The Lion, the Leopard and the Wolf

Macalister Cameron needed to make up for lost time.

“Six months of bad sex with a man who announces somewhere between appetizers and the main course that he’s indulging in dessert elsewhere is the kind of man you can do without.” Aunt Celia patted Mac’s shoulder and confirmed what she already knew.

Celia may have been only five years older, but on another level, she seemed a hundred years wiser. Although Mac insisted she was fine after kicking Nathan out, thank goodness, Celia refused to believe her.

“Yeah. According to him, he needed ‘a bit more variety.’ So I told Mr. Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma’am to go ahead, eat out...as much and as often as he liked, but no more coming home to me for sloppy seconds. When I sent him packing, I encouraged him to get all the ‘variety’ he desired elsewhere.”

“That a girl,” Celia encouraged, high fiving her. “Okay, you’ve moped for a week, and now I have just what you need.”

Celia was right about her moping, but no more. Mac held up a red and black scrap of material. The panties, apparently a get-out-of-your-rut gift from Celia, were her cure for what ailed her niece. Mac had to laugh at that, especially when Celia’s solution involved getting her back up on the horse that threw her. Well, maybe not that
specific
horse, but the male species in general.

And she meant the riding part—literally.

“Look at this brochure. A friend of mine said she’s been there and highly recommends it, especially for your particular problem.” Celia snickered. “I thought of you as soon as I read about the mountain retreat.”

Mac tapped the brochure against her palm. “I’m not sure—”

“I already made reservations,” Celia insisted. “I don’t want to bulldoze you into agreeing, but you know you haven’t been yourself lately.”

“I know.” Tired of arguing with Celia, she had to admit her tastes had changed. Suddenly, she craved her red meat bloody, when at one time she only ate her steaks well-done. All day long, especially in the late afternoon, she wanted to lounge around in a warm spot, and at night, she wanted to get out and prowl the clubs.

Celia had noticed the change, but coy didn’t play well on her.

“Don’t give me the soft sell,” Mac said. Once she actually looked at the brochure, her enthusiasm grew proportionally with the size of the men in the hot tub on the cover.

“No, Mac. We can change the plans, if—”

“I give up.” In a fit of desperation, and in a moment of weakness brought on by sexual frustration, she agreed to go.

“Excellent. You won’t regret it. Remember when I needed this same sort of vacation a few years ago, when I was about your age?”

“No, I don’t remember. But okay, I’ll go on this somewhat unorthodox vacation. I’m not promising anything, and I don’t want you to complain later. This is probably a waste of your money.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” Celia gave her a sideways glance full of confidence.

Mac secretly had something to prove to herself anyway, and a week away in an erotic ski lodge sounded like just the place to prove it.

* * * *

Three days later...

Mac looked at the brochure one more time and threw a pair of t-backs in the suitcase on her bed.
This ski trip might be the perfect diversion
to help me forget.
She looked at the pictures of the beefcake on the cover and tried to recall what’s-his-name’s face.

She rummaged through her dresser. Disgusted, she moved on to her closet. Sexy, she needed sexy. She picked up a top and held it across her full breasts.

Tight, black, off the shoulders. Perfect!

She pulled out every outfit she owned with any sexual potential and tossed it on the cluttered bed. Some fell into the open suitcase, some dropped to the floor. In everything from underwear to day-wear, she chose only the most erotic of the lot for her trip. Hopefully, this vacation would prove her old taste in men sucked and there was nothing wrong with her that a good man couldn’t fix.

She held up the tiny sliver of red silk and lace. Did she really need crotch-less panties?

Well, maybe.

If she got lucky when she wasn’t expecting to... But would she have the guts to wear them? That was the real question.

Lately, she couldn’t explain the feelings she’d suddenly began experiencing. She really needed to get these strange sensations under control. She was too young for hot flashes and couldn’t understand her constant state of arousal for no apparent reason. Her body felt like a furnace. And the reoccurring dreams frightened her. The ones about turning into a cat and stalking rabbits seemed so real she thought she tasted blood in her mouth when she woke up one morning.

A little diversion might be just what she needed. One long, slow look at the delicious six pack on the cover model had her convinced. She thumbed through the brochure again, feeling more aroused by the page. Eye-popping muscled males at the ready, testimonials and promises covered page after page. Every sort of man imaginable, all shapes and sizes,
ah hmm
... all available to provide
any
and
every
fantasy.

Suddenly an orgasm which wasn’t self-induced didn’t sound like the ‘impossible dream’ to Mac anymore. She could do this. After all, her namesake was a famous adventurer. Certainly Mac had inherited something of her grandfather’s courage and bravado, even if her coordination had been somewhat off, lately.

She smiled and picked up Celia’s second gift, thinking she might not even have to force herself to enjoy this vacation after all. She ran a hand up and over her breast. The sensation puckered her nipple into a tight bud. Her nipples tended to be large and responsive. With the mountain cold air, they’d probably show through everything. Would this bra even support her? She folded the cup-less bra and frowned as she tossed it in with the other erotic underwear. Her breasts drew plenty of attention even in a sweatshirt. The thin sweater she tossed into the bag after the bra would leave nothing to the imagination when her nipples jutted through the holes in the cups. She shrugged as she closed the suitcase.

Isn’t that exactly the point?
She laughed at the internal pun and vowed that Celia’s good intentions wouldn’t be wasted. She vowed to get laid. Not just
laid
, but really, truly, and thoroughly laid. She would experience her first multiple orgasm or die trying. After seeing the potential in the brochure photos, Enchanted Mountain looked like just the place to accomplish her mission.