Peter Jensen - The Virgin Couple

Barry went back to the study, but for all his efforts, he wasn’t able to write anything even approximately worth saving by noon. The washing machine went on as promised, and with a muffled, frustrated curse, Barry threw in the towel and gave up for the day.

“Going well?” Kim asked when he appeared, knowing the answer even before he said it.

“Like hell,” he grumbled. He opened a beer and sat down in front of the television set to watch an old movie, disgruntled.

At one, the phone rang. Kim answered it in the kitchen, and then called to Barry. He walked in and took the receiver; to his surprise, Jack Goren identified himself.

“Hello, Barry, how are you?” Goren asked.

“Fine. Say, this is a surprise.”

“Well, it was really nice talking together the way we did last night, and so I thought I’d call and tell you so.”

“Thanks. Both Kim and I enjoyed it, too. You were a lifesaver.”

Goren laughed heartily. “Same here. Say, how’s the writing coming? Did I interrupt you?”

“No, no, there were enough distractions to make me give it up an hour ago.”

“That is a shame, Barry.”

“Well, I’m just going to have to learn to cope with it, I guess.”

“Maybe not. That’s another reason I called. Lynn and I came up with an idea.”

“Really?”

“We have a cabin at Salmon Creek on the Sonoma County coast. It’s not very posh, but it has a heater and electricity and running water, and you’re welcome to use it if you want.”

Barry was pleasantly agape. “Well, Jack, that’s very kind of you to offer…“

“Nonsense. Lynn and I don’t use it much any more, and we’d like to have somebody up there. It’s probably pretty damned musty, and could use some living in, so you’d be doing us a favor as much as we’d be helping you. Should have thought of it last night. What do you say? I won’t take. no for an answer!“

“In that case… why, yes, I’ll be glad to, Jack.”

“Fine! Great!” Goren said something to his wife about Barry accepting the offer, then there were muffled sounds and he came back on. “Say, Lynn had a fine idea, Barry. She has some free time this afternoon, so if you want to use the cabin immediately she’ll meet you up there. Around four, if that’s all right. She’ll turn on the gas and the electricity, show you where things are and give you the keys.”

“Sounds good,” Barry said. “Let me talk to Kim. Just a sec.” He quickly told his wife of their sudden good fortune, the Gorens’ generous offer. His excitement was obvious. “What do you think, honey?” he asked her.

“I think it’s marvelous,” Kim said. Her voice was eager for him.

“Do you want to come along?”

She smiled ruefully. “Wouldn’t you get more writing done if I didn’t?”

“Well… yes, probably so.”

“Then you’d better go alone, honey. It’ll just be for the weekend, won’t it?”

“I guess it will. Though if the Gorens don’t mind, and things work out, I’ll most likely want to stay.”

“Well, I can join you later on if that’s the case.”

Barry hesitated, looking at Kim for a moment, and then decided that she was right. Lord, it would be perfect! He could really get started in the novel once he was in seclusion, away from all the interruptions; and if he was alone this weekend, well all the more work he could get done. He said Into the phone as he nodded at his wife, “Sounds just great, Jack. Kim doesn’t think she should go for the weekend, so I’ll be going tip alone.”

“Whatever you say,” Goren answered amiably.

“How do I get there?”

“Take Highway 101 until you reach Petaluma, and then pick up Highway 1. You can get directions at any service station. Follow One to Bodega Bay Salmon Creek is about five miles north; the turnoff is adjacent to a State Fish and Game station there. Turn left and follow the road to Parkwood Lane, about a half mile in. Turn right there, and we’re the fourth cabin on the right. Got all that?”

“Got it.”

“Good luck, Barry.”

“Thanks. Oh, and Jack, I can’t tell you what this means. If there’s anything I can do for you…

“Forget it,” Goren said. “That’s what friends are for."

It took the better part of an hour to pack the Ford with the writing necessities, such as pens and paper and the IBM typewriter. There was an air of joy about the whole thing, for both the Suttons were elated at this stroke of good fortune. They talked about how nice the Gorens were to help them this way, and how much in debt to them they were. At last the car was loaded; Barry kissed his wife tenderly and drove away.

The drive was pleasant, leisurely, and the seventy-odd miles went by quickly.

Most of it was freeway, and Barry was able to make excellent time. The road from Petaluma to Bodega Bay, and then north to the Salmon Creek turnoff was barren of traffic, and exceptionally pretty with its Northern California foliage. There was no fog and the sky was clear. Barry hummed a popular tune as he drove, as though he didn’t have a worry in the world.

The cabin at Salmon Creek was small and smelled of fish and salt from the Pacific Ocean nearby. It was on a slight rise, with a large side window overlooking the water. The cabin was of rough-hewn, salt-eroded redwood planks, and the roof of redwood shingles sagged slightly in the middle; the porch was lopsided, but Barry couldn’t have cared less. This was perfect as far as he was concerned, and the next neighbor was a good quarter of a mile away. No kids, no mowers, no street work crews, no telephone interruptions. Just the lapping of the waves and the cracking of typewriter keys on paper.

He drove up next to the canary yellow TR-6 Triumph sports car parked near the porch. He assumed it was Lynn Goren’s car and that she was already there, for it was next to the house and the stone chimney was sending wisps of smoke into the crisp air. Barry felt strangely excited as he walked across the grounds and up the heavy plank steps to the front door. He knocked on it twice.

There was a scrape of chair legs and then the tiny patter of feet. The door opened. Lynn stood easily, her hand on the knob, the other hand grasping a freshly-made martini.

“Hi!” she greeted Barry cheerily. “Come on in to your new writing studio.”

He stopped, his mind stunned by Lynn Goron’s beauty. She had been provocative at the party, but now, this way, she was even more sensual. She wore short-shorts of bright orange, so tight as to show her pubic mound and its wide cleft clearly through the fabric between her thighs. Her long, statuesque legs, bronzed even more than Kim’s were bare and beautiful, and her belly was just as bronzed nude between the shorts and an orange halter, flat and wrinkle free.

Her breasts were barely concealed by the thin strips of the halter, and Barry could almost see her nipples. Her light brown hair seemed shorter than it had the night before, and the pixie cut added to the vivacious effect her sparkling green eyes gave forth.

“Come in, Barry,” she repeated with a smile, moving aside with the fluid ease of a cat. She seemed to sense his hesitation, for she laughed and took a sip of her drink. “What’s the matter, Barry?” she asked coyly. “You look scared. I’m not going to eat you.”

She didn’t add the word she was thinking: “Yet.”

Barry grinned, a little self-consciously, and stepped past Lynn into the cabin’s interior. The walls were constructed of unvarnished redwood, the ceiling was high, with exposed studs, and the furniture was old and comfortable, mainly rattan and old leather. There was a homey, comfortable atmosphere to the cabin, and the dim, filtered afternoon light added to its warm solidarity.