Chapter 4

Marcy released the thumb-length pinnate of leaves she had been absently twirling and let it fall upon the murky brown water of the reservoir below. It grossed her out a little to think that this was where they got the water they’d been drinking and bathing in for the past four days. But she figured it probably went through several stages of filtration and sterilization before it actually reached their faucets.

Leaning upon the concrete guard wall like a handrail, she watched as the leaves floated to the water, producing a single perfect ripple.

She was lost in thought. The past 24 hours had been ... complicated, to say the least. It wasn’t that she was confused about what had happened; it was more that she was confused about how to feel about what had happened, and where it all left her now.

She was still angry about what Bert had done. Not as angry as she had been; not as angry as she probably should’ve been, but angry nonetheless.

She’d come to forgive the dumb ox somewhat. Jeff had pointed out to her the previous night, and again earlier this morning, that Bert had only done what he’d done because of alcohol. It didn’t excuse what he’d done. Not by a long shot. But she knew that the real Bert, as much of an asshole as he was, would never force himself upon a woman when he was sober.

She knew him and his type all too well. When they want a girl they are brazen and assertive to the point of being pests. But they know where the line is between annoying and unacceptable and they usually have the decency not to cross it. The problem is, when you add a shit-ton of beer into the mix, that line gets damn blurry.

That’s what it all came down to: poor judgement.

By the same stroke, she couldn’t help but curse herself for her own behavior last night. Stripping nude and dancing provocatively in front of Bert? What the hell had she been thinking? Again, her behavior did not excuse his. But she knew that Bert really wanted to screw her, he hadn’t been subtle about that. When she’d been sober she’d been sensible enough to shoot down all his advances, quick and clear. But then later in the night, she’s practically giving him a guided tour of all her God-given assets? Talk about sending mixed signals! It was so stupid.

Strangely enough, it wasn’t Marcy’s issues with Bert that were weighing heaviest on her mind this morning, it was her issues with Jeff.

His behavior the previous night was harder for her to come to terms with than Bert’s. Once again, his failings could largely be blamed on the alcohol. But unlike Bert, in Jeff’s case that didn’t make her feel any better.

When Bert had first started fucking her ass, Jeff just kept grinding away at her without even hesitating. She gave him benefit of the doubt on that one: he was so wasted, he mightn’t have even realized what Bert was doing. Though deep down she didn’t really believe that.

But even supposing that he was too drunk to realize Bert was trying to buttfuck her while it was happening, she couldn’t just explain away his attitude after she’d escaped. She as much as explained to him point-blank what Bert had done to her and all Jeff seemed to be concerned about was the fact that he hadn’t gotten off!

Booze or no booze, horny or not horny, it was hard to make peace with having a boyfriend who can be so callous when someone tries to molest you.

Of course, they had ‘made up’ first thing this morning. Jeff had been far more sensitive to her displeasure after a sobering night’s sleep. He talked to her and did his best to make things right, which was somewhat impressive as Marcy didn’t make it easy for him. She spent a good long time simply giving him the cold shoulder before she actually responded to him.

His hands touched her with kindness, not lust, in an effort to simply remind her he was there for her. They had embraced her so tenderly as she had vented about how upset she was over the events of the previous night. Their gentle caresses patiently lulled her upset mind and body to peace.

At some point, the pleasant contact went from being relaxing to being exciting and finally they made love, which Marcy enjoyed very much. It proved to be an excellent exercise for knocking out her lingering tension and for putting her back in a great mood.

For all intents and purposes, everything was good between them once again. Yet for some elusive reason, Marcy didn’t feel content. Something was off about it all, like she and Jeff weren’t really on the same page.

During their pre-coital pillow talk, Jeff had promised her that he’d “talk to” Bert about his behavior. His best friend sticks his dick in his girlfriend’s ass and Jeff says he’ll “talk to” him about it. Jesus.

The soft, regular sound of feet crunching upon foliage snapped Marcy out of her reflections and she turned her head to see Paul coming down the track. His gaze was heavy upon the ground immediately in front of him. He looked like he would walk right past her without noticing if she didn’t announce her presence.

“Hey,” she politely greeted him. His head sprung upwards, as if the voice had come as a shock to him.

“Oh! Hi, Marcy,” he softly replied, seeming flustered. “What are you doing here?”

“Eh, I guess I just felt like taking a walk,” she told him, as she relaxed once more upon the concrete guard wall and stared out across the small reservoir.

“You’re out here alone?” Paul asked, as he wandered off the path to join her.

“Yeah. Karen just felt like chilling, I think she said she was gonna read a book. And Jeff and Bert were taking the truck back to the store on a beer run. Seems we cleaned out the supply last night,” Marcy explained.

“Really? More beer?” he asked in a facetious tone.

“Yeah,” Marcy chuckled, understanding his meaning completely. After the lunacy that had gone on the previous night, it was ridiculous to think that they were setting themselves up for another night of heavy drinking. But what the hell? They were on vacation!

“How about you?” Marcy asked.

“Oh. Same, I guess,” Paul shrugged.

She could hear the weariness in his voice. But somehow Marcy got the impression that he was more than just tired, he almost seemed ill. As he stared out across the water beside her, Marcy looked him over. His eyes seemed glazed over and had bags beneath them. His posture was so frail it looked like a gentle breeze would knock him off his feet.

“No offense, Paul, but you look like shit,” Marcy told him, in the kindest possible tone that such an observation can be spoken. “Hung over?” she guessed.

“Yeah,” he smirked bitterly, “Something like that.”

Marcy could tell from the indignity in his voice that it wasn’t just a bad hangover eating away at Paul. She wondered for a moment what might have put him is such a foul mood and her jaw dropped as she figured out what it probably was.

“Oh my god! You know, don’t you?” she gasped. Paul didn’t answer per se, but the brief, agonized glare he shot her confirmed her suspicions. She covered her mouth in shock. She could only imagine how terribly it must’ve cut him to know that Karen slept with Bert.

“I didn’t think you were around when it happened,” she said.

“Yeah, well ... I was,” he scowled.

The revelation left Marcy reeling. She hadn’t much cared that Karen had fucked Bert. Karen might have been her best friend, but she was a grown woman and whoever she had sex with was her own business. But discovering that Paul knew about it made it more serious than Marcy had initially assumed. Now, it was more complicated than just a silly little drunken indiscretion; now it turned out someone had gotten hurt.

“I’m sorry,” Marcy said sincerely, gently placing a hand on Paul’s shoulder in support. “I know you really like her.”

Paul sighed. Marcy got the sense that he wanted to respond, but just didn’t know what to say.

Paul had never actually told anyone he loved Karen, but it was obvious to anyone who ever saw the two of them together, especially during this vacation. Marcy knew that Paul had hoped his close friendship with Karen would finally develop in to something serious over the course of the week. It was no wonder he was so devastated by her little fling with Bert.

“I thought she ‘really liked’ me, too,” he said, not trying to conceal his pain.

“I’m sure she does,” Marcy assured him.

“Yeah? Then how do you explain her...” Paul couldn’t bring himself to say the words aloud.

Marcy sighed and turned once more back to the water, her gaze facing parallel to Paul’s.

“She was wasted,” she answered.

“That’s it?” he rebuked her, clearly irritated by her seemingly dismissive attitude.

“Yeah,” Marcy nodded, with a confident tone that caught Paul by surprise. “I know it seems like it shouldn’t be that simple, but it is. When you’ve had too much, shit happens. Trust me, I know.”

Marcy appreciated how frustrating her response was for Paul. She wished she could’ve been more helpful, but there would be no making sense of something that simply didn’t make sense. She figured that the kindest thing she could do was help him to realize that, rather than leading him down the garden path.

After silently processing Marcy’s words for some time, Paul straightened up.

“Some vacation, hey?” he sighed sadly, before turning and heading back towards the path.

“Yeah,” Marcy softly agreed. “Some vacation.”

Taking one last look at the still surface of the reservoir, she likewise straightened up and followed Paul. She instinctively knew that he really needed a friend right now. Besides, it wasn’t like staring at that murky water had made her own problems any clearer.

At first she was about 20 feet behind him, but by the time they’d re-entered the woods she’d caught up and was walking by his side.

“You know, just because she was wasted, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t matter,” she clarified. “Like, I know it’s a big deal. I’m just saying that there’s no real reason why she did what she did, apart from being drunk off her ass.

“For what it’s worth, I think she ended up with the wrong guy last night,” she told Paul warmly.

She meant what she said. Paul was good people and she had no doubt he would’ve treated Karen right. He was such a sweet guy; a little bit shy, but really nice. Not to mention that beneath the fuzz of the ill-advised moustache and goatee he was currently growing, he was really cute!

Marcy herself tended to gravitate, often precariously, towards guys with a little more of a wild streak. But she knew that there were plenty of girls out there who dug sensitive sweethearts. It was a wonder that Paul had been so unlucky in love and Marcy could only guess that his long-held fixation on Karen had prevented him from exploring other opportunities.

He looked her in the eye and forced a smile. “Thanks, Marcy,” he replied, in the friendliest voice his weary heart could muster. He tried not to let on, but her kind words were clearly cold comfort for him.

Marcy couldn’t help but feel his pain and that in turn made her angry. “Nice guys finish last” was one of the hard laws of nature that Marcy accepted with cold ambivalence. Except on the rare occasions when she had to witness its cruelty firsthand. Like now.

It seemed like such a grievous injustice! The kind that makes your blood boil. Everyone on this trip was getting action - everyone, except poor Paul. Even that pig, Bert, managed to get laid! It was bad enough that an asshole like him got lucky, while a great guy like Paul was left out. But knowing that Bert had only scored by stealing Paul’s beloved crush from right under his nose was the absolute limit!

It just simply wasn’t right that Bert got laid on this trip, while Paul would probably finish the week having had no ‘action’ at all!

“So ... do something about it!” she challenged herself. She was so frustrated, she just couldn’t sit by idly and watch it play out. But what could she do?

An answer came to her almost as soon as she’d asked the question. It was so obvious, so straightforward. Yet it also felt incredibly weird, risky and very intimidating. She couldn’t be 100% sure that Paul would appreciate the gesture and if it backfired, she might upset him even more than he was now. But on the other hand, he had taken a big hit last night; it would take something big to lift him out of his depression. Marcy believed her idea was likely to succeed and as she studied the broken look on Paul’s face, she became convinced that doing him a solid was the right thing to do.

A tingle of excitement raced up her spine as she decided to try it.

“You mind if I ask you a personal question?” she asked Paul gently.

“I guess not,” Paul shrugged, seemingly too lost within his head to appreciate the cautionary undertone of the question.

“Have you ever... ‘been’ with a girl?” she asked.

Despite the warning, the question clearly caught Paul off-guard. His feet staggered for a moment and he turned to face her with eyes that said, “Beg your pardon?” Marcy didn’t react.

“Uh, well ... Yeah, sure! Yeah, I’ve been with...” he stammered with awkward enthusiasm, trailing off into a babble of half-words.

Marcy could see through his claim as if it were made of glass. His words were the feeble protests of a virgin trying to protect his macho image. At most, he might have gotten to second base at some point in his life.

In a way, his shyness about the subject was kind of cute.

“Would you like to?” Marcy asked, ignoring his answer.

Paul’s brow furrowed in confusion. He didn’t seem to understand the question any more than he could interpret the mischievous smirk on Marcy’s face. Indeed, he was apparently so lost that he didn’t even seem to notice her grabbing him gently by the wrist and raising his hand until she had guided it on to her left boob.

His mouth hung wide open like a cod as his utter confusion became utter disbelief. He watched in silence as Marcy took his other hand and placed it likewise upon the other shapely bulge in her red polo shirt.

“What ... What is this?” he eventually asked.