A Summer Revelation
by
C J Perryman
SMASHWORDS EDITION
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Copyright 2010 C J Perryman
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This story is taken from Very Private Eyes and other stories, which is available from Smashwords and major e-book distributors.
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
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“What’s that?”
Allie and Ian were standing on the timber-decked balcony that clung to two sides of their holiday cottage, cups of freshly brewed Earl Grey tea in their hands, looking out over the woodland slope below them to distant farmland. Beyond that, they knew but could not see, was the ocean. Ian was wearing recently-pressed chinos and a short-sleeved check shirt, with newish leather loafers in a honey brown. Allie was in jeans and a loose sleeveless pale blue top.
“Where?”
Allie pointed down towards the near boundary of the lightly wooded hillside. She was peering intently at something in the trees.
“See that white down there? That very unnatural white?”
“Yes, it looks like a piece of fabric or something.” Ian turned back to the view, trying to pick out landmarks.
“It is. No, it’s a woman’s dress. Look, you can see now.”
Ian looked again, his eyebrows puckered, his lips tight. He looked harder, seeing the dress as if it were hanging from a hook in a shop. He maintained his frown and turned to Allie.
“What? Do you think something’s going on? Should we tell the owners?”
“No, look. Remember they told us about a few walking tracks that led in loops down the hill and back to the property. We have company this weekend. They did say the other cottage might be taken, remember? Look.”
She pointed a little further down, where the woods bordered the grassy paddock directly below the cottages.
“Oh! Crikey!”
They watched a slim young woman stepping slowly, languidly along the path, wearing, it seemed, just a pair of white knickers.
“Doesn’t she realise anyone can see her? What a nerve.” Allie’s voice carried genuine shock. She looked aside at Ian, who immediately turned to her and gratified her with his agreement.
“Yes, it is a bit of a liberty, isn’t it? What are other people supposed to do? Stay in their cottage and not go out just to give them the freedom to wander about nude?” All the same, he could feel the first signs of arousal in his pressed chinos. He felt a little ashamed, a little annoyed, a little confused and a little excited.
“Hang on, what’s this now?” Allie was peering into the woods again. They watched a man, seemingly naked except for a pair of shorts and what looked like a red scarf, taking the same path. When he reached the dress he carefully unhooked it and continued down the track.
“Oh, dear. I hope we’re going to enjoy this weekend.”
-
Keira was a little surprised, and a little guilty, at how quickly she had slipped once more into child-free mode. She knew absolutely that her parents were going to have a wonderful time looking after Andrew for the weekend, and that Andrew would hardly miss her. But this was the first weekend that she and Malcolm had been away on their own for what, well over a year. She consoled herself with the very reasonable thought that her feelings were bound to be a little confused. She chuckled to herself and wandered into the little kitchen where Malcolm was opening cupboards and drawers and checking out the cooking facilities. She could rely on Malcolm to make the weekend a feast.
“I’m just going to go for a walk on that track they told us about, Mal. Want to come?”
“I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Leave me a trail to follow or something.” He was joking, she knew, but it gave her an idea. She stepped back into the bedroom and picked up her red cotton scarf and a lightweight cream cardigan. She didn’t need to wear them. The air was still and warm and the sun was still up.
At the foot of the wooden stairs she followed a gravel path to the edge of the woods and found the track, such as it was. Leaf litter was trodden into the dark brown soil, and strips of bark and twigs were scattered where they had fallen. She tied the red scarf loosely around a thin sapling and continued into the cooler shade of the overhanging trees, their branches heavy with rich green leaves and their heights noisy with birdsong. After fifty metres or so she hung the cardigan on an overhanging twig. The track meandered out towards the edge of the woods and became less defined. Time for another marker. She was wearing only a thin cotton dress, white with a tiny red floral print, her knickers and a pair of canvas shoes. Oh well, why not, she thought. She pulled the dress quickly over her head and hooked it onto the broken stump of a branch. She looked down at her body, running her hands quickly over her breasts and tummy. I’m lucky, she thought. Having Andrew hasn’t left much evidence on me.
As she continued on down the track she glanced back up the slope and realised she could see both cottages. That means anyone in the other one can see me, she guessed. Oh well. The path turned back into the woods. Only one more trail marker left.
Malcolm stepped into his old running shoes but decided against a shirt. He pulled the door to and ran down the stairs, seeing the red scarf and smiling broadly. He untied it and knotted it around his neck, looking up at the filtered sky and listening to the sounds of the forest’s permanent residents. Then, with the cardigan in his hand, he walked quickly on, seeing the dress hanging in the sun in the distance. He imagined his wife’s naked body with a familiar pleasure. When he reached it he unhooked it carefully and held it to his face, breathing in deep lungfuls of her scent. He slowed down, looking for another sign. He knew what it would have to be. The path was climbing again in a wide sweep that would take it back to the parking area above the cottage. He saw the startling white of Keira’s knickers resting on a huge tree stump to the left of the track. He picked them up and pressed them to his nose, feeling himself hardening in his shorts.