Summer Fever

limp along on backup batteries.
    I gave it up first, wrenching my mouth away from his and uttering a strangled groan as I came in my pants like a fucking teenager. I sagged against the tree and he pushed against me, rabbiting his hips against my thigh, riding me in search of his release. He thrust against me so hard when he came I thought he might knock the tree down.
    He leaned against me, his chest heaving. In the moonlight, I could see a droplet of sweat trail down his cheek to his neck. Without thinking, I put my tongue out and licked it. Salty. Good.
    At last he pushed himself off me and stared at me in the dim light, as if he was trying to memorize my face. “That was fucking hot,” he said. “See you around, J.D.”
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    Summer Fever | Catt Ford

    I laughed at the wet spot on the front of his pants, even though I was in the same boat. “Should have taken my original offer,” I pointed out.
    “Won’t the boys back at the station laugh at you?”
    “I’m off duty anyhow,” he said. “And who knows? I could always write you a ticket another day, so maybe you should stay on your toes.” He unbuttoned one button on his shirt so I knew he was feeling the heat too. “Take it easy.”
    He turned and walked to his car while I stood there and admired his walk. He had that easy athletic gait, almost like the prowl of a big cat. It made me shiver a little, even though the humid air retained the heat of the day. I wondered if I’d made a mistake, but what were the odds that I’d ever see him again?
    I followed his car back to the road and he turned in the same direction I was going. When we reached the turn off for Little Sandy Lane, he flashed his lights once and pointed out the window. I flashed my lights in thanks and turned off. He kept going.
    His directions were easy. My parents had been coming up to this lake since I was a kid, and I never realized that Little Sandy Lane led right onto Big Sandy Lane. Of course, when I was a kid and my parents were driving, I never paid attention to where we were going. Being the middle kid, I was too busy fighting for survival between my brother and sister in the back seat.
    But I could have recognized the turnoff to Bluebird Lane in my sleep.
    With a nostalgic smile, I remembered how eager we all were to get to the cabin, out of the car and into the lake.
    My parents’ cabin was on Star Pond, a little cove off a bigger lake, named for the five points where different creeks emptied into it. The big lake had waves, not as big as the ocean, but it could be choppy. Star Pond 8

    Summer Fever | Catt Ford

    was calmer, although the currents ran deep and strong. It still took a good twenty minutes to canoe across but it was a lot smaller than the big lake.
    The shimmer of the moon on the water was my only guide as I turned down the dirt road. Pine trees grew tall and dense all around the cabin, and of course, no lights were on since no one was there.
    When I turned off the engine, at first the silence was overwhelming, but then I started to hear all the familiar little noises of the lake: the lap of the waves at the dock, the twang of a bullfrog, the hum of cicadas. It was all just the same and yet everything had changed.
    I stretched my back as I got out of the car, scratching at the wet spot on my jeans. I carried my bag and a cooler inside, dumping everything in the kitchen. My mom had had a washer put in the back hall when we were kids because she said she was pissed that she got to spend her vacation in the Laundromat in town while we were having fun. I undressed directly into the washer, then opened the back door and walked naked down to the dock.
    The water was warm when I slid into it. I loved skinny-dipping at night, not just for the feel of the water against my skin and the goose bumps when I got out, but also because of one memorable night when a summer kid named Jerry went swimming with me naked one year.
    He wasn’t a regular, which is maybe why it happened. It was the first time I understood the urges that seemed so mysterious to me at fourteen.
    We were in the water and I edged closer to him, so close that his hand brushed my dick. I almost went under, it was such a fantastic feeling. He apologized and pulled away immediately, but I was incoherent with delight.
    It was then I knew I was a fairy, that dreaded epithet that once you were branded with it, you were doomed. But I didn’t feel doomed, I felt free. Finally I knew what was wrong with me and it