Chapter 3
In the Orchard
Boston - April, 1941
Sloan stood up in response to the knock on his door and called, “Come in!”
The door opening, James popped his head in and inquired, “Say, Sloan, do you have a minute?”
Always happy to see his newfound friend, Sloan responded, “Sure! What’s up?”
“I’ve an idea I thought might interest you.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, given that you have no particular plans for the summer, I was wondering if you might be interested in taking on a summer job. I’ve been invited to work at a place in New Hampshire called The Orchard Inn and, as it turns out, they have need of the services of an additional young man. Might this be of interest to you?”
“Wow! Sounds like fun, James. Tell me more,” Sloan replied in obvious excitement.
Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania – May, 1941
Sabrina sat within the surrounding crowd of high school students. It was final convocation, and awards were being announced at Benjamin Franklin High School. As she sat, a voice announced sonorously over the loudspeaker, “And now, for the award for most beautiful young lady. The student body has chosen by a landslide, and it’s no surprise, may I say – Miss Sabrina Dewhurst!” At this, the crowd reacting boisterously, Sabrina raised her hands to her face in embarrassment and, arising from her seat, she came forward to accept her award.
As she did so, she contemplated to herself whether she was indeed all that attractive. Her girlfriends had informed her of such, but each time she had inspected herself, she had confessed to being unable to see why on earth any man could find her appealing. Was not her nose too large, her breasts perhaps a bit too small, her hair a drab but flowing shade of brown? There it was – the reality of it all – she was a living anachronism to her own self.
Given such an incongruous assemblage of feminine attributes, she resolved that her lot in life would be essentially that of a spinster, thus encouraging her to devote her attentions to the study of medicine. If she could not excel at attracting a mate, she would do her best at what God had seen fit to endow her with – an abundant intellect. After all, one could not expect to be endowed with perfection, and intelligence was far more than most could say they possessed.
And though she had been chosen most beautiful in her high school, she knew that this award would mean little outside the confines of Pittsburgh. She therefore felt infinitely reassured by her acceptance, received only recently, to Bryn Mawr College commencing in September. An education, she reasoned to herself, was the key to transcending her physical shortcomings.
Fortunately, her mother, having foreseen the cost of her education, had arranged for her to work during the coming summer, thereby ensuring that she could pay for college.
New Hampshire – Late May, 1941
James leaned forward within the taxi, paid the driver and, hopping onto the sidewalk, he volunteered, “It seems we’ve finally arrived, Sloan.” Thenceforth turning to take in the view in the fading light of sunset, he exclaimed, “I’m so happy you agreed to come with me.”
Gazing toward the entrance to the inn, Sloan exclaimed, “Wow! The Orchard Inn is fabulous, even better than the photographs! It’s destined to be a fantastic summer.”
James confided, “I wonder what we shall be assigned to do. On second thought, I don’t wonder. Anything at all would be quite easy compared to the mind-numbing coursework we’ve been subjected to over the past nine months.”
Sloan responded, “I for one intend to enjoy every moment of the summer, despite the fact that we shall be employees.”
The pair grabbed their bags, subsequently lugging them into the inn, whereupon they were met by the concierge, who exclaimed, “Welcome! You must be James and Sloan, if my guess is correct.”
“Entirely correct, madam. I am James – James Moorehead,” James replied, holding out his hand to her.
Taking his hand in hers, she responded, “Wonderful! I am Virginia Struthers, the concierge for The Orchard Inn. Welcome! Do you need help with your luggage?”
“I believe that we can manage,” he replied, “No time like the present to undertake our duties!”
“Excellent!” she answered, “Now, if you will both follow me, I will show you to your quarters for the summer.” The pair grabbed their bags and, following her quite some distance to the annex, they just managed to keep pace.
On arriving at their destination, she said, “Here we are. Now, you shall be in room 201, this one. Here are your keys,” and so saying, she opened the door to the room, adding, “You shall be sharing this room together. Two young ladies shall share the room directly opposite. One is already here. Her name is Isolde Channing. The other shall arrive in a few days.”
“Wait, what did you say?” Sloan inquired.
“What?” she asked in return.
“What is the young lady’s name?”
“Isolde Channing.”
“I say, what a coincidence. As it happens, we know Miss Channing!”
“My, that is quite a coincidence,” she responded. “Perhaps you will want to say hello to her. She is in Room 202, just there,” and so saying, she pointed to the door opposite. “Now, please, both of you make yourselves comfortable. Tomorrow morning, if you will make your way to the restaurant at seven A.M., I shall meet you for breakfast. At that time I shall explain your duties for the summer. Any questions? None? Alright then, I shall see you first thing tomorrow. Get a good night’s sleep. You will need it!” and so saying she disappeared down the hallway.
“I say, that was rapid fire!” Sloan volunteered as they dragged their bags within their room.
“Yes,” James responded, “I think I rather like her. She seems to be the no-nonsense type to me.”
“Yes, I agree, and not unpleasing to the eye, although I suppose she’s a bit old for me.”
“Why? How old is too old?” James inquired, tongue-in-cheek.
“Good point. I shall endeavor to take a shot at her,” Sloan replied with false bravado.
“I’ll bet you fifty dollars you can’t get to first base with her,” James cajoled.
“Not a chance,” Sloan responded, “Too pricey for me. Besides, she’s not my type.”
“Ha! I knew that was all talk. You’re after Isolde, my friend. Don’t think you fool me at all!”
“Whatever,” Sloan responded noncommittally.
“Now, shall we follow Miss Struthers’ advice by getting a good night’s rest?”
“Actually, I rather think that I shall see if Isolde is in her room just there,” and so saying, Sloan wandered across the hall and knocked on the door of the opposing room.
The door opening momentarily, Isolde popped her head out, exclaiming in surprise, “Why, Sloan Stewart, what on earth are you doing here?”
Smiling hesitantly at her, Sloan exclaimed, “I might ask the same of you, Isolde. It seems that we three, James included, are thrown together for the duration of the summer.”
“What! You mean, you’re working here as well?”
“Precisely,” at which, he added somewhat diffidently, “It seems the summer isn’t going to be all work and no play after all, dear Isolde.”
“Oh, but this is just too marvelous!” she responded, thereby surprising Sloan, who was still smarting from events of the previous semester. Seeing his reticence, she lunged for him and, embracing him in a mighty hug, she added, “I fear that I shall be spending the entire summer with quite the two most eligible young men in the whole of Harvard University!” And at this she broke into uncontrolled giggles.
“Well, that be entirely stoatin,” Sloan mumbled absently to himself.
“What? What on earth is stoatin?” she responded vacantly.
“Nothing, nothing at all,” he replied, breaking into a convivial smile.
“Oh, wait, I think I know what this is about, dear Sloan,” she responded g
iddily. “A friend of mine told me she overheard you arguing with Miss Blackburn one day. That must’ve been…let’s see…nearly three months ago. Is that it? Tell me. Tell me, Mr. Sloan Stewart. Tell me this very minute,” she demanded, stamping her foot with feigned emphasis.
Scratching his head in bewilderment, he shrugged his shoulders in confusion, offering, “She’s your dorm supervisor, right?”
“Of course she is, you ninny!” she exclaimed, a smile spreading effortlessly across her features.
“Then yes,” he responded in that exasperatingly laconic style of his.
“I thought so!” she said impishly, adding gleefully, “Listen, Sloan, tis water under the bridge. We hit a bump in the road, that’s all.”
“A what?” he responded vacantly.
“Tis a euphemism,” she replied, but, seeing he was still lost, she added, “Dear Sloan, it is at long last summer! I’m sure I needn’t remind you what a gay time we had together crossing the ocean two summers ago. Well, it is once again summer, and fate has seen fit to place us together yet again, and this time for the entire summer!”
Seeing his perception growing, she grasped the moment and tugged him into a passionate kiss, to which he responded with great interest. Eventually coming up for air, she queried, “And now, my friend, are we indeed friends once again?”
Observing her doubtfully, he responded, “I suppose so,” and after a further moment of silence, he added with feigned solemnity, “Isolde, it appears that your roommate has yet to arrive and, as you and I have been friends for even longer than have James and I, perhaps it is more appropriate for the two of us to share your room together, at least until your roommate makes her appearance.”
At this impertinent suggestion, Isolde punched him playfully in the stomach, exclaiming with obvious delight, “You, sir, are quite the cheeky lothario, if I do say so myself! Sadly, the answer is NO! Goodnight, sir,” and so exclaiming, she slammed her door shut.
“Yes, well, I was only half kidding,” he murmured to her now-firmly shut door. But then, shrugging his shoulders in resignation, he began humming to himself, all the while contemplating the myriad of possibilities for the summer ahead.
The Following Morning
Sloan came forward to the restaurant table, offering sunnily, “Good morning, Miss Struthers.”
“Ah, good morning, gentlemen. I trust you slept well?” she responded politely.
“Like a newborn babe,” James replied, a carefree grin creasing his features.
“Excellent,” she said and, turning to Sloan, she added, “And where might your companion be, sir?”
“Oh, she’s not my companion. She’s just a friend. I expect she should be along at any moment,” Sloan replied and, turning as if to search her out, he exclaimed, “Ah, here she is now, right on time!”
“Good morning all!” Isolde observed sunnily.
“And you as well,” Miss Struthers responded. “Now, let’s the four of us get some food from the buffet, and I shall then explain how things work here at the inn. Please,” and, pointing toward the buffet, she herself arose from the table.
Once their repast was concluded, Miss Struthers signaled an end to it by pressing her white napkin to her lips. Clearing her throat, she suggested, “You appear to be the senior person within the group, James. Is that correct?”
“Yes, quite so,” he responded. “In fact, I just recently turned twenty-one, Madame Struthers.”
“Excellent. Now, I take it from your resume that you have experience in the guiding of others. Accordingly, you shall be afforded the title of Assistant Head Desk Manager for the duration of the summer. In your new position, I shall expect you to shadow me for the next few days. Your duties will become clear in the course of your time under my mentorship. Understood?”
“Yes, ma’am, and may I say - thank you for placing such confidence in me.”
“Yes, well, when you become aware of the attendant responsibilities, you will perhaps not be so thankful.”
“I dare say, I shall not disappoint, Madame.”
“We shall see, James, all in good time,” she replied and, turning to Sloan, she observed, “So, your resume indicates that you are a swimmer. Is that correct, Sloan?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
“Just exactly how accomplished a swimmer are you, if I may ask?”
“I would say excellent. I’m on the swim team at Harvard, and I also skull.”
“Wonderful,” she replied, clasping her hands together in apparent glee, “Then could one presume that you are qualified to take on the responsibility of lifeguard?”
“Absolutely!” he replied exuberantly.
“Then consider it done, Sloan. You are forthwith appointed Head Lifeguard of The Orchard Inn!”
“Head Lifeguard? Gee, Miss Struthers, I’m honored!”
“Relax, dear boy, there is only one lifeguard, and you are he. Besides, the pay is all the same here at the inn, no matter the title.”
At this, all four laughing gaily, he replied, “I shall endeavor to justify my lofty rate of pay, Miss Struthers.”
“Excellent,” she replied, and turning toward Isolde, she now queried, “And you, Miss Channing, where might we find the proper assignment for you?”
“Right,” Isolde responded, “Perhaps I might make a suggestion, Miss Struthers.”
“By all means!”
“Well, I have cooking skills, but not so as to be considered at the professional level. Perhaps I could be a table waitress here within the restaurant.”
“Oh, perfect!” Miss Struthers responded, “I had so hoped that you would not consider it beneath you. We are in desperate need of table waiters, you see.”
“It would be an honor,” Isolde responded ingenuously.
“Then I believe we have an agreement among the four of us. You, James, shall be Assistant Head Desk Manager. Sloan, you shall be Head Lifeguard, and Isolde shall be Head Waitress within the restaurant.”
“Goodness, am I also to be awarded such a lofty title?” Isolde responded.
“Yes, well, don’t let it go to your heads, you three. Now, I suggest that you all be off to your respective assignments as quickly as possible. You shall find that there are no laggards here at the inn. We are all expected to pitch in whenever and wherever, and I shall expect all of you to perform accordingly. Oh, and one other thing. You shall have one day off per week and, Wednesday being our slowest day, we shall begin with that day for the three of you. Any questions?”
“No, ma’am,” the three responded in unison.
“Excellent! I am most impressed with all of you. I trust that you shall enjoy your summer here, and you shall perform admirably. Now, off with you!”
“Thank you, Miss Struthers,” James responded for the three of them and, having said this, they all set off in quest of fulfilling their respective professional responsibilities.
That Night
Sloan knocked on Isolde’s door, inquiring, “Isolde, are you decent?”
The door momentarily opening, she responded, “Yes, of course. I’ve been hoping you’d come round.”
“Might a stroll be of interest to you?”
“Yes, I am in desperate need of some entertainment,” she replied pleasantly.
“Perhaps we could walk down by the lake. James is still detained with his newfound responsibilities, so I’m afraid that I shall have to do.”
“Sounds perfect,” she replied, “Let me get my scarf,” and within moments the pair set off on their diminutive sojourn.
Reaching the shoreline, Sloan gestured to a picnic table and suggested, “Perhaps we could sit here,” and so saying, he took a seat.
Following his lead, she sat opposite, inquiring, “How was your first day of work?”
“Quite easy,” he responded pleasantly, “I believe I’m going to like it here at the inn.”
“I wish I could say the same,” she responded, “They worke
d me quite hard, I’m afraid.”
“Ah, sorry to hear that, Isolde. Are you quite alright?”
“Oh, not to worry, Sloan. I’m quite alright. Anything at all would be better than school. Frankly, I was exhausted. I quite needed a change of pace, and this appears thus far to be just the perfect distraction for me.”
Sloan now asked the question that had been bothering him for months, “Isolde, why would you not see me after that night of the dance contest? Were you awfully upset with me?”
“No, that’s not it at all,” she prevaricated and, replacing a wayward strand of hair, she added carefully, “Frankly, I was embarrassed, if you must know.”
“Embarrassed?” he blubbered in stupefaction, “Why ever for?”
“For what might have happened had you not intervened, that’s why!” she exclaimed, “Now, if you don’t mind, can we simply forget it and move on? Could we simply make a fresh start this summer?”
“I say, that’s the spirit. You always were quite the optimist, Isolde.”
“Well, I don’t know about that,” she murmured and, deftly changing the subject, she asked, “So, how did the spring semester work out for you?”
“Rather well, I should think,” he replied evasively.
“What does that mean?”
“I did quite well, if you must know, Isolde.”
“Quite well? Exactly how well, Sloan?”
“I don’t like letting on, but since you’ve asked a direct question, I suppose I must answer directly. I finished the year first in my class.”
“Oh, my…that is quite spectacular, Sloan! Kudos to you!”
“Thank you.”
“Do you always answer so directly?”
“Good question. Let’s just say, I try to be honest.”
“How so?”
“Well, I suppose it all goes back to a test I took, years ago.”
“A test, what sort of test?”
“Oh, it was just one of those little math tests that we all had to take when we were young. I recall, I was ten years old, and I wanted ever so much to win the prize for best math score in the class.”
“And did you?”
“Yes, but I cheated to get it.”
“You cheated?”
“Yes, I’m afraid I did.”
“And you subsequently won?”
“Yes, I’m afraid that I did.”
“And what happened?”
“Nothing, at least not outwardly so.”
“So no one ever caught you out?”
“Well, in a manner of speaking, that is correct. But in the end, I was in fact caught out.”
“Oh? By whom?”
“By myself.”
“What? I don’t understand.”
“Well, you see, I despised myself for having cheated. Accordingly, I took the ribbon that they gave me for winning, and I burned it. But of course, I was unable to purge my own guilt at having cheated. I hated myself so much in fact, I promised myself that I would never ever cheat or lie again.”
“Oh?” she responded in surprise, “And have you kept that promise?”
“Absolutely, and that is why I answer direct questions with equal directness.”
At this admission, she eyed him doubtfully and murmured to herself, “Well, that would be a first.”
“What? What did you say?” he inquired.
“Oh, nothing,” she responded, “I just think that everyone lies. At least, that is my experience.”
“Perhaps, but do me a favor, Isolde. Watch me carefully through the course of the summer, and judge for yourself. See for yourself if you agree that I never cheat or lie.”
She gazed at him pensively, saying, “Challenge noted, challenge taken, Sloan. We shall see if it is possible for a man to be completely honest. And now, as a very first test of your self-professed honesty, if I may ask, do you want to kiss me or not?”
“Ha!” he responded diffidently, “Trapped again, but by one so lovely as you, it is never a loss,” and so saying, he moved closer to her, admitting, “In truth, I do want to kiss you, dear lovely Isolde, ever so much.” And at this, the pair gave in to their mutual desire in quite the manner suggested by Isolde.
The Following Weekend
James answered the knock at their door, saying, “Oh, hello Isolde. How are you this morning?”
“Fine, just fine. This is my new roommate – Sabrina Dewhurst. Sabrina, meet James, James Moorehead.”
“Nice to meet you, Sabrina,” he responded.
“And you as well,” she replied, “Isolde has told me all about you.”
At this, a second head popped through the door and bubbled, “Good morning all!”
“Oh, Sloan, good morning!” Isolde exclaimed, “Meet my new roommate, Sabrina, Sabrina Dewhurst. Sabrina, this is Sloan Stewart.”
“A pleasure,” Sloan said, taking her hand in his.
“Sabrina is the Assistant Head Waitress,” Isolde offered.
“Oh, I say, good show!” Sloan put in, “Smashing title!”
“And,” Isolde now added, “Given her ability to dog paddle, she is also Assistant Head Lifeguard.”
At this announcement Sloan blurted, “What?”
“Seriously, she’s your second in command at the lake, Sloan.”
“And I do know how to swim,” Sabrina put in, giggling at this admission.
“Oh, well then, welcome to the life-saving corps,” Sloan responded with feigned relief.
“I’m off to breakfast, and thenceforth to work. Anyone care to join me?” James interjected. And at this, all four set off in quest of sustenance.
That Night
James popped into the room, expounding, “Whoa! Long day.”
“Quite so,” Sloan responded in apparent mutual exhaustion.
Plopping down on his bed, James inquired summarily, “Sooo, quite the development, wouldn’t you say, Sloan?”
“What development?”
“Why, the latest addition to our group, of course,” James responded emphatically.
“Oh, you mean Sabrina?”
“Right,” James replied and, eyeing Sloan probingly, he inquired, “So, what do you think of her?”
“Seems okay to me, if perhaps a bit young.”
“Oh, come now, Sloan. Quit with the prevarication and give over – she’s quite gorgeous, don’t you think?”
“Of course she’s gorgeous, James. The truth is – they’re both gorgeous. In point of fact, I doubt I’ve ever seen two more beautiful women in my entire life.”
“I quite agree,” James replied and, pausing momentarily, he added, “So, what shall we do about it?”
“Good question! I for one intend to have as much fun as possible this summer, and if something pleasurable should occur during the course of it, I shall hope for the best.”
“My, that is enigmatic, Sloan.”
“Sorry, old chap, but I’ve nothing more to offer at the moment.”
“Oh, come now - give over – which one do you fancy, Sloan?”
“I’ve no idea. I suppose that in truth I fancy them both, James.”
“Well, we shall see about that. Monogamy shall eventually rare its lonesome head, I expect.”
“All in good time, James, all in good time.”
July, 1941
Isolde met him in the restaurant kitchen, saying, “Thanks for meeting me here, James.”
“Not a problem,” James responded officiously, “What seems to be the problem?”
“I’m really not sure. Look, I probably shouldn’t even bring this up to you, but it could be something important, and I don’t want to let on to Miss Struthers. Confiding in you seems to be the only reasonable alternative.”
“My, that is circuitous. What gives, Isolde?”
Isolde eyed him pointedly for a moment, thenceforth announcing gravely, “Sabrina seems to have lost two pairs of panties. She’s looked everywhere, and they are nowhere to be found.”
/>
James frowned at this revelation, saying, “That’s strange…is she positive? Are you quite certain they’re not simply misplaced?”
“Actually, they’ve been missing for nearly three weeks,” Isolde responded thoughtfully, “At first, she thought she might have lost them in the wash, but a subsequent thorough investigation has turned up absolutely nothing. She’s been through all of her belongings, and I’ve been through mine as well. At this point, I’m quite certain they are missing. The question is – where could they have disappeared to?”
“Could it have been one of the guests?”
“I doubt it. They don’t have access to our room.”
“Do you keep it locked at all times then?”
“Yes, absolutely. You have no idea, James. Women are very careful about such things. Trust me on this – they could not have simply disappeared.”
“Alright then, give me a bit of time, Isolde. I shall look into it and get back to you.”
“Thanks. I knew you’d say that. I’m sure she will be grateful to you.”
“Sure, no problem,” and having said this, he turned to go, surreptitiously calling over his shoulder, “See you later, Isolde.”
Three Days Later
James and Isolde met yet again within the kitchen, James saying, “Thanks for meeting me, Isolde.”
“Do you have anything to report, James?”
“Actually, I do,” and so saying, he tugged a pair of panties from his pocket, inquiring, “Look familiar to you?”
“My God, where did you find them?”
“Well, I shouldn’t like to say,” he responded evasively.
“Best do so, James. If you don’t tell me, Sabrina will likely report it to Miss Struthers.”
“Yes, of course, you’re most likely right,” he responded thoughtfully, “I found them at the lakeside bathhouse.”
“What! Where exactly where they?”
“In the men’s locker room. They were in an unused locker.”
“You’re kidding! That is unbelievable!”
“Yes, I agree.”
“And there was just the one pair?”
“Yes.”
“Hmmm, exactly who has access to the lockers in the men’s locker room?”
“Just Miss Struthers…and myself, although in my case only because I borrowed her keys.”
“You’re forgetting someone,” Isolde said accusingly.
“I am? Who?”
“Sloan,” she exclaimed emphatically.
“Yes, of course, you’re right,” he replied pensively, “I hadn’t thought of that. As Head Lifeguard, he has locker room keys as well. But he wouldn’t do something like that, would he, Isolde?”
“Well, I doubt very seriously that he would, but then, there doesn’t seem to be anyone else, does there?” she replied, one eyebrow arched suspiciously.
“I really don’t know, Isolde,” he murmured, “Let me think on it and get back to you.”
“Why don’t you just confront him?”
“No, I fear that is not the best tactic,” he exclaimed reproachfully, “I’ll think about it and let you know.”
An Hour Later
Isolde entered the room and, noticing that Sabrina had obviously been anxiously awaiting her arrival, she offered, “I talked to James.”
“Well?” Sabrina queried.
“Well, what?” Isolde responded noncommittally.
“What did he say?”
Handing her the pair of panties, Isolde responded, “Here. These are yours, right?”
“Yes, of course they are,” Sabrina grumbled in obvious irritation, “Where’s the other pair?”
“He doesn’t know,” Isolde said flatly.
“He doesn’t know!” Sabrina exclaimed in evident suspicion, “Where did he find this pair?”
“He found them in the lakeside bathhouse.”
At this Sabrina exclaimed, eyes flashing, “See! I told you that guy is a pervert!”
“Yeah, but I’m still not certain, Sabrina.”
“Who else has access to the bathhouse besides Sloan, I ask you!” Sabrina queried, but it didn’t sound like a question at all. She then expounded with even greater certitude, “It has to be him, I tell you. He’s a pervert! He makes my skin crawl.”
“I wouldn’t jump to conclusions just yet, Sabrina,” Isolde countered, “James is going to do some further checking. He said he’d let us know.”
At this, Sabrina sneered, “In the meantime, there’s no telling what that pervert is doing with my other pair of panties. I’m telling you, Isolde, he’s sick!”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Isolde answered introspectively.
“Why do you keep defending him?” Sabrina uttered between gritted teeth, “What makes you think it’s not him?”
Eyeing Sabrina for a moment, Isolde argued, “For one thing, I know him better than you do. I’ve known him for nearly two years, and he’s always been the perfect gentleman with me,” and, seeing that Sabrina was unfazed, she played her hole card, “Besides, I have reason to believe that he’s quite honest.”
“Alright, I’ll bite - why?” Sabrina snarled in return.
“He told me so, that’s why!” Isolde exclaimed in apparent exasperation.
“Oh, come now, that’s no reason at all, Isolde,” Sabrina parried and, her eyes suddenly lighting up, she exclaimed resoundingly, “Wait a minute - don’t tell me you’re hooked on him!”
“No! No, I’m not hooked on Sloan,” Isolde denied, “I’m just saying, let’s give him the benefit of the doubt until all the evidence is in, okay?”
“Alright,” Sabrina responded disgustedly. “But, in the meantime, I’m keeping my distance from him. And I advise you to do the same.”
“Fair enough,” Isolde replied, wishing that this ugly development would somehow go away.
The Following Tuesday
James pulled the automobile up to the building and, hopping out, he commanded officiously, “Alright, everyone. Let’s all work together to put the equipment in the trunk. We’ve just enough sunlight to reach the campground before sunset, thereby allowing us to pitch camp before darkness sets in.”
“Right,” Sloan responded cheerfully, “This should be quite fun!”
At this, Sabrina peered knowingly at Isolde and whispered, “I’ll just bet! I wonder what that pervert has up his sleeve.”
At this Isolde winked convivially but said nothing, the pair tossing their bags within the trunk.
“So,” James announced, “Looks like we’ve got it all. Everyone hop in. We’re off on an outing to Camp Wineehoona, by the shores of Lake Chippaway. Shouldn’t take more than an hour to get there. I know, I spent two summers there when I was a boy, and I’m sure you’ll absolutely love it!”
An hour later, the four having arrived at the camp, they immediately set to preparing the campsite for their adventure. James inquired assertively, “Ladies, if you don’t mind, could you get some firewood whilst Sloan and I pitch the tents?”
“Certainly,” Sabrina responded, the two young ladies thereby setting off on their assigned quest.
Once they were out of earshot, James inquired, “Sooo, which one do you fancy, Sloan? Come on, time to fess up.”
“Both,” Sloan responded succinctly.
“That simply won’t do,” James responded. “You’ve got to pick, dear boy.”
“I doubt it,” Sloan responded absently.
“Why?”
“If I am not mistaken,” Sloan proffered, “I should think that they are the ones that shall do the picking.”
“What makes you say that?”
“The relative certainty that one or both of them already has her sights set upon one or the other of us.”
“How do you know that?”
“I don’t, but knowing little to nothing about women, I am quite certain nonetheless.”
“Well, then, we shall just wait and see, I suppose,” James muttered pensivel
y.
“Right.”
A few minutes later the ladies emerged from the brush and, observing the completed tents, Isolde announced delightedly, “Good work, men! For our part, we’ve brought quite a stack of wood. Shall we build a fire and get cozy?”
“Absolutely,” James exclaimed. “I’m famished. Let’s prepare dinner right away as well.”
Having built a magnificent campfire, the four ate a hearty meal of sandwiches and fruit, followed by a couple of shots from a purloined bottle of whiskey. Now sufficiently sated, the four set out for the lake and, shortly thereafter they stood on the shore, bathed within the moonlight.
Having imbibed a bit more whiskey than the others, Sloan appeared to be in quite the mood, prancing about ludicrously in the moonlight. “I dinnae ken a bitter spate ay friends fur sech an ootin’,” he blabbered in his native Scottish accent. “Whit say ye, lasses, ye ken thes be as stoatin’ as life coods be?”
Apparently bemused by his wanton behavior, Isolde inquired impertinently, “Do you always speak Scottish when you are drunk, sir?”
“Will, if the mood strikes, Ah fur one say why nae!” he replied woozily. “Now, we bein’ the best ay friends among us, Ah say we all goo fur a skinny dip in the moonlight,” he suggested, and so saying, he commenced doffing his clothes.
“Stop that!” Sabrina commanded in utter dismay.
Continuing to cast off articles of clothing, he queried, “Whit! Why ever fur?”
“We refuse to view you naked, that’s why!” she exclaimed in abject dismay.
“Will then, turn yer heads, lasses! Fur Ah’m goin’ intae the watur quite naeked!” And so saying he kicked off his trousers, his undershorts following shortly thereafter. For their part, the ladies turned their heads demurely, seeing as how they were unable to halt his inexorable pursuit of nakedness. Sure enough, within moments he was swimming within the turbulent waters, splashing ludicrously about.
“Come oon in!” he called gaily, “The watur be quite paerfect!”
“What did I tell you!” Sabrina exclaimed to Isolde, “Exactly what I would have expected from that pervert.”
Turning back toward the lake, Isolde suddenly announced calmly, “I’m going in.”
“Surely not!” Sabrina exclaimed in horror. “Surely you’re not going to take your clothes off! Not with that pervert in the water!”
“Actually, I rather think that I am,” she responded with finality, subsequently announcing loudly, “Now boys, if you are true gentlemen, you shall agree to turn your heads. Do you so promise?”
“Yes, of course,” Sloan replied from his watery perch.
“Certainly,” James put in, and within moments Isolde had strutted into the water naked, James following shortly thereafter.
Now left behind and outnumbered, Sabrina tarried a few moments, then announced disconsolately, “Alright, I will come in with you, but I’m not going in naked.” And so saying, she stripped down to her underwear and waded self-consciously into the water.
James now called to her scornfully, “Oh, don’t be such a prig, Sabrina. Get your undies off. It’s liberating.”
“Sorry, I’m just not the type,” she responded priggishly.
“Might as well, no one can see you in the water anyway,” James suggested.
“Well, there is that,” she called, but just at that moment, she felt a tug from beneath the water and, screaming in terror, she exclaimed, “Help, there’s a giant fish in the water!”
At that moment Sloan launched himself into the air beside her and, panties held aloft in triumph, he exclaimed, “I’ve got ‘em! The shark has struck, thereby barin’ the bottom ay the bonnie lass.”
Crouching in terror within the water, Sabrina screamed belligerently, “You pervert! Give me back my panties!”
Ignoring her plea, Sloan cried elatedly, “Whit am Ah bid fur ‘em!”
“Give them back this very minute, or I shall never speak to you again!” she wailed forlornly.
“Better do as she says, Sloan,” Isolde interjected coolly.
“Och, Sabrina, it were jest a gam,” he exclaimed furtively, “Here ye goo,” and so saying, he tossed her the purloined item. “Besides, the attackin’ shark saw naught ay ye, ye big priss. It be faer too daerk, anyways.”
Slipping her panties back on, Sabrina immediately dashed from the water, calling over her shoulder, “I’m getting out. That pervert is crazy!”
“Och, all reit,” Sloan replied, “But fur yer information, Ah’m noo paervert. From whit Ah’ve observed this night, ye’d be a fair bit closer tae one than Ah!”
By now making her way back to the campsite, Sabrina called over her shoulder, “Screw you, you pervert!”
Two Weeks Later
Sloan stood nonchalantly toweling off at his locker, when James came rushing into the locker room, a look of horror on his face. Confused by James’ demeanor, Sloan inquired, “What’s the matter? Did someone get hurt or something?”
“No,” James responded, “Nothing like that. Something very strange, very untoward.”
“What? Why the subterfuge?”
“I don’t know, it just doesn’t seem like something she would do,” James mumbled thoughtfully.
“Who? Sabrina?”
“No, not Sabrina…Isolde.”
“Isolde? What’s she done?”
“I’m not sure I can say. After all, I’m not quite certain of it. It just seems so out of character to me.”
“Alright, James, that’s it. Out with it! Tell me what’s going on.”
“Right…well, I spotted her with a hand drill the other day,” James began, “She was carrying it into the women’s locker room. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but now I’m not so sure…”
“Sure of what?”
“Well, it seems there’s a hole in the wall between the men’s and women’s showers.”
“What! What on earth are you talking about, James?”
“I’m telling you, there’s a peep hole in the wall, and it wasn’t there a few days ago.”
“You’ve got to be kidding! Are you suggesting that someone has been spying on us while we were showering?”
“Well, I realize it sounds more like something an impertinent lad would do, but yes, that’s precisely what I’m telling you.”
“Show me where it is. Show me the hole in the wall.”
“Certainly, but we must be quite careful. Don’t say anything while we’re in there. We don’t want to let on, as there might perchance be someone peering through the hole at this very moment.”
“Right. Shall we go see?” and with that, Sloan followed James into the shower room. James tiptoed along the wall and subsequently pointed toward a small spot just beneath the shower railing.
Observing it for a moment, Sloan bent down, examined it closely and, rising up, he whispered, “You’re right, James. It’s a hole, and it goes all the way through the wall. Not only that, it appears to have been drilled quite recently, as there’s still a bit of sawdust around the opening. It’s quite well concealed. In fact, I doubt that I’d have seen it if you hadn’t shown it to me.” Having said this, he stepped back and, still gazing toward the spot, he scratched his chin in apparent contemplation.
“What shall we do?” James whispered in puzzlement, “Whoever drilled it might be spying on us at this very moment.”
“Just leave it to me,” Sloan responded self-assuredly, “I shall take care of the culprit, whoever it is. In the meantime, I would strongly suggest that you avoid showering in the locker room.”
Late That Night
Sloan arose from his bed and, making his way to the bathhouse, he undertook a complete examination of the miscreant’s treachery both from the men’s and the women’s sides. Having completed his study of the evidence, he carried out the first step in his plan. He thenceforth drilled another hole in the wall at a carefully concealed point within the men’s dressing room, thereby a
llowing him to observe undetected anyone peering through the hole from the women’s shower.
The following day, reasoning that the sonorous drone of the men’s showers could be heard quite easily from the ladies’ showers, he turned on the men’s shower at intervals throughout the day, checking each time from his newly created observation point. Sure enough, late in the afternoon, having turned on the shower yet again, he checked through his viewing port and immediately recognized the offending person. Within moments he was enacting the succeeding step in his plan as, standing naked within the shower, he lathered up with feigned oblivion for all to see who might be spying on him from the ladies’ locker room.
Over the course of the next few days, he was quite careful to ensure that he timed his showers appropriately, and each time he endeavored to put on a seemingly innocent show for the offending party’s pleasure. As the week progressed, he patiently awaited the opportunity to enact the final step in his plan. The following Saturday evening, noticing that the offending party was unaccounted for after dinner, he checked each of the likely places, determining that she was most likely at that very moment within the ladies’ locker room at the bathhouse down by the lake.
Putting the remainder of his well-conceived strategy into immediate action, he crept stealthily from the inn and, making his way directly to the lakeside bathhouse, he approached the women’s locker room. Once there, he was able to determine that someone was indeed therein and, peering through his own viewing port, he immediately recognized the transgressing party within. Accordingly, he crept as unobtrusively as possible into the ladies’ locker room and, subsequently strolling nonchalantly into the ladies’ shower, he observed Sabrina heedlessly lathering herself.
“Hi,” he announced casually, at which Sabrina shrieked and, obviously frightened by the sight of a man within such a sanctum of femininity, she lurched toward the nearest corner in an apparent attempt to shield her nakedness from him.
“What are you doing in here?” she screamed, “Get out, you pervert!”
Crossing his arms in apparent superiority, he inclined unperturbed against the wall and responded derisively, “Look who’s talking.”
Her eyes flashing in furor, she exclaimed, “What!” And, having done so, she turned as far away from him as possible.
As she did so, he noticed a tiny birthmark on her left flank, a mark shaped incongruously like a heart.
Shaking off the incongruity of it, he paced across the room and swatted her soundly on one flank.
“Ow!” she squealed, “What did you do that for?”
“I just felt like it, and if you know what’s good for you, you’d better not question my actions. Otherwise, you shall shortly be in quite a lot of trouble.”
“What on earth are you talking about, Sloan?” she responded in confusion.
“Don’t act innocent with me! You’ve been spying on the men’s showers through a hole in the wall for at least a week. I’m quite certain you’ve seen me completely naked several times. Consequently, if you don’t come over here this very moment, I shall be forced to report you to the authorities. Not only will you most assuredly get fired from the inn, you shall quite likely also be expelled from Bryn Mawr.”
At this pronouncement she paled, nevertheless continuing her futile attempt to cover herself. Suddenly realizing her predicament, she half turned, imploring, “Please Sloan, you wouldn’t do that, would you?”
“Just get your gorgeous ass over here!” he responded with contrived indifference.
Continuing to shield her nakedness as best she could, she glared irritably at him momentarily and then made her way towards him. As she reached within arm’s length, he tossed her a towel and murmured, “Cover yourself with this. I think I’ve seen enough.”
She grabbed the proffered item and wrapped it about herself as quickly as possible, at which he glared at her and queried, “Sooo, what would you suggest as the proper disciplinary action, if I may be so bold?”
At this she sneered at him, but then, her expression changing to one of resignation, she stared balefully at the floor in apparent shame, she blurted, “This is blackmail!”
“Oh, come now, Sabrina, you’ve seen quite all of me. Give over, I say tit for tat. After all, turnabout is fair play.”
Turning exceedingly pale at this, she exclaimed fearfully, “You wouldn’t dare! Surely I have already more than paid for my wayward conduct.”
Wagging a finger at her, he remonstrated, “Ah-ah, naughty girl! Let’s not forget – you’ve been caught red-handed with your hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. And, under the circumstances, I believe that some just reminder of your transgression is warranted. After all, I do hold the winning hand.”
Glaring at him yet again and, her eyes narrowing vehemently, she howled furiously, “You filthy degenerate!”
“Now, surely that is the pot calling the kettle black, if I may say so.”
Continuing her withering stare, she inquired, “What exactly did you have in mind?”
“Oh, nothing too salacious,” and, pausing in reflection, he suddenly brightened and, as if having hit on the perfect solution, he suggested, “In all fairness, turnabout does seem the proper retribution.”
Paling noticeably, she queried, “Turnabout, what sort of turnabout?”
“I should think that would be obvious, dear Sabrina. Tomorrow, you should endeavor to voluntarily shower most alluringly directly before the viewing port, thereby allowing an assembled audience of your victims to inspect your attributes precisely as you have theirs.”
“I’ll do no such thing!” she exclaimed in obvious terror.
“Ah, I see,” he responded, already certain that this would be her response, “Then I’m afraid that you shall be reprimanded, fired, and subsequently expelled from college. Too bad, I should have thought that you would have been more than willing to return the favor to those you’ve so wickedly maligned.”
Her demeanor suddenly changing markedly, she responded contritely, “I’m so ashamed. My curiosity got the better of me, Sloan. I’d never seen a naked man before,” and at this, she dropped her head, thereby demonstrating genuine remorse. Momentarily, she pled, “But please, don’t force me to do such a thing. Is there some reasonable alternative that you might propose?”
“I’m sure I have no idea,” he exclaimed, his hand on his chin. “What do you suggest?”
Resigned to her predicament, she responded sullenly, “Perhaps I could pay for my mistake in some way that would mollify you without subjecting me to public ridicule.”
“Perhaps, but I confess I had something else in mind,” he retorted cheerfully.
Eyeing him doubtfully, she responded, “Like what?”
Tugging a razor from his pocket he suggested, “Well, I thought to give a you nice clean shave…”
“What!” she cried in astonishment, and then, fear overtaking her, she whimpered, “Please, please, don’t subject me to such embarrassment, you pervert!”
Ignoring her plea, he advanced to her, whispering, “Best not to fight it, Sabrina.”
But before he reached her, she blurted, “Wait, just give me a moment. Please!”
“Ok-kay…” he mumbled.
And at this she inquired, “I don’t understand, what could be the purpose of shaving me? Please tell me!”
Eyeing her pensively, he responded, “Why, I should think it obvious. Having measurably altered your physical appearance, at least for the time being, it will give you pause to ponder your wayward behavior for some lengthy period of time, thereby repeatedly reminding you that behavior such as yours is unacceptable and should never be repeated.”
Pondering his reply, she now posited, “Alright, that being the case, surely you will allow me to perform the act upon myself.”
“Whyever for?” he queried.
“For the simple reason that I shall not be subjected to the ignominy of having you peruse my privates, you despicable pervert.”
Contemplating her counter offer, he responded, “Alright, I shall make you a compromise offer. Should you agree to discontinue calling me a pervert, I shall allow you to perform the required shaving upon your own self.”
“Done!” she exclaimed, “But only under the condition that I may do so with my back turned toward you.”
At this he stared at her momentarily, and then, his acceptance apparent, he handed the razor to her and exclaimed, “I shall consider the matter closed, and shall never speak of it again on completion of the assigned task.”
With a silent nod of acceptance, she took the proffered implement and, turning away from him, she completed her punishment in short order. She then turned back toward him and handed the razor over, saying, “Her, you…you unsavory bastard!”
“Ah-ah-,” he remonstrated, “Please to drop the towel. I must have confirmation, you know.”
Pointing to the evidence scattered about the floor, she observed, “There it is right there on the floor, you imbecile.”
Scanning where she pointed, he responded, “Ah, and so it is. Well, then, Sabrina. It seems that your penance is complete. Accordingly, I shall wish you a good evening.” And with that he turned and departed the shower.
Late That Night
Unable to sleep, Sloan arose from bed, electing to go for a midnight stroll, his brazen retaliation on the hapless Sabrina having somehow amplified his entire metabolism to an uncontrollable pitch. On departing the confines of the inn, he found that the weather was warm and comforting, despite the lateness of the hour. Having no direction in mind, he wandered aimlessly for several minutes, eventually finding himself drawn to the serenity of the lake. Approaching the shore, he made his way through the last of the trees, noticing that, contrary to his own roiling emotions, the water was unusually placid.
Pausing at the water’s edge, he murmured to himself, “Too bad there is no moonlight tonight. It would have surely provided an ethereal quality to the setting.” Thenceforth removing his shoes, he allowed the water to flow over his feet, and in so doing, he was further surprised to find the sensation warm and inviting.
Suddenly, a wayward thought coming to mind, he decided that a short swim would provide just the right measure of fatigue, thereby allowing him to embrace sleep upon his return to his repose. Accordingly, he tugged his shorts downward, stepping from them in a single lascivious motion. Wading naked into the water, a prurient excitement washed over him, the thrill of swimming alone in the altogether somehow the perfect ending to a thoroughly implausible evening.
Once up to his neck, he pushed into a slow crawl, swimming effortlessly into the darkness, feeling his utterly taut muscles relax in response to the encroaching fluid. Ahead, he could barely make out the swimming dock and, reaching for it, he heaved himself up the stairs, gasping a bit from the effort. Turning, he gazed into the darkness toward the opposing shore, taking in the tranquil setting as best he could within the impinging darkness.
Momentarily, a distant sound reaching his ears, he glanced about, perceiving an illusory figure swimming toward him from the shoreline. As he peered in utter amazement, the apparition swam deliberately to the ladder and, thrusting herself silently from the water, she strode directly into his arms. Though she was outfitted within a swimsuit, swimming goggles and bathing cap, he could have no doubt whatsoever as to the identity of his audacious interloper.
Having no thought of declining her daring intrusion, he bent toward her, accepting the situation for what it was – a surreal coincidence beyond all human comprehension. The exhilarated pair clutched one another desperately, their mutual attraction overwhelming all else. Then, still locked within a passionate embrace, she reached down and, caressing his swollen member, she whispered between kisses, “My suit, my suit…”
Taking her utterance for an erotic demand, he reached forward, clasped one strap in each hand and, gently tugging each downward simultaneously, he extricated her from the tight-fitting swimsuit in a single smooth motion. Somehow finding her exotically enshrouded visage quite provocative, he slid slowly to his knees and, leaning forward towards her fully exposed physique, he kissed her gently on each breast. Thereafter drifting lower, he kissed her clean-shaven triangle, whispering, “Sabrina, you’re so lovely. I want you so.”
Hearing this, she tugged his lips upwards towards hers, whispering covetously, “Shut up, you idiot,” and then, at the moment their lips joined in searching passion, she murmured softly, “Inside, please,” and then again, unrelentingly, “Inside me, I must have you inside me.”
Responding to her insistent cue, he quickly located the spot she had referred to, thrust impulsively and, finding it infinitely natural, he glided effortlessly between her immediately thrusting hips.
It was all over in a matter of minutes, that most intimate of all activities that can occur between consenting adults, he falling to his back in utter exhaustion, completely unable to control his now entirely depleted frame.
Suddenly and quite inexplicably bursting into motion, she sprang to her feet and, diving into the water, she swam toward the shore. He, unable to summon the energy to pursue her, rolled languidly to one side and, peering after her vanishing strokes in the darkness, he pondered to himself that this was indeed the singularly appropriate ending to a perfect summer - a divine intervention into what had up to that very moment in his life been a rather mundane existence.
“Tomorrow,” he thought to himself, “I shall have her yet again. She is just the most perfect creature I’ve ever come across, and now she is mine for the taking.”
The Following Morning
Sloan slept late, which seemed rather appropriate, given the events of the preceding night. It was his final free day of the summer, the season now drawing to a close. Eventually arising from his bed, he crept into the bathroom, finding James shaving therein. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were still about,” he exclaimed.
“No problem,” James responded, observing, “You’re up rather late.”
“Right, I couldn’t sleep last night,” Sloan replied matter-of-factly, “I went for a stroll down by the lake.”
“Ah, I thought I heard you go out. So, what shall we do today? After all, we are free all day.”
“Why don’t we see if Isolde and Sabrina would like to connect up with us?” Sloan suggested.
“Not possible,” James responded.
“Why ever for?”
“Sabrina has left.”
At this Sloan exclaimed in utter surprise, “What! Has she gone out for the day?”
“No, she’s actually left.”
“What!” Sloan gasped in complete denial, “You mean, she’s gone?”
“Yes, she’s departed,” James observed matter-of-factly, “She told Isolde that she had to get back to school. She’s gone back to college in Pennsylvania, I’m afraid.”
Now turning pensive, Sloan responded, “That’s strange, I thought classes didn’t start for another week.”
“Right. They don’t start for another week in Boston, but who knows when classes start at Bryn Mawr.”
Realization of his loss slowly dawning on him, Sloan gasped forlornly, “Oh, I say, this is quite terrible news!”
“Well, it’s not as bad as all that,” James responded, “You seem to have developed a fancy for Isolde, if I’m not mistaken, and she’s still here.”
At this, Sloan simply stared at him, still pondering the revelation that Sabrina had left without so much as saying goodbye to him. How could she have done such a thing after last night?
Changing the subject, James now inquired, “Whatever transpired with the hole in the wall, anyway?”
“Oh, nothing, nothing of significance,” Sloan responded absentmindedly.
“Nothing! Oh, come now, old chap. You seem to have been obsessed ever since I mentioned it to you. Surely something happened.”
“Well, in fact something did happen, but nothing that I am in a position
to divulge. Let me simply say that the problem has been dispensed with.”
“I see…” James responded diffidently and, changing the subject yet again, he added surreptitiously, “Well then, perhaps we should begin preparing for our return to Boston next weekend.”
“Right,” Sloan mumbled distractedly, “Sounds good to me.”
My Father the God Page 5
