As the sun came out of the clouds and streamed through cabin fourteen's bedroom window, Jack Powell rolled over and cracked open an eye. His head instantly began to spin from the two bottles of wine the night before. With a shaky hand he reached over to his left and found that the other side of the bed was completely vacant. He cautiously sat up and peered around, taking in the room before him. The walnut paneled walls were chipped and peeling, little holes were appearing through the seams and joints allowing sunlight to stream through. Paintings of surreal mountain scapes and lazy lakes adorned the walls each one signed by the cabin owner or his deceased wife Eudora.
Jack's shoulders shrugged together as he braced his hands behind him. His eyes, desperately searching the surrounding room. But, for what? A hot white pain coursed through his stiff shoulder and he instinctively reached up, his fingers gingerly touching the welted and bruised skin near his neck. A bite mark? His brow furrowed as he searched the memories of last evening. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and felt the sharp sting from the split skin on the inside. She'd bit his lip hard as well. She? Who was she?
He cocked a brow in concentration for only a brief moment. Layla. Her name was Layla and she was a force of nature. He slowly swung his feet off the bed and to the floor, rising on still quivering thighs. His stomach lurched and his head reeled. He dropped back down to the bed until it stopped.
She stepped into the bedroom on graceful feet, her long tanned legs barely concealed by the light blue dress shirt she'd pilfered from his closet. Fastened by only the bottom three buttons, he had a full view of her exposed breasts when she bent forward to hand him a cup of coffee. The rising steam filled his nostrils and soothed him almost instantly.
Jack gave a grateful nod and kept his bleary gaze locked upon the graceful vision before him. He blew across the rim and moaned to himself as the first sips passed his lips. She smiled sweetly awaiting his approval. His lips curled up into a satisfied smile, though his eyes were but bloodshot slits.
"Thank you," he croaked as he tried to form those first words.
Her lips curled into a charming smile and she bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet. Oh dear God, she's a morning person...He thought to himself. She turned on her heel and made her way back out toward the kitchen. The hot creamy scent of butter mixed with the thick-spiced grease of sausage wafted into the room, his stomach alternated between the rumbling growl of hunger and the distorted knot that came with a hangover. He took another sip of the black brew from the navy blue ceramic mug.
Less than fifteen minutes later, Jack found himself sitting at the dinette table staring at a plate of scrambled eggs and sausage. His mind whirled in replay as the previous night's events played over and over again. She'd felt so good in his arms. There was no denying that. But, the guilt started to set in just the same.
Never before had he been involved in a one-night stand. Sex had always been a sacred thing to him. It was something to be shared when you loved someone, not something to be treated like a casual sport. But there he sat, a tainted man left to examine his beliefs. Just as he was about to open his mouth and speak, she gazed across the table with those gorgeous eyes. They were eyes that spoke of being one of the oldest souls on the planet.
"So, about last night," she started softly as she reached across the table with a gentle smile. "That was just my way of saying thank you for being so kind and going out of your way in letting me have a roof over my head for the night." She caressed his hand lightly with her slender thumb.
Jack's lips curled into a small smile and he shrugged. "It was the least I could do, that storm was pretty nasty." He drew in a deep breath and hunched his shoulders as he picked at the eggs on his plate.
"You know," he started between bites, stalling mid sentence as he swallowed. "I've still got the place until Monday." He glanced up into her eyes once more. "You're more than welcome to stay."
Layla cocked her head aside in thought as she speared a sausage link and brought it to her rosy lips. She bit off third of it and smiled lightly.
"Actually, I think it's time I moved on," she said. She pinched both lips between her teeth for a brief moment and her eyes turned to look somewhere far off through the wall over his shoulder. "It's gonna be a long road up to New York. But, thank you Jack. I do appreciate the offer."
Jack's face fell along with his hopes and he lowered his eyes back to his plate, rolling a sausage link lazily around the plate with his fork. Her shimmering gaze suddenly lightened and shined with mirth again.
"I'll tell you what slick," she chuckled as she patted the top of his hand. "I'll stick around for the day. We'll just play it by ear." She scrunched her nose as the playful grin took over. "I noticed there was a big beautiful lake down the road from here. I think I'd like to go check that out."
Jack's smile widened with glee and he dug into the food on his plate with renewed interest.
A couple of hours later, they'd both showered and gotten dressed for the hike down to the lake. Jack slung his backpack over his shoulder and locked up the cabin door behind him. He turned and grinned at her. His eyes following her lean legs from her ankles on up to the edge of her denim cut-offs. Layla stood before him with a whimsical smile and her thumbs hooked into the belt loops. Her stance was off axis enough to give a tempestuous curve and kick to her hip.
He started to pass her by and she reached out, hooking her wrist around his elbow, trailing it down his forearm until she could interweave her fingers with his. He gave her a sidelong glance and she smiled dreamily at him. Jack felt the heat fill his cheeks and suddenly hoped he could blame it on the mid morning sun. They both remained silent for the first fifteen minutes of the walk, with Layla glancing around into the trees with great interest and Jack watching where he was walking with little interest.
"So, I've got to ask," he said, breaking the silence. "Why are you heading for the Big Apple? What's up there for you?"
She smiled indifferently as she thought of the possible answers. "I want to become a dancer," She said finally. "And my sister has a place lined up for me. She wants me to move up closer to the family again."
Jack nodded his head in agreement. "Okay, so then where are you coming up from?" He continued.
"I'd rather not talk about it," Layla said flatly.
She stopped dead in her tracks and Jack began looking around apprehensively for the source. Layla smiled broadly and lifted both arms, taking Jack's hand with her. "Hey, we're here."
Jack relaxed and looked around at the big lake before him. Its gray surface was smooth as glass and mirrored the surrounding trees. He lowered his backpack to the grass and crouched down to take out the blanket he'd packed up in it. Layla leaned to smooth a couple of corners and Jack's eyes were drawn to the tanned cleavage behind the neckline of her black tank top. He sat down on the blanket and kicked his sneakers off, trying to focus his attention on the water in front of him. She sat down beside him, hip to hip and placed her hand on his bare knee stroking languidly.
Across the water, on the other shore they could see the multi-textural outlines of competitors for the fishing tournament. Jack remembered his Dad, always telling him that the better fishing was on this side of the lake, where it was less crowded. Not that Jack really cared. He didn't like the taste of fish and he'd only gone fishing with his old man so long ago because he wanted to feel close to his father. The traditional father and son bonding experience. Jack smiled to himself as the floodgate of memory opened wide on him.
He didn't know for how long he'd taken that stroll down memory lane, but when he came back to reality he was abruptly aware that Layla was no where to be found. He leaned back on his arms and scanned the area with creased brow. He strained his ears for any snippet of sound and found nothing but loud, drunk and singing fishermen on the light breeze.
"Layla?" He called out. Jack rose and stood on the balls of his feet, as he looked back to the woods behind him. "Layla?" He called again, louder this time. His chest rose and fell frantically as his breathing deepened with concern. He took a step toward the lush woods and heard an unexpected giggle and splash. He nearly gave himself whiplash as he turned and looked to the water. His eyes were drawn to the slowing ripples near the shoreline.
As Jack reached the waters edge he noticed a pile of clothing on one of the larger rocks. Ten yards out, Layla's head and shoulders broke the water's surface. She flicked the dripping tendrils back out of her eyes and smiled mischievously. She bobbed for a moment and then rose up onto the tips of her toes. The swell of her naked breasts broke the surface, nipples like pink stones from the coolness of the early autumn waters. Jack's face flushed and he quickly looked around fearfully.
