie. Feeling her wetness through her silk panties, he thrust his hand past them and gently fingered the hot slick part of her that so clearly wanted him. Kissing her harder and holding the back of her head by her hair with one hand, he used the other to violently tear her thin panties off and tossed them aside. With a mental shrug he thought, “Silk, they’re biodegradable.”
Birgitte grasped the back of his neck, feeling the cords of muscle and sinew tense and hot, she darted her tongue into his mouth then pulled back slightly and nipped his lower lip with her teeth, any harder and she would draw blood. He groaned, dominated her mouth with this and began to pinch her nipples and tear at the buttons of her shirt to free her breasts as they strained against the cool material. With his other hand under her skirt he felt the soft hairs of her pussy, moist with desire, and suddenly thrust two strong fingers deep into her soft wet passage.
Birgitte didn’t know if it was the sudden intrusion into a place where she had been untouched for so long, or the quick breeze that splashed cool droplets from the stream onto her hot exposed thighs that brought her back to reality but she quickly realized she was alone, deep in the ancient forest with a stranger, one who Miranda had hinted could be quite violent when the mood came upon him. She was frightened not only by this, but by the passionate way her body responded to him, her slim body wanted to be fucked and fucked hard, even if her mind was not entirely certain.
