This was my graduation present from Bennett. He was the loud one, the guy with a story (and, for some of us, a bawdy song) for every occasion, and always larger than life. The last time I saw him, at my graduation, it seemed impossible that I might be an eyebrow taller than him – but his personality was still twenty feet tall. His cottage was the family party spot five months of the year, including family on other sides that I barely recognized. In fact, I'd never recognize them except at Bennett's cottage. So, when he gave me the keys for a five day weekend, this was kind of a big deal. "You only graduate once," he said in his pontificating voice. Then, so only I could hear, "and you might not have her forever. Make her happy." He nodded toward Gail. She blended in perfectly at the celebration: lovely in herself, gracious to everyone, and quietly away from those little family moments, conspicuously looking elsewhere with a distant smile. I'm equally sure that Bennett noticed the loose gray blouse and flowing black pants that accented and concealed her willowy figure, all at the same time. She had a magical knack of doing the least, but doing it perfectly.
So, we drove. We'd been together for a while, but were still feeling each other out. She loved uncle Bennett, though, so I knew we'd get along. We chatted easily on the way up, and looked forward to a few days between the grind of school and the grind of our new jobs. We stopped for groceries, including way too much wine, and I was very happy to see her head to the produce section first. The car had three times too much stuff in it for just us, just for one long weekend or short week, but we didn't care.
The weather cooled as we drove north. Clouds built up after we left the interstates, and rain started before we left paved roads. It got pretty bad by the time we got to the rutted lake road. Rain pounded the car as we pulled into the driveway, pooled with standing water. I stopped the car and we looked at each other.
"Umbrella?" she asked.
"Uhh, no."
"Poncho?"
"Sorry."
"Well, I'm water-washable."
She kicked off her shoes so they wouldn't flood in the driveway and went around to the back hatch of the car. I had hadn't quite had time to respond, so she had a wet, barely-tolerant look on her face by the time I opened the all the doors. Once she decided that the rain was there to stay, she was a bit impatient about any hesitance on my part. She'd stand there, flowing wet, for as long as it took me to do something intelligent.
We moved boxes of groceries into the cabin, a bag of clothes for each of us, and a few extras. She established a forward camp in the bathroom, staking out her territory with her few womanly essentials. I brought up the rear, making sure that supply lines from the kitchen were sound and secure to every part of the house.
"Is that it?"
"I think we got everything," I answered.
"Good, because this shirt has got to go."
Her thin white blouse had plastered itself, long since, across her back and ribs, and worked its clammy way across her chest. I had noticed all this, in detail. In particular, I had noticed how that thin white blouse stuck to not just the tops and sides of her breasts, but even some of the bottoms. ("Bra?" she once asked me. "What for?" She has that slim, small-breasted kind of figure that looks great in anything or nothing.) Any guy that grabbed her the way that shirt did would have gotten a black-belt wrist-lock, but my gaze seemed safe enough.
"Pass me that sweatshirt." She turned away and started to unbutton the cellophane blouse. A thick hoodie shirt covered the top of one box. Her wet blouse was on the floor then, her back to me, and her arms pointedly crossed. I flung the hoodie over her shoulder, and mostly didn't watch while she put it on. The bit of me that did watch saw her perfect breast in profile and the incurve of her back. When she turned toward me, I saw the front zipper open down to her navel, something her slim bust let her get away with. She certainly knew how to hold a guy's attention.
She had just picked up the wet blouse when the lights flickered and went out. We both stopped for a moment in the sudden darkness. Once my eyes adapted a little, I went to a window. "It looks like the whole block is out."
My cell phone lit a search through the kitchen drawers for some candles. Not knowing how long they'd be our only light, I lit just one. We grabbed some snacks and wine, and headed for the covered porch in the back of the house. Rain came down torrentially but vertically, so most of the screened porch remained dry. The low roar of the downpour and the darkness all around seemed to hide the whole world's sounds and sights from us, except for the open expanse of the lake.
"I'll be right there." Back in the living room, I laid in a fire in the fireplace, but didn't light it yet. Then I joined Gail back on the porch. We sat close and fed each other bits of cheese and fruit, enjoying the cool damp and the sounds of the rain. Once in a while, candle-light reached through her sweatshirt's open front and laid its hand on the side of her breast. I still don't know whether she realized what she was doing to me. I think the answer is yes, in a general way, but that tease seemed too unconscious.
Our eating slowed, and I put my hand on her leg, her jeans still damp.
"There hasn't been any lightning, has there?" Her question surprised me, because my own thoughts followed a very different course.
"No, and I haven't heard any thunder."
"Then I'm going swimming." She stood up in the darkness. The hoodie was unzipped and off before I had a chance to respond. Clammy jeans didn't slide down, but turned almost inside out as she peeled them off, then her panties rolled off into a twisted knot. She was way ahead of me in realizing that even the next door neighbors wouldn't be able to see a thing. Naked before I could even get my shirt off, she padded out the back door ahead of me. She covered the few yards to the lake shore and waded cautiously in.
I detoured to get two of those thick, double-size towels from the bathroom closet, brought them to the porch, then joined her in the rain. The cold touch of rain came as a shock at first. Mostly, though, it just awoke me to the sensations on every part of my skin. The lake water felt warm, at least to compared to the rain, so I followed Gail in. When water covered her up to the curve of her hip, she gave a shallow dive and breast-stroked onto the lake.
I need not have worried about neighbors. Lanterns showed in a few windows along the shore, but not in nearby houses. I swam out to where Gail was treading water. Just before I got to her, I submerged and grabbed her around the waist, under water. Her smooth skin wiggled out of my grip, and the chase was on.
She led me back to where the water was just shallow enough to stand, and I caught her again. My hands slid over her breast and bottom when she twisted away from me. A few feet away, she splashed me with a double handful of lake water. It sounds silly now – the rain still pounded onto us, so I couldn't get any wetter. No matter, we splashed, grappled, and giggled like kids in the rain.