I was counting the days before my flight to Germany, where my teaching career would begin as a lecturer in American politics as the University of Munich. With three weeks to go, I had finished the research project for the university press where I was a parttime editor. I was spending my time scouting bookstores in New York and garage sales in the suburbs for first editions of 1940s and 1950s novels for a couple of bookdealers.
Restless from the lack of responsibility, I quickly accepted when Steve invited me to New Hampshire to celebrate his and girlfriend Paula's decision to move in together. They also offered to store my few valuables for the six months I would be away.
When I arrived on Saturday morning they were getting ready for a blackberry-picking hike with Paula's former roommate Barbara, and I joined them.
Steve had an uncanny ability to find blackberry patches and by three we had filled all the buckets and eaten even more. Back at their apartment, Steve and Paula cooked a wonderful dinner and put the finishing touches on a bon voyage cake. Barbara and I washed the blackberries and crushed almost ten pounds of them in preparation for the jam she and Paula were going to make during the week.
Steve had dated Barbara at the beginning of the summer, but fell head-over-heels in love with her roommate when they met. Since Steve shared a small house with three other guys, it was easy for them to sleep together there, but the summer was coming to an end and the house was rented for the academic year. They decided to live together and found a small apartment.
Paula was deeply grateful to Barbara. Paula's parents had thrown her out when she got pregnant at nineteen and she was doubly devastated when the boyfriend was killed three months later in Vietnam. She was alone and on welfare when social services found Barbara, and they arranged for Barbara to take her in and care for her through the birth and adoption process.
Steve met Barbara in the spring and they quickly became lovers. When Paula and Steve clicked she selflessly gave him up to her. Paula made a point of including Barbara in as many of her activities as she could, even if it made Steve uncomfortable.
Barbara had a job as an administrative assistant at a girl scout camp near her house in Vermont. At dinner she asked me if I would like to come to the closing events and the picnic she was having afterward.
"Sure, that sounds like fun. I'd love to. When is it? I've got to leave for New York on Monday."
"We're having the ceremonial flag lowering tomorrow afternoon, with a light lunch before the kids take their buses home. Later on some of us are having a picnic. Come for the ceremony. It'll be fun, you'll enjoy it."
"Skip around the dining room! Skip around the dining room!" chanted two hundred early-adolescent girl scout voices in ritualistic unison. They meant me, as the only male in the room except for the camp's director. It took me half way around before I got it right, but by the end the applause washed over me as I breathlessly sat down on the bench next to Barbara.
"You forgot to mention this," I puffed.
"Silly of me," she smiled, disingenuously.
The picnic was on a hilltop above the camp, with a wonderful Vermont view of the sunset. The six counselors who joined Barbara were all college juniors. They included Kathy and "Granny," roommates at the University of Pittsburgh who were in their second season as senior counselors. While I was there because of Barbara, it was impossible for me to ignore "Granny."
She was 5-feet-7, thin, small-breasted, with slight hips and an oval face. Her nose was slightly freckled and her bright brown eyes matched her hair. Her raucous laugh was infectious and, as dusk came on and the several bottles of wine took their effect, she led the laughter at the stories of girlish escapades.
"Remember the kid who tried to sneak her boyfriend into camp the second night?"
"No! What happened?"
"For a thirteen-year-old, she really had nerve. He was from the boys' camp on the other side of the lake and must have walked all afternoon to get here. She met him at the gate and stashed him in the bushes until dark, then took him down to the water. The director caught them making out and called his camp!"
"How about the lanyard the girl made that everyone but her said looked like a penis?" They roared.
"And the night the head counselor in B section got poison ivy all over her ass when she was dong a lot more than making out with the canoe manager!"
I was sitting next to Granny and began to massage her back. She wiggled against me and I put my hand as far down the back of her pants as I could, which was just to the top of the crack of her ass. I stroked it lightly.
As she lay back on the blanket, I moved my hand to her raised knee and lightly slid down her thigh to her crotch, then up her torso to her breast. In the dark, no one could see and only I could hear her breathing get deeper as I massaged the breast. Her hand reached for me and rubbed my back above my pants.
The picnic broke up around nine. The director had invited all the counselors who were still in camp to his house. Our group got there about an hour into the party. They all yelled "skip around the dining room!" and got a furious blush out of me. The director gave a short thank-you speech, singling out Barbara for making his and his wife's job easier. And he gave Granny the counselors' leadership award.
I drove Barbara home but declined her offer to stay.
"Barbara, I just can't. I have to be back in New York tomorrow and I'm moving to Germany in two weeks. I can't start a new relationship now, it's just not fair. I'd like to see you when I come back in March."
The road back to Steve and Paul's place ran past the entrance to the camp. As I neared it, I noticed that my lights were dimming. I pulled over and, as I pushed the switch off, I felt a spark. Damn! My 15-year-old old VW had an electrical short. It was almost midnight and I didn't relish spending a cold night in my car.
I walked into the camp and asked the first person I saw for Granny. After a few minutes she arrived with her flashlight.
"I'm really sorry to bother you, but I have a problem with my car. The electrical system is shorting out and it would be really dangerous to drive with no lights. Can I ask you a really big favor? Could I borrow a couple of blankets and stay in one of your spare cabins?"
"I don't see why not," she said. She took me to a cabin off the camp's main road. We stopped at the supplies building and she took out six blankets and a couple of pillows. All the bed frames in the cabin had been taken apart and were stacked in one corner, but there was plenty of floor space.
"You'll be roughing it, but I picked this cabin because there aren't any holes for the raccoons to get in."
"Thank you, Granny. I really appreciate this. I'm no camper but freezing in my car wasn't looking real attractive."
She checked the walls to make sure there were no protruding nails. As I made a bedroll out of the blankets, she stood close to me. When I finished I sat down and reached for her leg, inviting her to join me.
We kissed heavily right away. I rolled her on top of me and grabbed her ass, pulling it into my erection. She pushed herself forward and stuck her tongue deep into my mouth. When we broke off and gasped for air she rolled off me. I reached for her breasts.
"Peter, we can't do this here. There are occupied cabins nearby. Take the blankets and we'll go down to the lake."
Even with the flashlight it was rough going until we reached the broad expanse of hard sandy beach. She took us into a small clearing on the water's edge. Suddenly, she heard something and quickly pushed me into the underbrush.
"They followed us! I can't believe this!"
As we huddled in the thicket, four of Granny's fellow counselors came into view, trying to find our tracks.
"They must have gone the other way," said one.
"I didn't see them, they had to go this way," said another.
