A mood pice from Marie Rebelle’s 2019 Smut Marathon. – Raz
The temperature inversion over the lake carries sounds from the opposite shore, over a mile away, over sunset to dusk to full night. There are four or five houses there, mostly vacation rentals, situated just right, and sitting quietly on my little pier on summer evenings, I hear everything. Barbecue parties, political discussions, marital arguments. Having the only house in our particular cove, my cross-lake neighbors don’t have much opportunity to hear us in return. Addy hardly ever comes out in the evenings. She says there are too many bugs, even though those lemony candles do a good job, I think. She prefers evenings gossiping with friends.
Some evenings, I hear quiet conversations, secrets between partners, the sounds of lovers. Like tonight. By the lights through the mist, only one of the houses is occupied, but the couple isn’t inside. They’re by the shore, and she’s luring him into the water despite the dark and cool. He accedes, and there’s splashing and murmuring, and sighing. He tells her he wants her always, and she laughs and says he has her now, and asks what he would do with her. His response creates splashes, and feminine laugher, then sighs. Not much later, cries of ecstasy disrupt the sounds of the awakening night creatures.
It’s full dark when Addy’s car pulls up the drive, and the frogs, cicadas, and stars are in full symphony around and above the lake. I wait a while longer before going inside.