I slept in later than normal that fateful Monday morning. My head ached and I was feeling sorry for myself. I had dreaded this day's coming all weekend and now it was here. Wallowing in self pity, I had no desire to get up and greet the new day. Laying in my bed, I thought about how, normally, I would have been up and out the door an hour ago, fighting traffic to make it to work by 9. Nope, not today. The previous Friday, my boss had called me and my entire team into an unexpected zoom meeting. Unfortunately, it was not a team-building call.
"I know I told you all that we were going to try to stem the tide, as it were, during the pandemic," he began.
'Huh?' I thought, 'what does stem the tide mean?'
He continued with pleasantries and general blather, then outlined our company's dire financial position before finally getting to the point. "Unfortunately," he said. "I have to tell you that, if you were invited to this call, then starting Monday, you're on furlough."
"Holy crap!" I exclaimed out loud from my home office, but luckily I was on mute. I quickly scanned the other attendees, and sure enough, all of my colleagues and teammates were on the call and being placed on furlough as well. We were told it would have to stay that way until the blasted pandemic let up. There would be no more meetings, even remotely. The business had to be put on hold until the pandemic's strangle hold on the world relented.
"Could be well into next year," the boss concluded solemnly. "We just don't know yet."
Before the call ended, though, he did ease the pain, with the good news that our health insurance was still going to be paid for into the foreseeable future. He also added the hope that, sooner than later, we'd all be back working together.
'Yay! Nice sentiment,' I thought, but had trouble viewing the situation as optimistically as my boss did, who still had his job, by the way.
Over that grim weekend I grew less positive, and began to sense that the world would never truly be the same as it had been before covid. In fact, my industry might never come back from this pandemic at all, nor my job for that matter! The lack of clarity on what the future held put me into a deep funk.
Feeling depressed, I stumbled about aimlessly for most of that weekend, drinking too much, then sleeping too much, knowing that on Monday, I would have to apply for unemployment insurance and figure out just how bleak of a state my personal finances were in. Would I have to completely switch industries and find a new career? Or could I possibly ride out the pandemic, waiting for a return to comparative normal? I felt very uncertain, gloomy, and a little worried, too, which is why I lingered in bed until almost 9:00 that miserable Monday morning. Plus, my throat was parched from too much whiskey the previous night.
My dog Buster, on the other hand, was used to his daily routine, regardless of my mental state. Normally, he would have been fed and walked long ago by now, but now he sat next to my bed, pounding the floor with his wagging tail, so I threw on a t-shirt, shorts and sandals, grabbed a big glass of water, and took him outside. Buster bounded into the yard and immediately found a spot to relieve himself. Looking back at me, his expression seemed to say, 'that was a close call, pal. Not sure if I could've held it much longer!'
"Good boy!" I said and chugged my water, feeling slightly better. Buster began sniffing around the yard for any signs of night time activity. I could also tell he was looking for a discrete place to take care of his more serious business. As he circled around the yard, I set down the empty glass and walked out to my dock, overlooking the river.
I was a little under-dressed for the crisp air that greeted me that chilly October morning. T-shirt, shorts and sandals were not cutting it in the cool autumn chill. But I wanted Buster to have the time he needed, and I certainly had nothing but time on my hands at that moment, I remembered. Luckily, there was little breeze and I began to acclimate myself while Buster scampered about the yard. The peaceful water drifted past, the current slow but steady. A veil of cool, misty fog clung to the surface and created an ethereal scene. I knew the mist would dissipate once the sun rose a little higher, but it was nice while it lasted.
Looking around, I thought to myself, 'I was lucky to find this place on the banks of this scenic river, but could I still afford it?' Thinking pessimistic thoughts, I watched a pair of great blue herons glide down and alight along the shore downstream. They began to hunt stealthily along the curving bank. From where I stood, they looked like pterodactyls, shrouded in the fog. I looked back to see if Buster had relieved himself yet. Nope, still sniffing around.
Feeling the cool air on my arms and legs and hearing the sounds of the gentle current lapping at the poles of my dock, I was reminded of my own needs and felt a growing hard on in response. Guys probably understand this phenomenon more than girls, but I guarantee, every red-blooded male knows what I mean. It was your classic morning wood, not sexual, just hard. Having not 'gone' before I came outside with Buster, I found myself with a surprising pole tenting my shorts.
'I'll relieve myself inside in a bit,' I thought, then called out to Buster impatiently, "How you doin' there, bud? You done yet?"
Unfortunately, Buster wasn't done yet. He was busily sniffing animal trails on the opposite end of the property, periodically glancing back at me. I was afraid that if I ran inside to go, he'd run off once he lost sight of me. He did have a bit of a wild streak. So I endured the need and tried not to think about it. Biding my time, I idly rubbed up and down the length of my stiff member through my shorts while I watched the herons hunt. It felt good. Slipping my hands into the pockets of my loose shorts, I massaged my outstretched rod, enjoying that incomparable feeling of a full, skin stretching erection. I found that rubbing myself also served to warm me up and chase away the morning chill. I leaned my head back, stretched out my tight shoulders and sighed heavily, hoping Buster would soon be ready to go back inside.
Suddenly, I noticed movement in my peripheral vision. From upstream, a figure was silently gliding over the water through the mist. Oh crap, it was a kayaker. As it drew closer I saw that it was propelled by a dark haired woman. Then I recognized my neighbor from a few doors down. Holy shit! It was Marla, Frank's wife.
"Mornin', Will!" she chirped as she expertly guided her craft up to my dock.
I quickly pulled my hands out of my shorts and gave a small wave. "Mornin' Marla," I replied rather sheepishly.
Holding her craft steady against the dock, she added with dismay, "Sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you." She didn't appear to mind my tent, though, by the looks of the smile on her face. "Beautiful out here this morning, huh?"
"Yeah, a little cool, but real nice," I replied and suddenly felt my face flush, seeing her eyes dart between my eyes and my conspicuous bulge. I breathed deeply and rubbed my arms together, hoping it would calm down.
I began to quickly recall my past interactions with her, which were few and relatively long ago. I had barely gotten to know Frank and Marla since I moved into the neighborhood a few years back. Seemed like a nice couple, a few years older than me and well off, from the looks of their house and cars. Never saw any kids running around. They had held a few gatherings for their friends and neighbors over the years that I had attended, but I hadn't seen them since the last holiday season, many months before. The quarantine had put an end to all of that. Prior to that, I felt like I'd gotten to know Frank a little anyway, since we'd helped each other out a few times in the past, but I had never gotten a chance to talk to Marla beyond a few hellos and goodbyes. I did remember noticing, though, how striking she appeared at their holiday party last year, bustling about their home in her tight black sparkly party dress.
'There's a guy who hit the jackpot,' I had thought to myself, as I subtly watched his wife bend to scoop up empty plates and whisk them away. Later, engaged in conversation with another neighbor, her musical laughter drifted over the din of conversation, right to my ears, distracting me from my own boring discussion with Frank about investment strategies.
Reminiscences of Marla passed in a fleeting moment, remembering her bright smile and clinging party dress, while lifting her glass in cheer during a toast. I couldn't recall the words of the toast, or who gave it, but recalling the sight of her back then did nothing to make my morning wood settle down now.
Here in the present, taking in her shapely form perched upon her kayak in the water below, I admired her long, tanned legs extending from her tight khaki shorts and her full breasts straining the thin material of her matching top. She leaned back in her seat, seeming to know that my eyes were absorbing the sight of her. The crisp morning air had her nipples clearly outlined through the fabric. She had topped off her khaki outfit with a red scarf tied around her neck and a pair of binoculars adorned her chest. Her straight, raven hair was pulled tightly behind her head in a long ponytail, accentuating the beauty of her sculpted face. She reminded me of a sexy park ranger or birdwatcher.
"You're lookin' good yourself, Marla," I said, embarrassed, then with more confidence, added, "Great, in fact!"
"Well, thanks. Hey, I hope I didn't disturb you," she said, her eyes momentarily darting to my tented shorts. "I wasn't trying to intrude, or interrupt."
I looked down to see my culprit pushing out the fabric of my shorts. "No, Marla, it's, you're fine..." I stammered. "Sorry about that. It's just the average everyday, um, y'know, mornin' wood, I guess." I pushed my stiff rod down against my leg but that did little to conceal its size from her stare. "Sorry, I thought I had the place to myself out here. Buster's around here some..."
"No need to be sorry, Will," she interrupted. "And I'd say it looks to be quite a bit above average," she added in a lower voice. Then she laughed nervously and said, "Anyway, I know what happens to you boys in the morning. I've seen the same thing with Frank. Although, I must say, Will..." she trailed off, embarrassed herself.
"Well, I hope I haven't traumatized you, Marla. I really didn't expect to see anyone else out here."
"Not at all. No need to apologize for being a healthy, red-blooded male. I get it. It's not as if it's because you're happy to see me or anything," she laughed.
"I wouldn't want you to think," I started, "...that I'm a creep or anything."
"Oh please, Will!" she cried. "Perish the thought. You've been a great neighbor and good friend to Frank. I only wish I could've gotten the chance to get to know you better all this time."
"Me, too. I still remember the last time I saw you guys, between the holidays last year. You and Frank had some neighbors over. Seems like centuries ago now."
