I've told no one of my little summer secret; just held it dear to me, and pulled it from my memory when I've needed a special moment for myself... a very special, private moment that would never be the same, once shared. Now, I'm breaking my rule and telling you, My Journal, for I've promised to hold no secrets from you. It's time to bare my soul, and tell you my deepest, darkest secret - as the cliché goes; at least I know you, of all my confessors, won't judge me.
It was almost 46 years ago in the spring of '57, but in my mind, it will always be yesterday, or more accurately - just this afternoon. A month earlier, I had completed my 19th year on this planet, and was set to do wondrous things with my life, once finishing college and (I hoped), graduate school; but for now, I was an easily impressionable freshman with much less worldly experience than I thought... as I was soon to find out. I was home in Tampa for Easter break, but my parents, along with their friends and next-door neighbors, Mr. and Mrs. Watson, had gone for the day and evening to one of my Mother's mystery adventure dinner's (don't ask), leaving me with the time to myself, which I quite preferred.
In those days, prim and proper young ladies such as myself didn't easily escape to the "sins and degradations" of a proper spring break as is the norm today. My day would be a swim in the pool, a bit of sunbathing, and finishing my copy of A Lady's Life In The Rocky Mountains by Isabella L. Bird, in whose letters I found my first real interest in wild things and places, and formed the foundation for my future life as a wildlife biologist in British Columbia - but this isn't about things you already have in your pages... this is about my afternoon... my frightening, yet glorious afternoon.
My parents had warned me of the Watson's visitor. Their only daughter had died before they moved here two years earlier, and I hardly knew them, but apparently their niece had come to stay the summer... to, as Mother said, "work out some troubles". Whatever that meant. She was supposed to be 22 or 23 and not a "college girl", although what kind of a girl she was, Mother wouldn't say; just that I wasn't to go over there when the Watson's weren't home. I wasn't that curious, and after the bustle of the freshman dorms, looked forward to my private afternoon - little did I know!
I put on my new two-piece suit Mother would have hemorrhaged if she knew I had, and went out to the pool; it was still a bit early in the year, but I loved the water and it was great. After 15 minutes or so, I collapsed onto the lounger and soaked in the warm afternoon sun. As a college woman of my now advanced (19) years, I thought it only appropriate I sunbath topless, and thus show off my no-tan-line tan back in the dorm, so I slipped out of my top, and lay it beside me, the tall hedges around our 3 acre yard ensured my privacy - I thought.
The sun on my slight, athletic body, and my firm breasts felt wonderful; back then, I hadn't filled out with the big bottom and powerful thighs developed in later life from trudging up and down the B.C. mountains, and still had the lithe, trim legs that sent my 5'6" frame around the track at near scholarship speed. I didn't need the book, as my daydreams were taking me away to the dates I had yet to have, and the boys who'd ignored me for the past few years. Not only did I still have my virginity, no one had even had the decency to challenge me for it! As my fingertips softly played across my stomach and breasts, bringing my golden brown nipples to a soft crinkle, I heard a low chuckle behind me. Startled, I covered my breasts with one arm, while scooping up my discarded top with the other; turning, I saw a stunningly beautiful young woman walking into my view and onto the pool patio. Straight, flaming red hair flowed past her shoulders as she plopped down on the lounger next to mine, and locked on to me with the greenest eyes I'd ever seen... the smirk on her lips would have made Liz Taylor jealous. She shifted her gaze to my barely covered breasts, which had just been the centers of my attention.
"Now that... looks like fun," She said.
She followed with a little knowing smile that caused me to blush like I hadn't done in years... and thinking back through the years, I've come to realize--that's the moment I fell in love with Marla.
"Oh, don't look so panicked," she said, "I'm not here to steal the family silver. I'm Marla, Tom and Jenny's niece. Mom and pops talked them into hiding me out till that jerk of a soon to be ex-husband of mine leaves for Germany."
I'd managed to get my top back on with only the slightest re-exposure (which Marla didn't miss), and sat up, giving my short, wet, mousy brown hair a flip.
"Susan... I'm Susan."... "Johnson."
(Yes, Dear Journal, that was the introduction of the worldly Miss Susan Diane Johnson, student at the University of Miami, 19 years suave, country club trained at remaining cool and calm under pressure... trying her best to recover from this Lucy Ricardo routine - and failing miserably.)
"Well, happy to meet you, Susan...I'm Susan... Johnson." Liz said, "How's the water?"
