He’d watched them secretly from the lookout, their faces dancing like orange flames in the firelight.
Each feather-light touch of fingers, the smiles that grew bolder as the empty beer bottles increased.
Only a matter of time before each touch became more urgent, before he heard the rasp of zips, the dull billow of clothes falling .
So careless. So arrogant.
He waited until morning, until the fire was only white ash and smoke, till they fell into an exhausted sleep, a tangle of pale flesh and dark, blond and black hair.
Only then did he remove his boots, creep down the wooden steps, careful of each footfall.
And all the while he went about his work, they slept.
***
Written for What Pegman Saw, the prompt based on Google Street View. This week we visit Montana. Visit here to join in and to read other contributions.
Sadly, this is my last ‘live’ post before Christmas as I’m working from now right up to the last minute. Apologies for my absence of late, I’ve been trying to ready some work for a submission. Apologies too if I’m late replying to comments – I will reply eventually, I promise!
I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and the Happiest of New Years.
Word Shamble 