This is a chapter in a fifteen-chapter novella, and each chapter is dependent on the one that precedes it. It is best to read them in order. In any event, the story takes place in a Midwestern college town in the summer of 1979.
*****
Amy’s kiss didn’t startle me. But when I heard someone coming down the hall and I could tell that he was coming into the kitchen, I pulled away. Amy smiled at me, and I smiled back. It was Charlie.
“Good morning, ladies.”
“Good morning, Charlie,” we said in unison, a bit too coyly, and we laughed. Charlie seemed a little confused at first, and then he shrugged it off.
“Well, it’s good to see you two getting along.”
This made us laugh again. Charlie looked at us as if he were questioning our sanity. Then he looked at me as if he were trying to gauge something deep inside of me. I got up to get more coffee.
“So what is on the Blues House calendar today?” Charlie asked sarcastically.
“I’m off to the library, unfortunately,” I offered.
“I have my first exam this afternoon,” Amy replied.
“Hmm… Pretty boring stuff.” Charlie had retrieved a mug and held it out for me to fill.
“Well, you know us, Charlie. We’re pretty boring folks.” I looked Charlie in the eye, and tried to let him know that there were no “issues.”
“I’ll say,” Charlie seemed to catch my drift, and he nodded at me. “Pretty damn hot out.”
“Thanks for the report, Stormy,” Amy interrupted.
“I was going to say, maybe we should have a house picnic at the Quarry later this afternoon, or this evening.”
“The Quarry?” I had heard the term used before, but I had never bothered to determine it’s meaning.
“You haven’t been to the Quarry, have you?” Charlie seemed hurt. “Oh, we gotta go then.”
I learned that the Quarry was a relatively obscure local swimming hole that was created in an abandoned granite quarry. The mining company diverted the river to the quarry to help them process the granite. They just left it when the money ran out, and the whole quarry filled up. Charlie learned of the spot from a friend who was a local, and he had been going there since his freshman year.
“The water’s great, crystal clear. You’ll love it,” he assured me. Amy and I agreed, and Charlie said he’d see about Tom and Mike.
When I got back to the house just after 6:00 that evening, Charlie was loading up the trunk of Amy’s car.
“So, are stillyou coming?”
“Yes, of course,” I replied.
Charlie gave me thumbs up. “You won’t regret it.”
I decided on a one-piece suit, and put on a pair of cut-offs and a T-shirt over the top of it. I grabbed a beach towel and my sunglasses, and I was ready to go.
Tom and Mike came back from the store with a case of beer. We sat on the front porch drinking and small talking until Amy arrived, and then we were off.
We got to the Quarry while it was still light. It was a prettier area than I had pictured it. It was up a tree-lined dirt road that was only two paths through the woods. The trees were enormous and lushly green. The Quarry itself consisted of bleached-white rock that made for a startling contrast. There was a makeshift area used as a parking lot with only two cars in it. Charlie had us put all of our jewelry and money in the trunk, and then he hid the key under a log in front of the car.
We unloaded the cooler and our towels and carried the stuff down a path through the woods alongside the Quarry. The path opened onto a flat rock landing that disappeared into the water. Charlie was right. It was crystal clear. What I hadn’t expected was the color. It was a translucent shade of lime green.
“So, what do you think?” Charlie seemed proud of himself as he asked me his question.
“You were right, Charlie. It’s beautiful.”
Tom and Mike pulled off their shirts and ran into the water. I helped Amy and Charlie set up our stuff, and then I hurried out of my shorts and T-shirt and ran into the water. It was the perfect temperature: refreshing, but not cold. Only ten feet or so out in thigh-deep water, the rock landing ended at a ledge where the bottom disappeared. There were only five other people in the water: three high-school-aged boys fighting over an inner tube and a thirty-something couple.
Charlie swam out to where I was treading water.
“How deep do you think it is?” I asked.
“I’ve never touched the bottom. It’s deep.”
The sun was setting behind the trees, and the clouds were lavender trimmed in a shimmering gold.
We swam and talked in the water for about an hour, occasionally running up onto the landing for a beer or some chips. Before we knew it, it was dark, and a full moon was rising in the east. We all got out of the water and ate our sub sandwiches. The beer was ice cold, the air was muggy, and the breeze was humid and warm. It felt great.
We were chatting in a loosely connected, collective stream-of-consciousness when Amy, looked around, and announced, “We’re alone.”
“Great!” said Charlie.
“Finally,” said Tom.
As if on cue, everyone but me stood up, took off their suits, and tiptoed out into the water stark naked. Charlie stopped and came back for me. I was tempted to reach out for his cock as it waggled in front of my eyes and pull myself up, but he offered his hand instead.
“Come on.”
“What if someone comes?”
“This is called ‘The Skinny-Dipping Hole.’ It’s a summer’s night ritual. If someone comes, they won’t be surprised. Trust me.”
“Then why did we wait till everyone left?”
“They’re called day-stragglers. I’m hip with the lingo. When they’re gone, surf’s up. Come on.” I took his hand and stood up.