‘Want a bump?’ Were the first words I’d heard that morning since I’d struggled out of my tent and wandered barefoot for a drink. I turned to witness brunette beauty with short-cropped hair and wide-eyed wonder.
‘It’s eight in the morning …’ was as far as I managed before she produced the powder and helped herself. ‘Why not?’ I wondered aloud as I followed suit. She smiled and mouthed ‘you’re next’ as I turned to see the queue had come to an end and I was indeed next to be served.
The gentleman in the food cart was less than impressed as I rubbed my nose and ordered a coke, less than forthcoming with the change and less than eager to accept an extra order of ‘whatever she’s having.’
We walked a few feet and sat on the grass. Her name was Sam, she was a lit student from down south and had hitched her way to the festival. ‘The odd fucker tried it on, but I told them I was saving myself for Christ,’ she said with a smile and a glint to the eye.
It was the morning of the second day and the sun shone bright, the sky was clear, cliché ruled all. Folk were beginning to wake and emerge and stretch and mingle and a crowd soon sat, the ground was rife with chatter as birds welcomed the odd offering.
She made a peace sign in the dirt and spoke of religion with contempt, I picked a dandelion and offered a wish for the abolition of all, and we laughed as seed blew away with the breeze.
Sam stood and offered a hand and so we stepped toward the main stage, down the hill past flowered folly and windswept wonder, and teeth that shone from smiles wider than imagination could produce. Her index finger stroked the inside of my palm as we engaged others in cautious conversation, as waves were offered and heads nodded in kind.
We passed the stage and walked toward an open field as she spoke passionately of the orgasmic high one feels when great music reveals oneself, the depth, the purity, the moment of pure atavistic pleasure that arrives so rarely but leaves one with memory of pure consolation.
We arrived and disrobed and lay in the field, she placed some powder on her finger and stroked her lips, a little on my cock and we rolled in the fields as I rubbed a thumb across her cheek. I saw God and she smiled as Joplin wailed sweet delight.