Nancy Robinson was the secretary of the Oswegatchie Hills Club, an organization catering to homeowners in the resort neighborhood where I grew up. Her husband, Herb, was the president of the O.H.C. and a successful C.P.A. They hailed from New Haven.

The Robinsons arrived two weeks before the regular summer crowd. Herb wanted time to schmooze the year-round residents. Nancy stayed at their house, whooshing out the winter’s dust, waiting for the arrival of her posse of helpers. Three other wives who, following Nancy’s lead, ran O.H.C.’s activities.,

Herb gave the speeches. Nancy made it all click. Her department included golf, horseback riding, clay tennis courts, private beaches, and sailing. Activities started in late May and continued into early September.

The Robinson’s beachfront property was their summer home.

I was a privileged, eighteen-year-old punk. My family, which consisted of my parents and me, lived year-round on the point. My father, Lloyd, was an oncologist. My mother, Marta, was a pediatric oncologist. We lived on a hill that overlooked the ocean, a golf course, and the sprawl of my neighbor’s houses.

My buddies were an insufferable bunch of townies. They annoyed the shit out of my hoity-toity neighbors, which was why I kept them around. The Flanagan brothers, Todd Carlson, his brother, Jim, and the worst of us, Robert Course. He was a well-built ruffian who backed his talk up with his fists. He wore engineer boots the year round and rolled cigarette packs into his t-shirt sleeves. He wore a knife strap on his ankle, carved his name on trees and backstops, and talked incessantly about pussy, often calling it snatch.

His dog, Lucky, had mange and was his constant companion.

We fought mainly amongst ourselves for all the gale we blew—a mix of fists and wrestling matches. We’d end up on the ground, with Robert encouraging Lucky to mount at will. None of us thought to challenge Robert’s authority, but one day, Robert stuck a finger under Todd’s nose.

“I fucked your mother last night. Wanna smell it?”

Todd slapped Robert’s hand out of his face, and a regular fight broke out.

It ended with Todd on the ground kicking at Robert while he lunged in with punches. The kicks won the day. Robert caught some stiff ones and waived off the fight.

When Todd stood up, he had a red face but was taller in my eyes.

I’d fought Todd on several occasions and usually had a slight edge. From what I’d seen, I reasoned I’d beat Robert if push came to shove. I planned to take no more orders.

My opportunity was less than a week later while we stood on the golf course in direct view of the Robinsons’ house. Robert demanded a cigarette, and I told him to buy a pack.

I ducked his punch, caught him in a headlock, and twisted him to the ground. I quickly had him flattened out on his back, sitting on his chest while my buddies encouraged me to rain punches down on his face, but it wasn’t in me. Thinking back on it, I believe Robert wanted to concede. He’d had enough of being the tough guy, and from that day until the day he succumbed to H.I.V., he called me his champion.

Unknown to me, at the time of my fight with Robert, Nancy Robinson had watched from her house. I found out three days later when she touched my shoulder while I was reading a comic in a local magazine shop. I’d never gotten as close a look at her as in that moment, let alone exchanged words.

Her voice was soft but emphatic. She was taller than me, smelled of tan lotion, and had a confident smile.

“I’m surprised your parents let you read such stuff.”

Nancy turned one of the pages. She was fragrant under her arms. One of her tits pressed my shoulder. My cock stirred.

“I’m old enough to join the army,” I managed.

“If I had a son your age and caught him reading a comic, a good warm whipping is what I’d give him.”

She wore gold studs in her ears and close-cropped hair in tight curls. Her legs were long, muscular, and tanned. I fumbled with the comic; my eyes dropped to her Levi’s cutoffs.


“Nancy,” she corrected. “I was rooting for you the other day against the bully. I love a good fight. You’re quite the tough young man. And handsome, too. How many girlfriends do you have?”

“A couple.”

“I’ll bet you do. Are your girlfriends good little girls or the other kind?”

“They’re all right.”

“I see, and what about you?”

The familiarity of her tone scared me. I felt my ears burning.

Was she aware of my off-season activities?


I’d let myself in through a window and looked around the Robinson’s house at the end of last summer. I told myself there was nothing I wanted. I chalked the break-in up to curiosity, but then I’d found a pair of Nancy’s panties in a hamper in the master bathroom, and I realized why I’d come. Several pubic hairs had snagged in the panty lining. I held the panties to my face, breathing in her bouquet, sniffing her woman’s scent.

At the same time, I imagined her rocking back and forth on poised legs, waiting for a serve from the other side of a tennis court, her skin salty and slick, gleaming with sweat as she closed on the net. I imagined her bikini crotch as she lay tummy down on the private beach, her oversized sunhat covering her shoulder blades.

She gets up, brushing sand off her ass, slips a finger under the bikini elastic, and adjusts her bottom with a snap.

I stuffed the panties in a pocket and slipped out the window.


“How are your parents, Jeffery?”

“Uh, busy.”

“I’d love to have Marta join our bridge club.”

“You know my mom?”

“Oh,” she said, showing her perfect pearls. “You’d be surprised what I know. For instance, who do you suppose this is?”

The next moment, she swiped her phone and showed me a video in which I was sniffing her panties.

“Very sloppy for the son of doctors. Pesky surveillance cameras.”

I was scared and speechless. My balls shriveled up.

“Jeffery,” she said, “do you know the grape arbor in my backyard? It’s very leafy this time of year.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I stammered.

“Very good, be there tomorrow at noon. I have something to show you. Don’t disappoint me.”

She walked out of the shop, her ass bouncing.

My imagination raced. One moment, it was the cops and my parents’ anger. The next moment, I had my hand between her legs. I only knew I’d best not disappoint her.


I showed up on time, lingering in the arbor. Filtered light, shadows, and the syrupy scent of grapes filled my nostrils.

Fifteen minutes passed, and I heard the spring on Nancy’s screen door. She wore blue terrycloth shorts and a halter top that clung to her magnificent tits. She held a drink in one hand and her phone in the other. She flopped in a lounge chair, facing the arbor, tucked her legs up, and dialed a number.

Get the fuck out of here. She’s calling the cops.

And then I heard my mother’s voice on speaker.

“Hello, sweetie; I thought you’d fallen out of love with me.”

“Don’t be silly,” said Nancy.

I watched and listened through the leaf cover as she continued to chat with Marta.

Nancy’s drink spilled over on its side. She pulled the crotch of her shorts aside and continued talking. I listened to my mother’s droning voice and watched Nancy’s languid finger fucking. And then Nancy was kneeling next to me in the arbor, showing me Marta’s horrified expression as I jerked in front of a Facetime call.

    What do you think?


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    1. I’m going to kill you for that ending, Perry! Shit. You had me panting all the damn way through that story… magnificent piece that it is… detailed exquisitely though a bit tangential. Life’s like that. And the surprise panty footage was classic. You built it up perfectly, then dropped me down a well with this facetime disaster. Sharks in the water again. What kind of woman does that to a comic magazine addicted teenager? Okay, if she’s lying in her lounge chair filming Jeffery jerking off but avoiding a face shot for identity, then calls up Marta and shows her what her ‘pool boy’ is doing in the back yard, that would be kind of hot… and gross for Jeff. But at least his mom wouldn’t know it was him.

      You know, when that Marta phone call first started, I actually thought Nancy and Jeffery’s mom were having a lesbian fling. Now, that would have been some kind of revelation.

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