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."