The Wolf had been following the girl since this morning. As she walked the trail, he moved alongside her through the woods. Sometimes he tracked her closely. Sometimes he ran out ahead and waited for her. What he’d like to do is get her away from the trail somehow. The trail was heavily traveled, and every few minutes another person came along it. Hunters walked that trail sometimes, and constables walked it, too. The trail was no good. He couldn’t touch that girl on the trail.
The Wolf sighed and took a deep suck on the cigarette. Times had changed. He was 41 years old and not nearly the Wolf he used to be. These woods were getting too crowded, too small. The builders were chopping down too many trees. The trail had too much traffic. He could remember a time when he could take a sexy girl like this right there on the path. He was a silver-tongued young Wolf in those days, handsome, with a full, long-haired mane. He could talk them into anything, lead them far astray, and no one was coming to save them. Also, his jeans were packed with ten inches of cock, and when he finally gave it to them… boy, oh boy.
Well, that much hadn’t changed. Now it just took a lot more work to get to that point. But this girl was different. She was ripe and ready to be picked. He could smell it on her from here. In fact, he hadn’t smelled one like this in years. The scent brought him way back. It reminded him of his glory days. He nodded to himself, thinking of all the fresh young meat back then.
He was going to get this girl, all right. He had no choice. He owed it to himself.
But the trail! So busy now, so many people coming and going. It should be against the law, what they were doing to these woods.
The answer was simple. He had to get the girl off the trail to somewhere secluded. But where? And how to do it?
“I should just talk to her,” he said. “Maybe she will tell me herself.”
That sounded like a plan. Maybe not a great plan, certainly not a foolproof one, but a plan nonetheless. The Wolf pitched his cigarette into the bushes, and slunk through the underbrush, moving out ahead of the girl again.
It was a long walk, the day was too warm, and Red Riding Hood had worn the wrong shoes. Her feet were killing her. She stopped in the middle of the wide trail. She placed on the ground the basket of garden vegetables her mother had made her carry. The basket was becoming too heavy to carry.
Up ahead, the trail climbed a low rise and turned off to the left. She couldn’t see very far along in that direction. Behind her, the trail was quite straight, and disappeared into the vague distance. On either side of her the trees closed in, the forest dark and ominous. There was no one around. It was already past midday, and she had no idea how much further there was to walk.
This going to her Auntie’s house was a bad idea. She fought an urge to sit down right here on the path and cry.
“Hey little lady,” a voice said. “Where are you off to?”
Right nearby, a man stood leaning against a tree. Red Riding Hood could swear he hadn’t been there just a moment ago. He was a strange looking man, in the sense that he was difficult to see. He wore tight, faded blue jeans with a big silver belt buckle. That much was clear. He had quite a round bulge at the front of his jeans. If Red Riding Hood had to guess, she’d say he might have a sock stuffed in there.
At first, she thought he was wearing gray suede loafers on his feet. A second later, she thought maybe he was barefoot, and his feet were just very hairy, and combed carefully. His shirt seemed to be long-sleeved and also gray. Then it seemed to be the same type of carefully combed hair. At a certain angle, he had a very handsome face. At another, he seemed to have a long snout with sharp teeth. Either way, he had a full head of impossibly wavy hair. Maybe it was the warmth of the day, or her near-exhaustion after the distance she had walked, but she found she was almost hypnotized by the man’s odd good looks. He must be the most unusual looking man she had ever seen.
“I’m on my way to my Auntie’s house,” she said, quickly tossing aside all the advice she’d ever heard about not talking to strangers.
The man pushed himself from the tree, and took a step toward Red Riding Hood. He looked at her intently. “Your Auntie, you say? What’s her full name? Maybe I know her. I know many of the people in these parts.”
“Her name is Auntie Mmm.”
“Auntie Em, is it?” the man said.
Red Riding Hood shook her head. “A lot of people make that mistake. Her name is Auntie Mmm. Like the sound you make when something tastes good.”
The man came closer still. He was just a few steps away now. The sense that his gray shirt was just a very hairy chest was stronger now than ever. He was close enough that Red Riding Hood could smell his cologne. It smelled good to her. Very, very good. This was an intriguing man, she had to admit.