Jennifer Collier - Some Very Lovable Neighbors

"Fine! Great!" Mason said something to his wife about Jack accepting the offer; then there were muffled sounds and he came back on. "Say, Sue had a fine idea Jack. She has some free time this afternoon so if you want to use the cabin immediately she'll meet you 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," Jack said. "Let me talk to Adie. Just a sec." he quickly told his wife of their sudden good fortune, the Mason's generous offer.

His excitement was obvious. "What do you think, honey?" he asked her.

"I think it's marvelous," Adie 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 Masons 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."

Jack hesitated, looking at Adie 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 Bob. Adie doesn't think she should go for the weekend so I'll be going up alone."

"Whatever you say," Mason answered amiably.

"How do I get there?"

"Take the southern freeway until you reach Portland and then pick up Highway 1. You can get directions at any service station. Follow route 1 to Hopeful 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, Jack."

"Thanks. Oh, and Bob, I can't tell you what this means. If there's anything I can do for you…"

"Forget it," Mason 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 Rolfes were elated at this stroke of good fortune. They talked about how nice the Masons were to help them this way, and how much in debt to them they were. At last the car was loaded; Jack kissed his wife tenderly and drove away.

The drive was pleasant, leisurely, and the several miles went by quickly. Most of it was freeway and Jack was able to make excellent time. The road from Portland to Hopeful Bay and then north to the Salmon Creek turnoff was barren of traffic and exceptionally pretty with its Northern Oregon foliage. There was no fog and the sky was clear. Jack 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 lobsided, but Jack 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 sportscar parked near the porch. He assumed it was Sue Mason'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. Jack felt strangely excited as he walked across the grounds and tip 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. Sue stood easily, her hand on the knob, the other hand grasping a freshly-made martini.

"Hi!" she greeted Jack cheerily. "Come on in to your new writing studio."

He stopped, his mind stunned by Sue Mason'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 Adie'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 Jack 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, Jack," 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, Jack?" she asked coyly.

"You took scared. I'm not going to eat you."

She didn't add the word she was thinking: "Yet."

Jack grinned, a little self-consciously, and stepped past Sue 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.

As Jack crossed the bare wooden floor, Sue shut the door and followed him into the mail living room. He could smell a faint, musky perfume, and the headiness of the odor made him slightly light-headed; images of candlelight and soft music and brandy in fine old crystal decanters flashed briefly through his mind. He shook his head, grinning his wry grin; hell, next thing you knew he would be getting romantic notions and half a hard-on, which would do him no good at all since Adie was miles away in Seattle – and Sue Mason was strictly out of bounds.

Still, though, the lewd thoughts he had harbored about the voluptuous Mrs. Mason after making love to Adie last night returned momentarily;

Christ yes, she would probably be one goddamned holy terror in bed, the way she walked, and smiled, and smelled was irrefutable testimony to that…

Sue said, "Did you have any trouble finding the place, Jack?"

"No, no trouble at all."

"We were sure you wouldn't."

"This really is nice of Bob and you, Mrs. Mason…"

"Sue."

"Well, all right… Sue."

"It's our pleasure," she said. She smiled warmly at him, and her eyes in the pale light were dancing with hot, sparking embers. "Would you like to take the guided tour now, Jack?"

"Yes," he replied. "Fine."

The cabin had four rooms in addition to the huge main living room.

There were two small bedrooms, each equipped with a large double bed and a dresser; a tiny kitchen with a stove and refrigerator; and a circumscribed sun porch with floor-to-ceiling windows running the width of the dwelling, which looked out on an oblong, fenced-in rear yard with several pieces of lawn furniture and quite a few large shrubs and bushes. Beyond the fence were rolling sand dunes, extending for about five hundred years, and the dark, blue-black, white-capped surface of the Pacific Ocean.

Sue concluded the tour on the sun porch, saying, "You could work out here, Jack. Pull the bamboo blinds if the light gets too strong for you." She indicated an oval redwood table at one end of the porch. "You could use that as your desk."

Jack looked around. "Sounds great," he said. "Are there any electrical outlets here? I've got an electric typewriter…"