River View (2)

The stars gleamed overhead like something from a storybook. Boston born and bred, she’d never seen so many before. The lights from her car were off, and the only light came from above.

Well, and the small, almost insignificant light from the kerosene lantern around the front of the small shack.

Which turned out to be a very small cabin, not a shack at all, as she saw. Now that she’d had some food to assuage the growling from her empty belly, and most of a beer, she needed to pee.

“um….I really need to use a rest-room,” she began. He grinned at her, his teeth gleaming in the darkness.

He pointed into the thick stand of trees furthest from the ‘road’.

“Dig down about four inches or so and piss into the bowl. Then cover it back up. No paper, it’ll only draw animals.”

She stared at him.


He enjoyed the totally shocked look on her face. City girl. He avoided sneering. After all, the world needed all kinds of people to make it work.

He rose, hoisted his sagging jeans.

“follow me,” he ordered, and walked into the underbrush. He pushed aside branches, and found a fairly open spot between two trees.  Looking over his shoulder, he began digging with his pocket knife.

“Come closer and see what I’m doin’ here.”

It was clear it was an order and not a request.

She leaned forward, over his shoulder, and tried to see.

“It’s no use, it’s too dark…i can’t see a thing.”

He pocketed the knife, and pulled her in front of him. She staggered, and grunted. She let out a little exclamation when he tugged her to her knees.

And didn’t he just love seeing a woman on her knees, he mused.

He took her hands, and placed them into the shallow depression he’d created.



“Dig. If you need to piss, you gotta dig.”

He heard the sigh. And the very, very softly spoken ‘fuck’. That didn’t sound much like a Boston Brahman, he thought with a smile.

His hands roamed over hers, judging the depth of the hole.
“Okay, that’s good enough. Now, squat over it and pee.”

“Fine, i’ll be fine here.”

She looked at his face, what she could see of it in the deep dark of the trees. He didn’t move. How the hell could she take a peepee if he was there. He would hear it, even if he couldn’t see anything.

She blushed deeply, feeling the heated color move through her face.


“I’m not leaving you here.” He paused a moment, considering. Ah what the fuck!

“Bear might come and git ya.” He deepened his Bah Habah accent a bit, laying on the ‘old Maine fisherman’ routine.

“Bear?! There are BEARS up here?

“Well, they’re afraid of fire, so they’ll stay away from the cabin. But you gotta piss 40 yards or more from running water, so yeah, there could be a bear or two around here.”

He turned so she wouldn’t catch his grin. Danged if this wasn’t the most fun he’d had up here in years!

He heard the rustle of clothing, even as he heard her louder “ogod…i …i need to gooo.”

It was almost immediately followed by the sound of splashing.

And a happy sigh of relief. He didn’t want her to get too comfortable.

“Now that I hear you, I think I’ll just use the same hole there.”

He unzipped his fly slowly, letting the sound emphasize the words.

“OH!” she gasped, and he heard the sounds of clothing being hastily arranged. He aimed for the area between her feet, which he could barely see.

The smell of his piss filled his nose, combined with the loamy scent of pine forest floor. She gasped, again, and jumped back a pace.

“Best not go too far,” he cautioned. “Don’t want the bears to smell ya.”

When he was done, he ordered her back to her knees to help him cover the wet ground.

“I hope you have soap up here,” she said, acidly as she finished pushing damp loam back over the pee-hole.

Her hands smelled faintly of piss and pine.


She’d been lost before, but never, ever, like this.

He took her elbow, and smiling in the dark, he led her back to camp.