In Heat

A scorching outdoor encounter in the dog days of summer.

by TheSleepingKing. Listen to the Podcast at Steamy Stories.

You know the worst thing about the Midwest? August.

Sure, there are other things. But after three straight weeks of 98 degrees and 90% humidity you don’t really care that Kansas is a thing. You just want out – to escape the stifling grassland; preferably to a place where you don’t need to swim through the steam to reach the next air-conditioned oasis.

Where I work we need to maintain a minimum staffing level to fulfill our obligations. So vacation requests are handled on a first come first serve basis. First person to request time off gets first pick of available dates. Usually I get in early, guaranteeing myself at least one week that I want. But by the time I remembered to request this year, my only option for a summer break was the final week in August.

Monday and Tuesday were a bust. Too hot to leave the house. I tried Monday morning, heading out to my favorite brunch spot for an omelet. But after burning my hand on the gear shift lever at 10:00 am I decided to pack it in. The weather app promised cooler temperatures mid-to-late-week, so I set about crafting a plan to salvage what was left of my vacation.

There’s a state park a few hours north, on the edge of a popular college town. I’d hiked there several times before. It was quiet, with a decent elevation and full tree canopy, and a 15-foot waterfall at the crux of the two longest trails. Temps in the mid-eighties were still warmer than I preferred. But after months of being stuck in a warehouse 10 hours a day, a little time outside seemed...necessary.

I texted my friend Natalie, curious if she’d want to tag along. She was fun, outdoorsy, and never seemed too busy for an adventure. And sometimes, if we’d both had a few drinks, you might find her with her head in my lap, cock in her mouth and my fingers slowly circling her clit; agreeing this was a great way to spend an evening. But this time I struck out. I was on my own. I’d have to make the best of it.

Every hotel in town was booked for Friday night (damn college football weekend), so I reserved a room for Wednesday and Thursday and headed out after lunch. Two hours and three Interstates later I pulled into a parking lot already half-filled with cars. I intended to drop my bag in the room and lap the short trail before dinner. That plan screeched to halt the moment I shut off the car.

Cooler temperatures midweek my ass. It was 90 degrees at 4:15. The air saturated my clothes as I trudged across the pavement, and by the time I arrived at the check-in desk I knew I was done for the day. Cranking up the air in the room I decided to catch up on some streaming shows before heading across the parking lot to a local burger joint for a lite supper.

But soon the sun disappeared behind a fortress of darkened clouds. The wind whipped up and the rain poured down in sheets, lashing the windows and transforming the parking lot into a rippling black pond. I watched for a while, checking the weather report to find nothing about precipitation. If Thursday was anything like this....

Eventually the rain stopped, and I headed out for dinner. It was cooler now – high 70s or so, and the squall had dried the air enough for the wind to wick away the water instead of steaming me in a sauna. I picked a seat in the corner of the restaurant patio and settled in for a meal.

The dining room filled up quickly. Mostly locals – you could tell by the comfortable clothes and their rapport with the bartenders. But midway through my second beer, three young women rounded the corner from the waiting area, following the hostess to a four-top across the aisle from me beneath the center awning. And they were obviously based somewhere else.

Two of them looked similar, (sisters maybe? cousins?) with straight blonde hair and big broad smiles. They dressed like they’d come straight from the yacht club: white shorts, striped navy tees and deck shoes; one with a denim jacket, the other in a hat. The third was taller with rectangular glasses, buoyant, gently curled auburn hair, and a short powder blue A-line summer dress accentuating the tone and length of her legs.

She caught me looking as they stopped at their table. I turned away quickly, smiling to myself, disappointed, yet amused that I wasn’t as discrete as I used to be. I took a full swig of beer and set the mug gently on the coaster before glancing back toward their table. The brunette had switched places with her friends, taking the seat on the far side of the circle, just about facing me.

For a while I kept my eyes to myself. They ordered drinks and struck up a lively conversation. My burger...