SKINNY-DIPPING

The absence of artificial light enabled him to see the stars, the heavens rendered naked by the scarcity of clouds. But theirs was not the nudity he wanted to admire. Heaven was here on earth tonight; every night for each of the past few weeks, and less than a hundred yards away. The paleness of her skin and the fullness of the moon allowed him to see a bit more than her mere silhouette; and even on a crisp November night, he felt a bit more of the heat and the shame that she stoked whenever he invaded her privacy night after night.

There would be no more of that now. Soon she would be underwater. Then he would “innocently” approach and play it by ear. If she felt embarrassed, he would look away like the perfect gentleman, and never spy on her again. But maybe she wouldn’t feel embarrassed at all. Or even if she did, maybe she’d invite him to join her anyway! Each of those seemed like a distinct possibility with Jenny; she was delightful that way.

Never one to wear undergarments on her nightly hikes to the pond, she had already slipped out of her moccasins and jeans when she took off her sweatshirt. The details were obscured by the distance and darkness; but it was cold enough for him to see her exhalations; so he extrapolated the condition of her nipples. She waded into the frigid water, neither rushing nor tentative; and even while admiring her all the more for it, he felt emasculated by her apparently superior toughness. He’d been conditioning himself with cold showers and was fairly confident that he would… rise to the occasion if afforded the chance, but was by no means certain.

She always immersed around waist-high, and stayed down there for a good long while; so long that the first time he saw her do it he actually untied his sneakers while deciding whether and when to rush in after her; but then she calmly surfaced and pulled her wet, red hair out of her face, a pattern that she followed every night thereafter. Tonight he timed his approach to “coincide” with her return to the surface, loudly crushing autumn leaves underfoot with every step. And when she became visible, he feigned surprise even though she wasn’t facing him. But two seconds later, she was, her blood seemingly as cool as the water she now treaded. So much for her feeling embarrassed.

“Jenny? Is that you?”

She smiled! “Hey, Oscar.”

He smiled back through the surge that made him grunt with enthusiasm. But before he could gather himself to actually speak, her smile disappeared below the water.

Oscar had come prepared; no sneakers to untie tonight. His boat shoes slipped right off, no socks to worry about. Jenny was back on the surface again, swimming shoreward. Oscar unbuckled his belt, full of hope. But no; that wasn’t Jenny. It was a dog! Where had it come from? Where were its owners? The dog emerged from the pond, shook off what water it could, and approached him. It crossed Oscar’s mind that it might be a wolf, but then it wagged its tail, which Oscar knew to be a sign of playfulness.

Oscar whispered, “Get outta here, boy. Or girl. Whatever you are. Go.” It sniffed Oscar’s crotch, then stood on its hind legs and leaned on him. Oscar pushed it off and checked to make sure that Jenny was still underwater and wouldn’t hear him yelling. “Go!! Get outta here!!” He checked the water again. Jenny had not yet emerged. And the dog trotted off, obediently.

Oscar took off his sweatshirt, dropped it on the ground, and then, in one motion, lowered his jeans and underwear to his ankles. Stepping out of them, he saw the earth approach his face; and he tried to block it with his forearms. The dry leaves beneath him and the wet fur above him oddly made him wonder how the dog had been able to sneak up on him so quietly. He hoped that the dog was still being playful.

He got turned around onto his back and found that both of his wrists were now pinned to the ground in hands that seemed alarmingly relaxed, as if their owner was exerting only a fraction of his strength... Or her strength. The creature that now straddled Oscar’s torso was a werewolf. Or so it appeared; having never even known that such things actually exist, he didn’t really have a frame of reference. Regardless, he felt his bladder empty, and saw no point in struggling or yelling. He closed his eyes and waited for death.

But when he felt the creature’s fur withdrawing, he opened his eyes, and watched as the creature fully turned back into a human – one who looked exactly like Jenny, her naked form atop his own under circumstances that bore zero similarity to those of his fantasies.

She looked him in the eye. “Sorry, dude,” she said. “But I don’t care for cowgirl.” She laughed, released his wrists, and rolled off him, on to her back. She looked at him, and quoted, “’Jenny? Is that you?’” She gently elbowed him in the ribs. “Dude, I’ve smelled you every night since you started spying on me. You big perv!” She punched him on the arm hard enough to hurt but not to injure.

Oscar looked at her. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s a public swimming hole,” she admitted.

“I was never going to try to force myself on you, or anything like that.”

“I know. And if you ever had tried, you’d be junkless right now.” She punched his arm again.

He rubbed his shoulder. “I bet I would be... How many of you are there?”

“Werewolves? If I answered that, I’d have to kill you, dude.”

Oscar chuckled.

“Seriously,” said Jenny.

“Oh, yeah, I guess that would make sense.”

“Technically, I’m supposed to kill you now. But I know you’ll never tell a soul about this.”

“Of course,” he assured her.

She smiled.

“Why’d you show me, though?” he asked. “Was it just to scare me?”

“You smell like pee, dude. Go wash yourself off in the pond. Then you can walk me home.”

“Okay.” He smiled, and walked pondward, bracing himself for the coldness. At the shoreline he ran in, immersed himself, and exited with as much haste as he could muster.

Jenny’s towel and his boat shoes were there. But she had left with his clothing.

That literal bitch.

END

By Omar Gonzalez