Richard Laymon - The Lake
Forgetting about the threat from the woods that had so unnerved her a few moments ago, Leigh stepped close to the tree. She reached up and draped Charlie’s jeans over its lowest branch.
She turned away and started back. Charlie was still in the lake. He looked as if he’d been cut off at the neck.
Leigh’s nightgown was a pale shape spread over the stern seat of the rowboat. She walked toward it.
She pictured herself putting it on.
Game’s over, Charlie, take me home.
He wouldn’t come out of the water without his jeans.
You could go back for them.
You could leave him here and walk back to the cabin. Just follow the shoreline, then make your way up to the dirt road.
Standing by the boat, she stared down at her nightgown.
Do it, she thought.
She bent over and picked up her nightgown. The breeze caught it, lifting and rippling its weightless fabric.
“What are you doing?” Charlie asked.
I don’t know, Leigh thought. God, I haven’t the slightest.
She pressed the nightgown to her front and held it there, covering herself.
You’re really going to call it quits?
It never should have gone this far. I was out of my mind.
She heard quiet sloshing sounds. “Leigh?” Charlie was wading closer, the black of the water dropping.
“What’re you doing?” he asked again.
“I think I’m ready to leave,” she said.
You think?
“What for? Don’t you like it here?”
“It’s awfully late,” she said.
Late. How lame.
Charlie stopped. He was bare to the waist. Just another step or two, Charlie. “What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“You mad at me?”
“No. It isn’t you.”
“You’re mad at me ’cause I left my pants on.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Well, they’re off now.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Leigh said.
She stared at the dark surface in front of him. Of course it doesn’t matter, she told herself. Oh sure.
“I should’ve took ’em off,” he said. “I knew I was s’posed to. I was just too yellow, that’s all. I’m awfully sorry. I wanted to, that’s for sure.”
“Charlie, we shouldn’t be like this.”
“I guess not. But I don’t want us to leave, though.” He waded out. He walked up the beach, hands crossed to cover his groin. “Cold,” he whispered.
Leigh draped her nightgown over the boat seat and went to him.
You were going to leave, she reminded herself. What are you doing?
Her heart thudded. Her mouth was dry. She met Charlie and put her arms around him. His wet skin felt cold. His arms went around her back. His open mouth found hers, and his tongue pushed in. She squirmed against him, moaning with the feel of his penis pressing thick and hard against her belly.
Where their bodies met, the chill went away. The skin of his back was still wet and cold. Her hands moved down to his buttocks. Charlie, following her lead, moved his hands down to her rump. They felt big and warm.
Soon, Leigh took her mouth away. Kissing the side of his neck, she reached behind and took his wrists. She eased away from him. She lifted his hands to her breasts, and trembled at their touch. His hands were callused but gentle. Leigh closed her eyes. She clung to his hips as he caressed her. The hands glided over her breasts, enclosed them, held them tenderly, tightened and squeezed, roamed them, exploring, then squeezed again.
“Kiss,” Leigh muttered.
He crouched. She held his shoulders, and he kissed her left nipple. His tongue thrust. Leigh moaned as he sucked the nipple into his mouth, tongue swirling and probing.
Fingers in his wet hair, she urged his head closer. Her breast felt engulfed.
He rubbed her thighs. His mouth went to her other breast, and his hands moved higher as he licked the nipple. Higher until his thumbs stroked the creases of her groin.
Leigh’s grip tightened on his hair. Charlie made sucking noises tugging at her nipple. His hands swept over her hips, around her buttocks, the backs of her legs, then up again, curling in and pressing. With a gasp, Leigh locked her knees to keep her legs from buckling. Her breast was drawn deep into his mouth. One of his hands went away and came to the front. Its edge pressed her vagina. She shuddered as it sawed back and forth, rubbing, opening her, sliding between her folds, slick and hot. His thumb rose into her.
“Charlie,” she gasped.
His mouth pulled away from her breast, leaving it wet and tingling. “Does it hurt?”
“Hurt? No. Dear God.” She hugged his head between her breasts. His thumb pushed and circled. His hand pressed hard, part of it rubbing her clitoris. She squirmed on it.
Then she released his head and squatted. Charlie sank to his knees, his thumb still inside her. He curled his other hand behind her neck to hold her steady. She reached between his legs. His penis felt huge. Her fingers enclosed it, slid down its length. She gently squeezed his scrotum, glided her palm up the underside of his shaft, then let herself fall backward onto the sand.
Charlie loomed over her, kneeling between her bent legs, holding himself up with stiff arms. Leigh stroked his sides. “In me,” she whispered. “I want you in me.”
“You sure?”
“My God.”
“I mean…you won’t get a baby?”
“It’s okay.” Probably, she thought. She had already counted. Her period was due in four days.
Charlie pressed down, his hips forcing her thighs even farther apart. She dug her heels into the sand, lifting herself to meet him.
His penis rubbed her. It moved slowly, spreading her, barely inside, sliding along her slit. Then it began to ease in. Leigh thrust up. The penis filled her.
Charlie’s tongue pushed into her mouth. She sucked it. His tongue was in her, his penis was in her. She possessed both, and they possessed her. She writhed. His tongue thrust and retreated, matching the strokes of his penis. She gasped through her nose. She heard wet sounds and Charlie moaning. She dug her heels into his buttocks. He rammed deeper, and suddenly went rigid. Leigh sucked his tongue hard. Her insides quaked with the feel of him all the way in, jerking and throbbing and pumping a flood.
She cried out into his mouth.
SIXTEEN
A gentle rapping woke Leigh up. She raised her head off the pillow and groaned.
“We’re going out for the big ones,” Jenny called through the door. “Want to come along?”
“Okay,” Leigh said. “Time for me to shower first?”
“No problem.”
Fishing was about the last thing she wanted to do, but she had made up her mind, in the early-morning hours, to go with them today. If she missed two days in a row, they might suspect something was amiss.
Something was amiss, all right. Every muscle in her body ached when she pushed herself up. Her insides felt battered.
Moaning, Leigh limped to the chair by the window. Her nightgown was draped over it. She lifted the gown and inspected it. It was dry, but dirty. She wadded it up and made her way to the dresser. She hid it at the bottom of a drawer. She could do her own laundry, later, and take care of it. Nobody would be the wiser.
In the mirror, her hair was a straggly mess. She combed out the worst of the snags and brushed it. Sand sprinkled her shoulders.
Back at the bed, she brushed sand and bits of leaves and other debris off the pillow and bottom sheet. She found a small, stiff place on the sheet. She guessed it was dried semen. Checking herself, she found some flaked in her pubic hair, and a patch of it on her inner thigh that felt tight and looked like skin peeling from a sunburn. She left it there and made the bed.
She took her robe from the closet, put it on, and went to the door.
Mike, in the kitchen, was pouring coffee into a thermos. “And how are you this fine morning?” he asked.
“Great,” Leigh said. “A little stiff from canoeing yesterday.” She tried her best not to limp on her way to the bathroom.
Inside, she hung her robe on the doorknob. She looked at herself in the full-length mirror. Her breasts were a little red. Otherwise, none of the damage showed. Turning around, she looked over her shoulders. Her back was all right except for a few faint red marks on her buttocks where she had lost the scabs from her scrapes at the demonstration.
The cop dragging her.
That seemed like years ago.
It seemed like it had happened to someone else.
She made the water as hot as she could stand and stepped under the shower. The spray beat down on her. It felt wonderful. Sighing, she stretched her sore muscles. Then she slicked herself with soap. She scrubbed between her legs to make sure she got all the semen off.
Probably more inside, she thought.
There must’ve been a gallon last night.
Four times.
Three, not counting the mouth.
No wonder I ache.
Even her cheeks felt sore.
What a night.
The memories of it rushed through her mind, triggering fresh desire.
She couldn’t wait to see him again.
She began to shampoo her hair.
Before parting, they had agreed to meet at three o’clock where the channel from Wahconda entered Goon Lake. He said he knew of a secret place to take her, a place where no one could see them even in daylight. It sounded terrific. She hoped she wasn’t too sore to enjoy it.
Her mind was full of Charlie as she finished her shower, dried, and returned to her room. She wondered what time he would be leaving in his boat to take the baskets over to Goon and Willow. Maybe she would see him. The possibility made her heart race. She parted her hair in the middle, brushed bangs down over her forehead, and gave herself a ponytail. She wanted to wear her good white shorts, but decided to save them for the rendezvous. She put on her cutoffs instead, and a faded blue T-shirt.
Heading down to the pier with Mike and Jenny, she thought she had never felt quite so fine. In spite of her aches. The morning air was sweet with pine. The breeze caressed her. The calm blue lake shimmered with sunlight.
“You’re looking pretty chipper this morning,” Jenny said.
It showed? “Guess it’s the fresh air,” she said, and stepped down into the boat.
When the gear was aboard, Mike steered the boat out around the pier. Then he asked if Leigh would like to take the controls. “Sure,” she told him, and stepped to the helm. “Where to?”
“Anywhere you want.”
Opening the throttle, she swung the boat northward. She watched the shore. Soon, she saw the opening of the inlet where Charlie had taken her. When the boat was directly across from it, she glimpsed the beach.
She felt the sand against her back, Charlie pounding into her.
A few more hours…
In the sunlight, they would be able to see each other.
Near the north shore, she turned the boat to the east. The foreboding she used to feel along this side of the lake was gone. Approaching an old dock with broken planks dangling toward the water, she searched the woods until she spotted a shack hidden among the trees. Was this Charlie’s place? Probably not. She suspected that he lived farther down, maybe even along the eastern shore.
“Where we going?” Mike asked, appearing at her side.
“How about between those two islands?” she suggested, pointing at the patches of woods far ahead.
“Looks good to me,” Mike told her.
Yesterday morning, Charlie had said that he’d seen her water-skiing. Well, she’d been skiing over much of the lake, but the nearest she got to the eastern shore was when she circled those two islands. Maybe that’s when Charlie spotted her.
Let’s not be too obvious about this, she thought as she neared the islands. You don’t want to wind up on his doorstep.
The islands were about a hundred yards apart. As the boat entered the area between them, Leigh cut the engines. “If I were a fish,” she told Mike and Jenny, “this is just the place I’d hang out.”
Mike dropped anchor.
Jenny opened the picnic basket—one of Charlie’s baskets. She poured coffee into mugs, then handed out egg salad sandwiches wrapped in cellophane. It was their custom to eat before baiting the hooks.
Leigh’s cheek muscles ached as she chewed, reminding her again of last night—her lips tight around Charlie, her mouth full, the slick smooth hardness of him, her sucking. She’d been on top, Charlie’s head between her legs, his tongue…Her mouth was too dry for the sandwich. She struggled to swallow, and washed the food down with coffee.
Stop the daydreaming, she warned herself. Save it for later when you’re not with Mike and Jenny.
She joined in the conversation. Soon, she was calm enough to finish her sandwich.
They baited their hooks.
The current had swept the boat sideways. Leigh dropped her line over the port side so she could face east while she fished. The wooded islands acted as blinders, blocking much of the lake’s shoreline. She could see no pier or dwelling along the visible stretch of shore. Just thick forest, curtains of green drooping toward the water, roots here and there reaching down from the banks. She wondered if Charlie’s place was nearby, maybe on the other side of one of the islands.
If so, there was a chance she might see him when he rowed out with his baskets.
The white top of her bobber rode the small waves, rising and falling. She watched it. She watched the lake.
Her thoughts returned to last night. She let the images play through her mind, the feelings come back. It was almost like being with him again.
She would be with him again, this afternoon. They would go to his secret place.
I’ll take along the suntan oil, she thought.
Charlie would spread it over her naked body, then she would rub it on him. She pictured their skin gleaming with oil. She felt them squirming together, all slippery.
In just a few more hours.
She watched her bobber. She watched the lake.
There was no sign of Charlie.
Maybe he’d started early and was already on one of the other lakes. Of course. He would have wanted to finish his selling rounds as fast as possible so he could be ready to meet her.
At three o’clock.
She wondered if she could stand to wait that long.
At two-thirty, Leigh left the cabin after telling Mike and Jenny she planned to “go exploring” in the canoe.
They said to have fun.
Her heart thudded hard as she made her way down to the shore. She felt tight and trembly inside. She wore her fresh shorts, just as she had planned, and a red sleeveless blouse. She carried a towel. Rolled inside the towel was the plastic bottle of suntan oil.
She pushed the canoe into the water, wading out for a few steps before climbing aboard. She took out the suntan oil, then knelt on the towel and paddled away.
Though Leigh wanted bright sunlight for the rendezvous, there were high clouds shadowing the lake.
If the sun’s not out, she thought, we won’t glisten.
There wasn’t even a cool breeze to compensate for the sun’s loss. The air was still and muggy.
Leigh’s blouse clung to her back. It was tucked into her shorts, and it pulled at her shoulders each time she leaned forward.
