The Last Boy Scout Ch. 01

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He can't resist helping anyone in need.

This is a four chapter story. Not a lot of the hot and heavy in the first chapter, but it comes on strong in the next three. All chapters are complete, and will be submitted in the next few days, after final edits.

The characters in this story are all at least 18 years old.

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Don't get me wrong. I love camping.

I like the preparation, selecting my gear, carefully loading the backpack, picking out the area to hike, and planning the whole event. I love the experience, the hours spent trekking through the wilderness, selecting a suitable campsite, the quiet of the outdoors, the majestic vistas, the fresh air. I even enjoy the sense of accomplishment of minimally invasive outdoor living, where after a few days, you'd never know somebody had bivouacked there.

This was not camping.

The Outdoors Club had selected the campsite. The permissible fire locations evaluated and chosen. Tent locations tagged. There were even tables for eating.

It's not that I'm not sociable. Au contraire. But camping, to me, had a different connotation than most in this group. In part, that's why I was hauling my gear to the most remote camping space I could find within the 'allowed' area. If I was going to rough it here, I'd do it apart from the others where possible, and do it in style.

I say camping space, since where the rest of the school's Outdoors Club were spending the absolute minimum amount of time setting up a tiny pop-up 2-man tent, I was going to create a personal retreat.

My family was trekkers, climbers, and outdoorsmen, and like my father and brother before me, I was an Eagle Scout, proudly. Before I was 14 I'd summited my first 20,000 ft. peak. Our outdoor gear tended to the high-end. Either ultra-lightweight, ultra-sturdy gear that could (and had) survived a blizzard at 16,000 ft, or ridiculously luxurious family gear you could drag out of the Land Rover and setup within 50 ft or so, where weight and size weren't an issue.

When planning for this trip, I had opted for comfort. The school van was dropping off our gear within a couple of hundred yards of where we planned to spend our extended weekend, miles away from anything resembling civilization. No need to worry about cramming two weeks of sustenance and survival into a 50 lb backpack I'd be hauling for hundreds of miles. A $500 Alpine mummy bag, good to -40°, might be critical on a Denali summit attempt, but an early fall, national park weekend outing screamed out to me for the parent's ultra-spacious North Face 3-season double bag, with self-inflating double-width pad. Sure, at nearly 16 lbs it was four times as heavy as I would normally carry, but then again, I was only carrying it a quarter mile or so.

Of course I had ulterior motives. My girlfriend had graduated and moved away over the summer. I was single, for the first time in over a year. If there was any chance of getting lucky on this trip, the double-wide sleeping bag had its advantages. To be honest, I believed the odds were in my favor. I wasn't just available, but actively pursuing opportunities. The Outdoors Club was a target rich environment, restricted to upperclassmen, with two girls for every guy in the club. Literally. With 22 people on this trip, there were only 8 guys total, excluding the chaperons. Like I said, nice odds.

As for equipment choices, so important on a mission like this one, comfort and privacy were behind my tent selection. Watching my class-mates erect their "Happy Camper" $25 Sears pup-tents, I was still clearing out the flooring area of rocks and twigs and laying out a 9' x 12' ground tarp when they started taking off for the river. I had selected a location a good 50 feet away and at least 10 feet higher up than the wide flat space where most of them had chosen to setup camp. It was away from the clearing, under cover of the massive trees, and almost like being outdoors.

My backpack was pretty loaded, even without the tent, sleeping bag, and ground pad. I had been on enough of these 'Tenderfoot' trips, to know how ill prepared most people were, including our chaperons. I had a pack full of useful stuff, from paracord to poly tarps, wool blankets to windbreakers, coffee to cocoa. Spare knives, lots of first aid supplies, and twice the clothes I'd normally pack for three days. I had it drilled into me enough: "Be Prepared."

I broke out the biggest camo tarp, 14' x 20', and ran a rope between two trees a little wider than the cloth. It only took about five minutes to create a spacious rain/sun shelter, and I moved my gear underneath it, along with my two camp chairs. I took a break, looking down at the work going on below. Nearly everyone else was finished, and I hadn't even started on my actual tent yet.

Teri had been teasing me, in a good-natured way, after finishing her own setup. "That's a lot of gear you've got," she observed, watching me hammer the heavy-duty stakes into the ground with the back of my hatchet.

"I like to be comfortable and dry," I explained, unfolding the tent in the center of the ground preparations. I looked over at where her tent was, the nearest to mine. It was higher than the others were. "Good choice for your spot, it should stay dry if we get any of the predicted rain. I can't believe the area we're supposed to camp is in a depression."

"Thirty percent chance of showers on the last day? What are you? A wuss? I wouldn't sweat it too much."

"Gotta love those weathermen, always 100% accurate."

She was a loud mouth, and a pain in my butt, but a decent friend in spite of all that. "Need some help?" she asked, reaching out to one corner of the folded up material and straightening it.

"Thanks, that would help a lot."

I had always liked Teri. We'd been the best of friends through middle school, and even up through my freshman year. She was honest and open, speaking her mind, but rarely judgmental. A goody-two-shoes, for the most part, and pure as the driven snow, but unlike some she didn't force her values on you. Lucky for me.

She was ready for the water, wearing a bikini top and shorts, with open-toed sandals. It was only a hundred yards or so to the bank, one of the main reasons we'd chosen this spot, but there wasn't much of a trail. I hoped her feet and legs didn't get scraped up too badly on the way back and forth, that would be a true shame. Her chest might not be head-turning, barely filling her bikini but from the waist down, not bad. Those legs, though a little skinny for my tastes, seemed to go on forever. Teri was about 5'9" and most of that was legs. Easily her best feature.

"Jeez, Alex, how big is this thing?" she asked, as we continued the unfolding.

"Mmm," I purred. "You have no idea how many times I've dreamed of you uttering those very words."

She slapped me on the arm, looking around for any witnesses of my verbal haranguing and her physical assault. "Ass," she said, but I could hear the smile in her voice.

"It's not that big. It's a six man tent, but it has a pretty large entrance vestibule, bigger than the tent."

"Just a six man tent. While I'm stuck in an oversize matchbox with Heather and her 20 lbs of makeup. I've built bigger tents than ours out of cushions in my parent's living room." She was helping me thread the bungeed pole through the series of a dozen or so loops that would hold the dome up. One of six poles the mountaineering base camp tent used to keep it sturdy. It would survive a monsoon. Bending over, I got a nice view of a little boobage. Not a lot, but enough to make me smile.

"Hey, I offered to let you share mine," I reminded her.

"Right. Never mind the Herculean effort it would take to keep my virtue intact, how many ways could that plan go wrong?"

Herculean. I liked that about Teri. Not afraid to exercise her vocabulary. "Wrong?" I countered.

"One. Chaperons? Remember? No going in each other's tents? We'd be kicked out of the club, and possibly suspended. At least I would be, somehow you always seem to skate. Two. My impeccable reputation, which is being sullied as we speak from the mere proximity of our resident Don Juan..."

"Don Juan?" I interjected, trying to invest my voice with all the injustice and hurt I could, while sliding the longer poles into their slots, where they would hold the roof in place.

"Hush, Señor Juan. Three, the absolute certainty my parents would find out about my behavior and upon my shameful return home, I'd see all my belongings scattered by the curb, my face cut out of the family portraits, and a large street sign in the yard announcing eviction from my childhood manse, on the basis of moral turpitude. With Alex, no less, of whose questionable morality I'd been warned of plenty of times, from family, friends, and foes."

She stood up, continuing to lecture me on the dangers I presented, while we bowed the center poles, raising the tent roof.

"Four, the inevitable shaming and humiliation I'd endure from the myriad young ladies present who really want to be in your tent. The same girls who would banish me from the coveted first floor, east-wing ladies room, ostracizing me and forcing me to change my name to Hester and embroider a large 'A' above my breast."

I chuckled sliding the last pole in place and adjusting the tension all around before staking everything securely. "A for Alex?" I teased. "You'd name your breast after me? That's sweet."

"You heathen," she growled. "Unlike the hoi-poloi we're doomed to consort with, you know better."

"Consorting now? What's that going to do for your impious reputation, Miss Prynne?"

She was still helping me, stretching the fly across the top of the tent, elastic cords stretching it in place. I dodged an incoming plastic stake. "Impeccable, not impious."

"I stand corrected. So if that's all that's standing in the way, why don't we get your stuff and move you inside with me."

"Is that all, Casanova? What could possibly induce me to enter your fiendish lair of iniquity?"

"First, Don Juan? Really? Amoral womanizer, seducer of countless women, heedless of their marital status, age, or temperament? Don Quixote is more like it, misunderstood knight of purest chivalry and intentions, in search of his one lady love." I sidled up next to her while she held one of the fly tie-downs in place. "Dulcinea, my love. I've searched for you long and far. I've erected this monument to your beauty. Care to help me christen our castle?" I murmured with a cheesy Spanish accent.

She gave me a shove with her shoulder. "Cut it Alex. You don't want me. The only reason you chase me at all is because you can't have me. There're enough girls here who'd swoon to be chosen as your ladylove. Pick one and let's be done with it."

Truth was, she was kind of right. Not that I didn't like her, or that she wasn't attractive enough. We had been friends since we were kids, really close in middle school, but for the last couple of years there'd been an awkward feel to our friendship, which I felt could go haywire at any time. Besides, I had already given it a shot, only to be rejected repeatedly. Now she was off my radar. 7th grade crush gone bad.

I had my sights set on other, more tempting and much more available targets. I glanced over to where one of those targets was lingering over her own campsite, casting looks our way, some wistful, some irritated. I don't believe Julie Samuelson approved of the amount of attention that Teri was garnering. Call it a turf war.

But Teri was fun to tease, and once into the role, it was hard to back off. I stood and helped her to her feet. Leaning over I whispered, "You can't be more wrong. I like you a lot. Pretty, brilliant, and begging to be corrupted." My hand gently brushed her hair back, and caressed her cheek lightly.

She blushed heavily, stepping cautiously away. "See? That's what I'm talking about. Alex. Always pushing the limits. Quit the damn teasing and grow up. It's not like I don't know what you really like." She glanced over at the sexy young thing waiting her turn. "I can't believe anything you say. That is why you'd never catch me entering your tent, come Hell or high-water."

She turned away from me and marched off, looking even better walking away than she had approaching in the first place. What an ass. And I mean that in the nicest way.

Julie meandered over, acting casual, while I started moving my gear inside. I enjoyed watching her, almost laughing aloud at her antics. She was scanning the area, scoping out any possible competition, walking a serpentine path toward my well-delimited domain. As she got closer she adjusted her skin-tight shorts, brushed her mid-length platinum blonde hair back, licked her full red lips and a soft sway enveloped her heavenly hips.

I knew that, most of all, she was making sure her older sister Lisa wasn't in the area. Apparently, she didn't trust me either, especially with the little hottie that had blossomed over the summer. The term 'barely legal' was coined for innocent hotties like her.

She slowed down, posing, hip thrust out, one hand on her waist, the other playing with a lock of her radiant hair. "Hey Alex," she chirped cheerfully.

I pretended like I hadn't seen her approaching while I was spreading out my pad and sleeping bag inside the tent. I peered out of the opening, looking up at her. She was only a couple of feet away, and her outstanding ta-tas were between me and her face. She actually leaned forward a bit to peer down at me.

"Julie! Aren't you a sight for sore eyes. Good job on the tent. I saw you hammering in those stakes nice and deep. If we get a good storm, half those other tents are going to collapse or blow away."

I knew she'd only been biding her time, waiting to come over. Of the girls around the place, she was one of the few that made it deliciously obvious she'd like to be better acquainted. Unfortunately for her, Lisa, her elder, had put the kibosh on that. I wasn't certain why, but fantasized it was because she had her own sights set on me. Not fair, really, since the equally stunning older sister already had a boyfriend.

Julie grinned hugely, her perfect teeth peeking out from behind her mesmerizing lips. "Looks like your tent won't be going anywhere. I think it's built stronger than the cabin we passed on the way in."

"Do me a favor, gorgeous, pass me my pack?"

She reached over to grab it and almost fell over. The pack probably weighed almost half of what she did. She struggled with it, dragging it the 3 or 4 feet over to me. I lifted it easily, at least in comparison, and put it to the side.

Her head appeared in the doorway, and she peered in. "Nice. I bet I could stand up in there."

She was maybe 5' tall. Diminutive and sexy as hell, all the right curves in all the right places, exaggerated by her tiny stature. A living doll I'd love to unwrap and play with. "Want to give it a try? I won't bite."

She chuckled nervously, looking around again before stepping in. "We won't get in trouble?"

"Not while we're setting things up." I put my hand on her bare hip, just above her stupidly tight shorts, her skin baby soft, and guided her to the center. "You're right, a good eight inches to spare." I stood, having to bend over a good bit, putting my face very close to hers. "As for me, I think I need a bigger tent."

She giggled again, her eyes darting around, betraying her nervousness. My hand was still on her hip, closing minutely, holding her in place. I moved my lips to her ear. "It's going to be lonely in this big tent, all by myself."

I detected a faint tremble, and felt her warm breath on my neck. "You probably won't be alone."

I pressed my lips to her neck, tasting her smooth skin. "Promise?"

She gasped, her trembling more pronounced. "Lisa would kill me." Her hand moved hesitantly, a cautious creature inching forward, landing on my arm.

My lips glided across her cheek, seeking out hers. I held her head in my hand, turning it slightly, to signal my control over her. I pushed my tongue against her teeth, and she opened her mouth to me, letting me kiss her for a few seconds before returning my ardor. I pulled her closer, our bodies pressing together, her full tits smashed against my chest. Her arms eagerly embraced me.

I retreated, the hand on her waist descending smoothly, caressing her rear, while I released her head. She surprised me by leaning forward and stealing a second quick kiss. She was blushing bright enough to illuminate the tent.

Kneeling back down, I opened my backpack. "I'm going to change into my bathing shorts. Wait for me?" I peeled off my shirt and started opening my khaki shorts.

Poor sweet thing. She was thoroughly befuddled. When I started pushing my shorts down, she darted for the entrance. I watched her cute rump exit my tent. "I'll wait," she answered from outside.

Such an innocent. She didn't even peek in.

Too bad. I stroked myself a few times, thinking of playing with the cutie, giving my package a little extra heft before going down to the water and putting it on display. I was ready to do a little trolling.

A couple of minutes later we strolled down to the river, side-by-side. Apparently, she was willing to face the wrath of her sister, and be seen in my company. At least for the moment. I wonder if it was the kiss.

* * *

It was a fun afternoon, splashing around, playing in the water, chicken-fights, some Frisbee, a little 'accidental' groping, and a bit of sunning. A great start to the long weekend.

Except for one thing.

I wanted a new girlfriend. Scratch that, I needed one. I was tired of doing without sex, and liked having that one steady girl you could depend on for so many wonderful things. No matter what Teri said. In spite of all my flirting and teasing, I wasn't really a player. Hell, I had only slept with three girls in all of high-school, and all of them had graduated. I was ready to make it four.

The only question was who? Two of the girls I was seriously contemplating a relationship with were on this camp-out. Three if you counted Lisa, which I refused to do until she broke up with her current boyfriend. Sexy young Julie made the cut, as did the delightfully delicious Dominique. For the moment, Dominique seemed immune to my charms, although she was friendly enough.

Not that there weren't other potentials. Shit. Half the girls on the camp-out I would happily bounce bellies with, and that included Miss Shannon, our ever-so-female chaperon, and not-so-secret crush of mine. I'm certain that Teri would be a worthwhile conquest, and her tent-mate Heather was beyond doable. The only thing keeping her off my list was her open disdain for me. Not worth the effort to fight. No, I was better off concentrating on Julie and Dominique.

We had a simple campfire dinner of burgers and chips, and talked about the activities we had planned for the next day before our diligent chaperons reminded us of the rules. No leaving the camp area after 10:00, no swimming after lights-out, skirts up and pants down, indicating the need for the guys to go downstream and the girls upstream to go to the bathroom. Most of all, stay out of each other's tents.

Bunch of spoilsports.

Julie was under Lisa's watchful eye, and one of the underclassmen was doing his best to make time with her. When he looked my way, I gave him my best glare, and when Lisa wasn't looking, I did the old thumb across the throat gesture. I think he got the message.

With Julie occupied and under watch, at least for the moment, I sought out the stunning Dominique, easily the prettiest girl in camp, if we took Miss Shannon out of the equation. Dominique looked like a model, tall, slender, and graceful. She was a hard nut to crack though. Whenever I sat near her, she would clam up, obviously nervous around me, speaking in single word answers, or the briefest of phrases. If I casually touched her, she would jump to the stars, and I'd be hard-pressed to get her speaking for minutes afterwards. I kept coming back for more. You know the whole moth/flame thing. To me she blazed like the sun.