Succumbed

Author © Scott D. Zachary

       I liked Mary. Her silky jet-black hair pleased my eyes. I also liked the fact that she had no designs on my future. That fit well with my sluttish lifestyle in the nineties. After what I’d experienced during two rotten marriages, I didn’t keep women around long enough to let them get their hooks in me. Mostly, though, I liked her insatiable lust. Her love of fishing—when we found time to get dressed for it—was the icing on her scrumptious cake.

       On this particular Saturday, we did get dressed, and we were driving in my pickup truck along the dirt road that outlined Spring Lake in western Arkansas. We came upon a clearing where a boat ramp descended into the water on our left. I stopped the truck at the top of the ramp and looked out across the glistening lake. Perhaps three-quarters of a mile of sparkling blue water separated us from a swimming area on the far side of the lake.

       I got out of the truck, flipped off my shoes, and tossed my keys to Mary. “Pick me up at the swim area over there.”

       “What, you’re going to swim all the way over there?!”

       “Sure.” During the months I had trained for my three-mile swim from Flat Rock to Piney Bay two summers earlier, I fell in love with the water. I spent so many hours enjoying her circumfluent caresses during the summer of 1997 that it became a love affair. I have no doubt that my eyes sparkled as I returned to her all-encompassing embrace.

       I sashayed down the slope into Spring Lake. I sensed Mary’s dismay, but she didn’t matter. My preferred lover softly fondled my inner thighs and erotically lapped my neck as I smoothly entered her. We intermingled sensually. Her unnaturally calm countenance signaled her unconditional acceptance to my penetration. She parted her wet incarnation as she succumbed to my confident freestyle thrusts. Extending my stroke into her depths, she radiated my passion to the far shores. Mother Nature’s liquid maiden readily submitted to my impassioned breast-strokes. No other creature in her seductive realm stirred a nipple, I mean ripple. I had her placid composure all to myself. Or so I thought.

       I don’t know how long it took me to swim across Spring Lake. I was having such a delightful time that I didn’t care. I should’ve thanked my lucky stars, though, when I stepped out onto the beach and saw the heavy chain-link fence that cordoned off the swimming area, but I still didn’t see that as a clue to my good fortune. I did mentally contrast it with Piney Bay’s buoyant orange-tube perimeter; however, that’s as far as my thinking went.

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       The following Saturday, Mary and I got dressed again and went fishing at King Fisher Lake. Shortly after we arrived, I pointed out a big log floating across the lake. Mary was also stymied by the oddity of it, especially considering that there didn’t seem to be any current in the lake. None. We pondered on that for a time before the elderly caretaker stopped his pickup truck on the dirt road beside our fishing spot. He got out and began picking up trash. “Having any luck?” he asked.

       “A few nibbles,” I replied. “Say, can you explain how that log way out there keeps moving across the lake? Is there a current?”

       “That, young man, is an alligator. The Conservation Service introduced them to bring down the beaver population. Those pesky beavers keep damming up the spillways, which makes the lakes stagnant, killing everything but the bacteria, algae, and mosquitos. Pretty soon, all you got is a bunch of swamps.”

       “I had no idea that there were any alligators in Arkansas.”

       “Yeah, they put ‘em in several of the lakes.”

       I thought of that heavy chain-link fence defining the swim area at Spring Lake and shivered. “What about Spring Lake?”

       “Yes sirree, they got ‘em, too.”

       “Wow, and I swam across Spring Lake last Saturday!”

       “I wouldn’t advise you to do that again.”

       “You can bet big odds there won’t be a next time.”

       He tipped the brim of his hat back and pensively looked out across the water. “I reckon they didn’t figure anyone would be silly enough to swim across the lake.”

       “Don’t worry, I’ll be turning in my silly badge first chance I get.”

       My stomach gurgled as I thought about how still the surface of Spring Lake had been and how I must’ve been the center of attention for all the aquatic critters, particularly the alligators. The caretaker’s revelation ended my love affair with the water. I’d have to settle for Mary. She had lots of toys, but no alligators.