As Betsy came to the path that led to the waterfall, she took off her big pack and dug out the small bag that held her toiletries and bikini. This would be all she would carry on the narrow, steep trail. Rounding a curve, she stopped at a dense clump of willows that overlooked the waterfall.
And there he was, in her waterfall, probably one of the anglers, and he was naked. Her first instinct was to turn her head but her natural instinct took control and she watched. His back was turned to her and he had his hands and face lifted up as if shouting praise to the waterfall deity.
But it was not his praising that caught her attention. He looked like a carton of Neopolitan ice cream, a delicious carton of Neopolitan ice cream! His legs were bright red from the lower thighs down showing huge muscles in the back of the sunburned calves. From the waist up he was varying shades of brown, milk chocolate from waist to upper arms and rich dark semi-sweet from the bulges in his forearms to his up-stretched fingertips. But it was the vanilla that mesmerized her.
It was more than the "cute butt" from the movies. It was tight! Waves of muscle tissue cascaded from the trim waistline to the tops of the thighs. As he lifted his arms higher, he spread his legs apart, flexing the rich, creamy good parts.
Leaving the scene never entered Betsy's mind and her eyes bugged as the Neopolitan man swung his body around where he would have seen her had he not been entranced looking up still worshiping the shower god. As he propped his hands on his hips, she saw that the ice cream delicacy was complete with an oversized, long-handled scoop. The watcher stared speechless needing to run but not able to move being completely captivated by the sight of the most gorgeous male body she had ever seen. Perhaps it was the long scar that ran the full length of his chest and looked a little like a lightning bolt that added to the intrigue and hypnotized her, giving an electric jolt to her feminine senses.
Carelessly, she took a step back, trying to force herself to turn away. But the loose rock of the steep trail was determined not to let her go unnoticed. Her feet slipped out from under her and she screamed as she slid out of control on her butt down the path. She made a swipe at several small bushes to the side but the path monster would not relinquish its control until she came to an abrupt halt at the base of the waterfall.
He stood looking at her from his rock perch and made no attempt to hide his body. His clothes and his towel lay directly beside Betsy who did not know if she was dying from scrapes and bruises or embarrassment.
"You okay?" The Neopolitan man left his perch and reached to help her up. There was no shame nor modesty in his demeanor, only genuine concern for her well being as he gently helped her to her feet.
"I am so sorry. I didn't expect anyone else to know about this spot. I used to shower here when I was a kid camped at Keyser Brown and.… Ouch!" The pain from her scraped arm and hand, the extremities that kept trying to grasp at bushes, roots, anything to save herself from this humiliating situation, brought the peeping tomboy out of her discourse and forced her to realize that she was running off at the mouth, probably an attempt to excuse what was obvious, she had been watching.
"Here, let me look at that!" He still made no attempt to cover himself as he took her arm to examine it. "I've got a first aid kit in my pack." He bent to explore the pack that lay at Betsy's feet and only then realized the awkwardness of the situation.
"Sorry! Would you mind handing me that towel and I'll try to alleviate some of that red in your cheeks, or maybe that's more injuries from your fall." Betsy handed him the towel without looking at him, as if she would never think of staring at his naked body. When she did look up, he was smiling as if enjoying the whole fiasco. She recognized that smile.
"Aren't you going to tip your hat? Oh, yeah, you don't have one on, do you?" An impish grin sneaked across her face.
