Copyright 1999 by MichaelD38@aol.com The Pond I. Birds of prey fly south for the summer; snakes shed their skins; even sharks migrate with the seasons. So it also is with overworked lawyers. Eventually we reach a point where the pursuit of glory and riches takes more out of us than it gives back. Most of us labor on; a few jettison the daily grind for a life in the woods with a computer. Out goes the tedious burden of composing for others; in comes the tedious luxury of composing for oneself. I began my legal career as a means of enabling my writing, and I left it for the same reason. I reached this epiphany relatively early in my career, having escaped at the ripe age of thirty-two. I left Wall Street and Manhattan for a cabin in small town in the Sierra Nevadas. The cabin came with twenty-four acres of virgin yellow pine, all of it at least six thousand feet above sea level. I had a small but modern kitchen, a single bedroom, a spare room I con- verted into a writing room, and a deck that looked out over my forest. The house had previously been a summer home for another lawyer in San Francisco, who had hardly used it. He told me there was a small pond somewhere on the property, and I figured to explore it eventually. The town was about fifteen minutes down the state highway at the end of my road, and consisted largely of a gas station, a supermarket, and a small bar and grill. I spent a glorious week absolutely alone in the woods, with the phone unplugged and no one to bother me. In that time, I was able to write a total of four pages. I soon discovered that the nights in the moun- tains were another attraction of my new house. When the moon was absent, the night was the darkest thing I had ever experienced. Even with the starlight, it took long minutes before I could see anything around me. The moonlight, when it was present, was often so bright I could almost read on my deck. On a whim, I ordered an expensive telescope over the Internet, paying extra to get it there via Federal Express. I now had a new distraction from my writing, and would soon discover another. II. Several days after my telescope arrived, I was eating lunch on my deck when I thought to inspect the area around the house. For a few minutes, I gazed out through the scope at the mountain peaks in the area and the nearly unbroken carpet of evergreens. I realized as I examined the area closer to the house that I could make out the pond the former owner had mentioned. I looked up away from the telescope, and could now just barely see it. I hadn't noticed it before; it was at least a ten-minute hike down the hill. A bit of zooming in and focusing brought it more clearly into view. A stream came down through the trees to the left, flowing from somewhere further up the mountain. It fell into a hollow created by a large jumble of rocks, creating a pond perhaps fifty feet long and twenty feet wide. The water looked clear and cold, and tumbled down the hill to my right, over the rocks at the opposite end of the pond. I wondered if there were any fish in the stream; it certainly looked inviting enough. As I examined the pond, something caught my eye. At first, it was nothing but a spot of inappropriate color, red in a view where I expected only greens and browns. I thought, in a flash of disappointment and anger, that it was some piece of trash. Then I realized it was someone coming down the far hillside through the trees. I zoomed in further and saw that it was a woman. She looked to be in her twenties, short dark brown hair, long legs, athletic build. She carried a towel and a small bag, and I realized what she was planning on doing. She was quite attractive, so my initial resentment at discovering a trespasser was blunted by my interest in watching her. She laid her towel down on one of the larger rocks, and then looked around as if checking for anyone watching. For a split-second, I was filled with fear and embarrassment, but she didn't appear to see me. Then she began to undress. The hiking boots came off, as did the red T- shirt and denim shorts. I thought she was wearing an odd-looking bikini under her clothes, but I realized as she continued undressing that she didn't-she intended to sunbathe nude. I pondered whether I really wanted to continue spying on her, but was unable to tear myself away from the scene. She sat down on the towel, and commencing rubbing suntan oil over her body. She had a good tan already and no visible tan lines-no doubt this wasn't her first visit to my pond. I felt a familiar itch in my pants as I watched her slowly rubbing suntan oil over her firm breasts. I adjusted the telescope to the strongest magnification I could manage while still getting a clear view, and was treated to a wavering image of her upper body. She oiled the rest of her, abdomen, legs, feet, even rub- bing some oil between her legs. Then she set up a radio next to her and lay down in the sun. Guilt battled desire as I looked at her. She had one of the best bodies I'd seen in quite a while- long, lean, and firm. But after a few minutes, the novelty of it wore off. She simply lay there, and the view didn't change. I finally looked up and squinted down toward the pond. I couldn't see much more than the sun glinting off the water, and most likely she couldn't see up here either. I wondered if she even knew the house was here. I cleaned up my lunch and went back into the house. I brought my laptop out to the deck and tried to restart the novel I was working on. When I checked the telescope about ten minutes later, the woman had rolled over. I spent a minute or two examining her tight buttocks before returning to my book. My discovery of this intriguing trespasser had sparked something in my head, and I found that I was able to write for a change. It was close to an hour later before I thought to look back through the telescope. The woman was still there, on her back again. She had one arm over her face, while the other moved slowly over her body. With a new shock, I realized she was pleasuring her- self. Her fingers moved lightly over her breasts, teasing her nipples into erection. Her skin still glistened with suntan oil, the coppery tones coming close to hiding her deep pink nipples. As I watched, she played with her nipples for several minutes. She hung her hand above her left breast, tracing her fingertips around her areola, then the nipple itself. She tweaked the nipple a few times, then moved to the other side. Soon the hand strayed downward. She teased her stomach briefly before moving between her legs. Diz- ziness swept over me for a moment, but I kept my gaze on her. The fingers stroked lightly, up and down in a slow rhythm. The dark hair between her thighs hid what she was touching, but the movement of her fingers was clear. The fingers began a more deliberate and circular movement now, digging deeper. Her other arm remained across her face, and her back seemed to arch slightly. The fingers sped their attack. I was too far away to read much of her reactions, but I could imagine enough of it. For a minute or so, the fingers circled rapidly. Then, finally, their movements became spasmodic, her legs came together, and she convulsed several times on her towel. I let out a long breath and watched as she relaxed, spreading herself again for the sun. The hand moved up her body, rubbing her breasts a few times, before returning to her side. Then she rolled over and laid her head on her arms. I realized I had an erection. For a moment, I sported with the idea of masturbating as I looked at her, but discarded it. The experience seemed too secret and painterly to sully it in such a fashion. I went into the house for a beer and returned to my book. When I looked for the woman again, she was gone. III. The woman returned the next afternoon, and I wondered what she kind of job she had to allow all this free time to sunbathe. As before, she stripped completely out of her clothes and oiled herself up. I kept a close watch on her this time, and sure enough, she began to masturbate again after half an hour or so. Her method was the same: one arm over her face, the other working lightly over her body. Breasts and nipples first, then down south, first lightly, then with more urgency. When she was done, she rolled over and went to sleep. After the woman left, I hiked down the hill to the pond. It took about ten minutes, but there was a serviceable path through the trees. I circled around the water and found the woman's rock. I saw a few traces of suntan oil, but nothing else. The pond itself seemed to be a deep crack in the bedrock of the hillside, about as deep as it was wide. I could see sand and rocks at the bottom, but no fish. The cascade at the far side looked too steep to allow anything to swim over it. I looked back up toward my cabin, and couldn't see it right away. I finally found it, just barely, behind a pair of trees. It was impossible to make out much more than the A-frame roof, and I could only do that because I knew it was there. Otherwise, it looked like just another cluster of trees. I tested the water and found it icy cold, though it was mid-July and in the 90's. The stream was almost certainly meltwater from the surrounding peaks and tasted crisp and clean. I hadn't brought my suit with me, but figuring it was my pond and my land, I stripped out of my clothes and climbed into the water. The initial shock wore off in a minute or so, and I was able to swim around easily. I dove to the bottom, finding nothing of interest, then surfaced. I looked around and tried to figure out where the woman had come from. I wasn't sure what was on this side of my land, but she must have come from some other road than the one I normally went to town on. I swam for a few more minutes before getting too cold. I climbed out and let the sun warm me up and dry me off. For a moment, I flirted with mastur- bating as the woman had, but I was too chilled from the water to muster much enthusiasm for the idea. I finally dressed and returned to my house. Whether the woman was the reason or not, my writing was suddenly invigorated. The pages flowed from my fingers; my narrative was clear, the plot unfolding masterfully. I wrote long into that night. After midnight, as the story shifted gears after a lengthy introductory section, I realized I needed a new supporting character for one of my intended subplots. It needed to be someone mysterious, whose motivations would become clear only later in the book. I had been writing about this character for about ten minutes before I realized it was the woman. The realization didn't chill my fugue, but it gave it a strange cast. Who was she? The reader would want to know now, and certainly I did myself. I didn't go to bed until dawn, by which time I knew little more about my new character than I did about the woman. IV. I didn't see the woman the next day, but she returned the day after that, and nearly every day for the next week. Every time she came, she masturbated, and every time she did, I watched through my telescope. By now, the book was practically writing itself, but the mysterious character I had created remained just that. I could see I was heading for a collision some- where down the path I had created. I either had to let the character evolve on her own, or find out more about my pretty visitor. I went into town for food that weekend, stocking up on things that would allow me to remain closeted away for another few weeks. I bought in bulk and froze what I wouldn't need immediately. But that night, I had a sudden craving for some human contact. I decided to drive back to town and have dinner The bar and grill sat a little ways down from the supermarket, a single-story wooden building with neon beer logos in the windows and a large propane tank around the side. A few pick-up trucks parked out front, competing for space with a pair of battered muscle cars. I found a table near the bar and examined the menu. The offerings were as simple as the restau- rant itself-burgers, steaks, fried chicken, and the like. "Hi. Can I get you something to drink?" In the dim light of the bar, it was a second or two before I realized who it was. She wore a tight green T-shirt, a denim skirt, and an apron tonight, but there was no mistaking the body, or the face. I could see now she had green eyes, and a prettier face than I'd realized. A nametag on her left breast said, "Heather." If she noticed me appraising her, she didn't seem to think much of it. No doubt, the look on my face was little different from what she often got in a place like this. "Um, what kind of beer do you have?" "Bud and Bud Lite on tap, Miller Genuine Draft, Heineken, and Sierra Nevada in bottles." "I'll have a Sierra Nevada." "Cool. Be right back." She brought my beer a minute later. "Up here on vacation?" "No, I just bought a place down the road. I'm a writer." "Oh. Well, welcome to Medford." "You like it here?" "I love it up here. I hate the city. Too crowded and noisy for me." She took my order for a cheeseburger, medium rare, and left. Well, this explained how she had time for so much sunbathing. She hadn't seemed to connect my mention of moving up here to the sale of my property, so I figured my secret was safe. V. A few days later, when Heather hadn't appeared by three o'clock (she usually sunbathed for an hour or two around noon), I went down to my pond for a swim. Since it appeared to be the thing around here, I did it nude. The water was cold, so I warmed myself in the sun for about ten minutes afterward before return- ing home. My book had taken a new twist. The mysterious woman was a waitress; I called her Hannah. She was hiding out from the villain in the story in a small town. The few details I knew about Heather meshed well enough with what I had already written, and the story took another leap forward. The main character met Hannah accidentally and discovered her relationship with his foe. Hannah's role grew, and she seemed to be becoming the love interest I hadn't intended to include in the story. Hannah and the main character were probably going to sleep together if things kept going in the direction I had sent them, and I wasn't sure if that was a good idea. Heather returned the next day. When I saw her, she was standing, still clothed, on her rock, looking around intently at the surrounding forest, hand shading her eyes. She put her hands on her hips and looked around some more. Whatever she had been looking for, she hadn't seemed to find it. I wondered if she was looking for me. Maybe she had seen the sun flash off my telescope; maybe she had remembered my remark about buying this place and wondered if I was the new owner of her secret spot. Whatever it was, it didn't seem to be enough to deter her. She finally began undressing and lay down on her towel. But she didn't masturbate today. About the time I expected her to do it-she always seemed to wait until she got hot and sweaty in the sun-she sat up and looked around again. Something had spooked her, and she didn't seem comfortable enough for her usual routine. Instead, she got up and stepped down into the water. She swam in the pond now and then, but always just before she went home. Today, she floated around, continuing to search the forest for something she couldn't seem to see. She got out a few minutes later and left. I went back to Heather's bar that night, wanting to see her again up close. When she saw me at my table, her smile was a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. "Hi. Sierra Nevada, right?" "Right." "You said you bought a place down the road?" "Yeah." "How far?" "A couple of miles. It's about twenty-five acres, give or take. Just one little cabin. I like it." "Um, I think there's a creek that runs through that area. Is that your place?" I tried not to betray my thoughts. "Yeah. There's a creek at the bottom of the hill, and a little pond. It's pretty nice." "Oh. I bet you go swimming down there a lot." "A couple of times." She looked at me for a moment, trying to read my reaction, then seemed to relax. "Okay, well I'll let you decide and come back in a minute." She didn't say much else to me the rest of the night, though I caught her looking at me a few times. I left her a big tip and went home around ten. VI. I hadn't expected to see Heather at the pond again, but she showed up right on schedule the next day. Again, she spent a few minutes gazing around at the hillside above her. Then she stripped and lay down to sunbathe. I watched her for a little while and then returned to the computer. The book moved along rapidly, but I needed more from Heather. Hannah was still too much of a cipher and was in danger of becoming two-dimensional. I thought about returning to the bar, but that wasn't where the energy was coming from. I had to talk to her down at the pond. Going down while she was there was too dangerous. It might tell her that I had been watching her, and at the very least would probably surprise her and maybe scare her off. I had to make it seem more accidental. Just before noon the next day, I hiked down to the pond. I thought about sitting and waiting, but that felt too artificial. Besides which, the hike down the hill had heated me up, so I took off my clothes and jumped in the water. I don't know how long she was standing there, but I hadn't seen her right away. She was up the hill a ways, leaning against a tree. I didn't have to act startled, because I was. "Hello." "Hi. Do you mind if I come down?" "Be my guest. How did you find me?" She started down the hill. "Um, I didn't. I've been coming down here to sunbathe for a couple of years. I didn't know anyone lived over here. I guess the last guy who owned your place didn't use it." "I don't think so." She got down to her rock. "Um, I don't have a suit." "Neither do I." "I noticed. Are you into nudism or did you just decide to jump in?" "I just decided to jump in. But I haven't been using a suit when I come down here." "Well, neither do I. Do you think you can deal with it? I never sunbathe with a suit on." I wondered how she expected me to react to that question. "Go right ahead." Quite nonchalantly, she undressed and lay down on her towel. In exchange for her casual attitude about it, I tried to keep my cool. "Does anyone else know about this spot?" "Nope. It's been my little secret. But it's okay." She looked up the hill toward my house. "I don't see your place. Can you see it from here?" "Not really. Maybe the roof." I tried to point it out for her. "I don't see it." "It's hard to make out." I got out of the water and dried off. My clothes were a few yards from hers on another rock, so that was where I sat down. I wanted to get dressed, but figured the mood of this encounter dictated nudism. I scooted into the shade to keep from getting sunburned in an inconvenient spot. "So what do you write about?" "I'm writing a book. It's not done yet." "What's it about?" "I'd rather not say. At least not until it's finished." "Oh. Well, what else have you written?" "Nothing, really. I used to be a lawyer in New York City. I quit and moved out here. I couldn't deal with it anymore." "Oh, wow. That's a big change. I've lived around here my whole life just about." "Where do you live?" "About ten miles down the road, with my mom." "How did you find this place?" "I like to hike a lot. I just found it one day." Neither of us said much after that. There were more things I wanted to ask her, but I wasn't used to conducting my cross-examination in the buff. "Have you eaten lunch yet?" "No. I came over here right after I got up. I keep late hours because of my job." "Feel like coming back up the hill for a sand- wich or something?" "Sure." We hiked back up to my house after getting dressed. I went into the kitchen to see what I could throw together. Too late, I saw her wandering out onto the deck. I walked out there in time to see her looking through the lens. I steeled myself for the tirade I was about to get. She turned around, an embarrassed flush spread- ing over her face. But she had her hand over her mouth trying to stop from smiling. "Um, this is pointed at the pond." "Yeah." "You've been watching me?" "I, uh, I got the telescope to look at the stars. I just happened to see you down there one day." "When?" "About a week ago." "Oh, God. So you saw me?" "Um. Yeah." She looked away from me, trying to compose her- self. "You didn't follow me to the bar?" "No. I had no idea you worked there. I just wanted dinner." She laughed nervously. "And here I was feeling guilty for watching you." "What do you mean?" "A couple of times this week I came down there and saw you swimming. Today was the first time I was brave enough to talk to you." "I'm sorry. I won't do it again." "No. No. This is your land. I'm the one who shouldn't be doing this." "It's okay. It's not like anyone else was using the pond." "All right. It's no big deal. I shouldn't have been . . . you know . . . down there anyway." I let out a breath. "So. Are we still on for lunch?" "Yeah." I made a couple of sandwiches and opened a pair of beers, and we ate out on the deck. VII. "So what made you pick Medford over New York?" "It's about as big a difference as I could find. It's very hard to be alone in New York City." "It's very easy up here." "Exactly." "Did you get divorced or something?" "No. Just job burnout. Frankly, I was sick of dating other lawyers anyway." "I want you to understand something," she said as we finished. "What?" "This little thing of mine, what I've been doing, it's not like I just come out here to get off. I could do that at home." "You don't have to explain yourself." "No, I just don't want you to get the wrong idea." "Okay." "I really am into the nudist ideal, you know, getting in touch with nature, becoming part of the ecosystem. Being nude, and . . . doing all that . . . is how I do it. It's not really about sex." "I understand. I kind of got that feeling, actually." "Really?" "You looked like you were . . . I don't know, maybe this is going too far." "No, tell me. I'm hard to offend." "Like you were trying to make love to the sun." She laughed. "That's exactly what I think of. The sun on my body turns me on." "Well, I'll put up the telescope. You can do what you want." "I don't know if it would be the same now." "I'm sorry." "Don't apologize. It's your pond." "I feel bad about having disrupted this nature ritual of yours." "Don't worry about it." "I meant to ask you, how do you get down there?" "From the 255. I park up the hill and hike down. It's about a twenty minute hike." "Further than coming from this direction. If you want to start coming down this way, you can." "Really? You don't mind?" "As long as it's just you. I might feel di- fferently if it was a bunch of high school kids." "Oh yeah. I always go down there by myself." "Well, feel free then." "Thanks. I really appreciate that." She left for work a little while later, and I went back to my book. Hannah the free spirit, the nature sprite. I played with the idea for a few minutes, and discovered that it worked. The main character, who in large part resembled me (no surprise, right?), would like that. I was a long way from being done, but I had a firm grip now on where I was going. VIII. Heather appeared at noon the next day, knocking on the front door. "Hi. You want to come down with me?" "No, I'm working. Go on ahead." I watched her descend the hill and went back to work. I had promised her that I would stop watching her through the telescope, and I meant to stick to that promise, but it was hard. She came back up the hill about an hour later. "Hi," she yelled up. "Are you busy? Do you mind if I come in?" "No, come on up." She emerged on the deck a few moments later. I saw her glance at the telescope, and her face seemed to drop when she saw it was pointed up toward the sky. I couldn't help smiling. "I told you I'd stop watching you." "Okay. But like I said, it's no big deal." She sat down in one of the deck chairs. "Is that your book?" "Yeah." "I'd like to read it, when you get done." "When it's ready to be read." "You won't tell me what it's about?" "It's about a lawyer who gets caught up in a conspiracy to assassinate the governor of New York." "Oh. Does he meet a waitress who likes to sunbathe nude?" "He meets a girl who's a waitress. But she's a lot more than that." She smiled. "So what happens?" "I haven't gotten that far yet." She looked at me for a moment, smiling, then got up. She walked over to the telescope, and looked around the area for a minute or so, finally looking back down toward the pond. "I have to go run some errands. I'll see you tomorrow, maybe." "Bye." The next day, she showed up as usual. Rather than knocking on the door, she just walked around below the deck. "Hi. Gonna come down?" "Maybe in a little while." "Okay." After she had been gone about twenty minutes, I looked up at the telescope. It was where she had left it the previous day, pointed down at the pond. I stared at it for a moment. She had tried to act casual about it the day before, but . . . I got up and looked through the viewpiece. It was focused on the rock, where Heather was now naked and shiny with suntan oil. She was looking up toward the house, occasionally shading her eyes with her hand. Finally she lay back on the rock. Her right hand came up and began idly playing with her nipples. Tweak and stroke, stroke and tweak. She let her fingertips drift back and forth over the glistening flesh of her breasts. She kept it up for a good five minutes, once or twice reaching down to brush her fingers over her pubic mound. She stopped, and looked back up toward me. She waved, smiling, but then sighed and looked down. She looked around idly at the pond before laying back on her rock. The hands returned to work, and I pondered what to do. Whether she knew I was watching-and it didn't seem that she did-she had intended me to do so. I thought about going down there, but from the looks of things, she was going to finish before I could get down to the pond. I watched a little bit longer, and she did. After that, I went back to work. Before I did, though, I readjusted the telescope to point it back toward the sky. She returned to the house about half an hour later. "You should have come down. It's a really nice day." "Tomorrow." I saw her glance at the telescope and suppress a smile. "Okay. Cya."