(This story is inspired by a prompt idea from Sierra Kummings – great idea, thanks!)
“Your timing sucks” her voice was rather distant. She had no desire to restart the travesty of this tryst. Weeks had become months, and right now as she was just entering the freeway for the Poconos she could not believe the irony of the moment. Paul, the guy who brought her through the winter doldrums had called her out of the blue. She regretted telling him in the early moments of the conversation that she was being ‘ordered’ to the cabin by her husband. Paul was incessant, yet she was long past the need of his manipulation to assist her waning sensuality.
“I can be there by midnight, I really need to see you” he said, his voice the pleading tone of a 12 year old missing his favorite toy. He spoke of the planets being aligned, and then he magically whispered he missed her tits in the worst way. Yeah, Paul always had a way to go right for the romantic jugular. Jenny was now convinced. She thanked him for the surprise call, and then kindly asked him to please lose the phone number. Knowing his penchant for paranoia, she knew she wouldn’t hear from him again, and with a disconnect, she was alone with Mark Knopfler jazzing up the beltway to the family cabin.
A year had passed since the last time she and Spencer had been to the cabin. She imagined the wine, the candlelight, the passionate embrace of a man she feared she no longer knew. She loved him because she wanted to, not because she had to. Their children now college bound, were healthy and happy, yet, somehow things with Spencer had been drifting for months. Thus, Paul came into the picture at the perfect time. Her workload had increased with the online sales, and she and he put in many long hours, the kind that eventually make it ok to bang each other on the conference table to end each night before dragging home to their own separate lives. Spencer had his own delicious legal aid at his bequest for weeks before she’d decided to take the leap. Then came the accident. Somehow seeing him hanging on for dear life reminded her of the man she’d fallen in love with decades earlier. When he came out of the two week coma, he recognized her and smiled. Together they chose the quaint reality of their second chance and decidedly moved forward, dedicating their time to each other. The only thing still missing was their sex life.
The drive moved from late afternoon to the setting sun peeking through the mountain vistas. She would arrive around 8 PM, and the surrounding area would be relatively remote. Vacationers were not quite ready to overwhelm the area, so her peace would be her own. She imagined uncorking a bottle and a lone yard chair and the sunset.
She then imagined her fingertips, unconsciously sliding along her inner thigh while she planted her left foot on the dash. She wondered if she would show any lonely men and then motor away on the freeway in the next couple of hours. A smirk came across her face, and her fingers traced a new dampness on her panties that would gradually soak themselves by the time she hit the gravel of the cabin road. Smiling more, she realized how relaxed she was already, along with feeling remarkably horny, but not for Spencer, nor for Paul, here is where the yearning returned, and she couldn’t figure out why. She loved to touch herself casually while driving, always careful to maintain her dignity to passersby, knowing that later she could finish in the privacy of her land.
By the time she hit the gravel her fingertips were soaked. She slid her fingers out from between her legs and wiped the dampness off on the hem of her sundress, chuckled a bit at the fade in the material in that very spot where her juices would often be discreetly taken care of after a long drive. To the onlooker you would never know by the paisley design of the fabric, but she knew, and this was exactly why she wore this sundress for the drive.
The cabin was dark, windows open, sunlight streaming through the maples and pine. Their neighbors were a quarter mile away, the trail hadn’t been groomed so she knew the area was deserted. She pulled up the car, stepped out with an overnight bag and keyed her way into the dark cabin. The smell of winter mixed with spring pine was evident, and her serenity began to take hold immediately. The stove was readied with kindling so the light of a match began the slow purr of a delicious evening of relaxation. The covers were pulled off of the summer furniture and thrown in a corner and she laid herself on the couch and finished her travel’s in a matter of minutes, explosive, wet, an animalistic moan of such strength she later smiled at the beauty of her privacy in the middle of the woods, entertaining the animals. She closed her eyes and was fast asleep.
What felt like hours slipped by, when she was awoken to laughter. Her nervous response caused an immediate need to cover her nakedness, pulling a wrap around, she stood up to look out to the wooded lawn. What she discovered next would be a certain reality that would now move her life toward that journey she’d been trying to figure out for months, but just the surreal nature of the sight caused an immediate calm – Sarah Murray was lying back in a lawn chair, a copy of Anais Nin open on a naked thigh, her legs open to Jen’s eyes, another hand twirling her hair, and that infectious smile she’d missed for so many years, since the day she’d hung herself from the clothesline in the Murray’s neighboring back yard.
“No, no I can’t. I must be losing my mind,” she thought to herself. She couldn’t get over the general peace that had suddenly come over her. She should be terrified, but instead, she smiled and began to move toward the screen door, keeping Sarah in her sights …
(to be continued)