The first month of fall on Cape Cod hosted by Debra, his only aunt and her husband Gene had come as one of those invitations only a newt would decline, so Danny Fellows quit his job as a financial consultant and headed for the US, figuring to stay in for six months -- spending the other five months wandering around.
Entry was no problem because although he was a New Zealand national his parents were American; his mom had traveled to Debra's home then in San Francisco to ensure Victoria was born in America. His mom arrived four days to spare and the expected 'Victoria' turned out to be a Daniel (Danny) -- Victoria came along eighteen months later. Twenty-seven years of mainly good times went by and the cheerful young man with passions running deep left for his third visit to the US but this was his first to the east coast.
To Danny's dismay, within two hours of checking into his LA hotel he received an urgent phone call.
"Hi Danny, it's Aunt Debra. How are you?"
"Tired."
"Well don't go chasing young women all hours and your tiredness will magically disappear," she cackled. "Listen, could you postpone you visit for a couple of months? Gene's sister in England has died so we're going for the funeral and plan to stay a few weeks roaming around. Sorry to drop this on you dear but deaths rarely are convenient."
"I'm in LA, arrived less than three hours ago."
"Oh my, what do you want to do?"
"Stay at your summer house as arranged -- I won't wreck it."
It was arranged that the visit should proceed; the door keys would be left with the neighbors, the Blake's. He was told Charlotte Blake would be asked to keep an eye on him.
The flight from Boston in the 9-seater Cessna of about thirty minutes filled Danny with a sense of holiday adventure because it was low flying and so a scenic, particularly when the elbow-shaped Cape Cod came into view. He was surprised at the great length of the cape, The plane landed at the very tip and it was a short ride to his destination of Provincetown, known as the landing place of the Pilgrims in 1620, Nowadays it's famous as a popular summer resort and for trips out for whale watching.
Danny knocked at the address of the Blake's in the short street between the arterial Bradford Street and main seafront commercial thoroughfare thoughtfully named Commercial Street. A disheveled young woman of about twenty-two answered the door giving him anything but a welcoming smile,"Yes."
"Charlotte Black?"
"It's Blake - no, my mother and father are visiting friends in Barnstable."
"I'm Danny Fellows, Debra Shirley's nephew. I'm here to pick up the key to her house."
The young woman disappeared for thirty seconds without a word, returned with the keys which she handed to Danny and closed the door, again without speaking.
"Rude bitch," he muttered, leaving the house, which showed need of some repairs, and repainting and turning into the smart three-level house next-door where Uncle Gene obvious kept well up with maintenance. It was painted white with blue trim and flair in design gave it character not matched by other elderly dwellings in the street. His aunt and uncle lived there five to six months of the year and the other months lived in their retirement apartment in Florida. He unlocked the door muttering "Rude bitch" again.
A stack of notes awaited him on the kitchen table. Danny found beer in the fridge so uncapped a bottle and sucking his wet lunch began reading. The first was a note from Debra welcoming him, saying he was lucky arriving in early fall, as the summer crush would be over. If he saw men walking round arm-in-arm or women behaving amorously he was not to worry -- there was nothing wrong with the water; Provincetown had acquired the tag of a top holiday destination for gay men and lesbian women. 'We conventional couples have learned to live with it.'
Gene had written out a pile of instructions regarding the operation and maintenance of various amenities including air-conditioning, boiler, securing the house, the bicycles and recommended places for eating and shopping.
Gene wrote: 'Replace everything you use' while Debra had scrawled under that, 'You just use anything you wish; you're our guest'. Some houses were virtually touching and some did so there were no side views, the backyard was small and uninteresting as was the property behind it. Debra had left a note pinned to the bed in the master bedroom -- 'Sleep here Danny'. It had an en suite that probably was once a study as it had a second door out to the passage. Narrow stairs led to the loft which was essentially a storage area but there was a sofa and coffee table at one end at the floor to ceiling windows and he found out why -- it was higher than neighboring buildings so there were great views along Commercial Street and out into Cape Cod Bay. A note on the table from Debra stated: "View great sunsets and boating activity from here."
In the garden shed he found two near-new mountain bikes and grinned because he knew from pre-visit reading there were great bike trails on the peninsula. Debra's note read: 'Try to lure Chelsea Blake out for a bike ride; she's recovering from a near rape. Watch Charlotte -- she has a reputation for being amorous with a penchant for young men'.
Later when out for a stroll to look over the township Danny optimistically purchased some condoms in case Charlotte took a fancy to him - "If I could be so lucky," he grinned but he wasn't worried. During his arrival and brief walk he'd already noticed the females seemed to outnumber the males. When having coffee on the waterfront he received several stares and even soft smiles from women.
Back at the house Danny started to read a 'Things to Do around Provincetown' and he dozed off, only to be awoken by somebody thumping on the door. He opened it and a woman virtually pushed her way in. She turned and said, "Ohmigod."
"What?"
"You."
The woman was looking at a closed cropped blond guy with tight natural curls, about 6ft two in height with pale blue eyes, square jaw below the friendly smile and a body that appeared to be in peak condition.
She stepped forward and kissed him on the mouth, pushing her chest against him harder than necessary, he thought, to ensure he felt her big tits. "Hello -- I'm Charlotte," said the attractive forty-two or perhaps forty-three year old devoid of make up, even lipstick, with a bit of a belly and a dress far too short for her age but her pins appeared great.
"P-pleased to meet you," Danny said, stepping back and feeling trapped, although the door was still open.
"Welcome to our little patch Danny. Dinner will be at 7:00 -- no need to dress or bring anything. My husband's name is John and our daughter Chelsea lives with us but has become a recluse, doing little but read and paint. John and I hope your presence will help bring her out of her shell. Three guys took to her on the beach last summer when it was still light but a couple of gays who heard her screams came to her rescue -- thank God. So be prepared for strange behavior but she does answer when spoken to. I think I'm going to like you, I mean really like you."
Right, I have condoms. Danny thought that but actually said, "It's lovely meeting you Charlotte -- I hope to see a lot of you."
She looked bemused and went to say something but thought better of it. "Till seven then, you have a cute accent."
Charlotte answered the door knock, kissed Danny and placed his left hand on her breast. "Oh, goodness me what am I doing," she whispered, removing his hand. "My thoughts are racing away on me."
Dark-hair John was slim, friendly and worked in coastal marine inspection based back towards the more populous centers of the cape. He poured Charlotte a gin and tonic and he and Danny choose beer; they most listened to Charlotte until Chelsea arrived at 7:25 to assist her mom serve.
"This is lovely," Danny said as Charlotte handed him his plate of fish pie and greens.
"There's more or leave some if it's too much," she said with the openness of old-fashion hospitality.
Glancing at the younger woman he said, "I met you this morning. I wasn't aware your name was Chelsea."
"Yes."
"Will you walk though the town with me tomorrow pointing out places of interest?"
Charlotte and John exchanged alarmed looks and there was no immediate answer.
"You'll be safe with me."
"Not tomorrow -- next day if that's okay?"
"Yes, I'm here to relax rather than to rush into everything."
She looked up from her plate. "Do you like art?"
Charlotte and John looked at their daughter in surprise.
"Yes, my preferences are portraits and landscapes. Do you paint?"
"Yes, but only portraits and landscapes."
Danny was aware Charlotte was struggling to contain herself and hoped she wouldn't butt in; she didn't but it appeared to be a struggle.
"My understanding is they are different disciplines; you must have the right type of mind that gives you the required flexibility."
"I'm only average but improving -- come see examples of my work," Chelsea said standing and walking from the table.
Danny looked at Charlotte who was smiling hugely; she waved him off and he excused himself and strode after Chelsea. She gathered up her long skirt to negotiate the stairs and he could see she had her mom's great lower legs. Danny assumed under those voluptuous clothes lay a flat belly and a great pair of tits; she didn't look over-weight.
"I was almost raped last summer."
"I know, Aunt Debra told me and asked me to try to coax life back into you."
Chelsea was silent for a moment and then, "You call a spade a spade."
"What is there to hide? If I'm coming on too strong for you tell me to bugger off."
"What?"
"Oh -- it's a New Zealand expression used to emphasis the request to go away."
Thinking about that Chelsea said, "I don't want you to go away."
"That's fine -- I'm here for a month. Just keep calm with me, tell me if I'm pushing you too hard and be open to gradual re-immersion."
"What's that?"
Danny said she knew what he meant and she said shyly that yes, she did.
The upper floor comprised a storeroom, bathroom and a huge area with large end windows and skylights that was both her bedroom and studio. One wall was almost completely covered with framed paintings. There was an array -- some much better than others.
Danny looked at them slowly and she stood beside him, not quite touching, looking at each painting as he viewed it, neither of them commenting until the inspection ended.
"I call this display my development years; frankly some are quite awful. Now we shall look at paintings I have completed since last summer; I didn't paint for two months after that shocking experience -- just read and cried, refusing to go out. But one day I felt like resuming and began painting and knew I was painting much better, as if I'd matured."
