Looking at a flat surface, you often just see the smooth reflection of light. If you take a different angle, you begin to see the scratches and imperfections. Life can make you shift your perspective. When that happens, new worlds appear.
***
The first week in August was sacred in their individual calendars. Nothing was booked, no appointments set, no meetings on the docket—this week was theirs alone.
For over twenty-five years the four couples had been gathering at the house on Cape Cod. The week was devoted to beach time, eating drinking time and just enjoying being with each other. They cherished their ability to pick up their relationships despite not having been together for a year.
Each one took comfort in each other. Agreeing that not many can sustain friendships over decades, the eight people attributed part of this closeness to the fact each couple remained married. Too many of their friends had divorced, with the division of friends often being part of the final settlement.
At least that's how Bryan had used to view his friendships. Solid and forever. Bryan was soon to discover that this week would expose things to a new light. Although he knew no marriage was perfect, he never before saw all the cracks and flaws. This week he would develop a clear view of reality.
Bryan did not attend last year, since it was barely three months after Judy's death. The other three couples had debated cancelling, but in the end it was a text from Bryan that said he would be deeply hurt if they did not gather in August. He only asked to remember him and Judy in a toast. It was their tradition to have their first dinner together on a Saturday evening and toast Jim, the lone unmarried member of their group, who passed away.
They all agreed and now Jim and Judy would be remembered. They called Bryan and all tried to talk to him over the cell phone's speaker. Not much communication occurred, but all felt better for reaching out.
Although he never mentioned another reason to his friends, Bryan had decided to stay away because he was trying to reconcile the closeness of these long-time friends with his suspicion that one of them had been sleeping with his wife. Those suspicions were unresolved, but he could not imagine not having these people in his life.
Bryan was planning to be in attendance this year. He talked to Bob, the owner of their reunion house, and insisted that he take the small bedroom with the bunk beds and give up the big room with the queen. For years, Mark and Sasha took the bunk beds. After some back and forth, Bob agreed.
They arrived between 2 and 4 on the appointed Saturday. The forecast for the week was sun and high 80s. Perfect beach weather.
After getting settled, they made their ways to the large deck. Bob had the beer and wine iced, and set out six dozen steamers with bowls of broth and melted butter, and a dish of red grapes on the big picnic table. Somehow this tradition had developed and each week began with the same menu. Following the steamers, dinner would be steamed lobsters, corn on the cob, garlic mashed potatoes and garden salad, accompanied by unending loaves of crusty French bread. Mark was in charge of the wine and always supplied too many bottles of crisp Chardonnay that somehow were consumed by the end of the evening. Dessert just had to be blueberry pie, delivered by Bryan from a bakery in Maine, along with lots of Walpole vanilla ice cream.
After an initial awkwardness because of Judy's absence, they soon resumed their ease as long-time friends and the laughter and multi-tiered conversations spilled over into the pines bordering the cedar-shake house.
Dinner, dessert and drinking occupied them until late. By midnight, all were in bed. Bryan crawled into the lower bunk slightly drunk and more than a little melancholy. Judy loved coming as much as he did and her presence was overpowering in its absence. Sleeping in a new room after all these years also added to his discomfort. After tossing and turning, he finally dozed off close to 2 am.
Up early, Bryan headed out for his morning five miles. He loved the contours, hills and unique vegetation of this part of the Cape. Truro was the last town before Provincetown and still one of the least developed parts of the Cape, although the last two decades of growth filled in many once open spaces.
He arrived home to a still quiet house. He stripped in his room and wrapped a towel around him, made his way outside and down the cedar walkway to the outdoor shower. The shower was essentially a redwood wall attached to the house with a floor of cedar boards. Two showerheads hung from the foundation, the redwood wall blocked visibility from the house and neighbors and the back was open to the thick stand of pine trees. Everyone loved the feeling of being so exposed and yet so protected.
He washed and let his hand linger on his member. Since Judy died, his hand constituted his entire love life. He stroked himself, enjoying the sensation as he grew in length and girth. When he was fully erect, he stroked harder, pushing himself closer to the inevitable.
This time he stopped. He just didn't feel right cumming here in the shower, with all his friends nearby. Maybe later in his room he could finish and find a few seconds of relief.
He turned the water off and stood looking out over the trees while his body dripped dry. It was warm for the morning and the sun filtered through the branches. The air moved across his naked body and played along his sensitive sex. He toweled his hair and smiled, looking down at his still engorged dick.
"Sorry old fellow," he thought. "I'll take care of you later."
He turned to go and was about to wrap the towel around his waist, when Sasha turned the corner of the stall.
They both made a startled sound. Sasha looked at him and then her eyes traveled down.
Neither one moved. Bryan looked at her wrapped in a bath towel with a toiletry caddy in one hand. She continued to stare at his erection.
Trying to break the tension, Bryan said, "Uh, Sasha, my eyes are up here," thinking that old line would crack her up.
She looked up, her mouth still slightly open, and looked back down.
"Sasha, hello."
"Jesus, Bryan, you still get those," she said.
"What?"
Pointing at his hard dick, she said, "That."
"Well, I am a guy. So, hard-ons happen."
"Not necessarily," she added.
***
Sasha and Mark were married longer than any of them. All the guys were classmates in high school. They maintained their friendship through college, since they attended state university together. When they were college seniors, Mark met Sasha. She was only a sophomore in high school and the sister of one of their day student friends. He used to invite his friends over to his house where his Russian mom would cook unbelievable amounts of great food. Sasha helped her mother serve dinner. She liked to sit with the guys and listen to their college stories.
She was simply beautiful. Of average height, she was dark-complected with deep brown eyes. As a young teenager, Sasha was slender and toned. Her long dark hair reached midway down her back and moved sensuously as she walked around.
She just turned sixteen and began to exhibit a womanly figure. Her small butt, usually hidden behind tight jeans or snug shorts, beat out an exotic tattoo with every step. Her breasts pushed against the thin polo shirts she favored. They did not appear huge, but demanded attention, especially from testosterone laden college boys. Sasha played field hockey and her legs were muscled and shapely.
All the guys held a crush for her, but they were reluctant to take a step because of her age and. her domineering mother. She would bark orders to Sasha in Russian and debate was not an option. Her mother eyed the hulking masses of boyhood suspiciously as her daughter navigated among them. Sasha's father was Italian by ancestry. He just glowered a lot at any boy near Sasha.
Mark screwed up his courage and asked her to his senior prom. There was much discussion with her parents, but in the end her brother vouched for Mark. He also had to agree to double date with them and swear he would keep his sister in sight the entire evening.
True to his promise, her brother stood guard over her virtue the entire night. It was not an easy task since many of the other guys circled her with a look that indicated they smelled fresh meat. To her credit, Sasha ignored all of them except for Mark. They danced every dance and had a great time.
Afterwards, they dated—with plenty of supervision and many not so veiled threats from both momma and papa--and found they were a perfect match. Mark and Sasha continued seeing each other after he graduated, since he stayed for a summer job at the college. After she finished high school, she elected to attend college in the same town where Mark was now teaching. They developed their relationship and married at the end of her freshman year. Each was a virgin and Bryan believed neither had ever enjoyed serious temptation or strayed off the marital path since that time.
