Chapter 1

The rain matched my mood, dark and bleak. No customers came in to break the monotony, and just before six I closed up and walked the two blocks to my apartment. I stripped out of my skirt and top, letting them fall to the floor. Ditto for the bra and panties. There was no one home but me and I didn't care. Kicking my sandals into the corner, I walked to the kitchen for a beer.

I opened my beer and sat in the chair by the window, letting the tears flow and looking out at the world below. People were hurrying to get in out of the drizzle, and there was the smell of something garlicky in the air. Mothers called their children home, and I heard the faint beep of a horn in the distance. I was depressed, sad and yes, angry. Margie had left that morning and told me she wouldn't be coming back.

It was evidence of yet another failure in the short time since I'd come out. If someone had told me two years earlier that relationships would be the toughest part of being a lesbian, I'd have laughed in their face. I had the basics: a female's body and an inclination to have sex with women. I loved everything about them - their smells, their short skirts and pretty feet, the legs to die for, the soft breasts to snuggle against, and the cute asses to hold and play with. I thought that they had liked the same things about me, but something was wrong.

I finished the beer and debated getting another, deciding on a shower instead. Gathering my clothes from the floor, I put them in the hamper and dressed for an evening out. I grabbed a simple skirt and chose not to wear a bra, since I was only going down the street. It was a Tuesday night and Leslie's would be nearly empty. Locking the apartment behind me, I tiptoed quietly down the stairs.

The rain had ceased, but the dark clouds overhead hid the moon, making the streetlights glow with an eerie light. Wrapping my windbreaker a little tighter, I jogged the last few steps to the door of Leslie's. It was as empty as I thought it would be. The only two customers were playing pool, and Roni was polishing glasses.

"Hi Ginny! What can I get ya?" she asked, the accent of the deep south hanging in the air.

"A tall draft and a roast beef if you have it," I replied, hanging up my jacket.

The two girls at the pool table glanced at me, decided I wasn't worth the effort, and resumed their pool game. I ate the sandwich and finished the beer, then started working on another while I waited for an opportunity to talk to Veronica.

The two finished their game and left, leaving Roni and me alone.

She sat near me behind the bar and asked, "You look sad, are you ok?"

"Margie left this morning. I'm depressed," I replied.

"Doesn't surprise me," she said. "What do you mean?" I asked.

"You wouldn't shop for steak at a fruit stand, would you?" she asked.

"Well, no," I replied, confused.

"Most of the girls who come in here are looking for quick sex or they're curious," she said. "You have to find one that's looking for the same things you are."

"Mmmm," I replied, beginning to understand.

"How do you know when someone is right for you?" I asked. "I'm having a hell of a time picking the right one."

"That's because you might be letting them pick you instead of the other way around," Roni smiled.

"But still, there must be some way you can tell," I mused.

"Most of us base our relationships on commitment and caring, but there are a few who only want sex," she said.

"How do you tell the difference?" I asked.

"Get to know them first. Mutual attraction is good, but what about her habits? Does she snore, leave her underwear on the floor, brush her teeth regularly? Things like that," she said.

"I wish I could find someone nice," I sighed.

"Well then, you have to be selective. Don't be in such a rush to give your heart away and get them into bed. Enjoy their company first, get to know them and like them as people and as women. Then you can get to know their secrets and dreams and share yours with them, you know?" she said.

"Good point!" I smiled.

"And, on top of all that, if your orgasms feel like your ovaries are on fire, that's the one for you!" she exclaimed.

"I wish," I said glumly.

I bought another round and Roni and I talked a little more. I knew her advice came from experience gained over the years.

My conversation with Roni left me feeling a little less edgy, and I went home to my empty bed and crashed. I slept well that night and met my Dad at the shop the next morning, intending to ask him for some time off.

Smiling and nodding at my request, he said, "I've been wondering when you were going to come to your senses. A pretty girl like you shouldn't be spending all her days indoors."

"I don't mind, really," I said.

"I know. I appreciate you helping out here, but why don't you take the whole summer instead of a couple of weeks? " he asked. "Take the camper, travel around, take pictures, explore the country a little. Be lazy for once!"

"Are you sure?" I asked, thinking I hadn't heard correctly.

"Positive. I'll make sure it's ready in a couple of days and you can take it from there. I'll watch the place while your gone," he said.

"I don't have enough money to last me four months," I said.

"I'll give you a couple of thousand in traveler's checks before you leave," he said, grinning.

"That's too much!" I protested.

"I can't take it with me, and you may as well get some use out of it," he said, once again serious.

That evening I went over and made supper for him, and had it ready on the table when he walked into the house. He sat down and said grace after washing his hands, and we enjoyed our meal without too much conversation.

Pop had been the only man in my life from day one, and I loved him with all my heart. Always supportive of me and my choices, he had given me options and let me choose rather than being authoritative. I learned early that some choices are better than others, and the consequences of a choice can sometimes be painful - witness the episode with Margie. I couldn't remember if he had ever raised his voice to me. He preferred to give his opinion in the measured tones of reason.

Later in the week I was ready, packed to the gills in the contraption my Dad called the camper. The front was a normal van with two seats, and the back was a 24 foot long box with a stove and everything else I would need to camp in comfort. Rudimentary toilet facilties existed in the same space as the shower and the couch folded out to make a double bed. The child's bunk above the driver was used mainly for storage, and it was there that I stashed my purse, ID, cash and checks. The coolers were full of ice and beer, the propane tank was full, the cabinets had groceries and I was looking at a map as the the engine idled in front of the store.

He came out and climbed in, handing me a new canvas bag, saying, "Here, for the trip."

"What's this?" I asked. "I already have my camera packed."

"There's a new camera in there, plus a flash unit, 20 rolls of film and lots of extra batteries for everything. The camera has a couple of extra lenses you might like. Try it out and let me know what you think," he said.

"Thank you," I said as I kissed his cheek.

"Remember; no hitchhikers, watch the gas gauge, and call me once a week collect to let me know you're ok," he said, an odd catch in his voice.

I thought I might cry if I dragged it out, so I gave him a quick hug and said, "I will."

"And if you need anything you call anytime, ok?" he asked as he got out and shut the door.

I nodded and smiled, dropping the lever into D and easing away from the curb. I don't have a photograph of him standing on the curb waving as I left, but the image of him in the rearview mirror doing that is indelibly burned into my memory.

I took side streets out of town and hit route 26 south to avoid the Interstate. Slow to accelerate and difficult to stop, the camper was unwieldy until I got used to the way it handled.

I spent the first night in a campground near Joliet. Not that far from home in miles, but a planet away in emotional distress. It took me over an hour to repack everything in it's proper place for travel after I showered, and I decided that in the future I would shower elsewhere.

For the next week, I kept the camera on the seat and drove the back roads slowly, stopping at every garage sale and bake sale in every small town I came across. Chatting with the gray-haired old ladies as they touted the virtues of their brownies or pies and urged me to buy more, I laughed with them as I patted my hips and said no. I took pictures of nature and some funny signs, along with various people who looked interesting.

I was aimed vaguely south. I wanted to see where the rivers joined at the bottom of the state, but I was in no hurry. Several days passed without a thought of Margie or anyone else, although each night I caressed myself to sleep with an orgasm or two. Daytimes were spent driving and negotiating the ever-present construction zones, sometimes pulling off at a rest area to check the map.

Springfield was nice, but a bit too big. Carbondale was full of college kids, noisy and rowdy as they drove past me at breakneck speed. As I drove into Cairo I splurged and spent the night at a motel, taking two showers and refilling the coolers with ice.

I noticed that I still had plenty of beer. My alcohol intake had dropped by two-thirds, and I felt better. I slept the night in a big bed where I could sprawl out, with the pillows tucked between my legs in a poor imitation of another body. I was still lonely, but it wasn't the destructive kind. I would survive.

In the morning I saw the confluence of the rivers, two muddy bodies of water forming one, and checked it off my 'to do' list. It wasn't nearly as impressive as I had been led to believe.

Swinging back north I crossed into Indiana, spent two days in Indianapolis at the Speedway museum, then took the Interstate across to Saint Louis and looked at the arch. I used two days wandering around the Ozarks, (VERY pretty!) and then headed east again.

On the first of June I was back in Illinois driving the back roads when I came to a T in the road. The sign said "Potter's Lake Campground" with an arrow to the left, and "Quigley, pop .450" to the right. I'd only spent minutes whenever I could spare them for tanning and being lazy, and this looked like the perfect opportunity to indulge myself. Turning left, I began my search for the campground. After a few hundred yards, I saw another sign with an arrow pointing straight ahead and the edge of the lake. About a mile around, it was ringed with trees that looked cool and inviting.

Driving up to the entrance I spotted the office, which had several cars parked behind it. There were about thirty or forty kids in the water nearby, being watched by a lifeguard and their parents, mostly women. I paid the fees and asked the man for a spot as far as possible from the entrance.

He yelled, "Jeremy!" and a kid about 14 came out and jumped on his bike, waving for me to follow him.

I did so slowly, easing the camper over the ruts in the road until we came to the last cleared area. Jeremy was standing there pointing toward the trees, and I turned the camper around to back it into my spot.

Jeremy was helpful, guiding me back until the rear end was about two feet from the closest tree, then yelled, "Shut it off!"

I did, then opened the door.

Jeremy asked, "Where's your jacks? I'll help you set it up."

I opened the compartment underneath and showed him, then helped as he expertly brought it up level. When he finished I thanked him, handed him a five-dollar bill, and shook his hand.

He blushed and stammered, "Not supposed to take it Pa says."

"You go ahead and take it. You did good," I replied.

Blushing again, he hopped on his bike and pedaled off in the direction of the office.

I unpacked, putting the coolers under the picnic table and plugging in the electrical cord. If my stay here was to be any length at all, I wanted comfort. An hour later I was set up and decided to take a swim.

I had packed three suits: a very daring bikini with minimal coverage in orange, a modest bikini in white, and my 'granny' suit, the old black one-piece tank I'd had since high school. I put on the white one and walked to the water, wading in to about chest level. It felt like a bathtub, warm and inviting. I dunked myself a few times and waded out, shaking my hair. I sat on my lounge chair near the picnic table and opened a beer, listening to the shouts and laughter in the distance. I thought the one thing that would make the experience complete was some company of the female variety. My inner self said 'give it time, give it time.'

Supper was hamburgers on my grill as I watched the sun set, peaceful and growing quiet. The cicadas started thrumming and I heard other sounds. Campers were doing dinner, and there was the occasional shout for a wayward child.

Gathering my things, I walked to the office to take a shower and get ready for bed. As I walked in to get the key, I noticed a lot of activity in the game room and store. Jeremy was behind a counter giving out quarters for the arcade, and his father was punching the keys on an ancient cash register.

The shower area had four stalls and 2 toilets with a large mirror behind a pair of rusty sinks. The stalls had curtains, but anyone sitting to pee would be exposed. I was alone, so I shed the bikini and began soaping up, paying special attention to my crotch. I came softly before the hot water ran out and dried off, wrapping myself in my big terry robe. The mosquitoes bothered me on the walk back, making me reconsider my earlier decision to park so far away. Two beers later, sleep came quickly with the light breeze coming in the screens.

There was a rhythm of sorts to the days. By ten in the morning the swimming area by the entrance would be full of laughing children and their Moms, mostly local folk from Quigley. The overnighters sometimes left early in the morning, usually waking me despite their best efforts to be quiet. Weekdays were the busiest with locals, and weekends the place was full to the brim. I chatted with a few, and the different accents from around the country made the conversations lively and interesting.

I took pictures, wandered through the woods behind the camper, and sunbathed every day. Weekdays I could get away with the skimpy suit if I lay out on the far side of the camper, away from view, but weekends I had to wear the more modest suit or risk glances of disapproval from other visitors. I called my Dad as promised each week, talking for about 20 or 30 minutes each time and telling him of my adventures.

Two weeks later I was as brown as I was going to get and bored out of my skull. I'd managed not to get any tan lines on the top half of me, but my butt was still as white as snow. I didn't like having a white bottom, but even partial nudity was frowned upon. I'd used over half of my film on the local flora and fauna and some interesting rock formations, but I was rapidly running out of ideas. I still had almost two months to go, and debated whether to move further north, or go east and find another spot. That night, things got a little more interesting and I put off my decision.

I usually showered around dusk, eight-thirty or so, then spent some time in the arcade, trying to beat the high scores posted on some of the games. I was in the shower when I heard the door open and shut. I shut off the water, grabbed my towel from the hook, and dried myself inside the enclosure. As I stepped out, a very beautiful woman was slipping her panties from her hips and looked at me, the "O" of her mouth displaying her surprise. I had wrapped one towel around my hips, using my second one to cover my breasts. Lithe and trim, her tan lines were distinct and sharp. Her dark bush concealed her labia, and was nicely trimmed to fit inside a suit. Her breasts were pretty cones with uptilted ends, the tiny pale brown nipples pointing partially skyward. I thought the sexiest thing about them was that one areole was slightly larger than the other.

"Hi," I said as I offered my hand. "I'm Ginny Bergstrom."

She shook my hand and said, "I'm Lauren. Lauren Morgan."

Unable to stop myself, I looked her up and down, making her blush.

"Excuse me," she said, and disappeared behind the shower curtain.

I smelled expensive perfume as I dried off, waiting for her to finish.

The water shut off after a couple of minutes and I heard her ask, "Hand me my towel, please?"

"Sure, here you go," I replied, putting the corner of it into her outstretched hand.

Soft rustling noises ensued, then she stepped out. The towel was wrapped around her breasts and hung to just below her pubes, neatly hiding her body. I had my robe on and smiled at her as she reached for hers, wrapping it around her and tying it tightly before the towel came out from underneath.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you," I said.

"That's ok. Bud told me there wasn't anyone else in here. I didn't expect you, that's all," she replied.

As I opened the door to leave she asked, "Is there anywhere close by I could get some whiskey?"

"I don't think so. You're in a beer and wine county," I replied.

"Ok, thanks anyway," she replied.

I walked back slowly, replaying the tape of her body in my mind. She had tight curves, pale skin and long braided hair. She didn't know it, but she was going to play a major role in my fantasy that night before bed. A few minutes later I was sitting at my picnic table drinking the last of my beers for the day and I saw a pair of headlights coming towards me. Stopping at a spot a hundred feet away, I heard the rattle of Jeremy's bike chain as the car backed in and shut its lights off.

The vague shape of a woman opened the hatch and took out a box, handing it to Jeremy. When she bent back inside, I could see it was Lauren, throwing things around and looking for something.

I grabbed my flashlight, walked over and asked, "You need some help?"

"Yes. I seem to have lost my flashlight," she said.

I held my light as Jeremy unfolded a small tent and set it up, pegging the stakes firmly. He accepted her tip and rode off, leaving us in silence. She seemed nervous and jittery while she moved things around in the car, picking up items of clothing and folding them.

"I've got a bottle of brandy," I said, "if that will do instead of whiskey."

"Thanks. I really need a drink," she replied. "I'll be there as soon as I change clothes."

I walked back to my camper and got out the bottle, dusting it off and getting two glasses.

I heard her tap on the door and said, "Come in, it's open."

Her dark blue shorts were flattering to her legs and the matching top covered her completely, making her appear to be a different person. She was barefoot and slightly shaky as she sat and accepted the offered glass, drinking half in one gulp.

"Thank you. I'll pay you back tomorrow," she smiled.

"No need. I like beer myself," I said, holding up my bottle.

Pointing at her toes, I said, "I've got a swim suit that color."

"Really?" she asked. "Orange?"

"Yep, not much chance to use it around here though. It doesn't cover much," I replied grinning.

"Mmm," she said, taking another deep swallow.

I handed her the bottle and she refilled her glass, taking a sip before putting the bottle down.

I smelled the expensive perfume on her again and said, "I don't mean to be nosy, but you don't seem to be the camping type."

"It's that obvious, huh?" she laughed, a smile lighting her face for the first time.

"Mmm-hmm," I replied.

She said, "You're right, I'm not. But, I'm going through a divorce and my lawyer told me to hide for a few days."

"Good Lord, girl, what are you doing hiding here?" I asked. "You should be at the Hilton with room service!"

"Nope, I can't be in an obvious place. He's a doctor and he's got people out looking for me," she said.

"Where did you come from?" I asked.

"Springfield," she replied.

"Christ, that's over a hundred miles away!" I exclaimed. "His reach can't be that far!"

"My lawyer said not to take a chance, so here I am," she said, swallowing again.

"Big custody dispute, or what?" I asked, puzzled.

"Nope, no kids," she sighed. "That's the problem."