And I mean it. For years, finding a yeti has been my single-minded obsession. The center of my universe. But lying here now, with Ace’s weight a comfortable presence on top of me, with the smell of him in my nose, with his cock still warminside me, I realize there might be more to life than proving the existence of a mythical creature.
Because this is better than finding a yeti.
This is the greatest discovery of my life.
EPILOGUE
FOUR MONTHS LATER
Istand in front of a lecture hall full of anthropology students and faculty, my hands only shaking a little as I advance to the next slide.
The footprint fills the screen behind me. A massive, human-like foot, each toe clearly defined in the smooth snow.
“This print measures just over twenty inches in length and nearly ten inches wide,” I say, turning back to face the audience. “You can see the clear toe separation and the plantigrade foot structure. The depth suggests a weight of somewhere between seven and eight hundred pounds, though estimates vary widely.”
I click to the next slide—the trail of prints leading into the forest.
“We documented a total of 147 prints over a quarter-mile stretch. The stride length averages just under nine feet, which gives us a rough estimate of the yeti standing approximately eleven to twelve feet tall. These numbers are subjective, of course, but they give a clear sense of the sheer size and power of this creature.”
My eyes drift to the third row, where Ace sits in a button-down shirt, the sleeves rolled to expose his muscular forearms.His blue eyes meet mine, and he gives me a quick wink, a subtle flash of white teeth.
I try not to smile, but I can feel a flush crawling up my neck. This is a packed room: graduate students, professors from other universities, a journalist from National Geographic. And yet, the person in the room I’m most aware of is him.
Even after four months, the sight of him still does something to my insides. A warm, heavy feeling in my stomach. A tingle at the base of my spine. I thought it would fade, this insane attraction, this obsession. But it hasn’t. If anything, it’s gotten stronger.
The expedition continued for another four days after that night in the cave. We never heard the call again, and despite our best efforts, we never saw another sign of the creature. We found no fur, no feces, no other tracks. It was as if it had vanished into thin air, which is, I suppose, exactly what you’d expect from a creature that has successfully evaded human contact for centuries.
“We also heard vocalizations,” I continue. “Deep, guttural sounds that didn’t match any known species in the region. Unfortunately, the recordings were completely overwhelmed by the blizzard conditions. All we captured was static.”
Ace’s cock. That’s what I was capturing with my body while the yeti was calling. I press my lips together to keep a grin from breaking out. The irony is not lost on me. I had the academic discovery of a lifetime right outside my tent, and I chose to stay inside and get my brains fucked out instead.
A hand shoots up. “Why didn’t you go investigate the sounds further when you first heard them?”
My face heats. Ace is grinning, his chin resting on his fist, watching me.
“We... assessed the situation and determined it was too dangerous to leave our shelter during the storm,” I say, which istechnically true. Just not the whole truth. “Safety protocols are always the top priority in the field.”
The student nods, seemingly satisfied with my answer. I take a sip of water, trying to cool the heat in my cheeks.
Ace has been a fixture at my small, cluttered apartment since we got back. He’s finished with his semester and done with basketball season for now, which means he’s free to spend most of his days lounging on my sofa, drinking my coffee, and critiquing my research notes.
He’s also become an expert at distracting me from my work. Usually by taking off all his clothes.
“You’re too tense,” he’d said this morning while I was trying to revise this very presentation. He came up behind me, wrapped his arms around my waist, and nuzzled my neck. “You need to relax.”
Then he bent me over the arm of the sofa and helped me relax so hard the sofa scraped across the floor and knocked over an entire shelf of books.
Afterward, while I was catching my breath, sweaty and panting, he looked over at the pile of papers scattered around the floor.
“How did that happen?” he asked innocently.
“There was some kind of seismic event,” I said, and we both dissolved into laughter.
I move through the rest of the material: more photos of the prints, the map marking each discovery, our expedition timeline. Questions pop up throughout, and I answer them as thoroughly as I can.
Someone in the back asks, “Do you think you’ll go back?”
“Definitely,” I answer. “This summer, actually. We’ve secured funding, and we plan to expand the search area and spend at least six weeks there.”
