The Lake

FIFTEEN

With a shush of hull against sand, the boat skidded to a stop. Leigh and Charlie swung their oars in, resting them on the stern seat.

“Well,” Charlie said, “here we are.”

Leigh nodded, a little breathless from the rowing.

“You like it?”

“Just fine,” she said. Except for its opening not much wider than their boat, the inlet was surrounded by high trees. It looked totally isolated. It was a far better place than Leigh had hoped for. She smiled at Charlie. “In fact, it’s terrific.” Peering over her shoulder, she saw that they had landed on a dim stretch of sand. “It’s even got a beach,” she whispered.

“That’s ’cause it used to have a house. Still does, only no one lives there.” He got up from his seat and stepped to the bow. There, he lifted the anchor and flung it. The concrete block hit the sand with a quiet thud.

“I’ll be right with you,” Leigh said, still in a whisper. This place made her whisper. She went to the stern. Bending over, she felt the shirttail slide up, felt the soft breeze on her buttocks, wondered if Charlie was watching.

Her nightgown was a damp wad. She shook it open and spread it on the seat to help it dry, then walked the length of the boat and hopped down. The sand felt soft and warm under her bare feet. She moved closer to Charlie. She was breathing hard now, but not so much from the rowing.

Just beyond the small patch of beach, the trees began. She saw a few lightning bugs drifting among them. Her gaze wandered up the wooded slope. The dwelling was barely visible among the trees: squared-off corners of darkness, a cabin or shack.

“You sure nobody lives there?”

“Want to go up and find out?”

“Not especially.”

She stared at Charlie. She wished there were more light so she could see his face. His deep-set eyes were lost in shadow, his lips a blur. For a terrible instant, he was a stranger. Then she touched his face, and he was Charlie again. Her trembling fingers wandered down his cheeks, his jaw. As they settled on his shoulders, Leigh stepped against him, drew him closer, and kissed his mouth.

His lips felt rigid. She slid her tongue along them, and they parted slightly. The tip of his tongue met hers. She flicked at it, then sucked it into her mouth. Moaning, Charlie put his arms around her. He squeezed her tightly and opened his mouth wide, lips pressing, tongue filling her mouth.

Leigh squirmed, caressing his smooth back from shoulder to waist, then clutching him closer. He was tight against her, chest hard against her breasts, flat belly pushing hers as they breathed, the button of his jeans digging into her skin.

Charlie’s hands felt enormous on her back. But they didn’t move. They stayed up, just below her shoulder blades. Leigh wanted them moving, exploring. She wanted them under the shirt, on her skin.

It’s all right, she told herself. He’s new at this. He’s never been with a girl before, doesn’t know what to do, or knows but is frightened.

She slid a hand down Charlie’s back and pushed her fingers under the waistband of his jeans. He didn’t have underwear on. His buttocks were smooth, firm mounds.

“How about if we… take a swim?” he asked.

“Great.” Leigh pulled her hand out. “I didn’t bring my swimming suit. Neither did you.”

“That’s okay,” Charlie said.

“What will I wear?”

“You can wear my shirt if you want.”

“I don’t want to get it wet for you.”

“I don’t mind,” he said. He let go of Leigh. She eased away from him. She put her hands on his sides. “Do you want to help me with the buttons?”

He unfastened the two buttons, spread the shirt open, and stared at her. Leigh closed her eyes. She felt the shirt slip off her shoulders, its sleeves glide down her arms. She stood before Charlie, naked, trembling, waiting for his touch.

“I sure wish it was light out,” he said in a husky voice, “so I could see you better.”

“There’s always Braille,” Leigh whispered. Charlie just stood there. Opening her eyes, she reached for the button of his jeans.

He pushed her hands away. “Go on and get in the lake,” he told her. He didn’t sound annoyed, just nervous.

“You don’t have to be shy,” Leigh said.

“I’ll be right in.”

“Okay.” Turning away, Leigh walked down the sand. The water washed over her feet. She remembered its chill when she dove from the pier. It didn’t seem that way now. It felt as warm as the night air.

“Now, don’t look,” Charlie said.

“Okay, bashful.” The water rose around Leigh with mild caresses. She caught her breath when it lapped the joining of her legs. Then she leaned in, left her feet, and glided forward. When she sought the bottom again, the water was neck high. She let her arms drift to the surface. She stared out at the line of trees ahead, the narrow moonlit mouth of the inlet.

Soft splashing sounds came from behind. She waited for Charlie’s arms to encircle her, his hands to find her breasts. She waited for the feel of his body against her back.

He swam past her, only his head above the surface, then turned to face her six feet away. “This sure feels good,” he said. “Nothing like a night swim.”

“Come here, Charlie Payne.”

He laughed softly. “Betcha can’t catch me.”

Leigh didn’t feel like playing games. “What are you scared of?”

“Not it! You’re it!” His head turned away and he started to swim.

“Damn it, Charlie.”

“You ca-an’t catch me,” he chanted over his shoulder.

“Don’t think so, huh?” Muttering, “Shit,” she lunged forward, dropped beneath the surface, and swam underwater. She passed through a chilly current. She went deeper. Her lungs hurt, but she kept going.

She pictured Charlie treading water. His long legs. His penis.

She should almost be to him.

The water stirred against her. She heard the muffled sounds of splashes. He was making a getaway.

Seems like he’s always trying to get away.

Leigh surfaced, gasping, her face splashed by Charlie’s kicks. She darted out a hand. Grabbed one of his ankles, pulled. “Gotcha!” Tugging the ankle, she reached higher and clutched his leg. She expected to find skin. Instead, there was denim. “Hey!” She hooked fingers into a rear pocket and yanked. Charlie slipped backward. He twisted around, freeing himself. “What’s the big idea?” Leigh demanded.

“Huh?”

“You’ve got your jeans on.”

“So?”

“Well… for one thing… what makes you think they’ll be dry by morning?”

“Guess they won’t be.”

“You gonna tell your mother… how they got wet?”

Charlie didn’t answer. Obviously, he hadn’t thought about that. Leigh eased herself backward until her feet found the rocky bottom. Charlie moved closer. He stood, the water just lower than his shoulders. “It takes a long time for jeans to dry,” she said. “If you give them to me right now, I’ll wring them out for you and hang them up. Maybe the breeze…”

“I wouldn’t have nothing on.”

“That’d make two of us.”

“You think they’ll dry out in time if they’re hung out?”

“Maybe.”

“All right, but…” He didn’t finish. His shoulders moved slightly, then he ducked beneath the surface. His movements under the water sent currents brushing against Leigh. He was below for a long time. His head finally popped up with a burst of water. He thrust the jeans toward Leigh.

“Don’t go away,” she said, taking them and wading for shore.

That little ploy sure did the trick, she thought. She still felt a little annoyed that he’d kept his jeans on in the first place. It was cheating. It was also pretty damned peculiar. How many guys, in his place, would’ve stayed in their pants with a naked girl waiting in the water? Zip, that’s how many.

So what’s new? He’s been peculiar from the start.

Never been with a girl.

His mother’s got him so screwed up… Well, this time it backfired on her. If Charlie wasn’t so frightened that the wet pants would give him away, he might’ve never taken them off.

Leigh waded out and stood on the beach, her back to the inlet. The breeze made her shiver. She gritted her teeth at the feel of cold droplets trickling down her skin. As quickly as possible, she twisted each leg of the jeans. She wrung the jeans with all her strength. When she shook them open, the fabric was still wet but no longer dripping.

To reach the nearest trees, she had to leave the beach. Twigs hurt her feet. Undergrowth snagged her ankles. She looked up at the dark shape of the cabin, wondering if it really was deserted.

What if somebody…?

Don’t start.

He might be hiding among the trees, watching. A hand inside his overalls…

Don’t worry, Charlie’s here.

Here? Out in the water.

Would he come and help if someone rushed out?

A quiet, crackling sound came from the slope. Leigh stopped. A tree was only a few steps ahead. Her eyes studied the dark woods, but nothing seemed to move. She wanted to glance back and see how far away Charlie was, but she didn’t dare. If she looked away, even for a moment…

What the hell am I doing here?

You’re trying to hang up Charlie’s jeans.

What am I doing here? My God. I swam out to this guy’s boat in the middle of the night and now I’m standing here bare-ass like some kind of maniac. I must be crazy. I should be back at the cabin asleep. I should be home in Marin, asleep. Jesus H. Christ on a rubber crutch, what am I doing here?

Trying to get laid by Charlie, that’s what.

Which he’s afraid to do because his mother wouldn’t like it.

And even if he was eager, you’re nuts to be going for it this way. You don’t even know him. He’s definitely a little weird.

Forgetting about the threat from the woods that had so unnerved her a few moments ago, Leigh stepped close to the tree. She reached up and draped Charlie’s jeans over its lowest branch.

She turned away and started back. Charlie was still in the lake. He looked as if he’d been cut off at the neck.

Leigh’s nightgown was a pale shape spread over the stern seat of the rowboat. She walked toward it.

She pictured herself putting it on.

Game’s over, Charlie, take me home.

He wouldn’t come out of the water without his jeans.

You could go back for them.

You could leave him here and walk back to the cabin. Just follow the shoreline, then make your way up to the dirt road.

Standing by the boat, she stared down at her nightgown.

Do it, she thought.

She bent over and picked up her nightgown. The breeze caught it, lifting and rippling its weightless fabric.

“What are you doing?” Charlie asked.

I don’t know, Leigh thought. God, I haven’t the slightest.

She pressed the nightgown to her front and held it there, covering herself.

You’re really going to call it quits?

It never should have gone this far. I was out of my mind.

She heard quiet sloshing sounds. “Leigh?” Charlie was wading closer, the black of the water dropping.

“What’re you doing?” he asked again.

“I think I’m ready to leave,” she said.

You think?

“What for? Don’t you like it here?”

“It’s awfully late,” she said.

Late. How lame.

Charlie stopped. He was bare to the waist. Just another step or two, Charlie. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing.”

“You mad at me?”

“No. It isn’t you.”

“You’re mad at me ’cause I left my pants on.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Well, they’re off now.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Leigh said.

She stared at the dark surface in front of him. Of course it doesn’t matter, she told herself. Oh sure.

“I should’ve took ’em off,” he said. “I knew I was s’posed to. I was just too yellow, that’s all. I’m awfully sorry. I wanted to, that’s for sure.”

“Charlie, we shouldn’t be like this.”

“I guess not. But I don’t want us to leave, though.” He waded out. He walked up the beach, hands crossed to cover his groin. “Cold,” he whispered.

Leigh draped her nightgown over the boat seat and went to him.

You were going to leave, she reminded herself. What are you doing?

Her heart thudded. Her mouth was dry. She met Charlie and put her arms around him. His wet skin felt cold. His arms went around her back. His open mouth found hers, and his tongue pushed in. She squirmed against him, moaning with the feel of his penis pressing thick and hard against her belly.

Where their bodies met, the chill went away. The skin of his back was still wet and cold. Her hands moved down to his buttocks. Charlie, following her lead, moved his hands down to her rump. They felt big and warm.

Soon, Leigh took her mouth away. Kissing the side of his neck, she reached behind and took his wrists. She eased away from him. She lifted his hands to her breasts, and trembled at their touch. His hands were callused but gentle. Leigh closed her eyes. She clung to his hips as he caressed her. The hands glided over her breasts, enclosed them, held them tenderly, tightened and squeezed, roamed them, exploring, then squeezed again.

“Kiss,” Leigh muttered.

He crouched. She held his shoulders, and he kissed her left nipple. His tongue thrust. Leigh moaned as he sucked the nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling and probing.

Fingers in his wet hair, she urged his head closer. Her breast felt engulfed.

He rubbed her thighs. His mouth went to her other breast, and his hands moved higher as he licked the nipple. Higher until his thumbs stroked the creases of her groin.

Leigh’s grip tightened on his hair. Charlie made sucking noises tugging at her nipple. His hands swept over her hips, around her buttocks, the backs of her legs, then up again, curling in and pressing. With a gasp, Leigh locked her knees to keep her legs from buckling. Her breast was drawn deep into his mouth. One of his hands went away and came to the front. Its edge pressed her vagina. She shuddered as it sawed back and forth, rubbing, opening her, sliding between her folds, slick and hot. His thumb rose into her.

“Charlie,” she gasped.

His mouth pulled away from her breast, leaving it wet and tingling. “Does it hurt?”

“Hurt? No. Dear God.” She hugged his head between her breasts. His thumb pushed and circled. His hand pressed hard, part of it rubbing her clitoris. She squirmed on it.

Then she released his head and squatted. Charlie sank to his knees, his thumb still inside her. He curled his other hand behind her neck to hold her steady. She reached between his legs. His penis felt huge. Her fingers enclosed it, slid down its length. She gently squeezed his scrotum, glided her palm up the underside of his shaft, then let herself fall backward onto the sand.

Charlie loomed over her, kneeling between her bent legs, holding himself up with stiff arms. Leigh stroked his sides. “In me,” she whispered. “I want you in me.”

“You sure?”

“My God.”

“I mean… you won’t get a baby?”

“It’s okay.” Probably, she thought. She had already counted. Her period was due in four days.

Charlie pressed down, his hips forcing her thighs even farther apart. She dug her heels into the sand, lifting herself to meet him.

His penis rubbed her. It moved slowly, spreading her, barely inside, sliding along her slit. Then it began to ease in. Leigh thrust up. The penis filled her.

Charlie’s tongue pushed into her mouth. She sucked it. His tongue was in her, his penis was in her. She possessed both, and they possessed her. She writhed. His tongue thrust and retreated, matching the strokes of his penis. She gasped through her nose. She heard wet sounds and Charlie moaning. She dug her heels into his buttocks. He rammed deeper, and suddenly went rigid. Leigh sucked his tongue hard. Her insides quaked with the feel of him all the way in, jerking and throbbing and pumping a flood.

She cried out into his mouth.