The Preservation Of Our Enchantments

Hanson wonders if the coordinates on the message board would direct more traffic to it.  Largely undiscovered due to the unmaintained roads and proximity to a major city, its privacy has been well protected for those with the enthusiastic but discreet sense for such adventures.  Hanson prefers that it stay that way, infuriated to see that it has gone public.  It would pose a risk for those like himself, who have found such liberations on its shore.

He ropes Beth and Stu into joining him Saturday for the hour drive to survey the scene.  They have all enjoyed the intoxicating frivolity of its gifts and are overjoyed to be asked to return.  “I just hope it doesn’t restrict us, now that others know about it,” he mentions a few times.

They arrive in the early afternoon when attendance is normally at its peak and Hanson is relieved to only see a few cars.  They follow the worn trail shadowed by tall birch trees that descends to the secluded spot.  The beach is shrouded in fog, but the lull of gentle waves leads them to the sand.  Hanson is immediately stirred by the memory of past pleasures, as is Beth, whose hand slides into his.  Stu is quickly out of his clothes, clearly unconcerned whether their sanctuary has been compromised or not.  As they move upon its surface and through the patches of fog they encounter two women engaged in each other and respectfully view and move on.  Beth removes Hanson’s shorts, already at full mast.  And then pulls off her own top, catching the pleased approval of both her companions.  Further along, they exchange pleasantries with a trio of middle-aged men enjoying the comfort of their beach towels.  

The landscape has always provided a thrilling blend of voyeurism and participation and Hanson is just content to know that on this day, the place is exactly as it’s supposed to be.