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Hearing her name called, hearing her maiden name called, drooping to her knees, her eyebrows furling in question, Marsha looked at the woman that was now approaching.

“Marsha? It is you, isn’t it!”

“Uh,” feeling stupid on her knees, hesitantly standing with her arms crossed covering her breasts, “Uh, yes.”

Still at the far end of the pool, uh, oh!  Knowing the only reason Marsha agreed to spending a day at a nudist park was because no one would know her, so, uh, oh!  Mitchell thought as...

“Marcie! Oh, my God! I can’t believe it! You! Here?”

“Who? uh...”

“Marcie, it’s me! Evie Dorfmann!”

“ ‘Evie Dorfmann’?” Marsha questioned unbelievably, “from Roosevelt?”

“Yeah! Hi!” Hugging her. “I can’t believe it! Marcie Goldman, here!”

Never before being hugged while nude by another nude woman, her arms now hanging limply at her sides, her head turned to her husband, Marsha, nee Goldman, Lipensky silently worded…

“I’m going to kill you!”

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 Elysium Fields 13: Hugged Nude

Topanga Canyon, California

 Saturday, May 17, 1986

 1:43 PM

“I’m going to kill you!” 

Thinking, Uh-Oh! Seeing the look of panic on his wife’s face, though not hearing the words, knowing exactly what she was saying and also knowing why she was saying what she was saying. Gazing skyward as though in prayer, Marsha’s words coming hauntingly to mind:

“Anyone there that knows us?”

“No!”

 “Mitchell,” her hand on my shoulder, “there’s no one there that we know?”

“That ‘knows us’? No! Of course not! Who’d be there that we know?”

Having not the slightest idea who this woman was. Having not the slightest idea how this woman knew his wife. Having absolutely no idea what to say or what to do. “I’m going to kill you!” reverberating through his mind. Hanging onto the coping at the deep end of the Elysium Fields swimming pool, transfixed, he watched the unexpected drama opening before his eyes, as…

“My, God,” Evie Dorfmann said, “Marcie, you look wonderful!”

“Uh,” still trying to overcome her shock at running into someone she knows, here, in Elysium Fields in Topanga California, and someone she knows from Chicago, from high school, for God’s sake! “Uh, yes, thanks, Evie. You, umm, look,” looking downward at Evie’s minute breasts, “really good, too.”

Evie’s eyes following Marsha’s, “Yeah,” laughing, “I wore pretty good falsies back then. But now… We’re about the same age I guess.  What, about fifty?”

Still struggling for words, “Yes,” Marsha affirmatively nodded her head.

“So this is me,” spreading her arms from side to side, “and who don’t like it… well screw ‘im.”

Though not overly friendly in high school, overcoming a bit of the shock at no longer being anonymous  and warming, if not to another woman’s bare-chested hug, than to Evie’s ‘screw ‘im’ attitude. “And you,” Marsha asked, “you married, you’ve any kids?”

“Got married, got divorced, got no kids. How’s ‘bout you?”

Her face turning towards her husband, “Yes…” pointing her hand, finger extended like the barrel of a gun at him, “Mitch and I’ve been married for, uh,” thinking a moment, “going on thirty-one years and we’ve four children.”

Catching the I’m going to kill you by shooting you gesture, but unsure of what he should do, supporting himself by his outspread arms on the pool’s coping, Mitchell remained on the far end of the pool.

Looking across the pool, “Hi…” turning to Marsha, “ ‘Mitchell’? You said his name is ‘Mitchell’?”

“Yeah.”

“Hi, Mitchell!” wiggling her hand in greeting, “I’m Evie,” she shouted across the pool.

Motioning to him with a ‘come here’ gesture, “Come here!” Marsha called.

“Four kids, huh? That’s great! How old?”

Swimming across, now standing alongside Evie and Marsha, finding the close proximity to two naked women, even if one was his wife and even if one had really small breasts, and – which he noticed when he came alongside – Evie had an over-abundance of pubic hair, all of which Mitchell found to be just a little disconcerting and sensed his penis coming out of hiding. “Hi, Evie,” he said, “nice to know you.” While thinking, nice ass. As now – knowing how ‘things’ can become magnified in gently rippling water –  stooping in the water as though to keep his shoulders from burning, attempting to hide what was absolutely no longer in hiding.

“Hi, Mitch. Nice to know you, too.”

Looking downward, seeing what her husband couldn’t quite hide, her heart quickening – not in a bad way – at the sight of his stiffened penis, however, bringing Evie’s attention back to her, “Our kids range from twenty-three to twenty-nine.”

Three couples entering the pool, four of the people walking down the three steps into the shallow, while a man and woman, walking to the deep end, dove in.

 “They still with you?”

Marsha’s eyes had followed the man, the more ‘endowed’ men, the man with the long, dangling appendage.  “No…” Blinking her eyes a number of times, “No,” she said, “they’re all on their own and doing okay.”

Ignoring the new people, dying of curiosity, “Uh,” also attempting to bring ‘himself’ back into control, how do you girls know each other?”

“ Marcie and me, we know each other from school…”

Interrupting, “From Roosevelt?” Mitchell asked incredulously.

“Yeah,” Marsha said rather cryptically, “go figure!”

“From Chicago to… all the way here, to Elysium?”

“Yeah,” Evie said, echoing Marsha’s: “go figure!”

The coincidence still incomprehensible, “When the hell did you two graduate?”

“Uh,” looking at Evie.

“Uh… “ Looking at Marsha… “nineteen-fifty-three?”

“Yeah, I think.”

Intent on the ‘girls’ and their back and forth, his penis shrunken back into hiding, straightening his body,

standing, “Let me get this straight.” Looking at Evie, “You’n’Marsha know each other from Roosevelt High School, in Chicago, which is about twenty-five hundred miles from here, and you graduated… Have you guys seen each other since graduating?”

 “No.” Evie said.

Marsha negatively shook her head.

“Okay,” Mitchell went on, “you two graduated high school in Chicago in nineteen-fifty-three and you and haven’t seen each other in…”calculating, “thirty-three years.” And here we are, about twenty-five hundred miles and thirty-three years away and… Holy shit! This is some coincidence!

©August 21, 2011 / Mark M. Lichterman