Two Nemos at The Falls
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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 man settled with his back to Jesse, his most salient characteristic being a large male-pattern cranial bulls-eye.
The woman was young 24? She was smallish but not petite, a pretty face, midlength black hair pulled back into a bun. 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 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. 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.
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: She caught Jesse's eyes flickering down to take in the view - long patches of skin, a flash of white underwear: She paused and held the pose until he realized what she was doing and raised his eyes: 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! 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 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: Half-way to the falls, he rounded the first sharp bend: Tight short-shorts, a snug sleeveless tee-shirt, good 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: I hope it's a good enough hat to warrant the risk? 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? 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. But it isn't okay. She raised her hands high overhead, pantomiming applause whilst shrugging in Jesse's direction: In more ways than I need to bother you with! 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! Ever been to the Springs? Jesse continued smiling, reminiscing for a moment, then extended his hand and said "Small world syndrome strikes again.
Allow me to introduce myself His turn to be startled: Quite unexpectedly serious, she said "Please don't! 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. 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. 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 I accept, but Nemo no-numbers is fine. Jesse waved to encompass the entire valley: Have you gotten to The Falls themselves yet?
He told her "The boardwalk ends about meters short of the actual splash-pool but you can walk up to it on the rocks when 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. 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! She studied him again: