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Bright lightning illuminated a brilliant pathway in the sky, lifting my eyes skyward as thunderstorms roared and growled like lions. Although the driveway was still dry, the dark clouds circling above and the 300 million Volt of flash piercing through the early Sunday morning darkness meant things were going to get wet, very wet, very soon.
As I tied my shoes and looked out of the window from the living room, I knew going out in this weather was crazy, but she was determined, and if she was determined, she was determined.
I told her last night that not going hiking in the morning would not bring the sky down. After all, we went hiking yesterday and had been doing it nearly every weekend for over two years, but she started calling me a sissy for being afraid of rain, so I gave up.
"Ready?" Mom asked, looking at me with her blue eyes.
"Are you sure?" I said as I got up from the couch.
"You gotta keep them in shape if you wanna man," she replied, running her hands over her green shorts and thighs, which were toned and firm even at the age of 39.
"I don't wanna man," I said as I opened the front door.
"Not even Tim?" she inquired, lifting her arms to tie her shoulder-length blonde hair in a bun as she stepped out of the house.
Tim, who was 6'1, 177 pounds, or 80 kilograms, and a quarterback on the school team, was one of my friends.
"Huh?" I exclaimed as I turned my face toward her and looked at her.
"I know he won't mind climbing me," she said without looking at me.
"And how do you know?" I asked, looking at her in jealousy and anger.
"I know," said Mom, or Stephanie.
"But how?" I repeated though somehow I managed to keep my voice calm.
"You can tell. Just like I can tell you wanna climb Ann."
The first feeling that hit me when she said that was shame, utter shame. I had no idea she knew I fancied her friend Ann.
Granted, I acted like a puppy in front of Ann, always trying to please her, and my eyes were all over her breasts, but I was under the impression that I didn't make it so obvious.
Ann was 5'5, had black hair, brown eyes, and a big rack that stood out on her petite frame. And boy, she loved showing that rack. I think she only bought tops and dresses that displayed her assets. That she was single and had no children further attracted me as my 18-year-old brain told me she was available.
Just then, a thought flashed through my mind that I should ask Mom whether Ann fancied me, but of course, I didn't.
We were by now on the dirt track and halfway through the hiking trail. Usually, there were fellow hikers, but today, there was nobody, probably due to the weather.
"You've gone awfully silent. What happened?" Mom asked.
"I'm thinking you promised me a special gift on my birthday last week, but you still haven't given it," I replied in a desperate attempt to change the topic.
"Maybe today if the nature permits. It all depends on the weather gods," she said.
"At least tell me what it is. All you've told me it's something I've wanted to see for a long time."
"Then wait a little more," she replied, taking a swig from the water bottle.
We walked the rest of the way in silence. On our way back, the rain gods, as feared, didn't just start smiling but went into full-throttle laughter. Since we were on a dirt track and surrounded by bushes and rocks, sprinting our way to safety was impossible. By the time we managed to take shelter under a medieval structure that had a half-surviving roof built of clay tiles and only three granite walls, we were completely drenched.
"Holy smoke! We are wet," she said as she leaned her 5'10 body against a wall and untied her hair to dry it.
"I told ya it was gonna rain," I commented, wiping my wet face and head with the wet T-shirt.
"Oh my God, are you afraid of catching a cold? What if you catch a cold? Will you die? Or, God forbid, what if you have to sneeze? Will sneezing kill you?" she remarked.
I ignored her and looked at the sky as it poured down. Taking out a tin box in which she kept her joints from her bag, she asked me to hold it. She took out a lighter from the bag, lit the joint and, after taking two long drags, extended it to me.
"Go on, you're 18 now. It won't kill you," she said.
"You really believe I'm a sissy or something, don't you?" I asked, staring at her blue eyes.
"I don't believe it, I know it. I'll prove it to you," she said as she stared back at my blue eyes.
"Have you ever had this?"
"No," I replied.
"When I was your age, I was rolling joints like you roll on the bed dreaming about Ann."
"I don't dream about Ann," I hissed in mock anger.
"Of course, you do," she said, blowing the smoke right on my face.
"And how did you ask Julia out? Didn't you ask one of your friends to tell her that you liked her? By the time I was 18, I had more boyfriends than men on the Moon. Talking about Julia, have you, you know..."
She made a circle with the index finger and her thumb and penetrated it with the other index finger.
"You should lay off that stuff," I said, pointing at the joint.
"Better hurry up or she'll be smoking someone else's joint. Pussy."
I don't know why but my eyes instinctively went to her green shorts, which were sticking to her wet skin like honey sticks to fingers.
"I didn't mean that! If you wanna look, look at Julia's," she growled, straightening her shorts at the crotch area.
I immediately shifted my gaze away from her crotch.
"OK, here's another one. Have you ever seen actual porn? I don't mean the garbage on the Internet. I mean sitting down and watching a proper one."
"What's a proper one?" I inquired, taking a drag of the joint and going into a coughing fit.
"That you have to ask proves you haven't. Unbelievable. Sometimes I find it hard to accept you are my son."
She leaned against the wall and took off the wet light jacket. I was standing opposite her with the joint in my hand and leaning my 5'11 frame against the second wall. She wiped her hair, her face, and her neck, but the jacket itself was wet, so it didn't help much. Her hair and neck were still wet. I immediately averted my eyes, but she started speaking, so I looked back at her. However, using all my inner strength, I kept my gaze on her face, much, much higher than the twin peaks.
"I've discovered a shop that sells wild tops. Do you like this one?" she said, looking down at the wet top.
It was a white tube top that was just a thin piece of cloth over her breasts, leaving her shoulders, cleavage, and her whole stomach exposed. And since the top was completely drenched, her pink nipples, her areolas and the around them were on display as they pressed against the wet material. It was evident she wasn't wearing a bra.
