Years later, once life had turned all too predictable, Phoebe would wonder how she’d not been more appreciative of the fun and freedom of the summer before she began her last year of college, when she was twenty-two.
She’d hoped to work in conservation when she graduated, so her ideal summer would have been spent at a reserve in Africa, or in the deep rainforest. Instead, she was at a National Park on the other side of the States, guiding swarms of tourists.
She’d been accepted onto the intern programme late, and the only accommodation she could find was a way outside the park. Every day she took the drive in, passing through the staff lane at the entrance gates. If she was lucky, as she slowed the car for her pass to be checked she’d see the guy on duty she privately nicknamed ‘Ranger Yes, Please'.
She guessed he was a couple of years older, with a charming smile and dark hair tucked under his hat. He was tall, tanned and lean, and wore the standard-issue uniform of short-sleeved button down, shorts and boots.
Phoebe definitely found him attractive and he made a regular appearance in her most erotic dreams, but they’d never even spoken. He was there this morning as she approached the gate, already running late and hoping to be waved straight through.
Any other morning she would've been more receptive to his hand raised to halt her, but not today. She pulled alongside him, and he leaned down to speak through her window.
“Did you know your rear left tyre is getting flat?” he asked.
“Crap. I’m late as it is,” she cursed. Detouring to a garage would derail her whole day.
“Should be fine for now, but you don’t want to get caught out on these roads.” he cautioned, no doubt referring to the sharp turns and near-vertical drops. “Drop by the ops centre later. Should be someone around who'll sort it for you.”
She nodded and thanked him, driving on to begin her workday. She was busy as usual, with barely a moment to pause. But whenever they could, her thoughts drifted back to her Ranger. From the name badge fixed to his shirt, she now knew he was called Tom, and she could vividly imagine groaning his name as he made her come. The brief interaction that morning had only made him more attractive to her, especially now she could add his seductive, masculine smell, and husky voice to the visual.
By the end of the day, Phoebe's tyre had been changed for the spare, ensuring an uneventful drive home. Tom was firmly on her mind when she pulled out her vibrator after dinner, running it over her clit as she imagined slowly stripping him out of that uniform.
She didn’t see Tom the next few days, which were a blur of her commute, work and sleep. It was the height of summer, the park was packed every day, and she was exhausted every night. When her day off rolled around, she decided to walk into town for a beer. She didn’t know anyone nearby, with most interns living in or at least nearer the park, but she was sick of being cooped up in the small place she rented.
Phoebe settled on a stool at the town’s most popular bar, a book to hand if she felt self-conscious or wanted to escape unwanted attention. The bartender made conversation as she sipped her first beer, and Phoebe began to relax. The bar was already fairly busy, and by her second beer, trade was brisk.
She looked up at the doorway as a couple entered, a tall man alongside a pretty brunette. It took her a second look, now he wasn’t in his uniform, to recognise the man was Tom. Her heart sank: he had a girlfriend. What’s the difference, she told herself. Nothing was going to happen anyway.
The couple made their way to a free table, where the brunette sat and Tom continued to the bar. He stopped just beside Phoebe, not clocking her, and he was surprised by her soft ‘Hi’.
“Hey,” he said. “Didn’t recognise you there. Day off?” She nodded.
“Yup, ventured out for a beer. Thanks for pointing out the tyre, by the way. All fixed now.”
“No worries,” he said, and noticed her book. “Here alone?” She nodded again.
“I’d offer for you to join us, but that might be awkward. First date.” His head indicated towards his table.
“Ah,” Phoebe said, with a note of relief, after he’d placed his order with the bartender. “No problem. I’m Phoebe, by the way.”
‘Tom,” he said, extending his hand to shake hers. “Well, I’d best get over there. Have a good night.” He collected up his drinks and returned to his date.
Phoebe couldn’t help but look over to Tom's table a few times. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but both he and his date looked bored. Twenty minutes later, he was back at the bar.
“Maybe this will help the conversation,” he jokingly said to Phoebe, as he ordered another round. “It’s a bit awkward over there at the moment.”
“That’s a shame,” Phoebe replied, her third beer making her a little braver. She thought it was anything but a shame. “I think she’s lucky for the chance to get to know you better.”
She ran a fingertip through the condensation on her glass and circled the rim slowly. Tom's eyes followed the movement. Now he was paying attention, she shifted on her seat, re-crossing her legs to reveal more of the tanned, toned thighs under her short, cotton skirt, sitting up straighter to push her breasts forward. Sure enough, his gaze took it all in. She knew she was being more brazen than she’d usually dare, but it was four months since she’d split from her college boyfriend and she was beyond horny.
Tom swallowed past the obvious lump in his throat, his eyes returning to hers as if he’d suddenly realised he was ogling the breasts filling out her spaghetti-strapped camisole. She wondered if he’d noticed that the lack of visible bra straps meant they were bare beneath the thin blue cotton.
“Back to it,” Tom said nervously, and strode away.
Phoebe nodded, confident that he’d liked what he’d seen. She casually read her book, or at least pretended to, but often felt the heat of a gaze she hoped was Tom’s. She forced herself not to look over, but before too long Tom appeared at her side once again.
“Is the date improving?” she asked, pretending to be sympathetic.
“If our friends hadn’t set us up, it’d be over already,” he answered. “One more drink and we can tell them we gave it a fair go.”
The bar was busy now, so Tom had to wait a few minutes to get served. Phoebe’s body was already angled in his direction, so she brought her right hand up to massage her left shoulder.
“I so needed this beer,” she said, with a slightly breathless groan. “My body’s in knots, it’s been a rough week.” She, of course, knew that the press and rub of her arm across both nipples had caused them to tighten to hard points, and when she now lowered her arm they were clearly visible through the camisole. Tom’s gaze locked at nipple height and, for a moment, he didn’t even seem to register that she’d spoken.