Project Passion Read Free

own.
    Braden had mentioned that he wasn’t
much of an outdoorsman. Heather had wondered which of them was most
likely to chicken out and for what reasons. Not everyone was into
the outdoors, but it was part of her vision. It was for safety and
privacy. She would have thought she would have been the first to
back down, obviously that was the most likely. Braden had fooled
her by not being there.
    Feeling slightly relieved about the
whole thing, Heather loaded the canoe after a half-hour or so, and
set off up the lake in search of a viable campsite, determined,
come what may, to enjoy a few days of vacation in the wilderness.
That was the sensible thing to do. She still had the end of a
broken shovel, hastily sawed off at about fourteen inches. She
found it in the garden shed while she was doing spring cleaning and
smuggled it up to her room under a folded rain-coat. It was in the
bottom of her pack. A flutter went through her abdomen at the
thought of it.
    It was an escape from reality. Of
course, that isn’t really possible, is it?
     
    #
     
    Her heart faltered. She contemplated
the unthinkable. In the soft evening air came the unmistakable pop
and rattle of a small outboard motor. The place was deserted this
time of the season.
    She could do nothing, for the odds
were it was nothing, probably just a fisherman or more likely two
of them, out for an evening troll. They would go up one side and
then go back down the other side of the lake.
    The word troll stuck in her mind. Yes,
an apt word. She could troll for cocks…there was nothing stopping
her.
    With a quiver in her midriff, Heather
turned and bolted up to the tent. In the unlikely event that it was
Braden, and that in spite of finding Heather not there and just
giving up, he was coming after all, there were a couple of things
she’d been putting off. If it wasn’t Braden, there was small
likelihood of them coming ashore anyway. She could always get a
little kinky later on and masturbation in the wilderness could be
very good. It had enough temptation of its own. That was an idea
she was more comfortable with…
    Aware of the pun, she was too
terrified to smile. Braden was coming ashore. It had to be him.
Please God, let it be him. She raced to get ready.
    Heather was quickly on a gravel beach,
on the far side of a small headland, thirty yards from the
campsite, as the sound of the motor built and built.
    The logical conclusion was that it was
coming straight towards her site. The lake narrowed at this point,
widened out into a basin, and then there was a landing a mile and a
half away on the other side of a small curving bay. A long range of
low hills receded off to the southwest.
    Her canoe lay on the beach, visible
for several kilometres at least.
    Heather stood, letting the Nair on
legs, lower back and tummy do its work. She had never done this
before, and after careful reading of the instructions, again with
the terror at work on her system, was hoping she still had enough
time. Her thoughts were all mixed up, in some ways she was hoping
whoever it was would go right on past.
    What if they stopped and it wasn’t
Braden?
    What if they stopped and
it was Braden?
    Could she really do it?
    What if they stopped, and it wasn’t
Braden, and what if she was all dressed up in the skimpy shorts
she’d cut off from stolen jeans, and what if she had her lips done
in that nice hot pink gloss she’d picked up that day? What if she
wasn’t wearing any top and three teenage boys stepped out of a boat
and decided this was too good a chance to miss?
    What if a couple of horny and very
hairy fishermen wanted her? Big arms and bristly whiskers. What
about that, eh? It’s not like anyone around here knew her, or that
anyone here was anything but a tourist from somewhere far, far
away…she wondered how much of that actually went on. What if they
laughed and called her a slut or a whore, and beat her up and left
her for dead…of course she was just scared. She knew that. She