The leaves crunched beneath my feet as I walked down the camp road. My dog, Sadie, was dressed in her blaze orange dog sweater that I'd picked up on my way north at L.L. Bean---the Maine woods were no place for a yellow lab to run through during hunting season. I myself had found an old orange sweatshirt of my father's on the nail by the back door---he'd have no use for it again. The cabin was mine now, both my parents dead. Dead seemed to be my operative word, dead leaves, dead family, dead marriage, dead-end job. I had taken a few weeks off from my office to clean out the house and ready it for winter.
It wasn't much of a house, but I had loved it there as a child. The lake sparkled endlessly, the loons called mournfully every night as I lay in the sleeping loft under a pile of patchwork quilts. Thank God my divorce was final. I could not have born to share my childhood summer home with my ex-husband.
When I had stopped at the general store in the village, Mr. Watson told me about the "palace" that had been built at the end of the point, a mile or two down from my modest dwelling. "Ya should see her," he twinkled, "a right good-size house. Don't see much of the owner, but he's plannin' to keep the road open. Herbie'll be plowin'. So if you and your pup come back for Christmas, you can slip in easy."
Christmas on the lake. That appealed to me--I'd be far away from the city and unpleasant memories. No running into my ex at the company party or watching him sing with his new wife in our church. I decided to walk down the road to introduce myself to the man who'd built this mansion. Sadie snuffled happily through the leaf piles, chasing squirrels and acting idiotic.
We came to two huge boulders at the end of a drive. The name "Brand" was painted neatly in white on the larger one. Sadie stopped suddenly and whined. "C'mon, girl," I said. She refused and lay down in the middle of the road. "Lazy! Stay then."
The house wasn't visible for a long ways, but when I finally cleared the avenue of pines I stood stock-still. An enormous log home boasting several massive stone chimneys was before me. Its welcoming wrap-around porch filled with rockers overlooked the water. This certainly wasn't a typical Abe Lincoln-type cabin like mine; there were turrets and leaded windows. "Wow," I whispered. I guess this guy could afford to plow out the miles of road to the village.
Feeling a little intimidated, I climbed the steps and knocked on the stained glass door. There was no answer, but I did see a little twig basket on a porch table with pencils and notepaper. In my neatest handwring I printed: Mr. Brand, I was hoping to meet you. I own the camp down the road. I think I'll be up again for Christmas, and have heard the road will be open. Please stop by at your convenience. I make excellent coffee. Sincerely, Carrie Hayes.
I tucked the note in the door and made my way to the boulders. There was Sadie where I left her, the spark gone right out of her. "Spooked, are you? What, do you hear hunters? Let's go then." I clipped her lead on her and basically had to drag her all the way home.
When we got back, I fixed us both some dinner and fiddled with my dad's tiny black and white TV. The reception was nonexistent, so after washing up I went upstairs to read. It wasn't long before my book bored me and I began to enertain thoughts of something far more stimulating.
I confess. After my divorce, I went a little haywire. I'd always been such a vanilla girl, never even had a decent orgasm with my ex, didn't know one was possible. All that had changed. I was addicted now to masturbation, the dirtier fantasies the better. I dreamed of guys shooting off on me, pissing on me, covering me with delicious cum, me slurping their swollen cocks until I passed out. A juicy butt plug and a handy vibrator and I was on the edge in no time.
I massaged body lotion on and prepared to give myself a party. Sadie paid no attention as I screamed out "Piss on me, I'm a cum-covered slut" and a bunch of other embarrassing phrases. I was in awe I could make myself feel this way, kept cumming ever deeper until I heard a knock on the door.
Shit. It wasn't very late, not much past eight. It must be that Mr. Brand. Wondering how much he'd heard, I pulled on the orange sweatshirt and a pair of flannel PJ pants. I brushed my hair and stuck it up in a ponytail. I certainly wasn't going to make a good impression.
I nearly tripped down the stairs. I turned on the porch light and asked, "Who is it?" Sadie didn't seem to be much help. She was still upstairs under the bed. Some watch dog.
"Jonathan Brand, Miss Hayes. I hope I'm not---interrupting anything." Damn. From the tone of his voice, he'd heard it all.
"Just a minute." I struggled with the lock and opened the door. If Jonathan Brand's house had impressed me, the man himself was gorgeous. His dark hair was shaggy, his eyes deep blue. He gave me a quirky smile as he took in my outfit.
"I'm so sorry. Have you gone to bed, my love?"
His accent was indefinable. I felt a little shiver. I hadn't been anybody's love in a long while.
"Umm, no I was just reading."
He smiled. "Indeed."
"Would you like to come in? I can make coffee. I even have decaf."
"No, no, I cannot really stay. Perhaps I'll visit with you tomorrow."
Then he did an extraordinary thing. He placed his large pale hand on my abdomen. I felt a little jump within. His smile widened. "Tomorrow, Carrie. Be ready."
"Uh. Okay." I watched him walk down the driveway. When he disappeared I turned off the outside light.
Weird. For a minute I thought he would kiss me. For a minute I wanted him to kiss me.
I had trouble falling asleep until I remembered the boring book. Around midnight Sadie growled and scratched at the door to go out. "Haven't you heard of sleeping,you damn dog?" I listened so I could run downstairs to let her in again, but she must have found the smells and sounds of the woods too overpowering. I hoped she wasn't chasing deer, and I finally dozed off.
I spent the next day packing up boxes I'd cadged from Watson's store. My father had pretty much never thrown anything away--EVER--and I hoped the village church would take the cast-offs. The cabin was looking better already. Soon I'd be able to give it a good cleaning. Sadie had returned at the first sign of light, matted and exhausted. She hadn't moved all day from in front of the fire.
