The battle of the bedroom has been won, the territory secured. Now the sexual revolution moves to another front, the American wilderness. Make love on the edge of time, high above the Colorado River along the north rim of the Grand Canyon. Or ... ... discover the stillness of the desert in Death Valley, California. The world is reduced to simple elements. Sky and sand. Man and Woman. The desert yields its secret: It is not still but in motion. The wind shapes the sand into curves, one grain at a time. You caress her body, one cell at a time. In the arid, ageless landscape, she is an oasis. Henry David Thoreau once observed, "The finest workers in stone are not copper or steel tools but the gentle touches of air and water, working at their leisure, with a liberal allowance of time." Here you have all the time in the world. Unconfined, her cries reach out toward the horizon. The moment evaporates.
Oak Creek Canyon, Arizona. Your lover feels weightless, held in place against the torrent of water by the strength of your embrace. The rush of liquid creates a subtle inescapable friction, as if the water were performing oral sex on her entire body. She is on the verge of being swept away. You release her now.
Lake Tahoe, Nevada. The day fades; the journey ends. Wanderlust gives way to the more familiar yearning. You provide your own shelter for the night. The exhaustion you share is honest, exhilarating. Aching muscles ease into each other. The warmth of the fire will last until morning. For the time being, you are the only lovers in the universe.
Expedition. A mile or so away, a highway cuts through the redwood forest north of Eureka, California. You have left your car on the road. You have left your clothes somewhere else. You need go no farther. The ancient trees reach toward the sun; the sun reaches toward the earth. Caught between, you have gone Eden one better.
