Matched Pairs Ch. 03-04

"This is just between us, right?" Fred pleaded.

"Who am I gonna tell?" he answered. "No extra charge for silence!"

As Fred and Charlie made their way to the cashier, Charlie picked up a bag of charcoal and some paper towels.

"What are you doing with those?" Fred demanded.

"Don't you remember? The girls said to pick these things up on our way back to the cabin. We're almost out of beer, too."

"Not a chance!" Fred insisted. "We can't let them know that we were anywhere near the grocery store. We'll tell them we forgot about it in the excitement of hauling in the fish. We'll come back for it later."

"Good thinking!" Charlie agreed.

"How much beer is left, anyway?" Charlie held up four fingers.

As the two co-conspirators motored down the lake to the cabin they rode along in silence, trying to anticipate all possible angles.

"We better get those fish unwrapped and on the stringer." Fred called out over the sound of the motor.

Charlie unfolded the white butcher's paper and fastened each fish through the gills and onto a metal clip. "How are we going to explain how they got cleaned and scaled?"

"Easy!" Fred answered. "We stopped and did it on the shore so they wouldn't have to see them, or have the guts floating in the water where they would be swimming later. They'll love it! They'll probably refuse to look at the fish until they're cooked, anyway. What we did forget was 'what to do with that wrapping paper'. We don't dare show up with it on us, and we can't toss garbage in the lake."

Fred turned the boat around to head back to the public dock to throw away the paper in the trash can. "This will be perfect!" he called out. "We're late because we stopped to clean the fish."

Charlie took out the coffee thermos and split the remaining amount between them.

"It's mostly a true story." he said, handing Fred a steaming cup. "We did go fishing; they are bass; and they came from the lake. There's a little gray area in between."

"You sound like a true accountant, Charlie! You must really know how to sock it to the IRS," Fred snorted. "I'm going to send you my tax work next year."

"I've been one for a lot of years, and this is the part you don't learn in college," Charlie quipped back.

Thus, two men, whose circumstances made them unlikely to form a friendship, bonded together in a conspiracy to save their own self-respect, and that of all men.

********

TO BE CONTINUED

CHAPTER 4

Whether caught by hook or crook, the fish dinner that night was excellent. They grilled them over the charcoal fire, along with some red potatoes on skewers. They bought some white wine for the women, as well, during the same trip to replenish their beer supplies. After they finished eating Fred and Charlie gathered firewood as the sunlight slowly faded. Maggie and Pat did the dishes in the cabin.

"The fish tasted good tonight," Pat said.

"You know what, Pat?" Maggie ventured. "I'm not sure that they really caught those fish. If they had cleaned them they would have done it down by the dock in full view. I don't buy the 'we wanted to spare you the guts' story."

"You mean you would suspect our own beloved husbands of devious behavior just to save their own pride? I'm shocked to hear you say that!" Pat sarcastically exclaimed.

"I would suspect them if they had a chance to think of something," Maggie answered.

"Apparently they did," Pat sighed. "Charlie left his pants on the bed when he changed into his trunks. I found the receipt in his pocket."

"Of all the dishonest tricks!" Maggie said. "What do you think we should do to them?"

"Nothing!" replied Pat. "Let's let it slide. It'll only get a thing going, and I'd like to spend the time getting something else going, if you know what I mean. If I wasn't so hot-to-trot, I'd make them regret it!"

"I know what you mean." Maggie agreed. "Maybe we'll bring up this fish escapade at the holidays. Anyway, it will be fun to know what they did, and have them think that we don't know."

"Now you're talking, girl!" exclaimed Pat.

"By the way," added Maggie, we've had on two of our new suits, but not our secret weapons, the 'razor bikinis."

"I know." Pat acknowledged. "We have to bring them out at the right time. There will be one single first time for them, so it has to be done right."

"Kind of like a virgin," Maggie quipped.

"How can you remember that far back?"

"I don't think that I ever was one." Maggie answered back. "I was just assuming."

"All this talk has me turned on again." Pat gasped. "Let's go enjoy the bonfire for awhile and then drag these guys off to the sack and jump their bones."

************

To enjoy the beauty of the Adirondacks, vacationers must pay a price. In June, there are the Black Flies. (Don't go in June.) After June, there is the rain. It is written in the Great Book that in the midst of each Adirondack vacation, one complete day must be absorbed by rain. It will always follow a day of warmth and sunshine. The rain will start in the early morning; it won't stop until long after dark. The sky will take on the color of lead. At times the rain will be heavy and at other times it will be heavier. It won't stop. The air will turn damp and chilly. On the morrow the sun will reappear and proceed to dry out the forests. The rains are unavoidable. It is the decree of the ages. If you go to there, you must accept the rain.

Adults can accept the fact of rain, except when they are on vacation. Perhaps it is the expectation of boredom that sets nerves on edge. As one sits quietly to read a magazine a person knows that the solace will be short-lived. It would only be by sheer luck that a random periodical might contain something of interest to the reader. Once a reader is absorbed, it is only a matter of time before one person or another starts moving about the cabin, making a racket, talking, running the water, walking about the room, breathing and other nuisance things.

So it was with the two couples on Raquette Lake that day. The deluge continued the drum roll on the roof. Everyone had to raise their voices to be heard over it. Outdoor activity was out of the question. It was hard to sit still in the cold, clammy air. Beer didn't even taste good in this weather.

"Why don't we play cards?" Maggie suggested.

They all looked at one another dubiously.

"What game?" Charlie asked.

"It's too cold for Strip Poker," Pat joked.

"I don't know how to play poker," Maggie said.

"I don't know either, but there's a little card in the front of the deck that tells what all the hands are." Pat countered.

The men rolled their eyes in secret.

"You're just looking for an excuse to take your clothes off," Maggie accused.

"I don't need an excuse. I'm just waiting for Charlie to take the hint! Maybe you should do the same to Fred."

"Girls! Girls! Stop arguing. I have a better idea," Fred said.

The two women abruptly halted their banter and cocked a waiting ear to hear what Fred said next.

"Let's get into the SUV and take a drive up to Long Lake. We'll look around and then take in the Adirondack Museum. After that, we'll stop at Blue Mountain Lake. There are gift stores there and a nice restaurant."

The women looked at one another, weighing their options, and communicating through a system of pheromones that only women even know exist.

"Sounds good—let's go," they sang out in unison, and then disappeared into their bedrooms to change clothes.

"Wow!" exclaimed Charlie, "That was slick."

"Never underestimate the power of shopping to divert women's attention when they're restless," Fred instructed. "It'll be a nice day trip. The Adirondack Museum, alone, is well worth the drive."

Fred drove, since he knew the way. Charlie sat in the front with him. Pat and Maggie sat in the back. The drive would take an hour and a half, considering the trek from their cabin to the Village of Raquette Lake, and maybe a little longer due to the rain. From the Village, the drive would be down Route 28 to Blue Mountain Lake, then a turn up Route 30 to Long Lake. On the way back they would stop at Blue Mountain Lake for the Museum, shopping and dinner.

As they drove out of the Village of Raquette Lake the road ambled along a ridge overlooking the Lake.

"That cove over there is where we caught the fish," Fred called out to the women in the back seat.

Pat and Maggie looked at each other, and stifled a giggle. They said nothing, waiting to see how far Fred would go with his story.

"Isn't that right, Charlie?" Fred went on, pulling his co-conspirator into the web.

"Beats me," Charlie answered, as he sank lower in his seat. "Those inlets all look a lot different from up here on the road."

"It wasn't a lie." Charlie thought to himself. "I didn't confirm it or deny it. It could have been the cove; we did catch those perch. They just weren't the fish we brought back to the cabin." Charlie's conscience was soothed, but he wished Fred would shut-up, just the same.

Fred decided to drop the subject. Charlie wasn't helping and the women seemed uninterested.

At long-last they made it to Long Lake. As its name suggests, it looks like a long lake. But, it isn't a lake; it's a wide, slow-flowing river. It is part of the Raquette River, originating at the same lake as they were staying. Parts of Long Lake are so remote that the only access to it is by seaplane or boat. The Village of Long Lake lies at the southern end. There was a sandwich shop there, and they ate before heading to the Adirondack Museum.

It was a nice day touring, despite the rain. The Museum had something for everyone. It was a perfect way to pass a rainy day on vacation. As the rain continued to pour they sat around a table at Blue Mountain Lake.

"This was a good idea, Fred," Pat volunteered. "I think that I was getting cabin fever this morning."

"It's nice anywhere if you have good company to spend it with," Fred answered.

"Oh, Fred, that's so nice!" Pat said, stifling a little sob. "I was so afraid that we would be fighting this whole trip."

"It started out that way," Fred admitted. "We just had to get it out of our systems."

"So no more hard feelings?" Pat pressed on.

"No," Fred conceded. "Too much time has gone by. Things ended up well—for both of us. But, look, we're embarrassing Charlie and Maggie."

"No, not at all." Charlie asserted. "Here's to it. Maggie and I feel the same."

Maggie nodded that she felt that way, too.

They raised their glasses and drank the toast.

"And whose idea was this vacation? Does anyone remember?" Maggie reminded them.

"Gee, Maggie, I don't remember. Wasn't it a consensus kind of thing?" Fred ribbed her.

At first Maggie thought Fred's answer was in earnest and stared at him with her mouth open in disbelief. Then the others laughed and Maggie joined in.

It was a nice dinner, and a nicer night when they finally returned to the cabin.

************

As always happens in the Adirondacks in summer, the day following the rain was warm and sunny. After an early breakfast Maggie and Pat went for a walk while Charlie and Fred went fishing.

"That was a nice time at dinner last night," Pat said wistfully.

"It certainly cleared the air," Maggie added.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Pat went on. "I couldn't help thinking about the old days with Fred. It wasn't all bad—only the end. Even then, the bedroom was never a problem."

"That's the way it was for Charlie and me, too," Maggie agreed.

"We used to really set the bed on fire when we were young," Pat said. "Fred was strong and he would bore in like a bulldog!"

"He still does," Maggie assured her. "I heard you and Charlie through the wall more than once during this time at the cabin. You don't seem to be suffering."

"I'm not complaining," Pat responded. "Charlie and Fred are like strawberry and chocolate ice cream. They're both taste good, but completely different."

"I suppose that's true," Maggie mused. "Charlie makes love like a figure skater—smooth and graceful. He never lifts off the ice until both are ready."

"It sounds like you and Charlie have some memories together, too," Pat said. "I like the strawberry ice cream that I've got now. I do remember the chocolate fondly, though."

Maggie nodded.

They walked along the lane silently for a while before Pat changed the subject.

"Today is the day to unleash our secret weapons."

"You mean the razor-cut bikinis?"

"I sure do. We only have two more days here and the weather is so nice. I just hope that all of this eating and drinking hasn't put any weight on us."

"I wouldn't worry about that." Maggie assured her. "More to the point, what these suits are going to do to the guys. There is already a lot of current flowing through their circuits, you know."

"Only theirs?"

"I admit it, in mine, too," Maggie confessed. "But, you've forgotten to mention yourself."

"I know it!" Pat acknowledged. "I can't help it. The setting is so perfect. We're so secluded in our little part of the lake. It's so nice with the lake and the forest. We're having so much fun together and it's so relaxing. The reconciliation yesterday was frosting on the cake. I feel like I'm right on the edge of being out of control. I should be fighting it, but I can't—I love it. I love the excitement."

"Are you looking for a taste of chocolate ice cream?" Maggie asked gently.

"No, it's only a fantasy. I don't expect that to happen. I am going to get a thrill when Fred and Charlie start ogling me this afternoon when we put on those bikinis. Seeing them get the hots for us is almost as good as the real thing. You should feel it, too. You have a great package to display."

"I think that we're playing with fire," Maggie cautioned. "What if our husbands decide to take this a step further?"

"They won't!" Pat answered. "They'll sure think about it; but they'll run back to the henhouse at the last moment. Then, wait and see how much juice is in their batteries."

"This could never happen back home," Maggie said.

"That's right!" Pat agreed. "Remember what we said before we came here—what happens at the lake..."

"...stays at the lake." Maggie completed the sentence.

*********

The sun was high in the sky. Charlie and Fred sat in lawn chairs by the lake sipping after-lunch beers. They had changed into their trunks and were waiting for Pat and Maggie to finish the dishes and join them after they changed into their suits.

"Another bad luck fishing day," Fred mused. "We probably should have gotten out on the lake earlier."

"That's alright." Charlie answered. "I get more enjoyment on being out there than actually hauling them in."

"Raquette Lake isn't the best fishing lake in the area. Serious anglers go to Long Lake. You can find anything up there, Bass, Northern Pike, even an occasional Muskie. It's wild. You really need a guide."

"Speaking of 'wild', I thought that I was going to have a heart attack in the car yesterday when you started up on pointing out where we caught the fish. That was a big risk!" Charlie said, and took a swallow of beer.

"I like to live dangerously," Fred chuckled. "It keeps the thrill going. The women never caught on, anyway"

"Here's to thrills!" Charlie exclaimed, and the two men clinked bottles.

"Speaking of thrills, what do you think those two women are doing? We could have gone to town and bought new dishes in the time it's taken to wash them," Fred observed.

"I expect that they are putting on their bathing suits. Be prepared. If they're taking this long, they probably are trying on new ones," Charlie advised.

"Oh, brother!" Fred gasped. "The first day, I thought that I was in a striptease parlor. The second set of suits was skimpier than the first. Who knows what the next step will be?"

"Good—better—best, in my opinion," Charlie opined.

"How much do these little numbers cost, anyway?" Fred continued.

"Hey, I'm the accountant around here," Charlie retorted. "When you see me worry about it, you can worry, too. Anyway, I would expect about sixty bucks per copy. I believe that the less material, the more they pay."

"Wow, that's thirty bucks per...you know," Fred quipped.

"Depends on whether you get it in the morning, too."

Fred shrugged his shoulders, still contemplating the math.

"Look," Charlie went on, "these revealing suits have them all excited. What harm can it do? The girls are just enjoying the thrill of it. We're all alone here in this little cove. It's great eye candy for us and you can't deny that it's been paying great dividends in the sack."

"Okay, Okay! I get your message."

"If you don't mind me passing my eyes over your wife, you are free to gawk at mine as long and hard as you please," Charlie continued. "I know that's what they want us to do, so let them have it."

"Can-do," Fred assured him.

Before they could say anything more Pat and Maggie strolled out slowly from the cabin. It was a familiar parade route. This time they didn't bother with their husband's shirts, or other cover-ups. They were nude, except for the thin bands of the suits, their sunglasses, wide-brimmed hats and flip-flop sandals. They sauntered out slowly and deliberately, having no self-consciousness at their exposure. They never quickened their gait or raised their hands to their hips or in front of them to hide themselves.

During their time at the lake they had acquired tans, so their suits looked even better than the day they had tried them on at Pat's house. There was a bit of redness where the juncture of their upper thighs met the bottoms of their suits that went unnoticed by the men. It is what had taken them so long to emerge from their lair, as they both required some razor touch-up.

Fred and Charlie's heads swiveled round to catch the display. It was a moment of tough choices. On one hand was Pat with her swaying, curvy curves and generous cleavage. It was hard to pass by Maggie with her thoroughbred lines.

"Wow!" whispered Charlie to Fred.

"Just remember our agreement," Fred reminded him.

"That goes double for you, Fred".

It wasn't the just the show of skin that turned the men's heads. It was the quiet confidence of the women as they did it. Their demeanor sent a message to Charlie and Fred. It didn't say that they would tolerate the men's eyes slowly caressing their nearly nude bodies. The message wasn't that they wanted them to ogle them. It commanded the men, 'don't you dare look away from my sexy body.'

Young women couldn't have carried it off, no matter how smooth and effortlessly lithe their youthful bodies might be. Accustomed to constant notice and attention, they would fail to command the men; to understand what stirred the men; how to ignite the chemicals coursing through their veins that drove them to pursue, prove oneself and win. Younger women would have presented themselves, hoping to please. They would have giggled from their own self-consciousness—a pretense of coquettishness; each would compare her assets to those of the woman standing beside her. They would have shied away from the men's primal instincts. Pat and Maggie sought them out. Their years had schooled them well in all of their lessons.

They sauntered over to the collection of lawn furniture at the water's edge. Each lay face down on a flattened recliner. Neither had said a word during the long procession. They didn't have to.

Maggie moved first. After untying the halter behind her neck, she rose up on her elbows. The men's eyes were glued to her in anticipation. She unclasped the brass front closure of her bikini top, showing a brief glimpse of breast before settling back down.

"Would you rub some suntan lotion on me, honey?" she demurely requested. She handed Fred the plastic bottle, then folded her hands under her face as a makeshift pillow. Her red top lay loosely across her back and hung over the sides of the recliner like a smear of red lipstick on a man's white shirt collar.