Dan Harris looked down the tree filled bank carefully, working hard to see without being seen. The mid afternoon sun shone hard on the vegetation, making the late spring greenery glisten with vitality, and the water of the little pond at the bottom of the hill he called Peachtree Lake shoot flecks of accusation his direction. It seemed nature itself knew what he was doing was wrong.
Swimming in the water below was Brenda Kearns, a once famous actress whose life had led her to Dan's little world. Her grey hair spread out in a fan as she swam just below the surface, and plastered itself to her head as she surfaced to breathe. Her skin was a little darker than when she arrived, and her body slightly thinner. Dan had a direct view of most of the lake, and watched as she swam nude back and forth, ducking down from time to time and rising up again.
She got out of the water and walked to a small bit of grass on the bank next to the water. Laying on her front, she offered her body entirely to the sun to dry it. She was average height and weight for a woman in her early 50's, her breasts sagging and her skin beginning to wrinkle. He watched her, leaning around a tree trunk, his eyes glued and almost unblinking. Her body made sensuous flesh colored curves that augmented the gently sloping lawn, and he dreamed as his eyes traveled every slope of her backside. It was almost an Eastern meditation to watch the sun gradually dry her hair.
When Brenda arrived in Dan's trailer park three weeks earlier, he was shocked to find that her career had taken a nosedive since her series was cancelled in the '70s, and more shocked to find the woman he adored would have no interest in him sexually. His direct experience with lesbians was minimal during his career in the Air Force, but he knew enough to know she was running a Mac program and he was a PC.
Yet, the night they met, she was overwhelmed by his devotion to her career, and gave him a topless late night show outside his window. He tossed and turned that night, not knowing what to think, his libido confused and his heart beating a love call unknown to him for 20 years. She was a fantasy that sustained him through many lonely times, when his quest for feminine companionship failed time after time. Her face stimulated him when no other stimulation was near, and helped him discharge his pent up energy when his batteries were full.
They fell into a routine: they left for work and returned at different times, so it was easy to leave things for the other without direct contact. Dan left a couple of tomatoes and other spare vegetables from his little garden on her kitchen counter every morning before he went to make his rounds driving the OATS bus. He would return from work to find a fresh flower in a vase and two chocolate kisses on his counter. She went swimming in the pond every day just after he returned from work, and after she was safely in the water, he would take his hidden spot behind the foliage to watch her play in the water and sun herself, taking care to return to his trailer when she put on her clothes to come back up the hill. If they were outside at the same time, she working on her flowers, he in his Victory garden, they would chat about local happenings and the weather, and he would fill in the gaps of her knowledge of small town America.
A prick in his armpit woke Dan from his reverie. Feeling the skin, he found the tick that fastened into his flesh. This was part of the price for his voyeurism: ticks grew very well in the trees near his trailer, but not close to the water for some odd reason. He pulled it out expertly, and crushed its head between his fingernails. When he would fish the pond for crappie, catfish and bass every morning, he never had to protect himself; when he began watching Brenda's daily sunbathing he would have to pull two or three off each day he forgot to use his repellant.
This day was different. It was a Wednesday, almost three weeks to the day after their first encounter, and Brenda had just returned from a mysterious trip. She had disappeared the previous Sunday evening and returned late Tuesday night. That morning, in addition to the flower and chocolates, he found a framed, autographed picture of her from her youth, inscribed: "To Dan, my most faithful fan, with all my love, Bren."
She turned over, brushing herself off. Her tummy had gained a little more definition in the past weeks, her legs thinned, and her face more lean. "This place is agreeing with you, Brenda my dear," he whispered to himself as a breeze tossed the branches for a moment. Her breasts rolled outward, her nipples settling almost in the crook of her arms, making her sternum seem abandoned. His pants began to tent, and his breathing grew a little more heavy.
Glancing at his watch, Dan withdrew from his hiding place and ducked inside for a quick sip of water before starting his truck for a second trip into town that day. He'd taken a temporary job driving a bus: every dollar he could make was important, every dollar he could save a necessity. As his truck wound its way down the track that led to the rest of the world, her figure lurked in his mind, bewitching him more than she bewitched his imagination in her prime.
When he returned after midnight, the other two trailers in his little park were dark. Turning on the light as he entered his trailer, he found a note on his counter: "I need your help. BK" For a moment he was worried, then concerned what she might need. He almost went across the lot to knock on her door, but remembered she had to work early in the morning, and if she needed immediate help, she wouldn't have turned out the lights and gone to bed.
Dan entered Josie's the next morning around 9:00AM and waved hello to her. She smiled and came over to give him a big hug, which she had never done before. "How're ya doin', Dan?"
"I'm fine, Josie. How're you?"
"Doing just fine, Danny boy, just fine. Ya want coffee?"
"Thanks."
"Have a seat in th' usual place and Bren'll set ya up." Dan looked around the diner, and found only two other customers, a couple on vacation sitting at the far side of the restaurant, completely involved with one another.
Brenda came out in her clean uniform, a big smile on her face and a cup of coffee in her hand. "You want a menu, Dan?"
"Nope."
"The usual?"
"Yep."
"I'll put that in, then I want to talk to you."
Dan started sweating: "she's found out I'm snooping on her and wants me to quit," he thought to himself. "I'm just a sawn off little runt who's 68 years old and been lonely too long. How many women want a grey haired man who's life's mostly over. Either she'll gonna call th' sheriff, or move 'less I straighten up." He looked around nervously, but the couple across the way still ignored him, and Josie smiled at him as she folded silverware into napkins.
Brenda came back out and sat down across from him, looking at him with concerned eyes. "Haven't seen much of you this week, Dan. Where have you been the past three nights?"
He shifted nervously in his chair. "Been takin' a church group to a revival 70 miles away. Lotsa singin' 'n prayin' 'n preachin' and people waving their arms in the air, babblin' like babies, shoutin', hollerin' 'n fallin' over. Damn near wore me out. Din't get home 'til late."
"Did they cause you any trouble?"
"Hell yes, that damn preacher tried to stiff me. Asked: 'Haven't you felt uplifted by this experience? Hasn't it be a joy and a privilege to be part of this awesome, Spirit filled movement. Don't you want to donate your fee to our church for the privilege of being part of this inspiring experience?' I said 'shit no, I got bills to pay. Gimme my money.' Took the bastard forever to stick a crowbar in his wallet, but I waited him out last night. He finally peeled off th' greenbacks and thanked me for my service."
She sighed and patted him on the hand. "Do you have to go again tonight?"
"Hell no, I'm done with them."
Looking aside and taking a deep breath, she said: "I have to ask a favor of you."
