Oops! I had forgotten another basic. I dug through the sack, found the sunblock and began smearing it over my body, head to foot. I had some problems between my shoulder blades, but thought I’d got myself properly covered.
The second control point was only a kilometer away as the crow flies. My problem was the long, skinny lake between me and it. I oriented the map, laid it down on the ground and examined it carefully. I had three choices, none of them particularly good. I’m not a great swimmer, so scratch the direct route. Going around the south side of the lake would take me through what looked like pretty rugged forest and it would be easy to get lost. Circling to the north seemed a better idea, but the ground was wide open, a field in fact, at least a kilometer across. Once across it, the map showed another track leading almost directly to a small pond, on the shore of which would be my second control point. But crossing the field would mean I’d be completely exposed…
Think this through, Kat.
Yes, I’ll admit that I was turned on by the riskiness of the whole affair, but as soon as I stepped out into that field, I’d be out of the trees, without cover and visible to anybody in the neighbourhood. I was having to balance the risk of getting caught against the fun I could have — would have — taking that risk.
There had been maybe twenty or thirty other participants on the bus. How did I feel about being seen by one of them? I wasn’t entirely sure, frankly. Yes, right now, they were all as bare as I was. And, like me, it wasn’t likely that they would be here were they not just slightly bent. Birds of a feather, so put them aside.
I might be seen by the event organizers. I crossed that off my fret list. They posed no threat, not even of embarrassment. They were staging the event and could hardly mock or sneer.
Then my mind turned the gravel roads and rutted dirt tracks criss-crossing the area. They’d been made to be used, driven on by people with legitimate business – lumber trucks, surveyors, other hikers, naturalists, picnickers. Normal people, in other words. Whether or not they reported me, they were likely to have cameras or cell phones. The thought of my bare tush being posted on Facebook had very little appeal.
Worst of all, I might be seen by wardens, rangers or cops and that would spell very bad news for Mom’s little girl.
OK, I’d admit it. Standing there in the buff, the struggle between thrill and risk was turning me on still more. I idly pulled on one nipple, then the other, ran my hand through my hair.
I closed my eyes, concentrated on… silence. The breeze had died down and about the only sound was a raven flying over me. I listened to the low flapping of its wings until it was out of hearing and silence returned.
I peered down the road, examined the edges of the field, looking for parked vehicles, people, dust. Nothing.
I decided to take the open way rather than flog around through the bush. Yeah. And, come to think of it, hell yeah!
I wasn’t going to sprint across the field. Yes, I’d done a lot of sprinting while orienteering, but this was different. Out here, by myself, breaking an ankle or something would be a serious problem. Pain aside, if I had to trip the beacon. Rescue would find me… yeah, starkers. No joy, no thrill, just pain and embarrassment.
Tingle or no tingle, a certain amount of caution was advisable.
I began a slow dog-trot, my attention flipping back and forth between the ground and the other side of the field. My boobs swayed in the sunlight and I smiled at the feeling, smiled again at the warmth of a fine day. Even without my being slightly twisted, sun on bare skin is always a good reason for being outside. My confidence back, I grinned to myself, completely content in every way.