Chapter VIIISunday morning, after they had all had coffee, Terry and George took the canoe out to go fishing, and Isolde wandered around inside the house, exploring. She found the pull down attic stairway in the upstairs second bedroom, and went up in the attic, just to see what was there. She found several rolled up rugs, and assumed they were in storage until winter. There was an old Electrolux tank vacuum cleaner, and...

Chapter VII George had been sitting on the front stoop, nursing a bottle of Boh when Terry pulled up. He stood up and walked toward the car. Sticking out his hand, he said, “Hi. I’m George. Welcome. Bob said you were making hay today. There’s a hose ‘round back, if you wanna knock the dust off.” Terry shook hands and said, “Name’s Terwilliger, but everyone calls me Terry. A hose doesn’t do very well. I was thinking maybe...

Chapter VI Making hay was satisfying but monotonous work. It was nice to see the cut hay come off the end of the rake, like a green waterfall, cascading into a long even wave. And it was satisfying to look back and see row after row of mounded hay stretched out across the flat field. At first, Terry had paid close attention to the tractor and rake, worried that something might break, and listening for the telltale rattle...

Chapter V Isolde woke up drenched in sweat. The sun was beating down on her and her hair was plastered to her forehead. Her hip ached and she had a crick in her neck from lying on it wrong. She looked at her watch. 9:00 it said. “Damn,” she thought. And then, “I really have to pee.” She sat up and looked around. She was in a field that had recently been mowed. The stubble was about four inches high. There was a woods line...

POOL CLEANING DAY I woke up late Tuesday, and suddenly remembered it was pool-cleaning day. I could hear the locusts, and knew it was going to be another hot day. I put on a jockstrap and my swim trunks, the black denim ones made like shorts with the Red Cross Swim Instructor’s badge sewn on, and dug around in the bottom drawer for a tee shirt that wasn’t full of holes. A pair of tennis shoes, and I was dressed for the da...

Chapter IV When they got to the gig, Will, the drummer, was just setting up. He nodded to George and Isolde as he fiddled with his equipment. The bass player hadn’t arrived yet, but that was no surprise. He had told George three months ago that he was playing a wedding in Ocean City “on a Friday afternoon, for God sakes! Doesn’t anyone get married on a Saturday anymore?” he had rhetorically asked. “Maybe they got a three-...

Dedication This dedication is long and necessarily so. The book has taken me three decades to write, mostly because I didn’t start actually putting pen to paper, so to speak, until I had all my background ducks in a row. Putting ducks in a row is like herding cats; patience becomes the primary virtue. This book is Tom Woolfolk’s fault. Well, actually, Tom’s and Sheila’s jointly. We three commuted to work together for a fe...

Sperm BankN... is about fifty years old. She is five feet six inches tall, and has a good figure, with ample breasts, and a nicely rounded firm ass. She has excellent legs, and works out three days a week. We used to work together, and I had the hots for her, even then. She is married. She has a quick wit, and can come out with some surprisingly sharp-tongued remarks sometimes. She is college educated with a degree in Eng...