Tuesday, August 1, 2017

Wasted Energy

Funny thing about “Slut Talk” the story I posted the past two weeks. It corraled more negative comments than most stories… but it also got more page hits than normal. So someone must have liked it.

This week, we’ll go for a short one. See if this reminds you of anything from your salad days.

Courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

          I yelped as the flat-bottomed fishing boat yawed wildly with every step I took. “Dammit, hold the boat still!”
          Dominic already stood on the landing, holding the rope that kept me from floating away. As I bent to pick up the cooler holding our lunch and our beer, the little dingy see-sawed like a teeter-totter with a couple of maniacs on either end. When he reached down and relieved me of my load, I took a step backward. My foot hit the side of the boat, and just like that, I went for an unplanned swim. The cold water dragged a shriek out of me that echoed hollowly up and down Fishhook Lake.
          Dominic hadn’t had anything to do with my tumble, but him standing on the landing with our food and booze, laughing and practically dancing a jig in glee didn’t put me in a mind to be reasonable. I stood in the shallow water and shook my head to clear my eyes.
          “You jerk! Why’d you do that?”
          “I didn’t do anything. You tripped over your big feet.”
          I didn’t answer but leveled a look he could read as clear as day. “Give me a hand up.”
          “My mama didn’t raise no idiots. Wade up to the shore and get your own self out.”
          I let him think he’d won and started for dry land. As I came alongside the landing, I grabbed his leg and lunged back into the water. He went in head first and came up sputtering. Instead of being mad, he turned playful, lunging at me and trying to take me under.
          To tell the truth, I didn’t mind because his hands went everywhere, sometimes places they weren’t supposed to go. Dominic was the best-looking guy in the senior class at Hellespont High, and we’d spent many nights together in bed doing delicious things that he didn’t know anything about… because he was in my head.
          Eventually, we got tired of the shenanigans and crawled out. Wasn’t anything to do but to shuck our clothes and let the sunlight dry us off. That didn’t work too well because, in spite of the warm day, the early spring breeze coming in off the lake had a chill to it. I opened the basket of food my mom had fixed and pulled out the tablecloth she always put in.
          Once it was around my shoulders, Dominic muscled his way into half of the thing…which rendered it useless. He fixed that by sliding around behind and snuggling up against my back. A skyrocket went off and rattled around in my chest and belly. I couldn’t handle this naked, handsome hunk of a guy pressing up behind me. I reacted. Didn’t think he could see what was happening, but he did because he wrapped his hand around my growing excitement.
          “That all it takes to get a boner? Some guy hugging you from behind.”
          I swallowed hard and cleared my throat in an effort to talk. “No, all it takes is you hugging me from behind.” There now, I’d said what I’d been thinking for two years.
          He pulled the damp cloth from around us and spread it on the ground. Then he lay down on his back, giving me a good look at him. Awesome. Intimidating. When he held his hand out to me, I collapsed in his arms without protest.
          “Aren’t you afraid somebody will come along and see us?” I asked.
          “Sam,” he said, his cheek nuzzling mine, “that’s why I paddled all the way out to Ware’s Landing. There’s never anybody here.”
          “You… you planned this?”
          “Didn’t quite know how I was going to get to this point, but I was going to make it somehow.”
          “And here I thought we’d just wasted a bunch of energy paddling clear across the lake.”
          “Not at all,” he said in a low, intense voice.
           And then we did all those delicious things I’d dreamed about.

I hope this reminds you o something pleasant and exciting from your past. Let me know if the story strikes a chord. My email is markwildyr@aol.com.

Thanks for being a reader.


The next blog on the first day of the succeeding month at 6:00 a.m.

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