This short story is a work of fiction. Any correlation between it and real people alive or deceased or events is purely happenstance. This tale is a longer story; it is over 17,000 words.
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Hunter watched the across the street neighbor as Ms. Fields pulled her car out of her driveway and drove down the quiet suburban street; Hunter had waited for her to leave. The scores of American robins were chirruping from their nests in the trees of the well-established subdivision. It was seven forty-five in the morning. He waited five additional minutes to ensure she had not forgotten anything and was truly gone. His parents had left for the month. They were house-hunting in South Dakota. They were planning to retire early there. The pace of the Northern California high-cost lifestyle did not agree with them anymore. They were off looking to grass; they considered more green, a recent pastime for many Californians. California was experiencing a mass exodus.
They left eighteen-year-old Hunter to his own devices at home in Contra Costa. Hunter figured to waist the entire summer. His future was unknown, and he felt slightly depressed by the uncertainty. Hunter spent a lot of time daydreaming; Hunter fantasized about everything and imagined future greatness. He was the hero of his mind. Real-life was not so glorious; in truth, Hunter was a shy nerd. Hunter did not make friends easily, so he did not want to move to South Dakota. Hunter had no real plans, but leaving California and his few hard-earned friends was not the future Hunter wished to live. He was still hyper enough to enjoy the California pace; he felt accustomed to the anonymity of the large population numbers.
At seven-fifty, he snuck across the street. He could smell the freshly mowed grass of the manicured yards; the gardener crew had worked through the neighborhood the day before. His eyes scanned up and down the empty street, as he prowled towards Ms. Fields' yard and around the side, traveling down the curved concrete path towards her back yard. The honey bees gathered pollen on the vibrant pink flowering Myrtle shrubs as Hunter passed them.
He was wearing his old navy blue board short style swim trunks, a white T-shirt, and sandals. He struggled to scale the redwood side fence due to his short stature. Ms. Fields' locked tall wooden gate could not hinder his trespass. Hunter could smell the chlorine as the sun shone on the surface of the water. He wanted to swim right away. Hunter took off his shirt and sandals. He quietly slipped into Ms. Fields' pool; The water was cold on his hot skin. It felt perfect on such an intensely hot day. He knew he should not be taking such liberties, but who would know? Hunter listened to make sure no one was in the adjoining yards. It was already hot that day in the tri-valley, and everyone was inside in his or her air conditioning. The only sound he heard was the cycling of A/C units.
Ms. Fields had the most magnificent large pool. A perfectly crisp and clear blue round-cornered rectangle of liquid perfection, Hunter loved swimming. Sunlight sparkled off the round in-ground hot tub adjacent to the shallow end of the swimming pool. A blue fiberglass diving board stood valiantly ready at the deep end. Smoothly curved edge tiles bordered the blue water. The cold refreshing pool surrounded by a red tile paved deck had the usual furniture. Two umbrella tables with four brightly cushioned chairs each and two similarly appointed chaise lounges were there. Ms. Fields had a new outdoor couch, which was the current fad. Two striped green canvas table umbrella edges hung still on a hot windless morning; He wished his parent's yard contained a pool. Tall redwood fences ensured his privacy. He had snuck into the neighbor's yard for the last three days to swim clandestinely—the only thing he loved more than swimming was swimming naked.
Since he felt it safe, he took off his trunks and reveled in the free feeling of the water on his naked man bits. He put his trunks on the edge of the pool by his shirt and sandals. He dove deep to the bottom of the concrete pool. Soaring naked under the water, he felt as if he was flying, free and effortless like a bird. He surfaced to swim the backstroke; Hunter exposed his genitals on the surface. The wickedness of exposing himself so blatantly was addictive. He became aware of how loud the splash of his arms rotating for the backstroke sounded. This revelation sapped his nerve, and Hunter turned over to return his genitals safely under the water.
There was a black hard rubber diving ring at the bottom just where he had left it the day before. He dove down and retrieved it. He swam on the surface with the black circle to where he could stand once more. He kept his back to the deep end and threw it over his shoulder, The diving ring sunk randomly back to the deepest part of the pool. Hunter did this repeatedly as he dived for it many times. He played this diving game with himself. Though the exciting feeling of water on his nude flesh aspect thrilled him, after several minutes, the game became onerous, and he bored with the activity.
He got out of the pool and dived back in. He got out at the shallow end and ran to the deep end to dive in. Each time he grew bolder, he spent more time nude out of the water. His balls bounced up and down as he ran. Though he loved the nudity, He dared not use the diving board. It would be excessively loud. He loved the thought of potential naked exposure but did not want to get into real trouble. He put his clothes farther away from the pool onto a chair. He wanted to increase the sense of danger. A dog barked, and he returned to the pool and stopped to listen as his heart pounded; Hunter hid against the wall of the swimming pool. It was a false alarm. He went back to his naked escapade, and the water felt amazing on his bare skin every time he returned to the cooling liquid. His nude swim thrilled Hunter for the rest of the morning.
He grew hungry. He decided he better put his shorts back on and go home for lunch.
Just one more dive, he thought.
Hunter dove to the pool's bottom, only to surface and look for his clothes. Finding his clothes had vanished, Hunter looked around the yard frantically and began to panic.
Where could my clothes have gone, he wondered
. He stayed in the water for a few minutes to think over the loud beating of his frightened heart.
Maybe I can jump the fence and dash across the street without anybody seeing me, Hunter thought. That seemed extremely risky, and Hunter did not want to try it. He decided he should wait until after dark.
Ms. Fields watched him from inside the house, devilishly enjoying his distress.
He saw the sliding door open, and Ms. Fields came out. Hunter pressed himself to the side of the pool in a futile effort to hide. He slipped silently under the water and held his breath. Hunter ran out of the air and returned to the surface. Ms. Fields was still there and scowling at him. Ms. Fields, still wearing in her professional attire, wore a sheer white blouse and medium-length blue skirt. Ms. Fields looked young for her age, though she was older. She was not nearly as old as Hunter's mother. Her full red lipstick encased lips frowned as she approached. Hunter found her shapely body sexy; he had often fantasized about Ms. Fields.
"Did you lose something?" she asked, smirking at him in her fading English accent.
"My clothes are gone," he said.
"I have them," Ms. Fields said curtly.
"Can I have them back?" Hunter pleaded.
"No, did you ever notice anything distinct about this light?" Ms. Fields asked, pointing to a floodlight over her head.
He looked at the light for the first time. The porch light was a ring of LEDs around a security camera lens. The hidden camera shocked Hunter; she must have video of him naked out of the pool. His face went white as his mind sifted out the calamity of his predicament.
"I have recordings of you swimming and gallivanting nude at my pool without permission," she said sternly in her sexy accent.
He felt nauseous.
What will happen now? Will she have me arrested?
"Public nudity is a violation of civil code in this city as is trespassing," she said.
"Please don't turn me in. I will never do it again," Hunter said.
"Not so fast, first get out of my pool and come here," she said.
He got out of the pool as the water ran off his small lean muscular body. Hunter stood next to her, dripping water onto the red ceramic tile pool deck. He tried to cover his genitals shyly with his hands. She towered over him by several inches; Ms. Fields stood five feet eight.
"Hands at your sides," she ordered as she slapped his naked and wet backside.
The blow stung his naked butt cheek, and he quickly put his hands at his side. His exposure embarrassed him. He liked being exposed, but not like this. He savored the idea of maybe being caught much more than now actually being found nude. She looked up and down his naked body with her blue eyes. He felt humiliated by how lovely she was. Her sexy eyes could see everything, and he knew it. He had never felt so shamelessly exposed.
She knew what he was feeling. She relished tormenting him. Hunter's anguished face thrilled her. She brushed her short brown hair out of her lovely face and tried not to reveal how pleased she was to catch him naked. Hunter was too consumed with his humiliation to detect any signals from Ms. Fields.
"When you are dry, we will discuss this inside. Stand here facing the glass door and dry off. Do not cover yourself. I do not want you dripping on my hardwood floor. Do not come in until you are dry. Do you understand?" Ms. Cheri asked.
