Bathers and Black Squirrel

'I can only guess. But your mother and I were very close when we were young.'

'The lawyer said not to include these in the estate inventory. They were obviously intended as a birthday gift. Mother just happened to die before she gave them to you.'

That ended our discussion of Lacey. He gave me some bubble wrap, after I asked for it, and watched silently while I wrapped the artworks. He called someone who came with an old forklift that discharged oil-laden exhaust. The box was set in the back of my truck after the forklift driver secured the lid. I said goodbye to Peter as I got in the truck. He didn't return the courtesy. Just turned his back to me and went into the studio without a backward glance.

The drive home only took a half hour over secondary roads. I had occasion to both laugh and cry as I drove. Sometimes both at once. By the time I turned into the driveway, I had decided I was going to hang all but the charcoal somewhere. They were tasteful if suggestive. Judith wouldn't like them at first. She knew she wasn't my first love, as I wasn't hers. But she knew she was my last. But Judith is a romantic at heart. I was sure she'd appreciate them if I told her a little about the summer Lacey and I were in love.

Eventually, I inherited the rest of the series. And two more that weren't part of the series. Lacey's lawyer called to tell me of the bequest and arrange delivery. He also relayed that Peter demanded I not sell or display them publicly. I asked the lawyer if I could rely upon him to deliver a message to Peter.

'Of, course,' he told me.

'I'm a writer so I'll be as eloquent as I know how. Tell Peter I said he can go fuck himself.'

The attorney laughed. 'I'll deliver your message when I speak to him. Verbatim. I've wanted to tell him that myself, but it would be unprofessional. But delivering a message to an executor from a beneficiary is both professional and required by my ethics. It was nice talking to you Dr. Williams. Good day.' I just knew he was smiling as he said goodbye.

As Peter had described the series, the works were related. Tasteful, intimate renderings of the summer we were in love. The two not part of the series, along withBathers and Black Squirrel, are my favorites. There's no question of who is portrayed in them. Anyone who ever knew us would recognize the young couple in the paintings.

Workaday Laughs is an oil that looks through the window of Lacey's rusty truck door from the driver's side. We're dressed for work. I'm turned toward Lacey, half on the bench seat, smiling and gesturing. Lacey is in profile behind the wheel, her head thrown back in unrestrained laughter. I remember that day vividly, though I won't share what was so funny. Not even with Judith. I want that memory mine alone.

The second,Suspicious Mothers, is by far the largest work. It's set at my parent's house at Thanksgiving. Lacey and I are seated on my parent's couch, the middle cushion between us, our heads turned only slightly toward each other as we try to look at each other without appearing to. Our families are behind us in an adjacent room. Our mothers are watching us on the couch from doorway just inside the adjacent room, huddled in conversation. Our pained expressions tell of a young couple longing to be in each other's arms. We sit together on the couch but feel so desperately far apart. Pining for a time and place in an unfulfilled wish.

I wondered if Lacey learned our mothers suspected what was happening with us that summer. And if our mothers were suspicious of us, was Uncle Charlie, who could squeeze a dime so hard it turned into three nickels, so Machiavellian that he financed Lacey's overseas studies to keep us apart? Did Lacey marry poorly because there was always something unresolved between us?

After I dropped Judith off at the airport one Monday morning, I went to have breakfast with a friend from New York City before he drove home from visiting his daughter at the University of Vermont. The drive took me past my parent's old house. It belonged to someone else now. But seeing it reminded me of the last nights I spent with Lacey. She would leave for Paris the following summer.

Lacey and I went to a New Year's Eve party at a mutual friend's house, about two miles up the road from my house. We agreed to meet there. I'm not sure how she got there. I don't think I ever asked. I parked on the road, well away from the house. I could feel Lacey's tension in the hug she gave me when I arrived. I also heard anticipation and impatience in her voice. As soon as the house was overflowing with well-lubricated partiers, we quietly made a surreptitious escape.

My parents and siblings were in Boston visiting my grandparents. I had plans to go see my grandparents the next weekend before I went to a Celtics game with two of my buddies from Wesleyan that lived in Boston. Since no one was home at my house, Lacey and I decamped there to ring in the New Year together. Lacey was edgy and wired up during the short drive. She kept one hand pressed between her legs as she leaned against me and the other rubbing my cock through my pants. Her breathing was erratic and labored, punctuated by an occasional groan. I parked my car in the garage instead of the driveway.

We began stripping each other before we were out of the garage, leaving a trail of discarded clothing as we made our way to my bedroom. Before we were halfway down the upstairs hallway, Lacey's legs were clasping my waist, her arms clinging to my neck while she planted wet, hot kisses on my neck. Her sex was hot and damp against my abdomen. We fell onto my bed so forcefully that one of the slats cracked loudly. After kissing passionately, for several minutes, I kissed and nibbled my way to Lacey's breasts. I had barely encircled a nipple with my lips when she pushed me lower. I gladly accommodated her desire.

My first probe of Lacey's clit caused her to arch her back and pull my face into her groin. After just a few minutes of licking and sucking her clit, probing her opening with my tongue, Lacey drew in a sharp breath and sat up briefly. She crawled around me, pushed me onto my side and pressed a hand against my chest until I finally came to rest on my back. Her knee bumped my forehead as she straddled my face. She spread her legs widely and fell forward, her face coming to rest against my hip.

I returned my tongue to the slick folds above me. I heard Lacey hiss when my tongue grazed her clit. When I caught it between my lips and sucked gently, she groaned loudly and pulled my already rigid cock toward the hot breath that was torturing me. When I felt the wet heat of her mouth suck on my glans, I almost erupted immediately. Fortunately, the urgency passed.

Lacey kept me on edge while I brought her to several ear-splitting orgasms. Only the thighs nearly crushing my skull prevented permanent hearing damage. Lacey never hinted I should stop what I was doing to her with my tongue, lips, and fingers. But the look in her eyes when I crawled between her legs told me she wasn't disappointed by my change of position. She gently grasped my erection and guided it to her entrance. I slid easily into her over-heated, silky smooth depths. She gasped when I first entered her then sighed contentedly once I was nestled comfortably inside her.

It wasn't long before Lacey was shaking through another peak. Her enthusiasm never waned. Her hips kept pivoting to meet my thrusts through several more orgasms. Never once did she ask for a break. We didn't stop until I erupted into her. My body jerked and shook uncontrollably as I pumped what felt like a continuous stream into her. When the sensations rocking me subsided, I fell sideways, almost rolling out of my twin bed onto the floor.

Lacey and I lay beside each other gasping for oxygen. Before my breathing slowed, Lacey hopped out of bed and scooted down the hallway to the bathroom. She returned a few minutes later with a glass of water. I drank it down greedily while she stood over me, wearing only a smile. I didn't get much opportunity to admire the beautiful body that often filled my dreams. Before I could put the glass on my nightstand, Lacey was crawling back into bed, settling in between my legs. I watched in amazement as she greedily took the length of my wet, semen-coated cock between her lips and began sucking. I wasn't eighteen anymore, but I was still young and virile enough to be excited at the prospect of continuing to stoke our passions.

Lacey and I spent the next two days in bed. We took breaks only for sustenance, bathroom runs, and showers that were as erotic and heated as what we were doing in bed. Lacey did call home to say she was spending a couple days with friends. I heard only her end of the conversation as I searched the refrigerator for food. Aunt Mabel never questioned where she was, happy to know she was fine.

Lacey had to leave the morning my parents and siblings were due to drive home. She was opening one of the farm stores that morning. I dropped her early enough that no one saw us together. I remade my bed after washing and drying the sheets and restocked the fridge before my parents returned home. The broken slat went into the fire.

My friend and I enjoyed a pleasant visit though I know my attention drifted a few times as Lacey continued to invade my thoughts. We dallied over several cups of coffee, finally leaving just before the lunch crowd began to arrive.

I called the University of Vermont that afternoon to discuss an exhibition of selected, never shown works, by prominent local artist, Lacey Meddows. I don't yet know whether the university will be interested in a show the works Lacey gave and willed to me. I hope they do. I also hope Peter will call me to rant at me about it. That way I can tell him to fuck off myself.