I was awake, and Paula had drifted off so I got up, made some coffee, and decided to take a walk and see how many flamingos I could find.
It was a warm morning and a big campground. Inside the first fifteen minutes, I saw a half-dozen flamingos and exchanged waves with one couple I recognized from last night's party. I pulled the names, Marie and Randy, from my memory.
Randy waved and walked over. He was about 50 and one of those guys who obviously spent a lot of time in the gym.
"Hey, Dave," he said, "barbecue here this evening, bring your guitar."
I grinned. "What time?" I asked.
"Come on by around 5 o'clock," he said.
"It's a date," I said.
I exchanged "good mornings" with a half dozen people, making sure to greet their dogs too as I continued my tour, finding the laundry room, bathrooms, playground, and swimming pool. I dipped my toe into the hot tub beside the pool and found it satisfactorily hot and promised myself some hot tub time later.
I had reached the office and begun the return part of my tour when a striking strawberry blonde stopped me. I had noticed her last night and dug through my memory bank to come up with Estelle. In the sketchy light last night I had guessed her at 50 something. In the daylight, though, it was clear she was closer to my own 69 and I would not have been surprised to find out she had passed three-quarters of a century. But she was striking, nonetheless. She was matronly, about 5'7", and thick. She had a pretty, round face, very jowly, with oddly smooth skin giving her eyes an interesting look. She was very busty and in her ankle-length dress - the word "beachwear" came to mind - and honest to God parasol, it was obvious she did wear a bra.
As I say, striking.
She came directly to me and did the two-hands-on-the-arm thing women do to stake their claim on a man. I was almost embarrassed for her husband, Stan (Sam?), as he stood aside, watching, but he was smiling.
"David," she greeted me like we were old friends, "are you coming to Marie's barbecue tonight?"
"Wouldn't miss it," I said, flashing my best grin.
"Oh good, bring your guitar, I can't wait to sing along with you," she said.
Then she giggled and said, "I'll be waiting, dear. I don't want to lose out to Charlotte again."
"It's a date," I said for the second time that morning and wasn't really surprised when she kissed me, more than a goodbye peck.
A few sites up I stopped to watch as a 40-something was setting up a long travel trailer. He was going about it methodically, much as I did in fact, so he was doing it right. When he had everything set up he opened the back of his Yukon and surprised me by pulling out a wheelchair. He went around to the passenger side and lifted out a pretty woman, much younger, I assumed it was his daughter, and set her in the chair.
Her arms and hands worked, and she rolled around, looking at the site.
He did a walkaround, just as I always did, and then surprised me by opening the door, reaching inside, and putting a big plastic flamingo on the corner of his indoor/outdoor carpet.
He sketched me a good morning wave and then leaned over and said something to his daughter. She turned, smiled, and waved. I waved back and continued my tour.
In all, I spotted 23 flamingos on display during my morning constitutional. That made it about ten percent of all of the rigs I saw, surprising me at how many there were.
Back in the trailer I made a second cup of coffee, turned on the TV and found Fox and Friends, opened my little Google Chromebook, and went to work on a paper I was writing. I write papers for lazy college students. The few thousand dollars a year I make hardly qualify as a part-time job, it's more a hobby. But it covers our lot rent most years. This morning I was putting the finishing touches on a paper about the economy of Guatemala. I know - YAWNNNNNNNNNnnnnnnnnnnn. The Fox News crew was delivering their morning dose of fluff and hard news.
It was a little past nine when Paula came out of the bedroom, yawning and scratching making me chuckle.
She is NOT a morning person.
"Mornin' bright eyes," I said, chuckling.
"Mmmmppfgahhh," she replied.
She grabbed the remote, found the Roku channel, and put on her latest binge-watch choice - Grey's Anatomy. I was barely aware as Grey and Yang and Izzy and George and Alex worked their way through the day's drama. I was busy writing my conclusion.
Around 10 she stirred, two cups of coffee and a bagel inside of her. She bent, kissed me, theatrically lifted an arm and sniffed, went, "ewwwwwwwwwwww," and headed for the little shower.
The shower in the travel trailer is not big enough for two, so I didn't join her as much as I enjoy bathing her.
A half-hour later she came back into the front room, still naked but clean, made up, and hair fluffed nicely.
She sank to her knees before me, closed the laptop and set it aside, laced her fingers together, and laid her chin on them, her elbows on my knees.
"Say it," she said.
After 40 years I'm pretty good at reading her mind.
"I don't hate you," I said.
Her eyes were holding mine as she said, "David, it was different. It wasn't better but it was different. And I loved it. But if you're at all uncomfortable we can stop. But please don't hate me." She got that all out in what I was pretty sure was a little speech she had been composing all morning.
I smiled, reached over and put the laptop on the side table, patted my lap, and said, "come here."
She climbed up onto the couch and laid her head in my lap, smiling up at me.
I stroked her hair, brushing a few strands away from her face.
"Did you do any talking last night?" I asked, "or was it mostly just sex?"
She giggled and said, "well, there wasn't much talking. Hell, Todd's not very bright actually. Just one of those ivy league kids who landed a Wall Street job and has been doing well while everything was going up. Personally, I figure he'll be broke if he ever needs to do any actual thinking."
I chuckled.
"But," she added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "he DOES know his way around a woman's body."
"Slut," I said, grinning.
"I knowwwwwwwwwwwwww," she said, smiling, drawing the word out.
"Well," I said, "the lovely and interesting Charlotte and I DID do some talking. Well, more like she talked and I listened."
"Oh?" she said, all interest now.
I told her the things Charlotte had told me. The matriarchy thing. The one-time thing. I took my time, wanting to make sure that we were both, as they say, on the same page.
When I told her of Charlotte's, well, her "summons" to Tommy and what he had done Paula was squirming a little.
"You SLUT!" I said, grinning at her as I slid my hand down and found her wet, "you're enjoying this, aren't you?"
She giggled but didn't say anything for a few moments, and I was done talking for now.
"Is that," she said, at last, her eyes holding mine, "why you did what you did when I got home?"
I thought about that for a minute.
