Packback
5. Commitment
Megan and I set up our new house on Laguna Beach with a workout room. I had a full home gym, treadmill, stair climber, elliptical, stationary bike, an integrated weight machine, free weights, an exercise mat, and mirrors on two walls. I was pretty sure I was going to get my ass kicked here regularly once I was strong enough, but the first day, Megan got on her back, her legs up, and asked me to lean on her feet the way I had those blessed two weeks when we were on the trail together, though this time I was shirtless and her feet were bare. She could lift my whole body off the floor now, even doing reps. She asked me to hold dumbbells while she did it to increase the weight. It didn’t really do anything different than the leg-lift machine, but it gave me a little sense of that giddy trail time. She even giggled occasionally, the way she had when we first met.
She also lay on her stomach, her hands on the mat just outside her shoulders, and had me lie on her back. She wanted to do the same kind of push-ups I used to do with her on my back.
“Oof,” she said when she tried. “You’re too heavy, but I’ll get stronger until I can do this.”
“I love you just the way you are,” I whispered from very close into her ear, so close that she shivered, “but I have no doubt you’ll succeed.”
“You’ll be doing this again soon, too,” she said. “Whoever can do it first can name their reward.”
“Deal. You know just how to motivate me,” I whispered.
We walked on the beach, barefoot. The sand made each step more taxing, working our legs. I could only go about a mile every three days before I collapsed in exhaustion, the outside of my shins burning. But last week I’d only been able to go half as far. I started riding the exercise bike, which I hated—I wanted to be on a real bike, on a real road, but for now this was probably best. I think I did a mile the first time, getting into and stepping out of the saddle very gingerly indeed. I could hold a plank for maybe three seconds.
Weeks passed. We explored the coast from our beach walks. I was starting to think that maybe those two blessed weeks on the trail might not have been the best time of my life. I could walk, I could bike, at least in my workout room, and I was doing yoga and Feldenkrais, movement therapy. I was getting stronger. I was a long way from hiking the PCT again or from doing a push-up, much less with Megan on my back, but I felt like I was on the way. Megan took me to some of her jiu jitsu sessions and taught me handfighting. I was pathetic but I learned, and she seemed happy with my curtailed progress.
“Scott, I need someone else,” Megan told me from a bluff at the halfway point of one of our beach walks.
Huh?
“You woke so many things in me, Scott. My love ... honestly I’d never loved anyone before you, and I love you even more now. You taught me to defend myself, and well ... you see where that’s taken me.”
“You’re amazing ...” I said, but she pressed her finger to my lips.
“I feel like I need to dominate someone,” she said, “and I don’t want it to be you. I get so angry sometimes, it’s like I want to hurt the person I’m with and I know that’s not healthy. Scott, I’ve gotten angry enough with you a couple times to feel that way, and Scott, I could hurt you now, very badly, and you wouldn’t be able to change anything about it, I’m that good. But I. Do. Not. Want. That. I want to find someone I could do that with, who would welcome that. Flake mentioned that he might be able to hook me up with someone, but I won’t without your consent.”
That was a lie and we both knew it, but it was a good lie. She was letting me in and that mattered.
“Scott, I would fuck him. I would kick the shit out of him and then I would fuck him hard. This feels so crazy, but I don’t want to do anything like this without your full consent.”
“Who did Flake mention?”
“Some girl in Silicon Valley. Terry or something.”
I took a long breath. I loved Megan every bit as much as I’d said, in every way I could. She’d given an entire year of her life to helping me recover, more than anyone else I could imagine would’ve.
“He mentioned someone,” I said. “I didn’t know what to make of it. He called her Miss Peri.”
“That’s her. She has clients with ... various tastes. Some want to have their ass kicked and will pay very well for it.”
“And then get fucked?”
Megan nodded.
“So someone will pay to have sex with you?”
Megan got up and stalked off.
“Megan, stop, please. I’m not saying no, I’m just trying to understand.”
She stopped. She turned. She looked angry. She took two deep breaths and two steps back toward me.
“It’s complicated,” she said.
“May I hug you?”
She nodded, maybe reluctantly. I stepped closer. I hugged her gently, enfolding her. She beat her fists very gently against my shoulders.
“If you want this, do it,” I said. “You shared me with Greta, you even asked if I would mind. You haven’t met Graciela or Doe or Brit but I bet we hear from at least one of them soon—Glyn’s first episode airs next month. If you really want this, you should do it. The sooner the better.”
“Scott, I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Keep being awesome.”
She cried.
The phone rang, early. “What?” I said, from sleep. It was really fucking early.
“I saw you on TV,” a woman’s voice said.
“Graciela?”
“Of course. Who else, fuckslave?”
“You got the wrong number, G,” I said.
Silence for half a minute. “All right, not fuckslave. You took my virginity, is that worth nothing?”
“Don’t guilt me, G.”
“Fuck you, Scott.”
Another half minute of silence.
“I would like to see you again,” I said. I wondered where that’d come from. “I’m committed now, and you do not want to mess with her, believe that.”
“I know who she is. I saw the show. I’ve been stalking you. I know where you live, even if no one else does.”
“Get your fine ass here, then,” I said, and hung up.
I told Megan, of course. She already knew about my trail liaisons. We set a date. Everyone would be there, including Firencia and her husband. Glyn’s camera crew would have strictly limited access.
Greta opened the door before Graciela could ring or knock, and hugged her. “I’ve heard a lot about you,” Greta said. We talked to Glyn’s camera crew in great detail about what could be recorded and what couldn’t.
Graciela’s mother sauntered in. She was more voluptuous than ever under her wrap. I kissed her and hugged her, which felt really nice—it felt like hugging a firm plush sofa cushion.
“You are not the man you were,” she told me.
“Thanks,” I said.
“We’re working on that,” Greta said.
There were moments in our sitting room. Glyn, or her crew, must’ve done a nice job splicing them together because cable immediately went from thinking that episode of Glyn’s docudrama was “interesting” to liking it very much.
Remember how I said that Graciela and Firencia were almost as good as Glyn? Well, forget that ... Graciela had gotten better.
Graciela had a very busy schedule these days, and no wonder. She didn’t bring any of her growing stable of slaves along, maybe that would’ve been weird, but Megan and Greta and Graciela and I had the best fucking night of our lives. It’s difficult to imagine how it could’ve been better unless maybe Glyn was there. Flake got some on the side. Actually, though I never heard the whole story, he got a lot more than that. Graciela had a female driver, her driver had a friend, Greta went to “powder her nose” with Graciela, and ...
Flake spent the night with Firencia in our next biggest bedroom. Her husband watched but was not allowed to participate. Glyn’s camera crew was invited but I wasn’t. Apparently some heavily redacted parts of that particular scene still get a lot of attention on the porntubes, especially that last bit with her husband. I never learned his name.
“I approve,” Firencia told Greta in the morning.
“This was my last night with Scott,” Greta said.
“As if,” Graciela said.
I proposed to Megan. I mean, c’mon, you didn’t see that coming? We would marry at Hikerville on May 31st. A double ceremony with Flake and Greta. Judy would officiate. The only questions were about the guest list. I suggested inviting Megan’s Dad. He’d served his time and seemed to have changed his ways. Megan told me she would rip off both my balls before she invited her father, and she was furious when she said it. I let it go for the day.
“I can probably work it so he could watch over the internet,” I said the next morning.
“Don’t fucking go there!” Megan shouted.
I gulped. “Megan, he’s your flesh and blood. There will never be another thing in your life that would mean as much to him again. You won’t have to see him, you won’t have to hear him. He can be at home in Virginia the whole time, but at least let him watch his daughter get married. I’m pretty sure your sister won’t, at least not to a man. Please. It might help him.”
She was really angry. We’d never had a disagreement like this before. Usually if we argued it was over something smaller, something I didn’t mind giving up. But this ...
Megan turned on her heel and stomped out, slamming the door behind her. Better it than me. I got to work, barely sleeping for two nights. If I was going to do this, I probably had a limited window, and of course I wanted to do it right.
Flake brought drinks and pizza. Once Megan stalked in while he was with me.
“Don’t interrupt him, Megan,” he said quickly. “Please. He’s in the zone. Our company’s best stuff got built when he was like this.”
Megan got into her fighting stance, held it for half a minute, her arms tracing some form or other, very slowly, then stalked out.
“Holy shit,” Flake whispered. “I thought I was about to die.”
I hadn’t actually seen any of this, but Flake told me later. He helped me to bed when I was done, then started the process for filing several patents on my behalf, the way he used to at the startup. I woke briefly when Megan came and snuggled, her warm strong body sliding against mine. She fucked me long and slow the next morning.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You were right.”
Flake and I finished filing the patents that night.
I thought it was the best ceremony ever. Judy kissed all four of us on the lips. “Save some for me,” she whispered to Megan.
“Tomorrow night he’s all yours, if there’s anything left of him,” Megan said.
Greta seemed inordinately pleased with herself, her arm around Flake’s waist. “Toldja I knew what I was doing,” she said to me. Flake and I told stories about each other at the reception, including about that night we filed the patents. Everyone laughed when Flake said he thought he was about to die. Everyone but Flake and me.
I got to meet Miss Peri. She was a tiny little thing, astonishingly young, cute rather than beautiful, extremely slender with hardly a curve anywhere on her except for a nice tight butt. She had very long glossy red fingernails, even longer than Graciela’s, that she moved in seemingly purposeful ways. It was hard to keep from looking. She also had a lovely voice, soft, slow and precise, and a gentle way of articulating her ‘k’ and ‘t’ sounds that made me want to listen.
“Flake tells me you’re a hypnodomme,” I said.
“Certified clinical hypnotherapist, thankyouverymuch,” she said, then paused. “But yes, I do that too. Got any bad habits you want to get rid of? Prefer that hag of a new wife you have as a bimbo slut? I can make you forget everything about her and have you on your knees as my personal fucktoy in a week. Her too.”
Megan’s eyes glittered. She was close to getting angry. I figured Peri was kidding, but sometimes you need to know when to not screw with Megan.
“I already tried,” Graciela said. “Didn’t work.” She’d come up beside us.
Peri eyed her, head to toe. “Wow,” she said, then turned to me. “You have some truly gorgeous friends.”
“Lovers and friends,” Greta said, and of course Greta was off-the-charts beautiful in her wedding dress. She and Flake and Firencia and Judy and Brit and Doe and Doe’s new husband had come up, too. Peri didn’t speak loudly, but she could certainly draw a crowd.
“You make me want to become one, too,” she said softly.
“We should talk,” Megan said. I could tell she was intrigued.
“We insulated the rooms,” Judy said to me. “You can go crazy in there. Just save some for me.”
We did indeed go crazy in there.
“Fuckhead,” Flake said to me at breakfast. He was smiling. Really really wide. I took Judy that night, our last night there, then Peri. She was just as tight as she looked. She somehow managed to hypnotize me while I was sliding in and out of her, using it to edge me into one of my best orgasms ever.
It took a while for her voice to work correctly again. I guess it’d been pretty good for her, too.
“I want to work with Megan on her rage issues,” she said, finally. “She mostly keeps it together, but she’s a ticking time bomb.”
“Have you talked to her about it?”
“She brought it up, actually. We don’t need your permission, of course, but I told her you should know. I also wanted ... this.”
“How old are you, anyway?”
“Twenty.”
“You’re pretty amazing.”
“Thank you. So is Megan. And so are you.”
Flake and Greta hiked the same two weeks with us that Megan and I had together last year to Kennedy Meadows. When we got to the resort, every single person there, and there were a ton of them, stood and cheered and whooped and hollered and this time we got the cabin closest to the store, right in the middle of everything, with people patrolling outside the whole time, including Glyn’s camera crew. There were probably 200 people, which was crazy. It’s hard to imagine 200 thru-hikers in that small a mountain space, as many hikers as there were permanent residents, but hey ... social media. Maybe they were listening, maybe they wished they were participating, who the fuck cares? The resort people said they’d insulated but I don’t know, in the morning I got as many thumbs up as I’ve ever seen. Was it my best two weeks ever? I keep not knowing ... life is good and it ain’t over yet. There was a jam that apparently inspired a concert booking for next year ... word gets around. Truth be told, I missed having Greta, too.
Fun aside, my body was a mess. Two weeks on any part of the PCT is a challenge for anyone, particularly someone who’d been through what I had this past year.
“You’re not quitting,” Megan said at breakfast.
“I don’t quit. You know that,” I said, “but I need a break.” She nodded.
Brit was at the next table, grinning.
“Brit!” I said, rushing forward to hug her. I fell splat on my face. Megan was right there, so of course.
I got up and lifted Brit off her feet, hugging hard. It was weird, embracing a part of my life that I’d literally left, um ... behind.
“Hi Brit,” I said, between kisses.
“Do you have any idea?” she asked.
“Nope.”
She hugged me. Cameras recorded. She’d gone way out of her way to get here.
“You are like the coolest person ever, you know that?” she said.
“No,” I said. “You are. Stay awesome.”
I fucked Brit again that night. From behind, of course. It was weird but wonderful. It was different. She was different. I was different. I was married.
Just one year later, so much about our lives had changed. Not so much a celebration of new and unexpected love anymore. I mean, I’d just gotten fucking MARRIED! Doe was already married because who wouldn’t climb any mountain for Doe? Or Brit? Or ... Megan. She’d actually approved this? She must’ve, because otherwise I would’ve been dead instead of just faceplanted.
Megan had Ian for her off-trail diversions. She doesn’t tell. I don’t ask.
We got as far as the Onion Valley trail junction. Summer had just begun but I was falling apart. Feet, knees, shoes, everything. My choices were the PCT with all the fucking 12K+ passes one after the other or the one Kearsarge Pass climb and then down. To next year’s version of civilization. I chose the off trail ... curse you Whitney, I’ll get you yet!
Megan descended with me and rides to L.A. weren’t hard to come by, especially when it was her beautiful thumb out. Thank you, trail angels!
I needed a week to recover, which turned into six. Graciela came over one night and Brit came back for another. Both girls (both!) from Lake Arrowhead came another night. Megan sent them home the next morning, seeming annoyed. I sympathized. Or tried to ... they were just as cute now as they’d been then.
Graciela and Brit returned, the same night. It might’ve been a turning point for Megan. She had Ian and we both had Peri and the women I’d met on the trail before I committed to Megan, but ...
Brit learned a lot. Hell, I learned a lot, though not necessarily what anyone might’ve guessed. Graciela was not afraid to push boundaries and Greta was not shy about walking into the middle of any scene, ever, though she seldom did these days.
That was a really good night, especially once Megan sauntered in, already knowing exactly what she was sauntering into. I wasn’t supposed to be coming this hard, my doctor said so, but ...
I woke with much more female flesh than usual in our extremely large bed. Another of Megan’s friends was there, too. I never learned her name. Was there ever in spacetime a better place to wake? ‘Fuck’ I thought, thinking that Megan, Brit, Graciela, and Peri had been together, and I’d gotten to be with all of them. How had that happened? It was still (very!) early in our relationship and patterns were still settling. Megan’s friend wandered off.
Brit kissed me. “Bye,” she said, and left our bed forever. I would’ve at least kissed her more if I’d known. She was starting up with a steady boyfriend, and loves using her wonderful ass to drive him crazy in so many ways, the way she had with me. She sent me a card to thank me for clueing her in. She used to have a new boyfriend every few weeks. I love you, Brit.
Then it was just Graciela and Megan and me, and sometimes Peri.
“You need to come visit,” Graciela said. “You should see my stable, and they should see you.”
“You have horses?” Megan asked.
“Not horses, dear. Boys.”