‘Twas the Night Before Rafting
Twas The Night Before Rafting
By Philip Spencer
Chapter 1
My son’s voice drew me away from my reading. “Dad, Valeria’s going to stay in the guest room tonight, okay? We want to get an early start in the morning. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Of course not,” I answered. “You know your friends are always welcome here. Pleased to meet you, Valeria,” I added, extending my hand.
Smiling to myself as Alan blushed at his oversight, he said, “Oh, sorry. Valeria, this is my dad. Dad, this is Valeria.”
Alan had been talking about his new girlfriend for the past month, but this was my first opportunity to meet her. I knew she was about sixteen and going into her junior year in high school. I looked her over admiringly; I had no idea she was so good-looking. She looked about my height–5’7″, but I weigh 150 pounds, and she looked some twenty pounds thinner. I could see the shape of her nipples protruding from her white halter top; her torso seemingly lasting forever before stopping at her tight, hip-hugging jeans. My son might be shy, I thought, but he’s got good taste.
Alan was eighteen and had just graduated. In another month, he’d be going away to college, but this weekend the two of them were going on a white-water raft trip. How long the relationship would last was impossible to say, but I was glad that Alan finally had a girlfriend.
After the steak and baked potatoes with a tossed salad I prepared for supper, Alan and Valeria washed the dishes. I watched TV for a while, and I heard the girl go to take a shower. Alan and I then had a chance to talk.
“Isn’t she nice, Dad?” he asked.
“Very pretty,” I agreed. “She’s a bit young for you though, isn’t she?”
“She’s only a junior, but she’s very mature for her age,” he said. “Her parents say it’s cool if she goes with me, and they even signed a release form so she can go rafting, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
Alan walked over to his backpack and pulled out a sheet of paper. Everything looked legal, so I would not have to worry about his getting sued if, God forbid, an accident happened. I nodded and said, “Exactly where are you going on the rafts?”
He went to his pack again. This time he pulled out a NGS topographical map of the Cumberland Mountains. “The Obed is a Wild & Scenic River, according to the National Park system. It starts here,” he showed me Wartburg with his finger, “and it flows to here. Look at the cliffs that are on both sides of the river!”
I examined the closely-packed curvy, elevation lines.
“By the way, the Boomer’s a pro,” Alan declared.
“Boomer?”
“The owner of the raft company,” he explained. “He’s built like a pro football player, and he’s got this deep, booming voice that can be heard over the sound of the waterfalls. He’s owned this raft company for six years, and everyone’s going wear a life preserver and a helmet. The proceeds all go to the non-profit group called ‘Save Our Cumberland Mountains, ‘ and hopefully they’ll raise enough money to hire a full-time community organizer to put an end to the strip mining that is so harmful to the area.”
I didn’t share my son’s activism; nonetheless, I was glad he was concerned about something and someone other than himself. I had to agree strip mining was a good cause, and I was pleased to know that the organizers had taken all the necessary safety arrangements. Even though my son was an adult, a parent never stops worrying about his kid.
The girl came into the room wearing a towel on her head and an oversized Tennessee Titans sweatshirt that barely covered her ass. “Finished,” she said.
“Do you want to go to bed now?” asked Alan.
“Not yet,” she answered. “I’ll wait for you.”
Alan looked at me. “Don’t worry, Dad, she’s going to sleep in the guest room,” he said. Looking at his girlfriend, he stated, “I’ll take a shower, and then I’ll take your stuff to your room. We have to get up at 5:30 in the morning, so we’d better get to sleep early.”
“Why so early?” I asked.
“It’s a long drive,” explained Alan. “Well, I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
The kids kissed like he would be gone a month. I smiled at the idea of Valeria’s using the guest room. Although I could have dealt with their sleeping together, it pleased me that he had the decency not to try to screw his girlfriend in my house while I was present. If it happened some other time… well, teenagers are teenagers.
I was about to return to the CSI rerun when Valeria said, “Oh, the topographical map! I don’t get that very well. Mr. Edwards, do you think you could explain it to me?”
We looked at the map while Alan showered. In no time at all, Valeria grasped the basics of map-reading, although she was not ready for a solo hike through the wilderness. A few minutes later Alan came back to the living room.
“Ready,” he said. “Good-night, Dad.”
“Good-night, Mr. Edwards,” said Valeria, kissing me on the cheek for a bit longer than I would have expected. “I’ll see you.”
“Have a good trip, in case I don’t see you in the morning. It was nice meeting you, Val. Or do you prefer Valeria?”
“Valeria,” she smiled.
“Okay, Valeria… Alan, have a good trip,” I restated. “I think I’m going to hit the rack, too.”
Alan led the way to the guest room, and I watched Valeria follow him. I caught a glimpse of white panties as she walked, and I was proud to have a son who had such good taste in girlfriends. I envied him for having the opportunity to spend the night alone with her in a tent.
________________________________________
Chapter 2
I gave Alan a few minutes to say good-night before going to my own room. I changed into my pajamas and was clipping my toenails when I heard a knock on the door. “It’s open, son,” I said.
But when the door opened, it was Valeria. “Mr. Edwards, I wanted to ask you a question. Do you mind if I come in?” she asked softly. As she did so, she pushed the door closed behind her, and I thought I heard the “click” of the lock.
“Sure, come in,” I offered, somewhat embarrassed by my toe clippers.
“It’s about Alan,” she said, sitting on the bed next to me. “I like him a lot. In fact, I am planning on seducing him tomorrow night.”
“Oh,” I said pensively. I cleared my throat and added, “Alan is eighteen, and he doesn’t need my permission to have sex, you know. Anyway, I doubt he would listen to me if I told him he couldn’t.”
She laughed. “No, no… this is so…
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