You take a swig of water from your canteen, wiping the sweat from your brow. You give it a shake, feeling only a little more water in it. The crags around you shield you from much of the sun, but no amount of shade can fully shield you from the summer heat. You lean against a rock, pondering what to do. You gaze at the sky as you rack your mind, trying to find a way to reassure yourself of your course. A bird passes overhead, a black shadow silhouetted against the sky. On closer inspection, you think you see a humanoid shape to the bird. You'd been told about the monster girls living in the mountains, but told not to worry about them. The reclusive monster girls generally kept to themselves. Idly, you wonder if some of the traces of snakes you'd seen could possibly be lamia sunning themselves. After a few minutes of musing on monster girls, you decide to double back, and see if you might have missed the road you were meant to take.As you backtrack, the mountain rises into sheer. I have to admit that I didn’t escape high school as a virgin, but sex the way I remember it then was brief, awkward, and not very pleasant. My few naïve and more often than not unsuccessful attempts at making love usually resulted from a strange sense of obligation on my part. Everyone needs to feel wanted. To the extent I knew I was being used, I have forgiven myself. A girl needs a date now and then, especially in high school. But knowing I was being used certainly didn’t help with the way I felt about myself. The change in my perception of myself came with a noticeable change in the way men would treat me. Sometime just after spring break, a cute guy from my freshman biology class asked me out. His name was Rick, and he was the best looking guy that I had ever spoken to, let alone dated, and I was mortified because I really did have a conflict and had to say no. He slunk off before I could say, ‘Some other time?’ But miracle of miracles, he asked me out again. Not only that, but.
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