dontravis.com blog post #615
Image Courtesy of Freepik
Well, Dru finally got together with Alene. Now will there be blowback from her twin brother Sam? Let’s find out.
I encountered no Big Brother hostility, so either Alene hadn’t told Sam about our intimate hours or he figured that was her business. In fact, the week went well.
I was recovering from the loss of my wife well enough to start work on another project I’d had in mind for the last year or so. My sister and brother-in-law’s computer system wasn’t as elaborate as mine at home, but I’d brought a pretty stout laptop with me, and between their equipment and mine, I had what I needed. California wasn’t calling, at least not yet. I wanted some more of the luscious next-door neighbor, but she stayed close to home other than weekends. School work, I imagined.
Then, as we neared the weekend, my brother-in-law organized a fishing trip. An associate of his at work had a secluded cabin on a lake not far away, and he insisted Sam and I accompany him. Sam had a Saturday class, according to Alene, so I counted on him to put a hole in that boat, but he apparently thought it was okay to skip the class. Once I was lassoed, I tried to salvage things by inviting the distaff side, but neither Bonnie nor Alene was interested. Nor was Lynne when she found shed be the only girl on a male fishing trip.
So here I was, going on a fishing trip I had no interest in. Never been a fisherman… nor a hunter for that matter. But on Friday afternoon a couple of hours before we were to leave, things got better. Chuck’s firm had a crisis on one of their projects, and he had to cancel. But instead of letting things die a natural death, he insisted Sam and I proceed with the trip as planned. Sam, it seemed, knew where the lake, and indeed, the cabin were. Apparently he’d been there before.
So about four that afternoon, I climbed in a SUV with a guy whose sister I had shagged… and who provoked erotic thoughts in my head himself, to head off into the mountains with rods and reels, and two pistols as snake guns. In my mind, they appeared to be dueling pistols. Talk about testy!
Actually, the trip to the lake was rather pleasant. Sam didn’t initiate much conversation, but he answered questions fully and easily when they were put to him. As this was totally foreign country to me, I had plenty of questions. As we headed north to Santa Fe and beyond on the way to some lake called Cochiti, the landscape constantly changed from high-desert panoramas to narrower, more restricted mountain views, but it was all interesting.
The cabin turned out to be a two-bedroom log affair perched near the lake on some high ground. Somewhere during our afternoon-long dialogue, I picked up the information that the land was owned by a local Indian tribe who, in turn, leased the ground beneath these cabins for something like ninety-nine years. The fact that the property reverted to the control of the tribe, buildings and all, at the end of the lease set my teeth on edge, but it wasn’t anything for me to worry about.
We arrived too late to do any fishing, but used an excellent butane stove to cook ourselves a couple of fillets we found in the freezer. After that, we retired to the veranda overlooking the water and studied the shimmering lake by moonlight. After a while, we lapsed into a comfortable silence until Sam asked a question.
“What time do you want to get up to start fishing?”
“Dunno. Hadn’t given it any thought.”
Then he shook me. “Do fish get up early?”
“You’re asking me? Aren’t you a fisherman?”
“Nah. Last time I came up with Chuck, I spent most of the time hiking.” He eyeballed me through the moonlight. “Aren’t you?”
“Maybe once in my life when my old man dragged me on a trip. Crap, maybe we oughta head back to Albuquerque.”
“I dunno. It’s nice up here, and there’s some good hiking. We can go back tomorrow, if we decide that’s the thing to do.”
“Sounds good to me.”
We sat in some more comfortable quiet, occasionally broken by the cry of a loon—isn’t there always a loon on lakes?—until the temperature dropped enough to send us back inside.
Sam gravitated to a phonograph and started shuffling through albums. “Mind if I put on some music?” he asked.
“So long as it doesn’t blast my eardrums.”
He laughed. “I like show tunes, oldies, that kind of thing.
“More my type.”
The record he selected was a Perry Como album, slow and mellow., causing me to blurt out that his sister was a good dancer.
Better put a halter on my tongue. No telling where that would lead.
“Yeah, she is. Says you are too.”
“That so? From what I saw while you and Lynne were on the floor, so are you.”
He held out his arms and danced with himself for a moment, prompting me to lose my head.
“As a matter of fact, I wondered what it would be like to dance with you.”
He halted and smiled. “Won’t have any better opportunity to find out than right now.” He walked into my arms, but I noticed he reversed things so that he led.
At first it was stiff and awkward. Finally, he cuffed my chin and told me to relax. Then he pulled me close, and I don’t remember much after that except it felt right and natural to be in this young man’s arms. He moved smoothly to the beat of the music and hummed along with Como, carrying me right along with him.
The song ended, and he held me tight until the next one—even slower and mellower—began. I laid my head on his broad shoulder and relaxed even more, allowing our groins to press together. There was magic in the moment.
I don’t know how many tunes played before the album ended. But as the played-out record went round and round with a scratching noise, we stood looking at one another. Those green eyes reminded me of fire opals, and I felt myself succumbing to them.
“W-what happens n—” He cut me off with his lips, and I felt the kiss right down in my bones.
He came up for air and stared some more. “I dunno. What do you—”
I shut him up with my lips and pressed myself against his hard, lean body.
When we parted, he had a loopy grin on his handsome face. “You know this is gonna be tricky when we go home, don’t you?”
“That’s then. This is now.”
The grin grew broader. “Where.”
Actually, the tricky part was figuring out who did what to whom. But we managed. In fact we managed several times over that magical weekend.
Guess Dru’s not going to have any trouble. Unless it’s deciding which twin he wants. Or can he keep both? Should he return to California or stay in Albuquerque. Like he said… it’s Tricky.
Stay safe and stay strong.
Now my mantra: Keep on reading and keep on writing. You have something to say… so say it!
A link to The Cutie-Pie Murders:
My personal links:
See you next Thursday.