(Based on Surrender in the Swamp
By Little White Mouse)
*
March 4, 1999: Robert "Bo" Boggs, a pig-eyed, chain-smoking, fifty something trucker, dumps a container full of waste chemicals into a local swamp, outside the small town of Peach Tree, Georgia. The discreet and illegal dumping will earn Bo big bucks. Bo will die of lung cancer, emphysema, and high blood pressure five years later, terminating his presence in this story.
June 26, 2009: Cynthia Macpherson goes for a swim.
"Motherfucking, piece of shit, asshole, prick!" Cynthia Macpherson described her recently exed boyfriend. Her profane assessment of his character came about as the result of an unfortunate discovery- the boyfriend...in bed...with two other people. One of them, a buxom blonde, was servicing the boyfriend's cock; the other, the mayor's son, was having his cock serviced by the boyfriend.
Now, Cynthia was not like most women one expects from small southern towns. Sure it was the Bible Belt but Cynthia was more open-minded than most. It was the 21st century after all; nothing wrong with gay or bi (she knew a few and saw how much the closet cost them). No, what really pissed her off was: (a) the ex never told her; (b) the mayor's son?! "He's a teenager for Chrissakes!"; (c) the buxom blonde: Judy Cutler, her mortal enemy from junior high, high school, and beyond, "Him?! With her?!!"
Cynthia had come to the boyfriend's house to surprise him with a quick morning fuck. She opened the bedroom door and there they were; she gaped at them, two pairs of shocked expressions and one smirk stared back. Cynthia slammed the door and stormed. Her newly ex-boyfriend followed, clad in a blanket, clumsily trying to explain about open relationships, moments of weakness, denials of gayness, and various other fantasies. She punched him in the face.
She spent the rest of the morning gunning the Ford along the back roads. She stopped the truck, got out, took a cigarette, and began to smoke. "That son of a bitch," she thought. Cynthia looked around, the place was familiar.
It was a beautiful spot on the edge of the swamp; calm blue-green water, reeds and cattails. "I used to swim here," she remembered. It was a good place to think, very private; no dangerous animals, just a few frogs and flamingoes. Cynthia took a look at the calm cool water and thought, "Why not?" She was hot, sweaty, and pissed. It was approaching noon on a hot, humid day, "May as well cool off. There's no one around."
Cynthia undid her hair and let its flaming red curls cascade to her shoulders. She took off her clothes and put them in the truck. Cynthia waded into the swamp; before diving into the deep end, she paused to admire her body.
She was a red head through and through, from her short cut red muff to the flaming red tresses. Her body was slim and athletic with softball sized breasts and long limbs. A smattering of freckles dotted her arms and shoulders. Her eyes were the same color as the water. Her face sported a long, broad nose and a wide, full mouth.
She turned some heads in town; features that looked terrible on others were just right on her. "He threw this away for that bitch," she thought.
Cynthia swam for half hour; at some point something brushed against her leg. "Log," she thought, but decided to soak in the shallows while planning her next move. She lay back, drifting, planning revenge on Judy, unaware of the eyes watching her body.
The observer wasn't human; Cynthia's movements caught its attention. It swam towards the reclining redhead with one goal.
