Lottie Gets Away: Banff

Dear reader,

Thank you for taking a few minutes to read my story. I hope you enjoy spending some time with Charlotte (or Lottie, as her friends call her) as much as I've enjoyed bringing her to life.

I'm considering sharing more of Lottie's adventures, so I'd love to hear what you think. If you enjoy this story, please let me know!

This is an original work. All characters and events are entirely fictional.

Happy reading!

July 2026

The campsite sat empty. It offered a small clearing for her tent, a stone firepit, and that was it.

To Charlotte Reynolds, it was perfect.

Peace. Quiet. Relaxation.

Not much privacy though.

The west side of her campsite was a barricade of small trees and brush, but the campsite on the east side was no more than twenty-five feet away. For a moment, she hoped it would stay empty the next few nights, but she knew how busy Banff National Park was. She would have company very soon.

I guess you're making some new friends this weekend, Lottie.

She actually didn't mind having people around, as long as they were quiet. Maybe a young couple enjoying nature... But if they start boinking, I'm gonna hear it. Or a small family that's too busy exploring to spend much time at camp... No screaming little kids please.

Charlotte was familiar with sleeping in less than ideal conditions. She had stayed in more huts, campgrounds, and hostels than she could remember.

She had long since lost count of the number of times she'd overheard people having sex nearby... To be fair, they've heard me a few times too... and was pretty sure she'd heard a murder happen down the hall one night in Amsterdam.

Recently, however, she'd been staying in nice hotels - concierge, bell service, linen sheets. She didn't need to be pampered, but she wasn't as young as she used to be. Sleeping on a paper thin mattress or patch of dirt didn't hold the same appeal it did in her 20s. And, honestly, she had the money and figured she might as well spend it on herself.

She checked her phone, relieved to see she had one bar of cell service. She had texted her parents from the airport to let them know she had landed safely, but sent another, "Campsite is nice. Safe and clean. It's so beautiful here. I'll text you from the airport on Sunday."

She hoped that would help them worry less.

Charlotte had spent most of her life planning her next trip. From two-week Antarctic excursions to trips like this - a three-night jaunt to Banff - she always had a suitcase packed.

Sometimes she did get a little uneasy about traveling by herself. It was usually fine, but she had to admit there had been a couple times when things had gotten scary - the teenagers who stole her purse in Chicago, the CEO who wouldn't take 'no' for an answer in Boston.

It didn't help that her parents constantly worried, repeating in her ear that "the world is a dangerous place".

But none of that stopped her. You only live once, Lottie.

In just the past few years, she had been to China, Thailand, France, Switzerland, Iceland, and various parts of the United States. A trip to the Italian Alps was already booked for January.

Her colleagues teased her that they were going to start playing the game "Where in the world is Charlotte Reynolds?"

She didn't always travel alone, though. Over the years, traveling for both work and pleasure, she'd made a few male acquaintances who always jumped at the chance to join her if she asked.

Her friends called them "friends with benefits".

She called them "travel partners with dicks".

She didn't ask very often, though, only when she was feeling especially needy in that way. Most of the time, she just wanted to be alone. Her job was deadlines and tough conversations, so she usually preferred quiet trips without any distractions.

She tried to tell herself that was all she wanted on this trip - peace, quiet, relaxation - after a couple stressful days of board meetings and budget planning. But her inner voice was persistent, Are you really going to pretend you aren't horny, Lottie? When exactly was the last time you got fucked?

She heard a squirrel tumble through the brush. Trying to catch a glimpse, she turned her head. She didn't see the squirrel, but did notice the sun sinking in the western sky.

Better get to work.

She spent the next hour setting up her tent and gathering small sticks for her fire. The Lake Louise campground offered complimentary firewood, but she knew from experience small sticks and dried brush were the necessary ingredients for starting a fire.

Just as the sun touched the horizon, she heard footsteps coming up the trail.

She raised an eyebrow as a man turned the corner. He looked around, clearly bewildered, before locating his campsite. Charlotte noticed the way his sharp cheekbones cut a shadow above his strong jawline.

Well, what do we have here, Lottie?

The man had dark hair with a touch of gray on the sides. Quickly moving up the trail, he had the stride of a young man, despite carrying the lines of someone in their 40s. As he reached his campsite, his head turned in her direction. His brown eyes widened when he saw her.

He raised an arm to wave, a generous smile spreading across his face, "Ciao!"

Her nipples hardened against her shirt. She knew it wasn't the cool breeze circling the campground.

"Son of a bitch," Charlotte whispered to herself, her weekend of solitude suddenly becoming more interesting.

She offered a big smile and returned the wave.

........................

For the next thirty minutes, Charlotte sat on an old log, drinking wine and pretending not to watch her neighbor fight a losing battle with his tent. It was impossible not to find it funny when he spent most of the time being outsmarted by a bundle of poles, stakes, and a tarp.

When it was finally set up, he triumphantly raised his hands and offered in her direction, "Successo!"

She offered a playful thumbs-up and couldn't help but notice the lean muscle in his arms. He was exactly her type - the old cliché of tall, dark, and handsome - and she knew that her interest in watching him put up the tent was driven by more than the comedy of it.

Twenty minutes passed with the man milling around his campsite. By the time Charlotte tossed a couple more logs on the fire, the sun was fully beyond the horizon. The new moon failed to shine any light on the campground, leaving a blanket of stars to decorate the sky.

The man took a few tentative steps in her direction, clearly trying not to startle Charlotte.

"Excuse me, my name is Marco."

His Italian accent was strong.

"Hi Marco. Charlotte."

"Hello, Charlotte. I hate to bother you, but do you have something to start a fire with?"

She looked down at the small handful of sticks still remaining. The dried brush had all been used.

The temperature was dropping quickly. It had been near 80 degrees during the day, but Charlotte guessed it had already dipped into the 50s - much too cold for him to sit at his camp without a fire.

"You know what... the fire here is big enough for both of us. Pull up a log, amico."

Marco tilted his head in thought for a moment, before releasing a genuine smile.

"Thank you, Charlotte," he said as he turned toward his campsite.

When he returned to the fire, he was carrying a bottle of wine and two large kabobs he had pulled from his Styrofoam cooler.

Is that a kabob in your pocket or you just happy to see me?

"Bon appétit... least I can do is provide wine and food for your hospitality."

"Well, I do like wine and food."

........................................................

They quickly devoured the food and then spent the next two hours talking and drinking.

A heart surgeon at Policlinico Gemelli in Rome, Marco had just attended a medical conference in Calgary, speaking on advances in heart failure management.

He had completed medical school in Toronto twenty years earlier. This was his first time back to Canada.

"My friends at university always told me I had to see the mountains, so with the conference being scheduled in Calgary, I decided to take a few extra days."

"It's my favorite place. You won't regret it."

His eyes lifted from the fire to meet hers, "It's beautiful."

Charlotte wasn't entirely sure he was talking about the national park, causing her cheeks to turn pink.

Marco's eyes lingered, tracing the lines of Charlotte's face. It would appear his interest in his campsite neighbor went beyond her willingness to share a campfire.

Charlotte was wearing a stocking cap, her straight blonde hair falling past her shoulders. She wasn't beautiful in the traditional sense perhaps - her nose a touch crooked, her chin a tiny bit too wide - but the sum of her parts never failed to catch the attention of men.

As the conversation continued, Marco kept looking at her while she spoke, smiling at her jokes and clearly interested in what she had to say.

"What do you do for a living, Charlotte?"

"Corporate world. Senior Vice-President of HR for a mid-sized tech company. Sound boring, I know." A sheepish grin crossed her face.

"Not at all. How did you end up there?"

"I'm actually a lawyer. Ivy League. The whole big deal." She laughed softly. "I tried the lawyer thing. I tried to stick with it, but spending the rest of my life tracking billable hours wasn't for me. So I got out and discovered that what I really want to do is take care of people and help them be successful. So that's what I do now."

"I'm not so different from you. That's why I love being a doctor. I take care of people so they can lead happy, successful lives. I did a bypass on a guy last year and before I left for the conference, he called to say he'd recently completed a half-marathon."

"That's amazing, Marco. I'll drink to that." Charlotte reached over to clink her mug against his.

The fire popped as the last piece of firewood split and crumbled into the coals. They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

"What's on your agenda tomorrow? I regret to tell you I'm going hiking so you won't have the entertainment of watching me fumble around camp." He offered a small laugh at himself.

"Fairview Lookout. It's my favorite hike here and it's been a few years since I've done it. What about you?"

"Plain of Six Glaciers Trail."

"Wow - that's almost 10 miles. You must be the adventurous type."

The wine had gone to Marco's head a little, and he answered in his best flirty voice, "I'm always looking for a new adventure."

Charlotte's heart skipped as she pushed her hair behind an ear.

"Well, Marco, adventures in Banff are here for the taking if you're willing to give them a try."

Now it was Marco's turn to blush.

"Good to know. Thank you again for the hospitality. I enjoyed meeting you. I hope to see you around camp tomorrow evening."

"I'll be here. And considering how close our tents are, I don't think you'll have a tough time finding me."

"Good night, Charlotte."

"My friends call me Lottie."

"Oh, ok. Well, I hope we become friends before I head back to Italy on Sunday."

She watched Marco crawl into his tent. A light from a flashlight appeared briefly inside, then vanished.

"Good night, Marco," she whispered into the night.

She crawled into her own tent and burrowed her way into her sleeping bag. She felt a surge of desire circle through her body before settling between her legs.

Been way too long since you've gotten laid, Lottie.

The thought of having a man next to her burned brightly, but she knew she didn't want just any man.

She wanted Marco.

........................................................

The chickadees woke early the next morning and their songs pulled Charlotte from her sleep. She crawled out of her tent with a decent hangover, rubbing her eyes in the morning light.

There wasn't a cloud in sight, the mountain sky already turning a beautiful royal blue. She made some terrible instant coffee and looked toward Marco's camp.

The tent flap was unzipped and the backpack that had been resting against his cooler was gone. He had already left for the day.

Charlotte felt a pang of disappointment, but pushed it away by reminding herself that she was there to decompress, not chase after some guy. She quickly ate a protein bar while packing her backpack and then headed out for the day.

She walked the lakeshore for a bit before coming to a sign that pointed hikers toward various trails. The Fairview Lookout trail veered off to the right. She took one step in that direction, but then something else on the sign caught her eye.

"Plain of Six Glaciers Trail