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Jesse was alone, and the restaurant not at all crowded. The couple arrived just as the waitress finished taking his order. They entered from behind him, almost brushed his arm enroute to their table some 20 feet away.

The restaurant was laid out oddly: the new couple’s table was oriented at about 45 degrees to Jesse’s line of sight, making her fully visible past her companion. The man settled with his back to Jesse, his most salient characteristic being a large male-pattern cranial bulls-eye. “Mister BaldSpot”, Mister BS, Jesse nicknamed him mentally.

The woman was young (24? 26? – at any case, much younger than the man), attractive, and looked athletic. She was smallish but not petite, a pretty face, midlength black hair pulled back into a bun. Beautiful skin. Her above-the-knee pleated skirt swished as she sat down, and gave an impression of a nice but basically hidden figure.

She sat slightly kitty-cornered, knees angled over the edge of her chair and aimed right at him. He studied her discreetly: she might make a good candidate for tonight’s Midnight Fantasy, should he need one. She appeared a bit antsy, crossing and re-crossing her ankles or knees, occasionally giving Jesse a glimpse of inner-thigh surface that sent high-school cheap thrills through his groin. The light wasn’t good for obtaining details, but he tried, discreetly. Her legs looked a little thin, perhaps flattened in the thigh and calf where there should be, for his taste, more ample curves. Her simple flat-black blouse occasionally hinted that she might carry more of a bosom than a first impression would suggest.

Every now and again she and Jesse made brief, accidental eye-contact as she squirmed or shifted.

Dinner progressed. The woman did most of the talking, and was slowly getting more and more upset as she watched in visibly rising concern while Mister BS chugged his way rapidly through three glasses of wine, then a fourth, finally a fifth glass.

There was more eye contact as the drinking continued. Two or three multi-second contacts, during one of which Jesse raised one eyebrow, shrugged, and smiled – an attempt to communicate understanding and sympathy. She noticed: her expression changed minutely, and he thought she nodded. Minutes later, she called for the check: Jesse was still considering dessert.

With his back to Jesse, Mister BS stood up unsteadily, peering dully at the check and fidgeting with the change while the woman stayed seated, eyeing him with concern and a touch of disgust. Mister BS made no effort to be a gentleman and help with her chair – he was too befuddled.

Finally, having waited long enough, she shifted to rise on her own recognizance: the motion spread her legs wide on either side of the corner of the chair, made her skirt hem ride up inches above the knee. She caught Jesse’s eyes flickering down to take in the view – long patches of skin, a flash of white underwear: high-school redux, indeed! She paused and held the pose until he realized what she was doing and raised his eyes: she met them without flinching, no come-on, purely neutral, no embarrassment or upset. It was disquieting. Three seconds of eyelock and she finished standing, slowly. Gravity and skirt returned modesty to the scene.

Mister BS turned, almost fell, and wobbled his way past Jesse towards the exit. Two paces astern she followed in his wake. She once again made private eye contact with Jesse and shrugged, shook her fist gently at BS’s back.

Jesse nodded, mouthed “Sorry!” and then she swept past. He turned for a moment’s study of her backside in the gloaming, adding his nice impressions of her bottom to his inventory for constructing a Midnight Fantasy. Then he ordered the strongest chocolate dessert in the house.

Next morning Jesse arose well before six, donned his hiking boots and togs and headed down the steep, awkward half-mile gravel path to the river below The Falls. All 125 vertical meters of Falls. A major tourist attraction.

He met nobody, as he’d hoped. By midmorning it would be a zoo of tourists. The trail reached the river about a kilometer below the actual waterfall, which was out of sight around a sharp bend in the rugged river-valley. Several hundred meters of narrow boardwalk led upstream towards the falls, clinging precariously to the steep valley wall, sometimes well above high-water, elsewhere just at the mark. Some places the wall was genuinely precipitous, others merely awkwardly steep and rugged.

This time of day the small valley carried a strong spray-cooled downstream breeze. As he stepped onto the boardwalk the wind swirled around him: he pulled his hat down firmly and set the chinstrap into place, a hat ancient and highly valued – a twenty year old canvas, broad-brimmed Tilly that had accompanied him round the world three times.

Half-way to the falls, he rounded the first sharp bend: ten steps ahead stood his Midnight Fantasy. Tight short-shorts, a snug sleeveless tee-shirt, good canlı bahis hiking boots, and an impractical floppy sun-hat which she held down with one hand whilst gripping the rail with the other. She was alone, standing on tiptoe, leaning over the rail and peering intently down-slope, completely preoccupied. She didn’t notice him approaching, and he had time for a good look. What a difference daylight made! One of his major impressions last night had been wildly erroneous – her legs were beautiful, lean and muscular, with good curves in every appropriate place.

Her intensity drew him in to take a look at whatever was so interesting, and he harrumphed gently to warn her of his presence. She started, looked his direction, recognized him, and turned beet red. He said nothing, just stopped beside her and looked over the side. Far below them, a small male figure was laboriously working its way down the rocky slope, a slope just short of actively dangerous.

The figure was obviously headed towards a small white object. Mister BS had lost his hat to the wind. Jesse ventured a comment: “Long way down there, and not easy going. I hope it’s a good enough hat to warrant the risk?”

She looked over at him, eye to eye. “He does a lot of things like this! He’s a bit of a klutz but don’t tell him I said so! Yes, it’s a hundred and twenty five dollar Tilly, like yours only new, which yours certainly isn’t! I gave it to him. And of course he refuses to use the chinstrap, which he considers sissified. Can’t have THAT, can we?”

Jesse grinned, tugged at his own snug chinstrap in silent commentary. Her flush was fading, slowly.

They watched in silence for a few seconds, then Jesse said, gently, “He seems to have recovered. From dinner, I mean.”

She looked at him, then away, tapping her foot on the boards for several seconds, then said with a sourness that was obviously aimed at hubby and not at Jesse, “He recovers fast – and that seems to let him think it’s all okay. “It” being the drinking. But it isn’t okay.”

Jesse just made a noncommittal, sympathetic noise, and together they watched downhill until the figure reached the hat, held it up in triumph.

She raised her hands high overhead, pantomiming applause whilst shrugging in Jesse’s direction: “He’s just hopeless! In more ways than I need to bother you with!”

Her movement exposed the tee-shirt’s front design – “South Dakota” plus a view of Mt Rushmore. It also gave him a clear view of her beautiful armpits and taut bra-less boobs. Half-grape nipples stood erect, paying homage to the cool breeze, adding interesting and incongruous three-dimensionality to the faces on the Mount. His dinnertime impression of her chest as possibly-larger-than-they-seem was correct – one impression right, another wrong, net zero?

Below them the figure quit waving the hat, jammed it hard down onto his head, started the laborious trek back uphill. It was going to take him several minutes.

Jesse grinned at her, said “South Dakota! I was born there, in Vermillion!”

She nodded: “I’m from Woonsocket and Mitchell, myself.”

He replied “All my relatives are at Wessington Springs – I used to spend my summers on the farm, working. Ever been to the Springs?”

Of course she had, it was only 47 miles, a favorite Sunday family-picnic outing spot.

Jesse continued smiling, reminiscing for a moment, then extended his hand and said “Small world syndrome strikes again. Allow me to introduce myself…”

She stopped him with a finger to his lips.

His turn to be startled: he looked at her quizzically.

Quite unexpectedly serious, she said “Please don’t! No names. This is a very romantic place, don’t you think? Names, identities, personal details – they can be horribly inconvenient and disruptive, they can spoil things, especially here. Indulge me! Okay?”

He thought for a second, then nodded: “Sure, and I understand… but how shall I address you? “Hey you!” just isn’t very polite! Or specific, either!”

She laughed, looked at the slowly climbing figure, then back at Jesse. “You choose.”

She waited. Testing?

He came up immediately with “Nemo. It’s a good name, works fine for either gender. We can both be Nemo – me Nemo, you Nemo. Simpler than me Tarzan, you Jane. Or we could be Nemo One and Nemo Two. Okay?”

She laughed – a delightful sound – and it showed her tongue-tip between full lips and two rows of perfect teeth. Not 25, he decided from this close – most likely 20 or 21 max. Two to one against himself on the “first-impressions” scoreboard. But a mature 21.

“A literary man! I accept, but Nemo no-numbers is fine.” She shook his hand firmly, looked back down-slope again.

Jesse waved to encompass the entire valley: “Wonderful view! Have you gotten to The Falls themselves yet?”

She shook her head.

He told her “The boardwalk ends about 150 meters short of the actual splash-pool but you can walk up to it on the rocks when bahis siteleri the water’s this low. That’s where I’m going – it’s another favorite view for me, especially when the sunlight comes over the falls and makes rainbows. Full circles sometimes!”

She smiled. “We’ll probably stop at the end of the boardwalk then, if the view’s good from there. I suspect he’ll be tired after his little off-trail detour! You’ve obviously been here before. And you seem to be a view junkie – you’ve used the term already several times!”

He assured her of the worthiness of the view from the boardwalk.

She studied him again: “You’re here alone? At least, you were last night at dinner and again now.” Then, before he could respond, “That’s rude of me. Sorry. Certainly not my business and I didn’t mean to pry!”

He laughed: “No offense. You’re right, though. I come here alone every year for a few days, always the same dates. Got here yesterday. I suppose I really am a view junkie! I do like the views, the Falls, the restaurant, the overall setting. It relaxes me nicely. Plus I do a lot of reading.”

The climber was closer now, done with the difficult part but moving tiredly. Realizing he was about to become a third wheel, Jesse turned to go. “Looks like he’ll be fine, Nemo. But if you ever need help, just holler for me. Okay?”

She nodded, said “I’ll do that, Nemo! I promise!” and shifted her gaze back to watch the final 25 meters of ascent.

Jesse stepped off the end of the walk, picked his way to the edge of the splash pool, settled down to wait for the sun. He saw no more of the couple, assumed they’d made it to the walk-end vantage and then retreated up to the lodge. Shortly he got the circular rainbow he’d hoped for.

Next day, the early evening gave promise of a spectacular sunset. Jesse put on his Speedo and tank-top, stepped out onto the verandah to do an hour or so of yoga. The verandah was shared by seven ground-floor rooms -only two seemed occupied- but was otherwise completely private. It overhung the Falls, and gave a fine view of the western sky downstream. Jesse worked his way through a long series of poses, ending with his usual finale, an unsupported headstand.

He planned to stay upside down for perhaps ten minutes, but at minute three there was a gentle “Humm!” from behind him, and his Midnight Fantasy stepped, inverted, into view, leaned against the rail. “Hi, Nemo! It seems we’re neighbors. Am I intruding?” She was barefoot, wearing a white hotel robe, her hair loose and flowing. Both the robe and her pale skin threw back vividly the sunset’s deepening rose and fuchsia.

Jesse reassured her that she was not intruding. She seemed amused at his carrying on a conversation whilst inverted. She leaned against the rail, watching alternately him and the sunset. He came out of the pose a bit early when he realized he was rapidly developing a fine hardon: this evening there’d be no yogic quiet-mind for him! He came down with a little showoff move, stopping for ten seconds with his legs parallel to the deck, then let himself settle. He stood, stretched hugely.

She applauded silently. “I’ve been watching from inside for a little while. We’re in number 118, right beside you. Hope you don’t mind the audience.” Then, shyly, “You have a very nice body. You take good care of yourself.”

He nodded, accepting gracefully, told her “I do an hour a day, sometimes more. Used to run marathons, but all my long-time running friends were having knee replacements so I changed to yoga. Thought I’d arrange to be done before the sunset fills out tonight. Should be a beauty, well worth the wait. Will you join me?”

When she nodded, he said “Great! I’d sure like the company. Wait here a second, I’ll get my robe. No fair me being almost naked and you fully covered up!”

She laughed her pretty laugh again, agreed.

He returned with a glass of merlot, leaned on the rail beside her. They watched the shifting sunset patterns silently for a minute, then he said “Where’s your partner? He’s missing a gorgeous view.”

She shrugged, turned slightly towards him, raised her left hand and waggled it, showing off her wedding band. “Hubby, not partner. He’s inside. Asleep.” A long pause, then tears welled up, brimming but not running free. “No, let’s at least be honest here – he’s not asleep, Nemo. He’s fucking well passed out, snoring away, drunk. He won’t move so much as a finger for the next ten hours. You saw him guzzling last night at dinner – he’s incorrigible about booze, well on the way to being a lush. Not to mention a slug, too. Getting him to hike down to the river where you and I met was a monumental undertaking. And me a runner!”

Another long pause, then with real venom, “And it’s not just the goddamned sunsets that he’s missing out on, either! May I?”

She reached for his wine, took a swallow, shook herself and sniffed. “Good wine! But I only need half a glass. He needs two bottles! This is NOT what bahis şirketleri I signed up for when we got married! Way back when I was eighteen. Such stupidity on my part!”

She focused on the sunset, got her tears under control, then stared at the top of the Falls and muttered “Tonight is our third wedding anniversary, you know.”

Jesse was appalled. He reached for her right hand, patted, then, when she didn’t flinch away, held it. “I’m sorry, M’Lady Nemo. What else can I say?”

She shrugged, held up the ring-hand again, and said “I’m getting out before my life gets ruined, too. I’ve already seen a lawyer, a good one. But I haven’t told HIM yet. That’s going to be difficult. And of course I’ll have to face all the damned relatives and friends chanting ‘Told You So!'”

Jesse hugged her briefly: it seemed perfectly correct, and she accepted it comfortably, leaning against him for a few seconds. He released her and said “Miz Nemo, it’s none of my business – but, from the outside looking in, I have two comments. First, I’m truly sorry about the situation. Second, and more importantly – BRAVO on having the strength to acknowledge the problem, and double bravo for actually doing something to resolve it. Very gutsy. I admire you.”

Silence, then she picked up the glass and took another small sip. “You’re quite a view-man aren’t you?” He gave her a questioning look, and she explained. “Oh, Mister Nemo, you know what I mean. Down at the Falls. This sunset. And of course there was the other night at the restaurant.”

She smiled at his little startle, and asked very quietly “I wonder, how did you like the restaurant view?”

He took a deep breath, faced her squarely and said “Honestly? Complete candor?”

She nodded: “Please!”

He took another breath. “I thought it by far the most magnificent in recent memory. But then, the view wasn’t exactly unobstructed, it was certainly suboptimal – very poor lighting, bad angles, all that. Spectacularly beautiful nonetheless. I do wish there hadn’t been underwear involved. And I thank you for the very long pause.”

She set the glass down, stepped back to put half a pace between them, looked about for company.

There was none.

“You’re entirely welcome. So – would you like an unobstructed, unrestricted version? Unexpurgated, as it were?”

She opened the robe wide: she was nude beneath it.

The new view took his breath away, and she could tell everything she needed, just from his pupils.

Warmth bubbled up inside her. “Mister Nemo – maybe you don’t remember it, but I do – back on the boardwalk you told me that if I ever need help I can just holler. Is this a loud enough holler for you? Perhaps we could adjourn to 117 for a while? If you wouldn’t mind too much missing the finale of the sunset.”

She bit her lip nervously, then giggled at his expression. “We ought to be able to provide an even better finale, don’t you think?”

Jesse swallowed hard, glanced at the door to her room.

She continued to hold the robe open. “I’m serious. He’s passed out, he will NOT move until mid-morniing, believe me. And if it’ll make you more comfortable, I’ll grab my hiking clothes and bring them with us – if he DOES wake up, he’ll see they’re missing and assume I’ve gone out walking. It’s something he’s used to.”

Thirty seconds later, they were inside his room, doors locked and curtains firmly drawn. Five seconds more and they were naked. He found her utterly gorgeous, and said so. A first kiss lasted minutes. When they broke, there was a little hesitation on her part, and Jesse asked “So, Miz Nemo… tell me true, is this a mercy-fuck you’re seeking? That’s not a problem for me, just curious!”

She shook her head, wrapped arms around his neck and spoke into the angle of his jaw. “No. Well, yes, but only sort of. The fact is I find you very, VERY attractive and I’m incredibly horny and lonely. Carpe diem and all that. Surely, Mister Nemo, you don’t think that view in the restaurant was accidental?”

He pulled her up for another long kiss, asked “Nervous about hubby next door?” She shook her head strongly no: “Not in the least! Before I even came out to visit with you I tried to shake him awake. I tried hard – nada! He’s down for the count.”

Then, as they finally settled onto the bed, Jesse asked quietly “Contraception?”

Bodily urgency tightened her throat: “That could be a bit of a problem. I’m not on the pill – no bloody damn need for it with Hubby – and I’m close to my fertile time. Do you have anything?”

Jesse didn’t… but came up instantly with a plan. “No, and that’s my bad, one lousy unprepared Boy Scout I am. But how about this… I can hold off coming more or less forever, and I don’t leak ahead of time. Let’s just give you half a dozen orgasms or so, using whatever selection of my body parts you desire, and then we can finish me off either in your bottom, or mouth, or however else pleases you. Poor little sperm won’t know what hit them either way. Safe.”

She gaped briefly, then flushed almost sunset-colored. “Nemo… Half a dozen? Really? That just might double my life total!”

He nodded, obviously self-assured. He meant it.

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