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Localsclaimthatdangerouscreatures lurk in the woods of the Catskill Mountains. Rumors that, as an artist, I love to fantasize about. However, the realist in me knows there's nothing that goes bump in the night beside the odd bear or moose.
Instead, it is filled with absolute charm. From the picturesque views to the adorable cabins and this unique general store. Only a handful of shoppers are inside. Memorial Day weekend doesn’t usually send people to the mountains this time of year. They are much more likely to head East and take in the vast beaches of the Atlantic Ocean.
As much more of a tree and freshwater kind of girl, I have enticed Spencer, my boyfriend of the last two years, to come West instead. Two hours outside Springwood, where I live, and one hour outside Callery, where he lives. He wasn’t exactly… thrilled about it, but since we have four days off, he doesn’t want to spend it cooped up in his apartment either. The cabin I’ve rented is small, with just one room and an adjoining bathroom. Complete with a little kitchenette, a wood-burning fireplace, and an incredibly cozy bed.
Summer greenery sprawls all across the mountains. Honeysuckle, Dutchman’s Breeches, Foamflower, and Starflower are all in bloom up the mountainside, making the drive up not only beautiful to look at but amazing to smell. Deep breaths of fresh mountain air are rejuvenating.
I peruse the wine selection in the little store, wondering if we need anything else before heading back to our getaway.
“Spence,” I call, making sure my voice is loud enough to be heard over the sounds of the beer cooler. “I’m grabbing wine. Do you want white or red?” The silence is deafening as he ignores me.
“Good talk,” I mutter, selecting one of each and placing them in my basket. Looking at the shelf, I add a third. Something tells me I will be the only one drinking wine, and I will need a lot of it to put up with Spencer if he keeps adding cases of beer to his cart.
I just want a nice quiet weekend with him toconnect.
We’ve been so distant lately, and I don’t know why. Have I done something to upset him? Are we just in a funk? He tells me he loves me every time we talk, but the passion seems to be missing. He only deeply kisses me when we’re about to fuck, and even then, he seems so absent it’s like I’m only there to get him off, and it could be anyone lying beneath him.
I remember when he used to make sure I felt wanted, to check in and ensure I was having a good time and finished. Now it is like a chore. I fear this is the end, but a last-ditch effort to rekindle the romance is in order. I want to stoke his passion for me again. I got some very naughty lingerie, some oils, and some toys… A quiver rolls through me, and I feel an ache forming between my thighs.
What I wouldn’t give for Spencer, or anyone at this point, to slam me down and have their way with me. Heat creeps up my neck and into my face, a spot of wetness forming in my nicest lace panties as I fantasize about someone doing just that.
Sighing before the wine rack, I look over to Spence, three cases of beer. I grab a fourth bottle of wine. I can at least toast to the end.
We can use a few more things as far as food goes, but we are stocked outside of cold goods. Milk, eggs, some cheese, and lunch meat would be excellent. They even have a small meat department where I pick up a few pounds of ground beef for burgers later.
I allow myself to slip into my fantasies that hit a little closer to home. Images of hiking with Spencer, eating sandwiches, and making love in the sun breeze through my mind, bringing me joy as if they could someday be real. Ultimately they drive sadness into my heart. Shaking my head, I know he’d never go for it. He doesn’t like ‘dirt,’ he says.
We have changed too much since we graduated college and started our ‘real’ jobs. He is going corporate, wanting to acquire as much wealth as he can and damn anyone who gets in his way, and I am going the “hippie” route, according to him. I got a job at a small advertising firm doing graphic design, our focus is primarily on small businesses and nonprofits. It isn’t glamorous or high-paying, but I feel good about what I do at the end of the day. We do a lot of pro bono work for charities, which usually gets us invites to their events. Fairs, dinners, raffles, you name it.
Spencer usually blows me off for those, so I go alone or take my roommate Denise if she is available. Wrinkling my nose as I load the beef into my cart, I wonder why I am even staying.
Love?
I do love him still.
I think.
I know I did once.
But I’ve never been in love before to know what to look for when you fall out of it.
Cereal!
Making a last-moment realization that I need to grab some shredded wheat or something to go with breakfast, I about-face down the aisle.
“Where are you going?” Spencer’s voice is filled with annoyance.
“Just a sec, I forgot the cereal!” He looks frustrated as he deals with both carts of stuff. His is only beer. He’ll get over it.
Rounding the corner, I dart to the end of the aisle, thinking,shredded wheat, shredded wheat, shredded wheat. It is my favorite. The store surprisingly has regular and frosted.
Fuck, I hate decisions.
Yellow box or orange box? My eyes dart back and forth, deciding I could use the extra sugar. I reach for the frosted kind, pulling the last box off the shelf and meeting a pair of the most piercing blue eyes I’d ever seen.
Surprised, I jump a bit, and a little squeak comes out as I drop my cereal box. Bending over to pick it up, large calloused hands beat me to it. As the box rises and I straighten from my awkward lean, it’s pressed into my grasp.
I stare at the hands that helped me and follow them to well-toned forearms, tan with veins roping down them. Biceps that look like they belong to an axe-wielding woodsman and broad shoulders to match. My neck keeps craning upward, drinking in possibly one of the most beautiful faces I’ve ever seen on a man. Angled nose, strong jaw, sharp cheekbones, and full lips that turn down at the corners.
