Lindsey sat on the front porch swing, staring out across the lake. Her legs were tucked beneath her and she hummed softly. The morning fog had burned off, leaving the shore line opposite in full view. One of her neighbors was in a small skiff, drift fishing; another stood on the shoreline with a line cast in the water. A cool breeze drifted in from the northwest, rippling the water. The crystal sky gave promise of another beautiful day.

Suddenly, Morris jumped onto the front porch directly before her, startling Lindsey and making her laugh. "Well, hello there you," she said. "I thought you weren't going to show up this morning."

In her lap was a bag full of roasted peanuts. She had bought it the day before at the Stop and Shop in Ludlow. After Morris had shown up in the morning for a second day in a row, Lindsey made the trip, wondering if squirrel feeding was such a good idea. But she could not resist. The little guy was so cute.

Lindsey opened the bag and extracted half a dozen peanuts. "Here you go," she said, tossing one down. Morris caught it in his teeth. "You are such a clever little boy. I like that."

Morris worked the shell with his front paws and teeth.

The day they were to leave, Lindsay had taken off to pack and clean the apartment. Frank had not arrived home until eight o'clock, sour and grumpy, and then subjected Lindsey to a four hour drive. She had slept most of the way, but Frank had redeemed himself, taking Lindsey to bed and riding her as he had not done since their first weekends together. She had hobbled to the bathroom at three a.m., bowlegged in embarrassment. Morris showed up the next morning.

Doing her exercises on the porch, Morris had watched as she twisted her body to and fro, rowed her arms, balanced on one foot and then the other, then chanted softly to herself in a spiritual hum. She fed him stale bread and Morris ran away.

In the afternoon, Frank built a fire on the outdoor grill and broiled t-bone steaks. They had just started on a second bottle of Lambrusco, when Frank took Lindsey's drink from her hand and laid her down on the blanket. Giggling, Lindsey found herself being kissed and tickled all over, then having her shirt unbuttoned. There was plenty of daylight remaining.

"Frank! People can see!"

"I know," Frank said, baring her breasts.

Lindsey looked quickly around. The cabin to their right was visible through a gap in the trees, and they were also visible from the lake and the road. "You are so bad," she whispered.

"I certainly am."

He kissed her right nipple, then the other, and then sucked them both, very hard.

"I'm telling mommy," Lindsey said. She attempted to close her shirt, but Frank waylaid her hands.

"Don't make me tie these behind your back," he threatened.

Lindsey grinned. "That could be interesting."

"That could be interesting as hell."

They made love in the cool, September evening.

Out on the lake, a cabin cruiser lumbered past and Lindsey saw three men standing in the rear. Each held a beer. Two women lay sunning on the bow. A single-engine plane, surprisingly loud in the cool still air, crossed the lake east to west.

"Ready for more?" she asked.

Morris, standing erect, pawed the air. Lindsey dropped him another peanut.

Frank had left right after dawn that morning, with two of the neighbors. Jeff Poole was a programmer and web page designer from Colorado. He looked like David Caruso, Lindsey thought. She grinned, remembering how Jeff caught her slipping him a furtive glance. Jeff was very attractive.

Sam Horval on the other hand, was big-bellied and bellicose. He eyed Lindsey the way a butcher eyes a slab of beef, wondering which cut to make first. Just being in the same room with Sam made Lindsey feel skinless. She could not imagine a Mrs. Horval.