Tonight is the Full Buck Moon -- so named by east coast Native Americans because it's the time of year when the bucks sprout their fuzzy antlers. It's also known as the Thunder Moon and the Hay Moon.
This amazing time of year here makes me want to sprout some fuzzy antlers too, howl like a coyote, and run around doing naughty trickstery things. The warm evening air and the smell of sage and juniper and pines makes me want run to through the woods, bouncing over rocks and logs. I'll have my chance soon at an upcoming "off-road, off-trail" race where the highlight is actually the "Naked Creek Streak" the night before. Boing! Boing!
Speaking of bucks (there's a voyeur buck in my story "Road Trip"), I just got the dates from Cleis Press for the West Coast reading tour for Girl Crazy (Along with Where the Girls are and Lesbian Cowboys) and I'll be reading in Portland and Seattle on August 16th and 17th! Portland is August 16 at The Q Center. Seattle is August 17 at The Center for Sex and Culture. Yipes! It's time to practice PROJECTING my small skittish voice! Stay tuned for the full schedule in case you just happen to be in my neck of the woods.
Sigh. My buck is far, far away but I hope he remembers to look up tonight. Meanwhile.....back in the wilds of Washington State, it's time for a loser takes all game of Scrabble.
by G. Marie
A hot, dry east wind whipped the straw-colored grasses around as I sat perched on a knotted, lichen-covered boulder overlooking the river. Grass seeds popped in the heat. Insects whirred and buzzed. Snakes slept beneath rocks, waiting ‘till dusk to slither and wind across the sun-stroked earth.
I took in a deep breath and mentally and literally unzipped the fabric of society and emerged naked back into the outer world. A world devoid of humanity, mostly. Just me and a couple of seagulls diving against the cliffs above the white capped water below. Just me and a scraggly-winged buzzard circling lazily in the thermals, waiting for death to turn his day around. Just me and the naked man who brought me here.
I scanned the landscape. He was out there. I could smell his blood. Feel the soft thud of his soles upon uneven terrain, toe to heel, knee to hip. Powered by muscle and tendon. Working his way through the rocks somewhere below the ravine. Working his way towards me, his eyes glistening and with a deviously dimpled cheek. He had not appeared yet, but I could picture him, his tall, muscular form, his sun-bronzed skin, carrying our cum-and-sweat-stained blanket, our well-worn Scrabble game, a bottle of olive oil to protect and soothe our hot skin, and a cooler filled with icy cold beer.
It was barely noon, but the sun was already mid-day blazing, the warm breeze swirling against my skin and skipping across the badlands, carrying the dust kicked up by my brown feet all the way to another continent. I listened for him, refusing to turn around until I tasted him. I sat still, trying hard not to peek or even flinch, wanting to be startled a little. I sat naked, back tall, my ass protected from the rough volcanic perch by the soft cotton of my cropped t-shirt.
Then, I couldn't resist any longer and felt my head being pulled against my will as if on a tether, as if by an invisible force. I couldn't stop myself, couldn't keep myself from seeking him. And there he was, traversing easily across the rough terrain. He rose up from the ravine just as I had imagined, a smile as wide as the river, nothing on but sandals and with our blanket and towels tucked beneath his arm.
I slipped into my flip-flops, jumped from my rock, and entered the shade structure of his skin as he enveloped me in his wingspan.
With his arms tight around me, his heart thudding against my ear, the wild, raw smell of him nearly sending me skidding across the sand, I looked out at the beautiful, desolate landscape. I imagined myself on my back in the weeds, leg and arm bones scattered about like those of a half-eaten carcass. My eyes fluttered closed against the risen sun. I pressed my pelvis hard against him, letting out a soft, guttural sound of pleasure as I wondered, “What will become of me in this place? Who will hear my screams?”