“It’s impressive. I’ve forgotten how artistic you are.” I turn three hundred and sixty degrees……and that’s when I see them. In the back corner of the loft…….are several pictures, portraits actually………hanging by invisible wire, as if floating in the air…………and all of them are of me….Nude! There I am….bare assed naked, wearing nothing but my birthday suit and a few daisies. Blackeyed Susans to be exact, artfully placed to prevent the pictures from being x-rated, yet at the same time, very provocative. The only color in the dim corner of the loft is the brilliant yellow of the daisies waving against a blue sky…and the amount of exposed flesh on my body. The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh……I feel
faint…..somewhat nauseous….and yet slightly complemented at the same time, as I stare at the pictures in horror and envy………because…...damn, I looked good back then. But secondly and the more important question is…what the hell is my naked ass doing hanging from his ceiling!!
“What is this?” I venture cautiously. I had never seen the pictures. I knew they existed, but oh, my God. How many people have seen them? My stomach churns in dread. I clutch his arm so hard; the blood throbs in my fingertips.
“Remember our picnic that last day in the
Adirondacks. Well, this is some of my best work. I won a citation for lighting effects in this series of photographs. My ex-wife, on the other hand, wasn’t so fond of them, accused me using the gallery showings as a means of flaunting my old girlfriend in her face. She always had a jealous streak. When Sophia enters a room, she holds reign like a queen, leaving other women to fade into the background.”
I can’t speak. All I can do is gaze up at the portraits. My face staring back at me, a bubble of disbelief rising inside me. Bridget’s……. daisy girl………..my face flushes at the thought of her seeing me like this……so young…..so in love………and so naked.
“How many people have seen these pictures?” My voice comes out as a squeak…….oh, God.
“Gosh, I don’t know, thousands. And that one there,” he points to a smaller one in the far corner, “is the back cover for a Thirsty Mad Dogs album, huge hit.”
I groan in mortification. The album cover of a heavy metal rock band…….it just gets better.
“What? Elle, you still don’t get how beautiful you are?” Vic looks slightly mystified. “I don’t understand;; I was the envy of every man who saw those pictures, and half the women.”
“Because they knew you screwed her!” I hissed at him. “I look like a horny playboy bunny let out for a romp in the meadow. Those pictures were private, Vic, not for the whole world to see.”
“I guess,” he shrugs sheepishly. “I thought you died, so I took my grief to the dark room and set out to show the world how beautiful you were.”
Well, when you put it like that, how is a girl to argue………he thinks I’m beautiful……okay, it was a while ago, but still, he thinks I’m beautiful. That doesn’t get him off the hook for exposing my naked butt for anyone to see.
“That was the last time we were together.” He tries diffusing my anger with memories of that afternoon overlooking the lake, how we were so in love that nothing else in the world mattered. To have such innocence again.
“Seems like ages ago, doesn’t it?” I muse.
“Yes and no, sometimes it seems like yesterday.”
He continues, “We could bring out the camera and recreate the scene for old time’s sake.” H is hands start doing that magical thing underneath my blouse, making my righteous indignation dissolve in the wake of rising passion….why does he affect me so, I slightly resent how easily I fall under his spell, how I come unglued at his touch……I’ve never been considered a prude but with him, my inhibitions melt away, replaced by reckless abandon…..a glance around the room reveals no black eyed Susans or a meadow in sight…..well, I guess we’ll just have to improvise.
…
Under the oversized skylight of the loft, the rhythmic melody of rain lulls us into an afternoon of unhurried lovemaking. Overhead clouds scuttle by, punctuated by the drum of raindrops on the roof; the sound of horses stomping below; a perfect afternoon for cuddling and napping. Contentment purrs in my veins. Curled up in a warm naked ball, there’s no place in the world I’d rather be than in this bed. I run my hand down his thigh marveling in the contrast between smooth skin and sinew muscle. I pull the soft fleece throw tighter and snuggle deeper into his embrace, half asleep.
“Mr. Vic!” Bridget’s voice screeches over the intercom system that links the house to the barn. Generally Vic uses the system, rarely Bridget, as she respects his privacy when working in the loft.
Jolted from our nap by the urgency in her voice, Vic groans, “What could she possibly want?”
“Mr. Viccc!” Again, the shrill voice of Bridget shouts into the intercom as if she were calling from the other side of the mountain. “Hanna is here. Now! She’s heading to the loft at this very moment. I tried to stall her, but she’s all worked up over some teenage thing, and insists on speaking with you, immediately! Do you hear me?!”
“Ohhh, holy shit! Quick, Elle, we got to get you out of here, fast.” He jumps to his feet pulling on a pair of faded jeans and a rumbled t-shirt, knocking me off the bed and onto the floor. Thump….ouch!
“Come on, come on!” He tosses my jeans at me, and the rough fabric smacks me in the face. “Shit, shit, shit! I need time to explain to her.” He sweeps the rest of my clothes onto the floor as he straightens the comforter.
Hopping on one foot as I hastily attempt to dress, I can’t help but wonder what happened to the I love you and you are the most precious thing in my life?
I scramble around the floor on my knees gathering my underwear and shirt scattered by his frantic cleaning, and I hear footstep coming up the steps.
“Dad! Dad! Where are you? I need you! Daadddy!” Vic’s daughter, Hanna comes running up the stairs.
Vic grabs my arm, propels my half-naked body through a side door out onto the platform of the hayloft.
“Hey! What the hell!” I protest, surrounded by hay bales, underwear clutched to my naked breasts. The hay loft is a U-shaped floor following the outline of the horses’ stalls below, the center of the elevated deck is cut out so hay can be tossed down next to the stall, leaving only a very narrow ledge to maneuver around.
“I’m soo sorry; just give me a few minutes. Forgive me.” He places a quick kiss on my forehead and not waiting for my forgiveness, slams the door in my face.
I stare at the closed door as his daughter’s voice vibrates off the loft rafters. “Daddddd!” Jeez, she’s a noisy one.
“Hanna, darling, what are you doing here?” I hear Vic’s breathless voice through the wall. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
“You always say I can come anytime I want,” she whines. “Why are you acting so strange? You look like you just woke up, what are you doing sleeping in the afternoon? What a geezer.”
“I worked late last night and was catching up on my sleep.” He offers the lame excuse.
“Fine then, whatever,” Hanna’s voice edged in teenage contempt. “Mom won’t let me go out with Trevor.” Feeling only slightly guilty, I press my ear against the door.
“Why don’t we go in the house? I think Bridget just made some cookies. We’ll have cookies and milk and discuss the issue.” I hear Vic opening the door to the stairway, trying to coax her out. I see a knothole in one of the wall boards; and shamelessly eavesdrop.
I hastily button my shirt and squat down to watch the show. Having raised two teenagers I can appreciate the drama.
“Milk and cookies!” She sputters. “What do you think I am? Five! I need an answer now! I told Trevor I’d go to the movies with him and a bunch of his friends. Mom is acting so lame. You could call, and tell her you’re fine with me going out with Trevor.”
“Hanna,” Vic takes her elbow, steering her away from the rumpled bed, still warm from our lovemaking. “Are you sure we can’t go in the house?
”
“No, I like it up here, it’s so horsey.” She plops herself down on the couch where I see the edge of my bra sticking out…….this could get real interesting. “Besides if we go in the house Bridget will butt in with her old world British ideals.”
“Bridget is Irish, I’d be careful calling her British. It tends to make her cranky.” He says with a sigh, stealing a peek at the door leading to the loft. “Now what is the problem?”
“Uhh, No one listens to me!” she says, throwing her hands up in disgust. Boy, you can tell she’s the child of two actors. Phew, drama queen. “I just told you, Mom won’t let me go to the movies with Trevor.”
“Hanna,” Vic begins slowly with patience. “How old are you?”
“Dad! You know very well how old I am. Fourteen.”
“And what was the age your mother and I decided acceptable for you to go on a car date? He says with the practiced air of someone who’s had this conversation before.
“Sixteen! Come on! That is so lame! Everyone else can go, why can’t I?”
“Those are the rules of this family.”
“You and Mom are divorced; we’re not a real family.”
“When it comes to you, your mother and I are a family, united in what’s best for you.” He pushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “We love you, and I agree with your mother that no dates with boys in a car before sixteen. And isn’t Trevor that Millnor kid who is what, seventeen or eighteen. Sorry sweetheart, not going to happen.”
Crouched in my position against the wall, I silently applaud Vic for sticking to his rules where his daughter is concerned. Lord knows, Jack and I were tested by our two teenagers. Jack the more lenient; leaving me to play the bad cop, and trust me, it’s not a popular position. I shift my body, wiggling, trying to dislodge loose pieces of hay. Somehow the chaff worked its way into the material of my shirt. I itch like hell. I squirm around looking for a means of escape. There must be a way down from here, a set stairs or a ladder somewhere.
“Oh, Dad, come on! I thought you would be cool about this.” Sensing defeat, Hanna changes her battle tactics. With a voice like silvered honey she says. “Daddy, you’re like the cool Dad, all the girls think you’re such a hunk. I promise I’ll be careful. Pleaseee.”
“No.”
“I never get to do anything.”
“You’re right.”
“You and Mom are such loser parents”
“Yep, it’s your lot in life to have loser parents. Sweetie, you will date, you will go in cars……..with boys, and there are many adventures in life waiting for you. Just not at fourteen.”
“I can pout and scream all I want but you’re not going to change your mind, are you?” she sulks.
I spy a ladder leading down to the ground floor but it’s on the other side of the barn, forcing me to crawl on the narrow ledge to reach it. Damn. My knees ache and I have an overpowering urge to itch my entire body.
“I’m in total agreement with your mother.” Vic says. “But I appreciate you coming to us, there may be circumstances where we bend the rules, but night driving with older kids on mountain roads, isn’t one of them. Okay?”
“Fine, I hate my life.” I hear her open the door to the stairway. “I’m hungry. Did you say Bridget made cookies?” The kid has the attention span of a gnat…
“I’m sure of it, let’s go see.” I hear the relief in Vic’s voice as he opens the stairway door. “Come on.”
“No, first I want to see Moon Star.”
Really, I’m hiding in plain sight of the stalls. Now where do I go? Maybe I can beat them to the ladder. Ehhhh….too many decisions. I hear their voices on the stairwell. I’d better hurry.
“What? Moon Star?” he says, confused.
“My horse, what is wrong with you? Why are you in such a hurry to get me in the house? I thought you liked it out here, all the quiet and privacy.” They stop on the stairs.
“I do but I’m starving, I missed lunch.”
“It will take just a minute. Don’t be so impatient.”
“I’m sure Moon Star is fine. I checked on the horses before I came upstairs.”
“I’ll meet you in the house. I want to say hello,” she says, clattering down the wooden stairway.
“Wait, wait for me. We‘ll go together.” Vic calls out, raising his voice, hoping I hear and take cover. Great.... I flatten myself against the hay bales praying my blonde hair and pale skin act as camouflage.
“There’s my pretty boy.” Hanna croons from the doorway of Moonstar’s stall. “Dad, do we have any apples for him?”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll go and get a few.” Vic rushes to the feed room and back in a matter of seconds. “Here’s a couple……..okay, let’s go.”
“Just a minute, let me feed him,” she says with a laugh. “Can we go for a ride later?”
“Umm, sure, sure. Whatever you….. want…..” his eyes widen in disbelief at the sight of me creeping along the edge of the wooden platform. I give him the thumbs up and point to a pile of loose hay, a perfect hiding spot. With Hanna intent on feeding her horse, he steps out of her line of vision and starts waving frantically at me.
What?
“Dad, what are you doing now?” Hanna asks, a perplexed look on her face. “Maybe you should go back and finish that nap.”
“Ahhhh………chasing flies.” He swats at imaginary flies. At that moment I erupt with an explosive sneeze……I’m so screwed. I’ve always been suspicious that I’m allergic to hay, explains the itching.
“What was that?” Hanna walks to the middle of the aisle looking up in the haymow.
“What?” Vic grabs her arm, pulling her toward the door. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“That sound.” Hanna repeats. “Is Hank working upstairs?”
“No one is up there.” Vic says, desperation creeping into his voice. “Come on, Hanna, let’s go.”
“What are you deaf? Someone is up there.” Hanna grabs a pitchfork pointing to the upper level.
I tuck myself into the pile of loose hay. She can’t see me;; it’s dark in this corner of the loft. If I don’t move, she’ll leave. I think I hate this kid already………just go in the house.
“Who’s up there?” she calls out. “I know someone is up there. My Dad has a gun and he’s not afraid to shoot.”
“Hanna!”
“Dad! Maybe it’s some crazy stalker fan.”
To avoid detection, I burrow deeper into the pile of hay and realize too late……there’s no floor underneath; I’m free falling….down a drop hay chute.
Ahhhhhhhhh……..
I’m a screaming, tumbling human bale of hay. Flying down a twenty-foot hay chute, landing with a whamp!
“What the HELL!” Hanna cries, jumping back at the apparition sprawled on the ground before her.
“Elle! Elle, are you hurt? Buttercup….?” Vic drops to his knees and scans my face, pulling hay out of my eyes and mouth so I can breathe. I’m covered head to toe, where the hay stops and I begin is difficult to determine. And by dressing in haste, I missed a few buttons and snaps, the result….my breasts spilling out of my shirt, jeans slid half way down my hips, more off than on…and panties falling out of my back pocket. I looked like a scarecrow gone stripper.
“Who the hell is this!” Hanna’s screech pierces my shocked wits. Dressed in a flirty flowered skirt and matching tank, her gorgeous chestnut hair twisted in a messy knot at the nape of her neck, she looks a younger female version of Vic. Through the hay plastered to my face, I see the same decisive chin as her father, straight nose, chiseled high cheek bones and her mother’s aqua green eyes and hair. She’s stunning, at fourteen, tall, model thin, yet voluptuous in all the right parts. I feel sympathy for Vic, between her fiery temper and beauty, his hell has just begun.
“Elle, seriously, are you hurt?” Vic helps me to my feet, his voice edged with concern, checking me up and down for injuries.
“I’m fine, really, just a little shaken up.�
�� I give him a tremulous smile, trying not to wince as I straighten my back. “Whew, what a ride!” I chime, trying to lighten the mood. I wiggle my fingers and legs. “Everything seems to be working.”
“Dad! Is this one of your one night stands?” she points an accusing finger at me, demanding an explanation. “Mom is going to have a fit. You know the rules; the mountain house is our home. Family and close friends, none of the Hollywood stuff. No wonder you wanted me out of the barn. You’re disgusting. How dare you talk to me about family rules! Look at you hiding one of your “girlfriends” in the hayloft.” She uses her fingers to make quotation marks around girlfriends, letting me know she really means “slut”. “You were not napping, you were doing it! Ughh! So…. gross!”
“Hanna!” Vic spins around, silencing her with a glance. “I can explain. This is not what you think.” I make a vain attempt at straightening my clothing, buttoning and zipping things that need to be closed up and put away. Lost cause, I’m a mess. I do look like a slut.
“Why was she hiding then? Her clothes are half off.” Hanna rants on, “I’m not stupid. Anyone with half a brain knows what you were doing.” She stamps her foot. “Mom’s already pissed at you, every magazine in the market is plastered with your picture and every week it’s a new woman. That part of your life is supposed to stay in L.A. This is our home, where I can come and go between the two houses…….and not worry about interrupting your little flings.” She throws her fingers in my direction as if I were a speck of garbage to be disposed. She pauses a moment to catch her breath, her words filled with hurt, betrayal and anger. “How do you think I feel? My Dad’s some steamy sex symbol? All the girls at school gush about how hot you are. Gross, I want to scream at them. That’s my father you’re talking about; he’s old enough to be your grandfather!
“I am not!” Vic snorts in shocked denial.
“Really….Dad.” she shakes her head in disgust. “What are you, like, fifty? You could easily be a grandfather. Talk about me needing to grow up, maybe you should take some of your own advice. Stop screwing every woman who crosses your path.”
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