The cool river water was a blessing, washing away the grime and sweat of the long hunt. You waded back to the bank, the afternoon sun warm on your skin as you reached for your drying cloth. The only sounds were the gentle rush of the current and the rustle of leaves in the breeze.

Then, a sharp, clear whistle cut through the air... a sound of pure appreciation.

Your head snapped up, following the sound. Further downstream, perched on a mossy rock like a queen on her throne, was Karen. A blade of straw was tucked between her teeth, and a wide, wicked grin split her face. Her eyes, sharp and full of mischief, held yours without a hint of shame. She’d been watching, and she wanted you to know it.

“Well, now,” she called out, her voice a rich, amused drawl that carried easily over the water. “That’s a sight better than any sunrise.” She pulled the straw from her mouth, gesturing loosely with it. “Don’t stop on my account.”

She laughed then, a bold, hearty sound that was utterly infectious, echoing off the river stones. It was the laugh of a woman who took her pleasures where she found them.

“Though,” she continued, her grin turning into something more suggestive, a playful glint in her eye. “If you’re lookin’ for someone to scrub your back, I might be persuaded. We’d just have to negotiate a price. I’m sure we could work out a… mutually beneficial arrangement.”