Renee's words hurt but not as much as I knew as they should. I sensed something was wrong. Her attitude had changed over the last month, after she returned from a family camping trip. She was less affectionate towards me, less attentive when we were alone.
"I've found someone," she told me. The words shocked me, but didn't cut me. There was no dagger to the hurt, no stomach upset. I didn't beg her to stay with me, didn't act childish. I could have shown her the two acceptance letters, the two novels I wrote and submitted while we dated, show her that I, too, can make the money she needs to live "in a lifestyle commensurate to her well-being". I did none of that, I acted appropriately and left her apartment.
Yes, there were tears once I sat in my car. Who wouldn't if the person you thought loved you told you they no longer did? After taking ten minutes to wallow in sorrow, I collected myself and headed to home. I knew what I needed to do, to improve my feeling and to get Renee out of my mind. I needed to go to the family cabin at Charlotte Falls. This was where I needed to go to recharge my batteries and begin to move forward.
The cabin had been in my family since 1939, when the New York City socialite owner passed away and willed it, the artificial lake – a swimming hole in reality - and surrounding land to my grandfather, the only person in Charlotte Falls that who treated the woman with honor and grace. When he passed away in 1963, the property passed to my father and his siblings, though only he and an uncle were willing to pay the taxes and keep up the land.
Over the years, they repaired and remodeled the cabin, adding a second bathroom and a third bedroom. My Uncle Francois had no family of his own, my aunt passing away a month after I was born and he never remarried. He treated my siblings and I like his own. When I turned 18, he gave me a key to the cabin, telling me to use it whenever I wanted, to use it as a getaway, and as a place of solitude when I wanted to write.
I drove up the freshly rolled gravel driveway to begin a new chapter in my life. I had my writing supplies with me – leather-bound journal, legal pads, pens, pencils, thesaurus, and dictionary – in case the Muse struck. I had my trunk filled with food, drink, and sundry items. I had clothes, picnic blanket, and beach towels not so neatly packed in a duffle bag and large suitcase. I even had a lantern. This wasn't camping per se, but I prepared myself for it. I parked the car by the side door, closest to the kitchen, and began to unload.
By the afternoon, everything was in its proper place: clothes put into the master bedroom chest, writing items on the desk, food in the fridge and cabinets, paperbacks and hardcover on the back porch. I made and took my lunch of a sandwich and cold can of Dr Pepper outside. I took a bite of the sandwich before I picked up the paperback anthology of science fiction short stories. Before I could read, I noticed that someone had a blanket and picnic basket across the lake.
The family owned the property surrounding the lake, up to and including the pine and ash groves that separated the water from the town property. I didn't know who had the picnic, but I needed to.
As I approached the picnic, I heard female voices coming closer, coming from the woods. One I recognized as that of bookstore owner Emma Van der Heyden, the other with a soft and almost indistinguishable Southern inflection was unfamiliar. Lottie, as everyone called Emma for reasons I wasn't sure, stepped out of the pines.
"Oh hi, Nicholas," she said, startled. Regaining her composure, she looked at me with her deep blue eyes and smiled. "I bet you're wondering what we're doing here."
"That had crossed my mind."
She grinned knowingly before widening her eyes. She turned to her friend. "Oh, I am such an ill-mannered person. Nicholas, this is my friend Annalise De Bruyne, visiting me from Georgia."
I looked to her left and saw a wide smile on a round face. Her eyes were brown, as was her hair. Like Lottie, she was wearing a t-shirt and shorts, clothing used to walk through the woods.
"I'm Nicholas," I said as way of introduction.
"I'm Annalise, but Lottie already said that." She offered up her hand and I gently squeezed it. She was nervous: her palm was sweaty. I looked into her eyes and saw something familiar, something that I saw when I first met Renee. It couldn't have struck twice, could it?
Lottie smiled at me, "Your Uncle Francois has been letting some of us use the pond on hot days this year. He didn't think your father would mind."
I took my eyes from Annalise and nodded. "Yeah, I don't think he'd mind. Not when it's left alone for long stretches of time."
Lottie nodded. "What are you doing here, by the way?"
I sighed, unsure of telling her I lost my girlfriend of two years the day before, that I was here to recharge myself, my soul, and possibly get some new story ideas written. I looked at her and let my smile wash away. I decided to be honest and open to the woman who had been more than a business owner to me: she was one of the reasons why I began to write. "I had a breakup with my girl," I answered.
Lottie reached out and touched my arm. "I'm so sorry." She pulled me into her body and wrapped her arms around, held me tight. "If there's anything I can do for you, just let me know," she whispered into my ear.
"I am sorry," Lottie's visitor added. She gently touched my elbow and sighed. "You're too young to have this happen."
I thanked her. "If either of you need anything, the doors are open," I added. Both women smiled and thanked me. I left them to their picnic, to their lake and sun time, and returned to the back porch.
I took a sip of the soda before picking up the book and tried to read. They had me distracted. I knew it should be over the fact that my uncle had opened the other side of the lake to the townsfolk, but it wasn't. It was Lottie and her guest. More specifically, it was their bodies.
Lottie grew up in Charlotte Falls, spending her entire life there except for her four college years in Virginia. In college, she met the man that eventually would be her husband. I saw her almost every weekend when I came with my family to visit one of my sisters or his brother. She worked at her parents' bookstore when she returned from college and took it over once she married. When she divorced, she dropped the married surname of Best and returned to Van der Heyden.
I never thought of her in the way most young men would. I knew she was large chested and possessed lovely hips, but to me, she was always just Lottie, the woman who pushed me to write. As I was considering what to study in college, she suggested that I minor in either American Literature or English, something that would help my writing. I took her advice and, while majoring in Computer Science, minored in English Language Arts. She was the first person I called when I received notice that I had both of my books published.
I looked across the water and saw that she had removed her t-shirt and shorts. She stood behind the blanket and smiled. She looked fantastic in her dark blue one-piece swimsuit. Her large breasts pushed hard against the fabric. I concentrated, wishing for her to turn around. I wanted to see what her ass looked like. She granted my wish: Lottie turned and displayed her ass. My dirty mind wandered off, until her friend stood.
Annalise was taller than her friend, only by an inch or two. She stood with self-confidence as she removed her sundress. My jaw dropped when I saw this woman wearing a bikini. The white fabric didn't strain as it did on Lottie, but it left little to the imagination. I knew that once she exited the water, I would get a better view of what was underneath.
I pretended to read, watched them walk to the edge, and hoped they would enter. Both reacted not well: the water was cold. They retreated some and spoke to each other before running in and diving under. When they rose, I saw Lottie facing me, her friend away, and the sight that my friend gave me shocked me. Her wet swimsuit was semi-transparent.
Lottie's breasts were large, bigger than I had imagined. They were round and dropped slightly, something that I adored. Her nipples were stiff, hardened by the water's temperature. I noticed her areolae were darker than her nipples, though now large in circumference.
My attention quickly shifted Annalise. She rushed out and to the blanket. I caught her wet ass and was not disappointed. As I thought, her body showed through the fabric. I saw her ass perfectly as she swayed to the blanket, to retrieve her towel. When she turned, I looked down. I saw her triangle dark and thick. An evil grin came to my face as I thought of her nude sitting on my bed as I walked into the room.
"You're a pervert," Lottie called out, noticing me looking. I could only smile and shrug my shoulders.
"I hope you like what you see," she added, not attempting to cover up. She smiled naughtily and stepped backwards towards the shore. She gave me a great look at her body, an excellent view of her breasts, her belly, and as she stood on the shoreline, her pussy.
