Adirondack Audacity (10 page)

Today the camp counselors have the day off. We
’re
between sessions with a new load of campers arriving
tomorrow. At breakfast this morning, I found a note in
the back pocket of my jeans. The message read,
Meet me
by the old boathouse and wear your bathing suit.
Signed,
you know
who.
I’m seriously considering registering my butt with the
United States Postal Service. Vic has declared the back
pocket of my jeans his own personal message depot. I
find little love notes; invitations to meet him in the
woods, jokes and riddles to share with Burt and even
camp gossip left in my pocket. Personally, I think it’s an
excuse for him to feel up my ass, but what do I know,
except the back pocket of my jeans is getting more mail
than Santa Claus at Christmas. And just for the record,
his hand lingers a little too long on my butt. Isn’t that like
defacing government property, or something?

At the far end of camp sits the boathouse. Neglected
for years, the building has a decided list to one side with
the shingles weathered to a silver grey. The roof, entirely
covered in green moss, is home to small ferns and baby
pine trees sprouting from the emerald turf. The dock is
more a suggestion than a reality, laying half in and half
out of the water. An old aluminum canoe is turned upside
down on the dock; sides marked with dents and the
gunnels mottled with chipped paint. Vic discovered the
canoe in the boathouse when he was searching for buoys
to rope off the swimming area. The name,
Polly
, is
scripted in faded black letters across the bow.
Considering the canoe was abandoned under a pile of old
moldy lifejackets, it looks surprisingly seaworthy. Not a
gaping hole to be seen.

Our destination is a group of islands on the opposite
side of the lake. The canoe paddles crafted of ash wood
are signed and dated by a local carpenter. They feel
smooth and sleek under our hands as we dip them into
the lake. Small dotted trails follow in the water as drops
spin off in the rhythm of lift, dip, and pull. We paddle
along in companionable silence, happy to be together, no
responsibilities, and the entire afternoon stretching out in
front of us. Vic pauses occasionally, putting his paddle
down to pick up his camera, trying to capture the
mountain images reflected on the lake. Off in the
distance a loon’s head pops to the surface from a dive.

“Ella, Ella, my mia bella,”
he calls, pointing his
camera at me until I swivel on the seat, laughing at his
persistence and strike a silly pose.
Snap,
clicks the shutter
over the lens. My hair bleached to a honey blonde by the
sun, lifts and floats in the gentle breeze. Skin tanned to a
peachy golden glow, toned by hard work and
hiking………today for the first time in my life…..I feel
almost pretty…..somehow worthy of his attention.

The warmth of the sun seeps through the thin cotton
shirt covering my bathing suit. Cicadas call from a distant
shore and an osprey soars on the thermals above, alert to
the fish living in the shadowed waters below.

Vic points to a small J-shaped island, the center
covered with trees, the shoreline broken by a small beach
and at the far end a secluded cove bordered by rocks, flat
and open, perfect for sunning. The island is dotted with
small scraggly pines and blueberry bushes, while moss
and golden lichens coat the rock surfaces. The western
side bares a steep jagged slope that falls off quickly into
the deep water below.

I smile, giving him the thumbs up, and sink my
paddle into the water, eager to explore the island. The
bow of the boat scrapes against the rocky shore, wading
into ankle deep water; I hold the canoe steady for Vic to
climb out. Securing the boat to a dead tree branch, we
turn to survey our own private retreat. Imagine our
surprise when five heads pop out of the brush and yell,
“Surprise!”

“What the hell?” I hear Vic mutter under his breath.
I
second his sentiment.
Where the hell did they come from?
Mac,
Ben, Tee, Kat and Emi Jo.

“
Hate to break up your little
romantic
afternoon,” Mac
laughs with a wicked, salacious grin on his face, “but
seeing as we all had the day off, I thought everyone could
use a little fun. So I hired a boat livery to ferry us over to
the island and join you. Good idea, huh?”

“Yeah, sure
. The more the merrier.” I quip.
Great…….
sometimes Mac can be such a jerk…..like now.
Vic looks like he wants to murder him. The two of them
together is way too much testosterone, a recipe ripe for
combustion. Lately Mac has been acting like an ass to
Vic. Why, I don’t know. He can’t possibly be jealous over
me……..seriously. I’m not exactly the attracting-guystype.

Trying to be a good sport over our unexpected
company, I lead the way over to a flat rock, “Why don’t
we put our towels down here, I think there is enough
room for all of us.” The boulder has a smooth edge
sloping down to the water for a perfect sunbathing spot.

“Oh, look a waw
beek,” I exclaim, pointing to the
large rock outcrop.
“A whowhat?” asks Emi Jo in a disinterested voice,
shading her eyes to look where I’ve pointed. Even after
weeks of my unusual nature observations, she is too
polite to ignore my enthusiasm.
Vic tousles my head affectionately and dives into the
water swimming away with strong, clean strokes.
Momentarily distracted by the sight of his powerful back
cutting through the water, I stop, gazing in admiration.
“Earth to Ellen.” Tee says, poking me in the ribs,
laughing at my total lapse of concentration as I angle my
head to get a better view of Vic’s retreating back. “You
were about to enlighten us on a little known fact that we
just can’t live without.”
“Which is why so little is known…,” Kat mutters
under her breath. Concentrating on slathering baby oil on
her golden brown skin, she mumbles loud enough for all
to hear, “Because no one really gives a shit.”
“Oh,” I shake my head and return to junior camp
nature counselor mode….aka…geek. “Large boulders
were called “wawbeeks” by the Obijibwa tribes meaning
“huge rocks.” Spreading a blue and white stripe towel on
the sun warmed rock, I stretch out on my stomach and
sing out to them, “The work of educating the ignorant is
neevver…done.”
“I beg your pardon! I’ll give you ignorant!” Tee sends
a spray of water over me from the shoreline where she is
wading. If anything, Tee prides herself on her intelligence,
claiming brains are far superior to beauty. And she says
someday she will grow into her tall gawky body…… and
be a classic beauty with brains… like Katherine Hepburn.
Shading my eyes against the glare of the sun, I watch
Vic hoist himself out of the water and begin scaling the
steep cliff rising straight out of the water. “What the hell
is he doing?” I ask with mounting dread, glancing around
to see if anyone else notices his climb up the narrow
ledge. “If he falls, it’s straight down to the water. Right?
How deep is it there?”
Ben catches my eye and shakes his head watching
Vic’s ascent up the cliff. In an anxious voice he says, “I
don’t know. The rocks look slippery, if he slips and
falls…..” he shrugs his shoulders.
By now everyone’s attention is riveted, watching Vic
work his way up the side of the rock face. My heart
pounding, a cold chill grips my spine even in the heat of
the afternoon. As he reaches the top of the summit about
twenty feet above the water, he stands up and waves to
our clustered group below.
“Vic,” I yell out in fear. I watch in horror as he trips
on an exposed tree root, loses his balance, and with arms
flaying…. plunges down the cliff toward the rocks below.
The scene clicks in slow motion frames before my eyes as
I watch him plummet into the water.
Frozen in horror I can’t move, until behind me
pandemonium breaks out as Emi Jo, Tee and Kat jump
up yelling, throwing lunches, towels…and crashing into
each other as they attempt a rescue. With a scream, I dive
into the water, my eyes trained on the spot where Vic
went down; praying with each stroke. Swimming
alongside of the cliff I will his body to come up, choking
back a sob when he doesn’t surface. As I reach the area,
the water erupts in a torrent of bubbles, followed by a
head of black hair and dark eyes alight with golden sparks
of mischief. I throw my arms around him like a drowning
victim clutching a lifeline.
“Hello love, decided to go for a swim, did you?” he
asks, gasping for air to fill his heaving chest.
“Are you all right? You could have been killed!” I cry,
clutching his neck.
“I’m fine. It’s a cliff jumping rock. All the local kids
come out and go jumping. Ben and I ran into a group of
them hiking through camp the other day. They call it
Osprey Island and they told us where to jump without
crashing onto the rocks. There’s an X carved on top of
the rock where you start your dive. Did I scare you?” he
asks with feinted innocence, whipping his long hair,
sending streams of water spinning out to break the
glistening surface of the cove.
“Yes! Ben and I thought you were falling to your
death.” I exclaim, as suspicion like a worm creeps into my
mind. A glance over my shoulder proves me right. Mac
and Ben are doubled over in laughter. Wiping the tears
from his face, Ben shouts over the water, “Vic, you
should have seen her. She looked like one of those
cartoon characters with spinning legs flying across the
water to reach you.”
“This was a joke?” My voice remains low with barbs
of venom. “You jerk! You’re going to wish you had
drowned, mister!” I yell, grabbing his head, pushing him
under with little success due to his broad shoulders and
strong forearms. I push, shove, sputter and swear. My
clumsy attempts to drown him only result in him giving
me
mouth to mouth resuscitation……of the romantic
type.
“Elle, I shouldn’t have teased you. Come on, I’ll show
you how, it’s easy. Trust me, mia, come on,” he pleads,
leading me toward the cliff. The rocky shore casts a
shadow over the water. I protest, “No way.”
“It’s easy. Really, watch us.”
I watch in fascination as Ben, Mac and Vic climb the
steep rock face, take three running steps and launch
themselves out over the lake, plunging into the cool
depths, coming to the surface laughing, exhilarated by the
experience. Emi Jo and Tee shake their heads in unison.
Emi Jo sputters in disbelief, “Why would anyone willingly
throw themselves off a cliff?” she exclaims, “I can barely
swim, that would be insane!”
Ben admitted once was enough for him; and truth be
told, he screamed like a girl all the way down. Yet still
intrigued, Kat and I follow Vic and Mac up the rock face.
Looking over the edge, I think to myself…why does
it always look higher when you’re at the top looking
down, than from the bottom looking up? Emi Jo said it
was insane. I think suicidal is more like it.
Holy crap.
I
tentatively look over the ledge to the water below and
start backing up, only to run into Vic’s chest as his hands
cradle my elbows. He pulls me close, leaning his head in
to brush the side of my face as he gives me instructions,
“Just watch and follow my lead. Start back here, take
three running steps, you’ll be flying. It’s awesome, trust
me.”
Mac goes first, yelling on the way down, “This is
waaay coool!” Vic follows, whooping in pure joy as he
plunges over the edge, landing in a clean splash below.
“Come on, Elle, you’ll love it,” his voice echoes up
the side of the rock face. As he watches me hesitate, he
stretches out his arms wide singing, “Ella, Ella, my mia
bella, come on! Trust me, I’m right here, I won’t leave.
Come on, baby, fly!”
He extends his arms, an invitation no force on earth
can stop me from accepting. Like the siren song calling
out to ancient sailors of the sea, his voice beckons and,
willingly, I go.
Taking a deep breath, I push off, take three running
steps, and leap off the ledge…….down I plunge…..the
breath whizzes out of my lungs with a scream, my
stomach drops, my heart races and I’ve never had so
much fun in my entire life!
Yahooooo…
The adrenaline rush fades after several more jumps.
Spent, we lay on towels listening to the hum of cicadas
chorusing,
summer, summer,
through the treetops.
Everyone dozes in the haze of mid-afternoon sun.
Carefree, friendly banter weaves back and forth until the
boat livery arrives, Vic and I wave good bye to our
friends as the boat
putt, putt, putts
across the lake leaving
behind a small trailing wake that leads to the town dock.
…
Alone at last. With a few hours before we have to be
back at camp, I breathe in the peace and solitude of the
island. Peering out from under the sheltering brim of my
hat, I hear the
click
of a camera shutter, aimed directly at
my half hidden face.
“Don’t you have anything better to waste your film
on?” I ask, rolling over to my side, watching as he
continues to click off frame after frame.
“Nope,” he says aiming the lens in my direction,
adjusting angles and changing position to catch the
available light. “I’ll enlarge these and hang them on my
bedroom wall.”
“It’s going to get crowded in there with all of us.
Jeez,
I’ve never been a pin-up girl for a guy’s bedroom wall.
He moves the camera from his face, a wicked gleam
in his black eyes, those eyes that catch and hold flirting
lights of gold, dazzling the very air around them. He’s not
excessively handsome, yet there is an arresting quality to
his face, the light plays off his sharp angled cheekbones,
long generous lips rest above a slight cleft in his chin. The
eyes, by far…….totally his best feature. At first I found
the gold surrounding the dark iris, disturbing. What was
once disturbing, translates into irresistible. I’m powerless
to resist this alluring attraction to him.
“Hey, fair is fair, let me take a few pictures of you. I’ll
add them to my collection of boyfriends. All those
boyfriends, their pictures cover my entire bedroom wall.”
I stick my tongue out at him reaching for the camera.
“Careful with that tongue, or was that an invitation?”
He cocks his head; the leering look in his eyes suggests he
has other things on his mind than taking pictures.
“Hand me the camera, Romeo,” I take the camera,
surprised at the heaviness of the cool metal resting in my
palm.
“Now come over here and show me how to work this
thing.” I hold the lens piece up to my eye and view the
lake and surrounding shoreline.
I feel him come behind me and steady the camera.
The warm touch of his skin against my back, his breath
tracing curls of desire down my neck…and suddenly I
have
other
things on my mind than photography……..
oh
,
so many other things.
“Concentrate,” he commands.
Spoil sport.
And how
can I concentrate with him only wearing cutoff jeans,
brushing his naked shoulders on my bare skin?
And I
know what he wears under those cutoffs…..nothing!
He persists,
showing me how the various dials and lenses work until
I’m able to bring an object in from a bleary image to
sharp focus.
“Go sit over by the rock.” I brace the camera in my
hand, point to a rock framed by the trees and lake.
“I’m not posing like some girly model,” he says.
Click,
goes the shutter of the camera. “Hey,” he says with a
disarming grin. C
lick
goes the shutter again. “Fine, where
do you want me?” He flops down, assuming a cheesy
model pose. I indulge in a moment of unabashed ogling
before depressing the shutter.
Yum.
Where is that sweet
innocent girl who came to camp? My inner good girl
sighs in disgust……long gone.
“Just look at me, pretend the camera isn’t here, let me
see your eyes.” I suggest, adjusting the lens, realizing the
camera loves the angles of his face, and use the zoom to
focus on his eyes. Little do I realize but years later these
pictures will be a treasure of memories, taking me back to
this summer in the Adirondack Mountains.
The film runs out along with his patience. Laying the
camera aside, the time for looking is over, I want to
touch…“Vic,” I reach out holding my arms open, an
invitation, and some invitations don’t require an R.S.V.P.
Passion flares in his eyes and with a quick leap, he’s
beside me nuzzling the hollow of my neck, his arms slip
along my bare skin, pulling me ever closer, waves of heat
intensified by the summer sun course through our bodies.
My teeth tug; teasing his lower lip followed by nips and
light kisses until with a groan his mouth seeks mine in a
feverish meeting that borders on assault. I love it……and
want more…..the chocolate…caramel….vanilla….slivers
of pure white coconut…..exotic spices. I want it all….
now
.
I thrill to the power and intensity of his hold on me. His
head bows kissing the curve of my breast. In a strangled
breath he says, “These damn blue ruffles on his bathing
suit have been driving me crazy all summer long, wiggling,
waving, taunting and teasing with the promise of what is
underneath.” He slowly lowers the strap on my bathing
suit with a sensuous movement followed by his tongue
and the slow exhalation of his breath. All conscious
thought leaves me as I give in to the heady intoxication of
his hands laying ownership to my body. With a deft twist,
I feel the hook holding my bikini top give way. He lowers
his head, plucking the offending ruffles away with his
teeth, leaving my breasts bare and rejoicing in the
afternoon sun. It feels wonderful, free and sensuous. I
arch my back, squirming with pleasure. My eyes fly open
as his mouth circles my nipples, sucking gently causing
spasms of white heat. I’m beyond myself with desire, no
thoughts of denying him, if anything encouraging him with
soft whimpers, wiggling my pelvis against him, begging for
more of this unspoken ecstasy. He moves with practiced
ease from one breast to the other, kissing, licking, teasing
while taunting the other breast with his fingers. My very
bones melt into the sun soaked rock.
As his hand slides down the edge of the bikini bottom,
he looks questioningly, his eyes half hooded with desire.
Conflict plays across his face as his fingers slowly slide
under the fabric and into my very being. My body lights up
with longing. His lips continue their slow torture, sucking
hard, nuzzling softly…oh please….slowly he eases the
bikini bottom off. I’m lying naked in his arms.
“Elle, open for me,
quierda,
” he murmurs against my
ear. Before I can confirm or decline his offer, he slides a
finger inside me, then another and he moves them with
agonizing slowness in and out.
“Just here,” He breathes as his fingers work their
magic. And just when I think I can’t stand the exquisite
torture a moment longer, he rolls on top of me, holding
my arms out to the side of my body, I can feel the sharp
outline of his manhood pressing into the soft pillow of
my stomach.
Ohhh……my !
And suddenly he is gone. With a desperate groan he
flings his body off me. “Elle, Elle, I’m sorry, I’m so
sorry.”